At the Point of the Sword

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  DARK DAYS.

  "I have decided to leave you in Lima, Crawford, to help Videla with thesecond battalion. I have good reasons for doing so," continued thecolonel, observing my disappointed look; "and, anyhow, you are well outof this expedition. I don't expect much from it."

  The expedition of which Colonel Miller spoke had been planned on alarge scale for the purpose of crushing the enemy in the south, and thefirst battalion of the Peruvian Legion formed part of it. Naturally Ihad quite looked forward to sailing with it, and was not at allpleased, therefore, to be left behind. I had many friends, some ofthem not much older than myself, among the officers of the firstbattalion, and on the morning of the embarkation I went over to Callaoto see them off. They were delighted at the thought of active service,and of course chaffed me unmercifully.

  "Take care of the town, Juan," said one; "we shall want it when we comeback."

  "Some day, when you are a man, we will take you with us," laughedEnsign Alzura, a merry, round-faced youngster of sixteen; "but we musthave seasoned men for this trip, dear boy."

  "Should the Spaniards arrive while we're away, ask them to wait tillour return," remarked another.

  "I don't wonder you are so excited," said I coolly; "I felt the samebefore I knew what a battle is really like."

  "Bravo, Crawford!" cried the colonel, who had joined us unperceived;"that's a round shot for them. They haven't heard the whistle of thebullets yet, eh? Well, good-bye; it's time you were getting ashore.You'll hear news of us from time to time."

  "Good news too, I hope, colonel.--Good-bye, Zuviria, Alzura, and all ofyou. I hope you've shipped a schoolmaster," and with that parting shotI ran down to the quay.

  The Peruvians were on board the _O'Higgins_; but there were severalother vessels, and presently they all stood out of the bay amidst aregular salvo of cheering from the spectators.

  I returned to Lima feeling rather gloomy, but Lieutenant-ColonelVidela, who commanded our second battalion, gave me little time forbrooding. Fresh recruits were coming in every day, and the work ofattending to them kept me employed for weeks. There was still aPatriot army encamped outside Lima, but it did nothing, though who wasto blame I could not say.

  About the end of the year, vague yet disquieting rumours began tocirculate in the city. It was said that our troops in the south hadmet with defeat, had been cut to pieces and practically swept out ofexistence. The victorious Spaniards, uniting all their forces, weremaking ready for a swoop on Lima. Everything was lost!

  Don Felipe brought us the news, and it was easy to see, in spite of histalk, that it did not displease him.

  "We shall have to call in Bolivar now," said he, "or make peace withthe viceroy. Of course you and I will suffer. Our estates will beconfiscated; we shall probably be thrown into prison; but we are goodpatriots, and will not shrink from our duty."

  "If the others agree with me," replied my father, "we shall neithercall in Bolivar nor make peace. There is still an army left!"

  "Just so, but we cannot trust it. The troops are almost in openrebellion, and this news will not quiet them."

  "We do not yet know that it is true."

  "I am sure of it," said our neighbour hastily. "I have--that is tosay, there can be no doubt of it."

  A week or two later--January 20, 1823, to be precise--there walked intothe quarters of the second battalion a young officer. His face waswhite and drawn, his eyes were sunken; he looked so pitifully weak andill that at first I failed to recognize him.

  "Well, Crawford," he exclaimed, "am I as changed as all that? Don'tyou know your old chum Alzura when you see him?"

  "Alzura?" I echoed, aghast.

  "All that is left of him."

  "Where is the first battalion?"

  Spreading his hands out dramatically, he said, "Haven't you heard?Don't you know what has happened at Torata and Moquegua?"

  "I have heard nothing but some very dark rumours," I replied uneasily.

  "They cannot be darker than the truth. The army has been destroyed,and the battalion with it."

  "And the colonel?"

  "Oh, he was in another district with the light company. But I'll tellyou all about it. We had a wretched voyage, and arrived at Arica halfdead. After that we sat down for three weeks doing nothing, whenAlvarado, who was in chief command, sent the colonel north with thelight company. A lucky thing for them, too!"

  "Go on!" said I impatiently.

  "Well, at last we moved, and marched as far as Torata. Do you know theplace at all?"

  "Oh yes; it's a few miles from Moquegua, isn't it?"

  "That's it. Well, the Spaniards were at Torata, and we tried to turnthem out, but failed. Then they attacked, and we were beaten. It wassimply awful. The legion fought like a battalion of heroes. Every onepraised us; but praise won't bring the dead to life. We broke twocavalry charges, and stood our ground till there wasn't a cartridgeleft."

  "Then you retreated?"

  "Some of us did, not many! We left fifteen of our officers there andthree-fourths of the battalion, all dead or dangerously wounded.Alvarado took us back to Moquegua; but the Spaniards caught us again.The second defeat was worse than the first, and when the battle wasover there was no army left. As to the battalion--! O Juan, isn't itawful? La Rosa, Tarramona, Escobar, Rivero--all gone! I shouldthink," he added, with a bitter laugh, "I must have been seniorofficer."

  It was, indeed, a terrible story. I could hardly realize that of allmy high-spirited young friends who had sailed from Callao this was theonly one to return.

  "How did you get back?" I asked, after a time.

  "With General Martinez. We embarked at Ilo, while General Alvaradowent on to Iquiqui. The game's up in that part of the country, Juan!"

  "Oh, nonsense!" I replied brusquely. "We aren't going to lose heartover a couple of defeats."

  Of course the news soon spread, and the people, especially thesoldiers, were wild with anger. They said it was the fault of thegovernment, and called for fresh rulers. Some advised sending forBolivar, while a few prominent citizens even talked of coming to termswith the enemy.

  One morning, toward the end of February, Videla called a council of theofficers belonging to his battalion. He looked pale, but firm anddetermined, as if he had resolved on some particular course.

  When we had taken our seats, he rose and said, "Senors, I have calledyou together to discuss an important proposal. Affairs, as you know,are in a bad state; the country is in disorder, and the enemy aretriumphing everywhere. Under these circumstances, the chiefs of thearmy have decided to force the hands of the government. To-morrow thetroops will march to Lima and demand that a president shall beappointed with full powers. Now, I will have no part or lot in thismatter. I call it treason. If the government choose to resign, welland good; if they resist, my sword, at least, is at their service."

  A round of cheering greeted his remarks, and one after another theofficers sprang up, pledging themselves to support him.

  "Thank you," said he quietly; "I knew you would not fail me. Nothingwill be done until the morning. Then, when the order to march isissued, I shall command you to stand still."

  "Suppose they use force, colonel?" I suggested.

  His face grew paler, but he answered steadily, "I trust they will notbe so foolish. Should they be, the battalion, will know how to defenditself."

  "Caramba!" exclaimed Alzura, when the meeting broke up, "it seems to methat the second battalion is likely to follow the first. What can wedo against an army?"

  "There will be no fighting," I answered cheerfully. "They will simplymarch without us, and the government will agree to their demands."

  I spoke as if my opinion were conclusive, but nevertheless I did notsleep comfortably that night. The troops were wakened early, breakfastwas hurried over, and then, to the sound of bugles, the variousregiments paraded. Presently they began to move, and a mounted officerdashed over to know wh
y our battalion remained still.

  "By my orders they remain. I refuse to join in what my officers and Iregard as an act of treason," calmly replied Videla. "We willwillingly march against the enemy, but not against our own government."

  Bending over, the officer whispered something in his ear.

  "We have counted the cost," replied our chief, "and are not to befrightened. Let the men who are unwilling to obey me fall out; no harmwill happen to them," said he, turning to the troop.

  Not a man moved, the brave fellows stood in their ranks, firm as rocks.Again the officer whispered to Videla, and then dashed off at fullspeed. It was, as Alzura afterwards remarked, a bad quarter of an hourfor us. If the chiefs endeavoured to force us into submission, therecould be but one result. Videla would not yield, and we could notdesert him. Perhaps the firmness of our bearing saved us; perhaps thechiefs feared the people, for the battalion was composed entirely ofPeruvians; but whatever the reason, we remained unmolested, and thearmy marched off without us. Then the men were dismissed, and wegathered in groups to chat over the incident.

  "What will happen now?" asked one fellow.

  "It is all decided," replied Videla. "I heard last night that thegovernment will yield. Riva-Aguero is to be made president, and SantaCruz commander-in-chief."

  "And what shall we do, colonel?"

  "Obey orders," he answered, smiling. "We cannot fight for a governmentthat has resigned its powers."

  The evening proved Videla's words true. The troops, havingaccomplished their object, returned to camp, rejoicing that the countryhad a new ruler.

  "Now," exclaimed Alzura, as we turned in for the night, "I suppose weshall see great things done!"

  "New brooms sweep clean," said I, laughing, "but unfortunately theysoon become old ones."

  However, it really did seem as if the new general intended to push onthe war in vigorous style. Preparations were made for anotherexpedition to the south; Bolivar was invited to Peru; and Sucre, hismost brilliant general, had already come.

  At this time we knew nothing of Colonel Miller; but about the end ofMarch he returned to Lima, having done more with his handful of menthan all the southern army. The stories told by officers who servedwith him filled us with envy.

  "Did you hear how we cleared the Royalists out of Arequipa?" askedCaptain Plaza. "That was a rich joke," and he laughed even at therecollection of it.

  "Let us hear it," said I.

  "Well, of course, it loses in the telling, but I'll do my best. Firstof all, we caught a peasant and shut him up where he could hear all andsee nothing. The poor fellow imagined we were going to shoot him as aspy. About every half-hour or so one of us would go to the colonel toreport the arrival of fresh troops, and ask where they were to camp.Then we spread our few men about the valley and kindled dozens ofblazing fires. As soon as it was dark enough, the colonel ordered theman to be brought out."

  "His face was a study," interrupted Cordova. "He certainly expected tobe shot."

  "The colonel read him a lecture," continued Plaza, "and wound up byoffering to spare his life on his promising to take a letter to thegovernor of Arequipa. 'But,' said the colonel sternly, 'you are not totell what you have seen here. I want him to think we are very few innumber. Do you understand?' The fellow promised readily enough,placed the letter in his hat, mounted his horse, and rode down thevalley, counting the fires as he went. Of course he told everyRoyalist officer the truth as he believed it, and they cleared out ofthe district in double-quick time. Then we forced the governor tosupply us with forage for five hundred horses."

  "But you didn't have five hundred!"

  "That was the joke. We carted the stuff to some sandhills, where apart of the force was supposed to lie in ambush. When the Royalistsreturned with large reinforcements, they wasted days, being afraid offalling into a trap. It was very funny watching their manoeuvres."

  "Then there was the officer with the flag of truce near Chala," saidCordova. "He carried back a pretty report to his chief!"

  "Yes," said Plaza, laughing; "he believed we were just theadvance-guard of a large force. He stayed with us the night, but I'mafraid his slumbers were troubled ones. The bustle wastremendous--soldiers coming and going every few minutes. The colonelwas giving all kinds of impossible orders; in fact, you would havethought we had quite a big army there. Next morning I escorted theRoyalist a mile or so on the road. All our men were spread out, somein fatigue dress, to make him believe there were at least tworegiments."

  "That was a good trick," laughed Alzura.

  "And the officers galloped about, shouting to the men to go to theircamps in the rear. Turning to me, the fellow exclaimed seriously, 'Itis all very well for Miller to have a couple of battalions; but we havea couple as well as he!'

  "'Ah,' said I, trying to keep a straight face, 'you keep your eyesopen, I see. I warned the colonel not to let you see so much.'"

  "Did you really fool him?" asked half a dozen men in a breath.

  "Yes, and kept our position till the colonel was ready to move. If Ihad my way, Miller should be commander-in-chief. He is now the bestman in the country for the post."

  "Bravo!" cried Cordova. "As it is, I suppose we shall all be underBolivar's thumb soon."

  "I don't much care who leads," said Alzura, "as long as we win; andit's about time something was done. The Royalists are getting a strongfollowing in the city again."

  "Bah!" exclaimed Plaza scornfully, "they're just weather-cocks,twisting about with every wind that blows--first Royalist, thenPatriot, then Royalist again! It's enough to take away one's breath.Did you hear about Camba?"

  "He was one of us," said Alzura, "went over to the Royalists, and cameback again."

  "And was appointed second in command of the Legion!"

  There was a cry of amazement from every one in the room; but Plazacontinued, "It's a fact; only Miller put his foot down. 'My officersare gentlemen,' said he. 'If you appoint this man over them they willbreak their swords, and I shall be the first to do so.' That stoppedthe game, and Camba was pushed in somewhere else."

  "It's a wonder he hasn't changed again," I said.

  "He is only biding his time, like a good many others."

  "I know nearly a dozen myself," said Alzura, "and one of them is aneighbour of yours, Crawford."

  "Do you mean the fellow with the pretty daughter?" some one asked.

  "Yes. I respect the girl. She is an out-and-out Royalist, and makesno attempt to deny it; but the old man is a schemer--he runs with thehare and hunts with the hounds."

  "Don't vent your opinion too freely, my boy; Montilla has powerfulinfluence in high quarters."

  "Well," said Alzura doggedly, "if he isn't working hard to bring backthe Royalists, I am very much mistaken."

  The young officer's words made me very uneasy. I knew little of DonFelipe's proceedings, as, although he was an occasional visitor at ourhouse, a certain coolness had sprung up between us. For this feelingit would have been difficult, perhaps, to give any particular reason.To all appearance the man had acted fairly enough; indeed, according tohis own account, he had always been my best friend.

  Still, I had very little love for him, and no respect at all. I wasrather suspicious of a man who changed sides just when it best suitedhis interests. With Rosa things were different. She was a bornRoyalist, and though I thought her views mistaken, I admired her pluckin holding so stoutly to them.

  But the idea that her father was preparing to turn his coat againworried me. True, he might win a big reward by helping the Spaniards;but in the event of discovery, he could hardly expect to escape death.I told myself the punishment would serve him right, and that thebusiness was none of mine; yet somehow I could not get rid of theuneasy feeling. If Alzura's suspicions were correct, the man might betaken and hanged at any moment. I said again it would serve him right,but the justice of his sentence would not lessen Rosa's suffering.

  All that night I lay awake
thinking. I could not get the girl out ofmy head. You see, I had known her so long; we had played together likebrother and sister; she was so pretty and winsome that I hated the ideaof trouble assailing her.

  In the morning I was inclined to laugh at my fears. Every one knewthere were many people in Lima willing to welcome the Royalists, and ithad been openly stated more than once that Don Felipe Montilla had onlychanged sides to secure his property. Doubtless Alzura, knowing this,had jumped to the conclusion that he would willingly return to hisformer allegiance.

  "That is about all there is in it," said I, feeling a little moreassured. "It is marvellous what stories some men can build up from aword here and there! If Alzura lives till the end of the war, heshould be a novelist."

  At this time I was a great deal in Lima, being employed by ColonelMiller in connection with the new expedition which Santa Cruz was tolead south. Several nights a week I slept at home, much to mother'ssatisfaction. My father continued to be busy in public matters, thoughhe had resigned his office as a protest against the invitation toBolivar.

  Now, it chanced, about a fortnight after young Alzura's disquietingtalk, that I had occasion to go late at night to Callao, and Joseoffered to accompany me. It is likely enough that my mother put theidea into his head, for though brave enough herself, she was alwaysfearful on my account. However, I was glad to avail myself of Jose'soffer. The night was fine, the sky was studded with stars, and themoon, nearly at the full, gave forth a splendid light.

  "You may go to bed, Antonio," said I to the old janitor, as he openedthe gate. "We are not likely to return till morning."

  "Do you remember our first night ride to Callao?" asked Jose. "Therewas no need for any one to sit up for us then."

  "Yes, that I do. And the voyage in the schooner," I added gaily."That was an adventure, if you like! We were as near to death then,Jose, as ever we have been since."

  "Yes," he said thoughtfully. "I have often wondered how we managed toescape."

  Passing through the outer gates of the park on to the highroad, wecantered our horses about a quarter of a mile, and then turned up anarrow lane which separated our property from that of Don FelipeMontilla.

  Suddenly checking his horse, Jose whispered, "See to your pistols, myboy; there are horsemen coming this way."