Chapter XIV: Friend or Foe!

I have before said that Don Felipe was our nearest neighbour; the grounds of his house, indeed, joined our own, and I might easily have gone there on foot. Perhaps it was a touch of pride which induced me to go on horseback, as I was a good rider, and young enough to feel a certain satisfaction in my appearance.

I had grown beyond the recollection of the gatekeeper, who admitted me to the courtyard with a show of deference, saying that both his master and young mistress were at home. Rosa's mother had been dead for some years.

Don Felipe had numerous servants, and to one of them I threw the reins, telling him to mind my horse. Then going to the door, I inquired for Don Felipe.

The major-domo was showing me to a small room, when a girl, merrily humming a popular Royalist song, came tripping along the corridor. Suddenly she stopped, looked hard at me, and then came forward again, saying, "Juan! Surely you are Juan Crawford?"

I have sometimes laughed since at my stupidity, yet there might be found some excuse for it. During my absence from Lima I had often thought of my little playmate, but it had never occurred to me that time would change her as well as myself. And now, instead of the merry child with whom I had romped and played, there appeared a beautiful girl at whom I gazed in wonder.

"Are you not Juan Crawford?" she asked again, speaking softly.

"Yes," said I, "I am Juan; but you, señorita?"

Her face rippled with merry laughter; but pouting her lips, she said,--

"What a poor compliment to your old friend, Juan! Surely you have not forgotten Rosa!"

"Nay, that have I not; I have forgotten nothing. But you are so changed, Rosa--so different!"

"So are you; but I knew you at once. When did you come home? Have you come to see me?"

"Yes, and your father as well. I have some business with him."

"Oh!" cried she, tossing her head and frowning, "of course you and he are on the same side. My father is a Patriot now, and cries, 'Down with the king!' I suppose your meddlesome general has sent you with a message."

I did not undeceive her; and while the servant carried my name to his master, we entered one of the rooms and continued our conversation. I saw she was troubled; yet with great skill and grace she put me at ease, and led me to talk of what had happened during the last two years.

"What a fire-eater you are, Juan!" she cried banteringly. "I am quite afraid of you. But what a fine sword you have! Ah, if I were only a boy! Can you guess what I would do?"

"No," I replied, with a shake of the head. "No one can guess what a girl will do."

"But I said a boy."

"Ah! that would be altogether different."

"I will tell you then," she said, standing up and speaking very earnestly. "I would get a sword and pistols and join the king's friends. I would be a loyal Spanish cavalier, Juan, if I were the only one in Peru!"

"Then it is lucky you are a girl, Rosa, or you would soon be killed. I would not harm the king, even if he were here instead of being in Spain, thousands of miles away; but I have no love for those who rule in his name."

"No," said she, casting down her eyes, and I thought her voice sounded sad; "you have suffered at their hands. But it is not the king's fault, Juan; he would have seen you righted."

"It is a long way from Peru to Spain," said I, trying to speak carelessly, "and it seems as if in these days one must right one's own wrongs."

After that we sat speaking very little, each afraid lest the talk should drift into an awkward channel, for I felt sure that she knew how her father had robbed us of our estates.

On the return of the servant she whispered earnestly, "My father has changed greatly. I am sure he is unhappy. If he should appear cross and irritable, you will bear with him, won't you, Juan?"

"I will do my best, Rosa. But why should he be angry with me? I am only going to ask him a question."

Don Felipe was truly much altered. His dark hair was plentifully sprinkled with silver; there were deep lines in his forehead and around his lips; his eyes had become shifty, and there was a look of cunning in them. He gave me just one swift, searching glance, and then looked away. It was an awkward meeting, and I hardly knew what to say. Fortunately Don Felipe took the lead.

"You have grown almost out of knowledge, my young friend; and I notice you have obtained military rank," said he, with a covert sneer.

"I have the honour to be a lieutenant in the army to which we both belong, señor," I replied.

He winced at that, and his eyes glowed angrily.

"If you have brought me a message from your general," said he, "will you at once deliver it? I am very busy just now."

"I will not take up more than five minutes of your valuable time, señor. My errand is an important one, though _at present_ it has nothing to do with General San Martin."

Again he glanced at me sharply, and I thought he seemed slightly nervous.

"I must ask you to be quick with it," he said coldly.

"I only desire to ask you about the death of my father. I am sure you will give me all the information in your power, as he died for the independence of Peru, which to-day both you and I are trying to secure."

At that he started up, his eyes blazing, his hand on his sword.

"Do you think I killed your father?" he roared furiously. "He died through his own fault. I warned him again and again that the time was not ripe, but he paid no heed to me."

"Are you not mistaken?" I asked. "According to the Indians' account, he was slain while trying to prevent them from rising."

"Then the government was deceived. No good can be done by digging up the dead past, but you shall hear all that I know of the story. At that time there were three parties in the country. One section, led by your father, resolved upon armed insurrection; another, composed of Royalists, determined that nothing should be changed; the third, to which I belonged, endeavoured to obtain reform by moderate means. I need not say that your father was a marked man. One day the viceroy received word that he had started for the mountains in order to rouse the Indians to revolt, and, to prevent mischief, it was arranged that he should be placed in prison. As you may know, he refused to submit quietly, and, unfortunately, was shot in the fight which ensued."

"Was his body brought back to Lima?"

"I never heard so. Most probably it was left on the mountains. I was sorry for him; but he was a headstrong man, and would not listen to reason."

"That was foolish of him," I remarked quietly. "Had he waited till the proper time to declare his real opinions, he would not have lost his life, nor my mother her property. It is possible, indeed, that our estates would have been largely added to."

"The estates were confiscated, it is true," said Don Felipe slowly, "but they fell into friendly hands." Then, in quite a kindly tone, he added, "You feel bitter against me, Juan--I see it in your face. Perhaps it is natural; yet you really have no reason to do so. I must not say more now, but all will come right in the end."

"So I intend," said I stoutly, yet feeling rather mystified.

The man's sudden change of manner puzzled me. After all, I was only a boy, with little ability and no training to seek for things lying beneath the surface. And Montilla seeing the state of my mind, played upon it with consummate skill.

I cannot truthfully say that he made any definite promise, but this was the impression I received:--Knowing that all my father's property was forfeit to the law, he had exerted his influence to secure it. At that time he thought the trouble would be settled without fighting, and intended in a year or two to restore the estates. When the war broke out, he endeavoured to bring the viceroy over to the cause of reform, but finding that impossible, was compelled reluctantly to join the Patriots. Of course, in the matter of the estates, nothing could be done now till the war was over.

"Thus," said he cheerfully, "the future is safe. If the Patriots win, we can have the confiscation revoked; while, on the other hand, I count so many friends among the moderate Royalists that the viceroy would hardly care to thwart me."

"In any case," said I bluntly, though with no wish to vex him, "the Indians will see that I am not wronged!"

"Trust me," he answered, his voice sounding now like the purring of a cat; "Felipe Montilla never makes mistakes."

I had a stinging reply on my lips, but refraining from giving it utterance, I bade him farewell.

"Come again, Juan," said he, "if the general can spare you!" And though not overburdened with wits, I had a sense of being laughed at.

I was joined in the corridor by Rosa, who wanted to know why I was going so soon.

"I really must," I answered, smiling. "I have spent no time with my mother yet, and I may be sent for at any moment."

"But this will not be _good-bye_?"

"On the contrary, I hope to see you often. Your father has given me the kindest of invitations."

At this she opened her eyes wide; but quickly recovering herself, she smiled pleasantly, and accompanied me to the hall. As I rode by, she was standing at a window waving her hand.

I had much to think of during the short ride home, but I got little satisfaction from my thoughts. Nothing had been gained by my visit to Montilla, and his story only went to confirm the truth of the reports of my father's death. As to my faith in his startling promises, it grew weaker with every step my horse took.

I said nothing to my mother; but José, to whom I related all that had passed, laughed loudly.

"The cunning old fox!" cried he; "he hasn't his equal for craft in Peru! You will see that, whoever sinks, Don Felipe Montilla will swim."

"Not at my expense," I exclaimed, "while I have strength to raise an arm."

The rest of that day I spent with my mother, forcing myself to forget that any trouble existed in the world. It was only a brief spell of happiness, but we enjoyed every second of it, and by nightfall my mother's face had lost some of its sadness, and her eyes shone brightly as in the olden days.

Early next morning an order was brought to me to rejoin Colonel Miller, as it was arranged that, for a time at least, José should remain behind to look after the affairs of the hacienda. The servants assembled in the courtyard to see me off, and my mother came to the hall door. There she embraced me, and stood smiling bravely as I mounted. Whatever sorrow she felt was locked up tightly in her own breast.

Accompanied by the man who had brought the order, I rode briskly to Mirones, the headquarters of the Patriot army, and about a mile from Callao.

The colonel was with San Martin and a group of officers, watching the enemy's movements; but he turned to me at once, saying, "General, this is Lieutenant Crawford, of whom I spoke."

San Martin, the Protector of Peru, was a tall man with black hair, bushy whiskers, and a deep olive complexion. He had black, piercing eyes, fringed by long lashes and overhung by heavy brows and a high, straight forehead. He was strong and muscular, with an erect, military carriage. He looked every inch a soldier, and one, moreover, with an iron will that nothing could bend. His voice was harsh and unmusical, but he spoke in a kindly, simple, and unaffected manner.

"Colonel Miller has told me many things of you, lieutenant," said he, "and all to your credit. I am glad to know that the son of Don Eduardo Crawford is following so well in his father's steps."

"Thank you, general," I replied, bowing low.

"I understand," he continued, "that Colonel Miller wishes to keep you with him. It is certainly an honourable post; but I fancy you are likely to get many hard knocks," he concluded, with a laugh.

"He has had a strong taste of the service, general," observed Miller, with a merry smile.--"Are you willing to stay with me, Crawford?"

"Yes, certainly, sir, with the general's permission."

"Very well," said San Martin. "And, by the way, colonel, let him have on hour's sleep now and again,"--a little joke at which the group of officers, knowing the Englishman's habits, laughed heartily.

The general presently rode off to his quarters, the officers went to their several duties, and I accompanied Colonel Miller to that part of the field in which his men were stationed. He had been appointed to the command of a column seven hundred strong, which was held in readiness to move at any moment. The officers were unknown to me, but they seemed pleasant, genial fellows, and in a short time I felt quite at home with them. The younger ones were grumbling because San Martin did not at once attack the enemy, saying that Canterac would slip away to the mountains in the night.

"Then his army will break up of its own accord," remarked a grizzled major. "He can't take his guns, and his troops are starving. Hundreds will throw down their weapons on finding us close at their heels."

"Better have a straight fight and have done with it," grumbled a youngster. "There's no fun playing at hide-and-seek in the hills."

"Should you live to be a man," said the major reprovingly, "you won't talk in such a light-hearted way of a battle." And the boy's face flushed at the laugh which greeted the remark.

"Don't be too sarcastic, Gamarra," cried another. "The youngster's right in the main. If Canterac escapes, the war may drag on for months, and will cost thousands of lives. The mountains will kill more than a pitched battle would."

"Canterac can't escape if we follow him up properly," said the major, "and Colonel Miller seems the man to do that."

"That is so; but he can't move without orders; and there's more than one man in high places who will prefer Lima to a pursuit."

Thus they talked during the afternoon, and early in the evening Colonel Miller ordered that every one not on duty should turn in at once; which we took to be a sign that something was going to happen shortly.

At ten o'clock the column was roused. The men assembled silently, and a whisper went round that Canterac had begun his retreat. For more than an hour we awaited fresh orders, the colonel on horseback fuming impatiently, until at last the word came to march.

"An hour thrown away," muttered the colonel angrily. "Canterac will laugh in our faces."

To our disgust, we found that the column was attached to the main army, and that we had to move step by step to the will of the chief. I knew very little about military tactics, but it was a strange kind of pursuit, and made me think of a tortoise chasing a hare.

"I wonder what Captain Plaza would think of this performance?" said the colonel, rather bitterly, as we jogged along. "This isn't the way he took you after Santalla, eh?"

"Indeed no, colonel!" I replied, laughing. "The captain would have had us on the other side of Lima by now."

"It's like a funeral procession," he muttered impatiently; "and if they don't mind, 'twill be a funeral procession in reality. We shall be burying the independence of Peru."

The ridiculous part of it was that our column had been formed of all the light companies on purpose to swoop down on the foe. As far as I could judge, the swoop was much like that of a hawk whose wings had been carefully tied to its body.

However, we tramped along throughout the night, halting at daybreak without getting a glimpse of the exulting Canterac.

"Never mind," exclaimed the colonel, who hated to look on the dark side of things; "we may catch them during the day."

In this he was disappointed, as we proceeded in the same leisurely manner, just as if we were out for a quiet stroll on a summer's day. Several times Miller rode off to the staff, but on each occasion he returned looking more dissatisfied than before.

The men wondered, and at each halt the officers talked pretty freely among themselves, giving their opinions with refreshing vigour.

"Canterac has the start of us now," said one, "and we shall never overtake him. We had the game in our hands, and have simply thrown it away."

The grizzled major remained optimistic, saying, "You may depend that San Martin has some scheme in his head." But the rest of us were doubtful.

"If I had an enemy in a trap, my scheme would be to keep him there and not to let him walk out through an open door," laughed a young captain. "The war might have been finished to-day; now it's likely to go on for another twelvemonth."

"Well," remarked one of his comrades, "it's a comfort to think we shan't kill ourselves through over-exertion."

By degrees we pushed on to a place about nine leagues east of Lima, where it seemed as if the lumbering machine had broken down altogether. It was evening when we arrived and halted; the men ate the last morsel of their scanty rations; the chief officers, though no one could imagine what they found to discuss, held a conference, and presently it leaked out that the pursuit had been abandoned.

"I don't profess to understand it," exclaimed Major Gamarra, "but you will find that there's some grand scheme in the air."

"Ah!" interrupted another officer, in a sarcastic tone, "and no doubt it will stay there; most of these precious schemes do. What I should like to see would be a little common sense."

"Would you recognize it if you saw it?" put in the major quick as lightning; and all the others laughed.

"Perhaps not. I've had little opportunity of renewing my acquaintance with it since San Martin came to Peru."

This was a dangerous remark, as we were a very mixed crowd. Some had come from Buenos Ayres with San Martin; others were Chilians who had fought with him throughout the Chilian War; several, like myself, were natives of Peru; while two or three were Englishmen.

Fortunately, before the dispute had had time to become hot, the colonel returned from the conference, and joined us at the fire.

"I don't know, gentlemen, that anything is likely to happen," said he; "but we may as well enjoy a night's rest while we can," and wrapping his cloak around him, he lay down, setting an example which most of us followed.