Where Strongest Tide Winds Blew

  XVI.

  THE SCREAMING WINDS OF NIGHT.

  I sat on the broad balcony of the British consulate at Mollendo,looking out over the blue waters of the Pacific. The soft breeze fromthe south seas imparted the glow of health. How proud I felt with theknowledge that no one dared insult me beneath the blue and crimsonfolds that waved above. Safe from the assassin's knife at the hands ofsome of Pierola's men, of whom I had been warned, I felt a certainrefuge beneath the ensign of my country.

  "Don Juan, does that make me a Britisher, too?" asked Manuel, pointingto the flag above.

  "Yes, it protects you too. Pierola's men do not dare to harm ushere."

  "Praised be the Virgin," replied Manuel, crossing himself.

  The great bells of the cathedral tolled out a funeral knell as asolemn procession marched to a transport ship. They were dust covered,haggard men, with a hunted look, chained in pairs. On either sidemarched a file of soldiers with fixed bayonets. Pierola's men werebeing taken to Lima.

  I arose from the balcony and went inside. They had to pass under thebalcony of the British consulate to reach the wharf. I did not care towitness their misery and so remained indoors until their departure.The revolution over, there was nothing now to fear; Manuel packed mybelongings and we returned to Arequipa.

  The general manager requested me to take care of the shops ofVincocaya. It would enable me to be quiet and recover from my wounds,as there was nothing to do but to see that the work was kept going.Meanwhile the excitement of the revolution would die out.

  Vincocaya is situated high in the Andes, above timber line, a desolateand dreary waste of rock and crag, where wild winds scream among thecliffs in the blackness of the night, as though a thousand imprisonedJoshuas were reaching upward for that sun which will stand still nomore over the plains of Ajalon. Leaden clouds drift like windingsheets among the peaks and hover like a pall over canyon and deepravine. The grave of Don Rodrigo was but a few miles distant, but Inever visited it. There have been times when I regretted notstretching forth my hand to save him, but at the time, with a mostviolent hatred of the man and the many injuries I had received fromhim, and the attempt to save the bridge foremost in my mind, I foundexcuse for lack of the finer feelings. And, too, what would it benefithad he been saved? His life was spent in debauchery, the gamblingtable and plots to overthrow any government where a leader inopposition to the ruling power would promise him a political office.

  Deep down in my heart I felt the weight of the past; those shriekingwinds of the night were the responsive echoes of my soul for theloved and lost. Was it upon this planet or upon some distant spherethat we two had met and loved and builded hopes as high as the loftypeaks that now entombed me--hope and love that may have been breathedin the morning of the world when the spirit of God dwelt withinus--hope that existed before the wrathful change that shattered alland turned an Eden into blackness and despair?

  Days, weeks and months passed. Often I would spend hours in the wildsolitudes hunting the vicuna and alpaca, or in some gloomy canyoncommuning with myself. Within my spirit I could hear an undertone,"Why cast thyself on waters wild, believing that God is gone, thatlove is dead and Nature spurns her child?" So, from my grief, I aroseat length to feel new life returning. New hopes and ambitions sprangforth in my soul that had so keenly felt God's chastening rod.

  A year had passed. I was in Arequipa. Chico had my room ready and myfriends gave me a splendid banquet in one of the largest restaurantsin the city. In all ages the world has had two ways of doing honor toa man. One is by parade, the other by setting him down to a banquettable and making speeches about him until they overcrowd his emotionsand leave him limp and speechless. I had to pass through this ordeal.The Prefectos of Arequipa and Puno, the Commanding General of theGovernment troops, the manager and officials of the railway and a hostof friends of lesser note, but none the less loyal hearts, crowded thebanquet room. They feasted, drank wine, sang songs and made speechesto me and about me that were enough to have satisfied the vanity of asurvivor of Thermopylae. At the close, the Prefecto of Puno arose, andafter saying things that were loudly applauded, presented me with tenthousand dollars not as a gift, but as something I had justly earned.He was followed by the general manager of the railroad, who said hiscompany desired to show their appreciation of my conduct in the Sumbaybridge affair, and on their behalf he presented me with two thousanddollars. Manuel, too, came in for his share of honors and praise. Hewas presented with five hundred dollars by the Prefecto of Puno andtwo hundred dollars by the company--more money than he had ever seenin his life, or ever hoped to possess. Deserving fellow, his eyesstreamed with tears of joy and gratitude when he received the moneywhich would now enable him to own a comfortable home. His pleasure waseven greater the next day, when I gave him one thousand dollars.

  THE HOME VOYAGE OF THE AVEN WAS FRAUGHT WITH ALL THEDANGERS OF THE SEA. (Page 26)]

  A month later, and Arequipa was wild with excitement. War had beendeclared by Chile against allied Peru and Bolivia. It was a sad blow,as Peru had been extremely prosperous and was rapidly forging ahead inthe commerce of the world. I had concluded to leave the country andseek some other field, when a call was made to the railroad men toassist the government to convey troops from the interior to the coast.I responded and was sent to Santa Rosa on the proposed railway toCusco, the ancient capital of Peru. Here a great number of Indianswere huddled together to be sent to Arequipa, and drilled and sent tothe coast. They were abject and disconsolate. The priests were callingon them to be brave and return victorious. These people had never seenthe ocean and had never lived in an altitude of less than two miles.There was much suffering in store for them under the tropic sun of thecoast. I asked an officer if he thought these men would make goodsoldiers. He replied with an air of great importance, and lookingquite serious, that he had received word that the Chilean navy wascoming to bombard Mollendo, and it was his intention to instruct theIndians in the use of the rifle. When the ships came near enough, hewould station his men among the rocks and shoot the sailors off thedecks. This, too, with flint lock rifles--a sample of the calibre ofthe Peruvian officer of the interior and his unfortunate Indiansoldiers.

  After getting to the head of the Tambo valley, I proceeded toMollendo and found a terrible state of affairs. Everyone was expectingthe Chilean fleet; men and women were carrying their household goodsto the mountains. At sight of every ship on the horizon, whethersailing vessel or steamer, a cry would go forth--"They come--theycome!" The greatest confusion prevailed. There was no organization, nodiscipline; everybody for himself, and all running at the cryof--"They come!"

  One morning about ten o'clock the hostile fleet did come.