Chapter XI: A Narrow Escape

"It is a great honour," exclaimed José, "and you should feel proud."

I had just returned from an interview with the colonel, who had asked me to undertake for a short time the duties of his private secretary. It seemed a simple task then, but afterwards I regarded it differently. For the next three weeks I was attached to the colonel, who took me with him everywhere. A secretary is generally supposed to write, but my work consisted in riding. Day after day, from morning till night, we were on horseback, now travelling over sandy deserts to the seashore, again penetrating into the heart of the mountains--hungry, thirsty, and tired, and always in danger of falling into the hands of the enemy.

As a measure of precaution our little force retired to Tacna, where, much to my satisfaction, the colonel received from Lima news of an armistice. This, of course, extended to all parts of the country; but I was mistaken in thinking it would increase my leisure, as my time was still kept fully occupied.

In one way this was a good thing, as it kept me from brooding over Santiago's story, though even at the busiest times the thought of my father's fate would creep into my mind. I saw nothing of José, who had been left behind with some Indians to hold a mountain pass, but occasionally I paid a brief visit to the Spanish prisoners for a chat with the friendly major.

We had been at Tacna a month, when one evening Colonel Miller said abruptly: "Crawford, the armistice is at an end, and we must retreat. Tell Videla to send the stores and the sick to Arica the first thing in the morning; then carry this order to Ilo. You will find three small brigs there; they are to sail at once for Arica. Take Castro the guide with you, and rejoin me on the march to Arica."

"Very good, sir," I replied, though my words belied my feelings. However, I went out, gave Videla the colonel's message, and hunted up the guide.

Castro was an educated Indian, trained by one of the missionaries, and a very decent fellow. I found him sound asleep; but he rose at once, looked to see if his bag of coca was full, loaded his pistols, and saddled his horse.

"A pleasant night for a ride, lieutenant,"--the colonel had given me that rank,--"and every yard will take us further from the Spaniards. I hear that La Hera is getting ready to swoop."

"He will find his pigeon a hawk if he comes too close," I answered, laughing. "Bring your horse, and wait for me at the hospital."

The night was still young, and many people, civilians and military, were in the street, talking in excited whispers. It was plain that they had heard of La Hera's approach, and were discussing what they knew of the colonel's plans.

Soon, however, the town was left behind, and we had fairly started on our journey. There was no danger in it, except that of getting lost, which, with Castro for a guide, was not likely to happen. He knew the district as well as, perhaps better than, I knew the streets of Lima.

We jogged along quietly till midnight, not wishing to tire the animals, and then stopped near the edge of a sandy desert for an hour's rest. By this time I had begun to hate the very sight of sand; it seemed to me more dreary and pitiless than the stoniest of barren ground. Castro did not mind in the least, but lay on his back looking at the starry sky and placidly chewing his coca.

"Come, lieutenant," said he briskly at the end of an hour, "it is time to mount;" and we were soon plodding on as patiently as before.

It was nine o'clock when we finally arrived at Ilo. It may have been owing to my own tired state, but I thought I had never seen such a miserable and desolate spot in all my life. The houses were wretched mud-built hovels, and the few people in the place looked woebegone beyond belief.

The three brigs were in keeping with the village, being old and worm-eaten, and the craziest craft imaginable. I would not have sailed one across a pond. However, I sought out the commander of this ragged squadron, and gave him the colonel's order.

On reading it his face brightened, and he declared his intention of running out to sea that very afternoon.

"He doesn't look much of a hero," observed Castro; "but," with an expressive glance at the three floating coffins, "I imagine there are few braver men in Peru."

"One need not be brave to seize any chance of getting away from this depressing place," said I. "I believe I could easily take the risk of being drowned if there were no other way of escape."

"You will have the risk, lieutenant, if we are to go afloat in these brigs; but my opinion is that the bottoms will drop out of them before they reach Arica."

"In that case we must either beat La Hera or be annihilated."

"That's what it looks like," replied Castro coolly.

We stabled our horses in a tumble-down shed, fed and watered them, and, as it was impossible to leave till they were rested, lay down to snatch a brief sleep on the ground. We were invited to use the floor of a hovel for a couch, but after glancing at it, declined with great politeness and many sonorous words of thanks.

When we awoke the brigs had disappeared, and a roaring wind was sweeping down from the north.

"They'll never make headway against that," remarked Castro. "We can return to the colonel and tell him his brigs are at the bottom of the sea. There will be a pretty tune played presently, and La Hera will provide the music."

To a sailor, perhaps, the danger would not have seemed formidable; but standing on that desolate beach, listening to the hurricane rush of the wind, I could not but think Castro was right. And if indeed he had prophesied truly, then was our little force in sad straits. Burdened with sick, hampered by fleeing patriots, encumbered by prisoners, with half his troops weakened as usual by ague, the English colonel could neither fight nor flee. What, then, could he do? By this time every one knew him too well to dream he would surrender.

"Castro," said I, "we carry bad news, and bad news flies apace. Let us keep up the reputation of the old proverb. Half an hour or so may make all the difference in the world."

He made a grimace as if to say that a few minutes more or less would matter little; but he saddled his horse promptly, nevertheless, and was ready to start as soon as I.

"I reckon," he said, "that we may strike the road from Tacna to Arica by midnight to-morrow, unless our animals founder by the way. Can you trust your horse?"

"The colonel selected him."

"That ought to be sufficient warrant. The chief knows a horse, though he will ride in the absurd English style."

There were few men in the country who would have cared to cut themselves adrift as Castro did on this ride of ours to intercept the marching Patriots. His only guides were those he could interpret from nature. While daylight lasted, he steered by the sun; at night, by the stars and the faint wind that fanned our faces.

For twenty-four hours, during which time we rested, of course, both for our own sakes and for the sakes of our animals, not one human being crossed our path, or even came within sight of us. And during that time, also, we saw neither bird nor beast, nor any manner of living thing, save only ourselves and our animals.

And then, quite unexpectedly to me, we came upon an oasis in the dreary desert--a little hamlet with mud-walled hovels, but better than those at Ilo, and having patches of cultivated ground enclosed. The natives had reclaimed this piece of land by means of the waters of a moderate-sized stream, and lived in almost as great isolation as if they had been on Robinson Crusoe's island.

They were neither Patriots nor Royalists, and I doubt much whether they knew of the struggle going forward; but they had kind hearts, and gave us a warm welcome, pressing upon us gifts of fruits and vegetables to the limits of their scanty stock. They found ample forage, too, for the weary animals, and we stayed there a matter of three hours to rest Castro's horse, which had shown symptoms of breaking down.

I seized this opportunity to snatch an hour's sleep; but my guide was kept chattering by the natives, who listened with amazement to his news. They knew no Spanish, and could not understand the native patois I spoke; neither could I understand a word of what they said. As for Castro, I suppose no man in South America had the gift of so many Indian dialects.

"After all, lieutenant," exclaimed he, as we took leave of this simple community, "I doubt if these people have not the best of life. They eat, drink, and are at peace, caring no more for a president than for a king."

"And doing nothing for either," I replied, laughing. "How does the horse seem now?"

"I think he will do this journey. But if I'm to ride with the colonel, he will have to provide me with another."

Throughout the evening we rode silently side by side, while all around us was the awful stillness of a dead world. The sun went down, and presently the stars gleamed above us, throwing a ghostly light over the sea of sand.

Midnight found us still riding, and another hour passed before Castro drew rein at the broken track leading from Tacna to Arica. Throwing the reins over his horse's neck, and jumping down, he examined the ground carefully, reading it as skilfully as the student reads a printed book.

To and fro he went, casting off here and there like a hunting-dog, till he was satisfied. Then he returned to me, saying, "Carts have gone by hours since, and the infantry quite recently, but I see no signs of cavalry."

"They would remain till the last minute, so as to deceive La Hera."

"That is so; but the question is, has the colonel stayed with them? It is to him we want to give our information."

"The infantry can tell us."

"We shall waste time if he is in the rear, and time is precious."

"Let us separate. You go forward; I will ride toward Tacna."

"It is dangerous, señor."

"You forget that I have been over this route."

"Well, as you will. If the colonel has not passed, I shall return. Keep to the track; do not wander from it either to right or to left."

"All right, Castro; I will take care."

He vaulted to the saddle, wished me a safe journey, and rode off, while I turned my horse's head in the opposite direction. Fortunately the night was clear, while the dawn was not far off, so that I had a great advantage in steering my way. True, I rode at no great pace, being both afraid and unwilling to spur my jaded beast. Now and again I even dismounted and walked at his head to give him some relief.

It was perhaps about three o'clock in the morning. A heavy fog had arisen, and I was riding with the greatest care, when suddenly I found a musket pointed straight at me, and heard the demand, "Halt, or I fire!"

The man spoke in Spanish, but his accent showed him to be an Indian, and I hoped he was one of Miller's cavalry detachment. Whistling softly, he was at once joined by a second and a third man, the last of whom sharply ordered me to dismount.

At the sound of his voice I laughed aloud, saying, "You post your men well, José, but they have not made a great capture this time. Is the colonel here?"

"We are all here," said José, giving my hand a grip; "but I thought you had gone to Arica. Is anything wrong?"

"A good deal," I answered, speaking in English, so that the Indians might not understand. "I must see Colonel Miller at once."

"Jump down, then. Leave your horse here, and I will take you to him. Mind where you step; the men are all tucked in and sound asleep."

But for the fog, I could by this time have seen my way clearly; as it was, I could only just distinguish the ponchos enveloping the men's heads. When the fog lifted, the light showed a more curious spectacle than most of you have perhaps ever seen. It was the custom, whenever we halted in a sandy desert, for each man to scoop out for himself a shallow grave. In this he lay, scraping the loose sand over his body for bed-clothes, and leaving his head, wrapped in his poncho, above ground. It was, indeed, a most comfortable and delicious bed, as in those days, or rather nights, I often proved.

The colonel lay buried alive, as it were, like his men; but he slept lightly, and pushing off his sandy bed-clothes at our approach, he struggled to his feet.

"Who is it?" he asked. "Crawford, where is your guide?"

"Gone another way to look for you, colonel."

"Have the brigs left Ilo?"

"Yes; but both Castro and I doubt if they will reach Arica. They are altogether crazy, and as soon as they left the harbour a strong gale from the north, which will drive them out of their course, sprang up."

"You are rather a Job's comforter," laughed the colonel. "I daresay they will arrive all right. Still," he continued, speaking more to himself, "everything depends upon their safe arrival--everything! Jump in, Crawford, and have a nap; I may want you presently."

He went away with José, while I got into his bed, pulled the sand over me, and was fast asleep before the two men had gone a dozen yards.

For two whole hours I lay like a log; then a soldier pulled the poncho from my head, saying that the colonel waited for me at breakfast. I rose quickly, made my toilet--not an elaborate proceeding, you may be sure--and waited on the colonel.

"Sit down," said he, laughing; "it's early in the day for banqueting, but we must feast when we can. I hope you are not blessed with too good an appetite?"

"I don't think I should feel greatly tempted to indulge much at present," I replied, with a grimace at the dried meat I was cutting. "Indigestion would only too surely follow."

"Then," said he, and his eyes twinkled with merriment, "we will eat sparingly. I am going straight to Arica, and you will ride with me."

"I am afraid I shall have to get you to find me a fresh horse, as my own has broken down, colonel."

Turning to one of the soldiers near, he said, "Ask Major Videla to send me a good horse at once.--Take your time, Crawford; I am awaiting a messenger from Tacna."

Nearly an hour passed before he was ready, during which time I saddled my fresh mount, transferred my holsters, and had a chat with José. He told me they had been compelled to release their prisoners, Santiago among them.

"I had no idea you were so hard pressed," I said.

"If La Hera doesn't blunder," answered José, "he can sweep us all into his net. The only thing that saves us now is Miller's skill and reputation. Every one believes he is going to show fight somewhere between this and the coast."

Presently the colonel came along, accompanied by Major Videla, to whom he gave final directions; and then, bidding me follow, rode from the camp. Four miles out we came upon Castro, walking, and leading his horse, which had fallen dead lame.

"Have you been into Arica?" asked Miller.

"No, colonel; but I have learned some news. There are four fine vessels in the roadstead; if you could get them, the troops would be safe."

"Ah!" cried the colonel sharply; and telling Castro to wait for the cavalry, he rode off at a great pace towards Arica. At four o'clock we staggered into the town, and were instantly met by the governor with a sorrowful tale. He had secured the use of three vessels, but the commander of the fourth absolutely refused to be either coaxed or threatened into lending his assistance.

There was not a moment to be lost, and Colonel Miller, with no other attendant than myself, ran down to the beach. There we got on a balsa, or raft, which carried us to a launch, whose crew at once took us alongside a fine North American schooner.

Clambering on deck, we found the master, to whom the colonel applied for the loan of his vessel. The sour old sea-dog turned a deaf ear. The colonel offered a sum of money that would have bought the schooner outright at market value; he would have none of it.

Now, it chanced that some of the crew were Englishmen who had served under Miller in the Chilian War; and though I did not know that, I could plainly see how interested they were in the discussion. The colonel saw it too, and in a few simple but terse and vigorous words he laid the case before them.

This produced a marked effect. The men growled their approbation, and one sturdy fellow exclaimed stoutly, "I'm not going to see a countryman of mine hard pushed without helping him. What's your sentiments, mates?"

"The same!" cried they.--"We'll stand by you, colonel. The Spaniards shan't cut you off if we can help it."

"Thanks, men," replied Colonel Miller, "and I'll treat you fairly. Neither your master nor you shall have cause to complain."

The skipper, however, was not to be appeased. He threw up his command and went ashore with us, leaving the mate to navigate the vessel. It was rather a high-handed proceeding, perhaps, on the colonel's part, but he was saving his troops from an unavailing fight against overwhelming odds.

All that night we worked like slaves. The launches could not come close inshore, so that every one and everything had to be transported to them on balsas. The colonel did not spare himself, and my position procured me the honour of standing beside him knee-deep in surf while he superintended the embarkation.

Most of the sick were got on board one or other of the four vessels, but the worst cases had to remain in hospital. Then nearly a hundred people of the town, who had recently joined the Patriot cause, clamoured for protection, which was, of course, afforded.

In the morning the colonel insisted I should take a rest, but the work continued all day, while from time to time scouts came in with the news that La Hera was advancing at full speed. At length it was all done; only the colonel and I remained to go on board, and we had just reached the launch, when, with a yell and thunder of hoofs, the Royalist cavalry galloped down to the beach.

"Just too late to take their passage," laughed Miller. "What a pity!"

"There's our late prisoner," I cried, standing up in the launch. "Look at the rascal; he is shaking his sword at us, and laughing."

"He's a fine fellow," remarked the colonel. "I don't grudge him his liberty."

Taking off my cap, I waved it vigorously; to which Santiago replied with a salute; and then, as pursuit was impossible, he led his men back into the town.