Chapter XIII: Home Again

Several days passed before I could recognize any one or anything, and then I found myself lying in bed in a strange room, but with José sitting near me. He rubbed his hands together and smiled when my eyes opened, but he would not talk beyond saying that we were back in Ica.

I felt weak, but in no pain; and in a day or two was able to dress, and with José's help to go for a stroll in the town. Several acquaintances congratulated me on my recovery; but not seeing Captain Plaza, I asked José if he had been hurt.

"Oh no," he answered, with a smile; "the captain is sound in everything but temper. Santalla spoiled that by getting clear off. You won't forget that charming little trip in a hurry, Jack!"

"Oh, it was simply awful! I wouldn't go through it again to be made commander-in-chief. I wonder it didn't kill me."

"It did kill some, and knocked you all out except Plaza and the guide. There was precious little difficulty in finding the route you had taken. One of the troopers showed me where you were. 'The lieutenant is a bit light-headed; said he; 'so I put him in a corner out of harm's way. I told him the captain had stopped the pursuit.'"

"I remember something about it. I was tired out before my horse got hit, and the climb up the pass finished me."

"You weren't the only one to get knocked up. However, the colonel obtained a light cart, and we brought you all back to Ica."

"So we had our trouble for nothing?"

"Not exactly. Santalla escaped, but he left all his stores behind, and nearly a hundred of his men were captured. Most of them, I think, were very glad of it. We couldn't get them to keep their eyes open, they were so sleepy."

"What did the colonel say?"

"Oh, he laughed, and chaffed Plaza a bit, but I think he was very well satisfied. Now we had better turn back."

I offered no objection, as even the short distance we had walked had fatigued me wonderfully. By degrees, however, my strength returned, and at the end of another week I was able to resume my duties.

The colonel, as usual, was extremely busy, having to keep in order all the affairs of a huge district. Though my services were very welcome, he would not let me do too much, saying kindly, "Take it easy, my lad. One mustn't spur the willing horse. We are not chasing Santalla just at present."

"Thank goodness!" I exclaimed. "One can have too much of that sport." And the colonel indulged in one of his merry laughs.

The town at this time was very quiet. There were no Spanish troops within many miles; our own men, through decent food and careful nursing, were rapidly recovering from the effects of their long forced marches; and fierce bands of our guerillas guarded the mountain passes. As far as our particular district was concerned, the war seemed to be over.

One night as I sat making a fair copy of a proclamation, the colonel, looking up suddenly, exclaimed, "Crawford, would you like to go to Lima?"

"To Lima, sir?" and I let the pen fall in my eagerness; "why, I'd give anything to go there!"

"Well, you can go for nothing, my boy, in a day or two. Of course you know our friends have been for some time now in possession of the capital, and that San Martin is Protector of Peru?"

"Yes, sir, though I think 'tis but an empty title until the Royalists are thoroughly beaten."

"All in good time," said he pleasantly. "That will come some day. We shall be masters of Callao shortly; which will be a great step forward. I have received news this afternoon which impels me to make the journey to Lima; so if you think you're strong enough--"

"I'm sure I am," I cried eagerly. "I haven't an ache or pain in my whole body now, and--"

"All right!" interrupted the colonel; "I'll take you. Now finish your copying, and don't fling the ink all over the place; it's wasteful."

It was not only wasteful, but it gave me extra work, the copy being so smeared and blotted that I had to write it again on a fresh sheet.

"Lima in a day or two!" I said softly to myself as my pen drove along the paper. The words sounded like sweetest music to me, and I hummed them to myself over and over again. I pictured the dear old home, the park, the pony I had ridden so often, the silvery pond, and the boats I had fashioned to sail on its waters.

But above and beyond all I saw my mother, with eyes aglint and face suffused with joy. The vision was so real that I stopped in my writing to view it more closely. And when the colonel presently gave me leave for the remainder of the day, I rushed off to find José, hardly knowing whether I ran or flew.

"What is it, Jack?" he exclaimed. "Has Captain Plaza promised to take you on another trip?"

He laughed at his own joke, and I laughed too, being in the humour to see fun in anything.

"You aren't far out, José," I replied, slapping him on the shoulder out of pure good humour. "I am going on a trip, but not with Plaza!"

"Then it must be with the colonel."

"Right this time. But where are we going, José? can you tell me that, eh? No, you'll never guess, so I will tell you. To _Lima_, my boy! what do you think of that?"

"I think that your mother will be very pleased to see you."

"Fancy seeing her again, José, after all these weary months!"

"She will hardly know you," said he. "You have grown so tall and strong and manly. You are the image of what your father was at your age, Jack. Are all the troops to be moved up?"

"I think not. As far as I know, the colonel's only paying a flying visit to the capital. Why are you laughing?"

"Because I'm rather doubtful of that. If Miller goes to Lima, it's a proof there are hard knocks about. And high time too! According to the talk, the war should have been done with long ago."

Next day the colonel made his arrangements, and on the following morning he set out, leaving Major Videla in charge of the district. Rather to my surprise, José formed one of the party, which consisted only of us three.

Under some circumstances the journey would have been tedious; but Colonel Miller was very agreeable, and told us many interesting stories of his adventurous career. Thus the time passed pleasantly enough, and on the evening of September 11, 1821, we arrived in the neighbourhood of Lima.

The capital, as I have said, was in possession of the Patriots; but a Royalist garrison still held Callao, and the Royalist general, Canterac, with a small army, had just swooped down from the mountains to help his friends. Our soldiers were chiefly stationed between the two towns; but the citizens of Lima had armed themselves, and swaggered about talking of the great deeds they were about to perform.

The colonel, aware of my anxiety, agreed that I should pay a visit to my mother at once.

"I must see General San Martin," said he. "He may give me a post here, and if so, I will send for you. But you have earned a few days' rest, and I shall not omit to mention you favourably to the protector."

As soon as he had gone, José and I rode on quickly. My heart beat fast, and my hands trembled so that I had to use both in holding the reins.

"I suppose it is all right, José," I remarked as we drew near the house. "I suppose there is nothing wrong?"

"No, no," replied he; "why should there be? You are nervous, my boy, that's all. Cheer up; in a short time you will be in your mother's arms."

At the outer gate I drew back, leaving José to accost the janitor, who greeted him heartily. Then in silence we rode through the park to the courtyard, and in response to our knocking Antonio appeared.

On seeing me the old man would have screamed with delight, but I checked him, saying softly, "Hush, Antonio; tell me quickly of your mistress, my mother. Is she well?"

"In health, señor, but sad. Ah, the house has been very lonely for many a long day!"

"Go you, José," said I, "and prepare her."

"Joy never kills," answered he, laughing; "but perhaps it will be as well for me to go in first."

I waited a few moments, and then dismounting, walked softly towards the entrance. What would she say? what would she do? My heart almost ceased beating as I stood in the shadow listening. The door was wide open, and a stream of light came from the spacious hall.

Suddenly I heard a quick step, and then my mother's voice crying, "Juan! my Juan! where are you?" And running forward, I threw myself joyfully into her arms. She kissed me repeatedly, and then hand in hand we went inside.

"Mother!" I cried, "mother!" and for a long time that was the only word spoken. We sat down side by side, and her beautiful eyes, dimmed by very joy, looked into mine. She pressed my hand, smoothed my cheeks, and brushed back the hair from my forehead, murmuring softly, "Juan, my Juan!"

I think, perhaps, that great happiness, like great grief, kills speech. At least it was so with us, and we were content to sit there silently gazing into each loved face.

At length the good old major-domo, knocking timidly at the door, announced that supper was served, when my mother with a sigh suffered me to leave her for a few minutes, in order to make myself more presentable for the table.

I would have had José sit down with us, but he disappeared, and perhaps after all it was as well. My mother made only a pretence at eating, and sat with her eyes fixed on me, as though fearful I should in some mysterious way suddenly disappear.

After supper we returned to the drawing-room, where I related my adventures, telling her the story of the shipwreck, of my rescue and imprisonment in the fort, of my marvellous escape, and all the various incidents which had happened since I left home. Of Santiago's information concerning my father I said nothing, though I longed greatly to do so.

"I think General Barejo wished you well," she exclaimed after a pause. "He is not of our way of thinking, but he has a kind heart, and he was a true friend to me before these troubles came upon us."

"Was he ever friendly with father?" I asked.

"He respected him much, though he thought him greatly mistaken. You see, their ideas were altogether opposed, but in private life each esteemed the other."

Presently, remembering that the Royalists no longer held Lima, I said, "What has become of little Rosa? I hope our people have not disturbed her, though it must be lonely for her living in that great house alone. Could she not have come to you?"

"There was no need," and my mother's lips curled scornfully; "she is safe enough with her father."

"With her father?" I echoed, in astonishment. "How can he take a delicate child like that into a rough camp?"

"His house is not a rough camp, Juan!"

The truth did not strike me at first, so I said innocently, "Oh, has he been wounded and obtained permission to be nursed at home? Is he seriously hurt?"

"He is quite well, I believe, and is one of us."

"Felipe Montilla turned _Patriot_?" I cried in amazement.

Now let me not be misunderstood. I honestly believed our cause just. In my small way I had ventured my life for the independence of Peru, and was quite ready to venture it again. But this man had boasted his loyalty to the Spanish king, had fought under his flag, had taken high rank in his army! He had accepted from him both honours and broad lands, and then at the first reverse in his fortunes had slunk away like a whipped cur.

"A fig for such Patriots!" cried I hotly. "Were I San Martin, he should be whipped back to the men he has deserted. Give me a loyal friend or a stout enemy, I care not which; but these _jellyfish_--bah! they are an abomination."

"You are young, my boy, and not quite wise enough to understand these things. Is it not to Don Felipe's credit that he should openly confess his mistake?"

"And save his estates into the bargain," said I wrathfully. "Let the Spaniards get the upper hand, and you will find him back in their ranks quickly enough."

"A man must follow the guiding of his conscience, even if it lead to his advantage," remarked my mother quietly. "But if you are indignant with Don Felipe, you will be equally delighted with Rosa. She is still Loyalist to the core, and makes no secret of it. She told San Martin the other day that he was a busybody, meddling in affairs that did not concern him, and that the people of Peru could settle their disputes without his interference."

"Bravo, Rosa!" I cried, with a laugh; "there is nothing like speaking one's mind. I'll wager San Martin prefers the girl to her father. Have you seen the general?"

"Yes; he paid me a friendly visit on purpose to show his admiration for your dear father. He is a most remarkable man."

It was not until the evening drew to a close that my mother spoke of what lay nearest her heart--our plans for the future. She admitted with a sigh that I must in honour offer my services to San Martin. I was still young, but there were many boys fighting in the ranks, and some had already sacrificed their lives for the cause.

"It is hard to let you go again," said she, pressing me fondly to her, "and yet I must. God grant that the war may soon be brought to an end!"

"Amen to that!" I exclaimed fervently. "Fighting is not to my liking, but I cannot stand idly by while others risk their lives for my benefit."

"No," said my mother, kissing me good-night; "you must do your duty, my boy. Your father would have wished it."

A few minutes later I went to my room, and was just closing the door when José appeared. He looked hot and flushed, and I asked where he had been.

"To the camp," said he, with a laugh, "to see what's going on. I thought the colonel must have had some special news. Unless San Martin holds his hand, the Spaniards are lost. They can't stay at Callao, as there isn't food even for the garrison; they aren't strong enough to take Lima: they must retreat or starve."

"Well?" I exclaimed questioningly.

"Why, don't you see, directly they begin to retreat we shall crush them. Already nearly two hundred of their men have deserted."

"More deserters? Why, we shall soon be able to form a battalion of turncoats for Don Felipe to lead!"

It was now José's turn to look astonished, and his expression of amazement was so ludicrous that I laughed outright.

"What a poltroon!" he cried contemptuously. "But I'll see you get no harm by this right-about face. He is mistaken if he thinks his treachery will give him a hold on your estates."

"A hold on my estates, José? What do you mean?"

"Oh," said he, "I have not cared to speak of it, but I must now." And he proceeded to inform me that all my father's property had passed into the possession of Don Felipe Montilla.

"But," I exclaimed, striving to appear calm, "that will be set aside now. San Martin will never allow our property to be confiscated because my father died for the Patriot cause."

"Montilla is a fox, Jack, and has made a good bargain for himself, no doubt. I expect he obtained the general's written promise to confirm him in all his estates. And if so," he concluded gloomily, "yours form part of them."

"He shall not keep them," I cried angrily, "whatever San Martin has promised!"

"No; but we must not quarrel openly until the Spaniards are done with. Montilla has influence, and no doubt San Martin finds him useful. But don't take it to heart, Jack; we will defeat him in the end."

"If we don't," said I grimly, "it will be because the son has followed the father. And that reminds me, do you think Montilla knows what actually happened to my father? It always seemed strange to me that Rosa should learn of that affair so quickly."

"You don't suspect--"

"That he had a hand in his death? No, hardly that, though he is mean-spirited enough for it. But it struck me that, being high in the viceroy's favour, he probably knew what was going on."

"That is possible at least."

"Probable, I should say. However, to-morrow I intend putting the question to him."

"Do you mean that you are going to interview him on the subject?"

"Why not? There can be no harm in asking a straightforward question."

"Mind you don't lose your temper, my boy. It's dangerous work rousing a venomous snake until its poison bag is extracted."

"Never fear, José. I have learned how to take care of myself during the last few months. Thanks to you and the colonel, I have done some hard practising. And now turn in. It will seem strange to sleep in one's own bed again, won't it?"

"Make the most of it," advised he laughingly. "It may be a long time before you have another chance."

I felt very tired, and yet it was long before I fell asleep. I was angry at Montilla's double-dealing, sorry for Rosa, my old playmate, and agitated by a thousand vague doubts and suspicions.

In the morning I rose very little refreshed, had a simple breakfast in my room, and went to find José. He had already returned from an early visit to the camp, and brought word that matters were still in the same state. The Spaniards remained sheltered under the guns of the fortress, and San Martin, knowing their provisions were almost exhausted, would not attack.

Presently we were joined by my mother, who made José happy by praising him for his care of me. Then we took a stroll round the grounds, looked in at my workshop, where my half-painted boat still lay, and paid a visit to the lake.

After a while I asked José to have my horse saddled, saying, "Excuse me, mother, for a short time, please. You know the colonel may send for me at any moment, and I should like to see Rosa once more."

This was only partly the truth, but I could not speak of my principal motive, for as yet, acting under José's advice, I had made no mention of Santiago's queer story. It would have been cruel to raise hopes that might have no actual foundation.