Chapter XXVII: A Disastrous Retreat

When General Canterac retreated from Junin, he fled from his own shadow. Instead of pursuing him closely, we advanced in a leisurely way to Guamanga, and stayed there a month doing nothing. Then we marched to Challuanca, where Bolivar, being needed at the capital, left us under the command of General Sucre, who had shown himself a very skilful soldier. It seems we were not strong enough to proceed, and as the rainy season was at hand, no one thought the Royalists would return to the attack.

The Patriot army was spread across the country for many miles, our post being on a high tableland four leagues from Challuanca. The weather was abominable. Frequent storms swept through the district, the rain fell in torrents, the thunder pealed in reverberating claps among the mountains, and many animals and some men were killed by the lightning. It was bitterly cold, too, and our only shelter was a cluster of miserable Indian huts, where we passed all our time when not on duty. Often I returned to my cheerless quarters cold, shivering, and drenched, yet with no change of clothing.

To add to our misfortunes, it was rumoured that the various Royalist armies, having united, were marching to attack us; so for days together we were kept on the alert, riding for hours over the desolate country and returning thoroughly exhausted.

One evening early in November I got back after a twenty miles' ride with a small patrol, and found the camp in a state of confusion.

"What is it, Alzura? what's all the fuss about?" I asked, wearily getting off my mule--for we rode horses only when absolutely necessary.

"Oh, my dear Juan, you will be delighted," he replied, his face brimming with fun. "We are just going back to Challuanca. The viceroy is somewhere in our rear with all his army, and we have to run for it."

"My animal is dead-beat," said I gloomily.

"You must walk, and lead both animals. Never mind, dear boy; the excitement will keep you going," he answered, laughing.

"Hullo! is it you, Crawford? In luck's way again! And I've been worrying about your being left behind," said Plaza, coming up.

I did not exactly see where the luck came in; but the sound of the bugle cut short my reply, and I took my place in the column. That march was the longest twelve miles I remember. Sometimes riding, sometimes walking, aching in every limb, and more than half asleep, I plodded along the rocky path, dreamily wondering at every step whether I could take another. As soon as we arrived at Challuanca I just lay down on the bare ground, and was fast asleep in a second.

It was daylight when the sounds of bugles awakened me, and I rose sleepily. The army had disappeared, with the exception of our squadron, which I afterwards found formed part of the rearguard.

"Come on, sleepy-head," sang out Alzura, "or you'll get no breakfast. I've seen to your animals. A wonder they didn't kick you to death in the night!"

"The poor beasts were too tired to have a kick left in them. Where's General Sucre?"

"Going on to a place called Lambrama. Do you know Miller is a prisoner?"

"A prisoner? I don't believe it."

"It's true, nevertheless. His scouting party has returned without him. From what I can hear, we're in a tight fix."

According to rumour, Alzura was right; but after a long and wearisome march we reached Lambrama, where General Sucre halted. During the afternoon, while we rested in the valley, a great shout from the troops on our right brought us to our feet, and we saw a soldier on a beautiful white horse descending a pass into the valley.

"That's General Miller's horse!" I cried excitedly.

"And the general's on its back!" said Plaza. "Viva! viva Miller!" And the cry was taken and repeated by thousands of lusty throats.

I had witnessed San Martin's brilliant reception, and had seen Bolivar fêted by his admirers; but this outburst was the most remarkable of all. One would have thought the general was a personal friend of every man in the army.

Each battalion, as he passed it, broke into renewed cheering, the men flung their caps into the air, and the whole scene was one of amazing enthusiasm. The general rode along slowly, and his smiling face showed how greatly he was touched by his reception.

"The man's a marvel!" exclaimed Plaza admiringly. "Look at him! One would think he had just come from a pleasure-trip instead of being hunted through the mountains. I warrant the viceroy would count his capture cheap at half a million dollars."

"Say a million, and it would still be cheap," said Alzura; and most of us agreed with him.

General Miller apparently brought important information, as, shortly after his arrival, orders were issued for a fresh start. I need not dwell long upon our sufferings during that disastrous retreat. The Royalists had outmarched us, and, hoping to stop our advance, closed many of the defiles and destroyed the bridges by which we should have crossed the numerous rivers.

Several times we caught a glimpse of the enemy, and one night the hostile armies bivouacked within two miles of each other, but separated by a deep and rugged valley. The terrible march was so weakening us that many officers hoped the enemy would attack at once. But this the viceroy, who was a clever old soldier, would not do. His plan was to wear us down by degrees and only fight at an advantage.

For several days we remained watching each other, but on November 25th the Royalists disappeared, and Sucre immediately made preparations to cross the valley. A swollen river lay in our path; the bridge was destroyed, and there was no material with which to build another.

The crossing was simply terrible. The weather was intensely cold, and even at the ford the infantry were breast high in icy water. It was death to remain behind, however, and though many men, numbed and exhausted, were swept down the stream, only two lives were lost.

On the last night in November we reached a valley whose sides were clothed with enormous trees, and the order to encamp was gratefully received.

"Thank goodness!" said Alzura. "We shall have a comfortable night at last. The trees will shelter us from the cold winds, and we shall be as cozy as in bed."

"Humph!" said Gamarra testily; "much you know about it. In half an hour you'll wish we had camped on the top of a mountain."

"Why?" I asked curiously, for the valley seemed to me a very suitable camping-ground.

"Wait!" growled the crusty old major; "you'll soon know."

This sounded very mysterious, but in a short time the secret was out. We had just settled ourselves comfortably when Alzura started up, and some one said, in a tone of great disgust, "Mosquitoes!"

They were very fine specimens, and, I suppose, exceedingly angry at our invasion of their territory. They came buzzing up in countless thousands, and though many were slain, the slaughter made no apparent difference in their numbers.

I had put on my gloves, and now hastily covered my face with a handkerchief. The mosquitoes were by no means dismayed. Thirsting for blood, they would not be denied, but drank deeply. To any one mosquito-proof the scene would have been most laughable. We made a desperate fight, but the victory was to the mosquitoes.

Our hands, necks, and faces were swollen from their venomous bites. Some of the men could hardly see; and though we were dreadfully fatigued, every one longed to hear the bugle-call to fall in. No one wanted to remain in what Plaza christened "Alzura's paradise."

The welcome sound came at break of day, and we moved out quickly, abandoning the battlefield to our active and vigorous foes. As soon as we reached the open country the rain began to fall, and continued in torrents all that day and the following night.

"I don't exactly see how much better off we are than Barriero," remarked Alzura, as we lay down to sleep in a muddy puddle.

"You should have stayed with him, then."

"It's all very well to say that now. Why did you bring me away?"

I was too much staggered by the audacity of the question to make a suitable reply.

Hungry, cold, and wet, we resumed the retreat, and soon began defiling into another valley. Our squadron was right in the rear, and suddenly the sounds of firing and the cries of startled men were heard in front of us.

"Mount!" cried the colonel; for we were still leading our horses, and most of our mules were dead. "Forward! Trot!"

"Some of the enemy have doubled and cut in on our flank!" said Plaza excitedly.

"Gallop!" roared the colonel, as entering the valley we caught sight of what was going on.

Unperceived by us, a Royalist detachment had stolen down the valley and flung itself on the flank of our two rear battalions. Taken by surprise, and outnumbered, our men were speedily overpowered, and before we had arrived on the scene they had dispersed in all directions.

To the shouts of "Viva el Rey!" and encouraged by their officers, the Royalists were hotly chasing their beaten enemy. The valley was in a state of terrible confusion. The dead bodies of men lay scattered about; a few of the victors were dragging off an abandoned gun; others were carrying away stores and baggage. The fight was a complete disaster for our side.

"We can't do any good," whispered Alzura, as the colonel halted us, "and I doubt if we aren't cut off ourselves."

"Better charge at once," muttered Plaza; "the more we look at it the less we shall like it."

"My lads," cried the colonel, riding down the ranks, "there is a stiff bit of work before us. Let us remember we are the Hussars of Junin."

The troopers responded with a ringing "Viva!" and as we got a firmer seat on our saddles, Alzura remarked,--

"That's the way to talk, Juan. These fellows will fight to the death now."

There was something fresh happening on the other side, but we had no time to see what it was. The bugle sounded, and with the colonel leading we dashed straight across the valley. An infantry battalion peppered us from the right, and a squadron was drawn up right across our path.

Men began to fall. Here and there a riderless horse, darting from the ranks, tore across the valley. We were, as Alzura said, in a warm corner.

Bullets whizzed past our ears, but we noticed them not, riding straight as a die at the hostile cavalry.

"The major's down!" cried Plaza. "Poor old major!"

That was his only epitaph. We had no time to sorrow for any one just then, though we mourned for him sincerely enough afterwards.

"Charge!" roared the colonel; and the sabres flashed as the horses bounded forward, thundering with their hoofs on the ground.

"Caramba!" cried Plaza; "it's your old friend Mariano. Well, friend or foe, this is his last fight if my blade can reach him."

Yes, the officer who had accomplished this daring flanking movement was none other than Santiago Mariano, who, with the flush of success on his handsome face, was again leading his men to the charge.

"Viva el Rey!" he cried, and his voice rang high and clear above the din. "Down with the bandits!"

Crash! We were into them, fighting our way through desperately. Horses pranced, and bit, and kicked. Men shouted triumphantly, or went down with a cry of agony on their lips. Here a gap was made and filled at once, as some daring fighter urged his way forward.

Alzura rode with the colonel, carrying the colours, and we pressed after them, knowing that our sole chance of safety was to get through the Royalist squadron. On coming out at the other side we heard a voice crying, "Bravo! bravo, my bold hussars!" and there was General Miller, who seemed to scent a fight as a hound scents its quarry.

By this time Santiago had re-formed his squadron, and was dashing at our rear, when from the rocks above us sprang a line of fire, and his horsemen, wheeling round, rapidly withdrew. While we had been fighting, General Miller had rallied the beaten battalions and posted them in a commanding position to cover our ride through the pass.

That night in bivouac we counted Santiago's venture had cost us more than two hundred men, all the spare horses, and a quantity of stores.

"I hope you are proud of your Royalist friend," said Alzura to me. "He has done us a nice bit of mischief."

"He's a smart soldier."

"He is that," agreed Plaza, "and a splendid swordsman. I had a good bout with him, but could not pass his guard, though he was defending himself against three of us."

"Did any one see the major after he fell?" I interrupted.

"No," said Alzura; "but I feel sure he is dead, as the bullet passed through his forehead. He was a grim old fighter, and I'm sorry he's gone."

"So am I. But he died a soldier's death, poor old chap," said Cordova. "We must have lost heavily since the retreat began. I wonder what Sucre intends doing now."

"Why, continuing the retreat."

"To Lima? If so, he won't have a hundred men left by the time he reaches the capital."

"Well, what can he do? We can't stay here and starve, and he can't make the Royalists fight."

"As to starving," laughed Alzura, "I would as soon starve here as elsewhere. I'm getting used to it."

"And I don't know," remarked Cordova, "that forcing a fight will be so very brilliant for us. We have had one sample to-day."

"Oh, go to sleep! You might be a raven as far as croaking's concerned. One would think we were in a hole and couldn't get out. Trust to Sucre and Miller; they'll pull us through all right."

"I'm going to sleep," announced Alzura gravely. "I had a beautiful dream last night, and want to go on where reveille interrupted it. I dreamed we were in Lima, at a banquet given by the city to the Patriot officers. There was a band to play during the feast; the hall was brilliantly lit; the table was laden with all kinds of good things. We were just beginning when the band struck up, and I woke to hear Crawford saying, 'Are you going to sleep all day?' It was a splendid feast, though. Such a quantity of--"

"Sit on him, Juan! stifle him with his own poncho! Fancy talking of banquets now! Cruelty to animals I call it."

"Why, I thought you'd be delighted," grumbled Alzura.

In a very short time we were all asleep. We rose at dawn, hungry and shivering, to resume our journey. On this day the enemy marched parallel with us, but on the other side of a deep gorge, and General Sucre tried in vain to draw them into an engagement. Their leader was too crafty. Why need he sacrifice his men?

"It's a pity from our point of view," remarked Plaza, as we toiled along, "but they are playing the proper game. We're like fruit ripening on a tree. When thoroughly fit we shall just drop and be gathered without difficulty."

"Who's croaking now?" asked Cordova,

"I'm simply stating facts," replied Plaza. "Look at the road."

"Thanks; I've seen more than enough of it already."

"We're half starved."

"That's less than a fact," laughed Alzura. "You can put me down as three-quarters. If decent food were set before me, I shouldn't know how to eat it."

"We're losing hundreds of men," continued Plaza quietly, "and we've one miserable field-gun."

"Take a dose of your own medicine," said I, laughing. "Trust to Sucre and Miller; they'll pull us through."

The captain's gloomy fit soon passed off, and he was as cheerful as ever; but there was no doubt of our being in a very awkward position. As far as fighting went, we could hold our own till doomsday; but we were bound to eat, and food did not grow on the mountains.

Bolivar was working with all his fiery energy to hurry up reinforcements from Colombia and Chili, but until they arrived he could not send them on. Then, too, the viceroy had gained over several Indian tribes, and they had already cut one detachment to pieces. As far as I could judge, the Royalists had the whip-hand, and unless they made a mistake we should very shortly be at their mercy.

On the sixth of December we halted at a little village, and a thrill of joy went through the troops when it was rumoured that our leaders intended to attack the enemy at all risks. Wearied men, who had thrown themselves exhausted on the ground, struggled to their feet; starving men forgot their pangs; the very invalids crawled into the ranks, some of them so weak that they could barely trail a musket.

"Stand by your horses!" said the colonel, as the enemy were only three miles off, and we might be required at any moment.

An hour passed and we still waited; the morning wore away; afternoon merged into evening, and we were ordered to encamp. Something, we knew not what, had gone wrong.

"I don't know if there was a chance to-day," observed Plaza, "but won't there be one to-morrow?"

"Why?"

"Because the Royalists will block the road along which we must retreat. Then we must either throw ourselves against a terribly strong position, or stay here and starve."

Events soon proved that he had not spoken at random. Early next morning the enemy moved to an almost impregnable post. Twice our number of strong men, flushed with victory and well equipped with guns, might well have hesitated to attack. As for us, it was sheer madness.

Things had come to the worst now. Further retreat was barred; our provisions, even if we subsisted on the shortest of short rations, would not last five days, while to move against the foe was simply to commit suicide.

"Lucky Barriero, sitting in his little hut!" said Alzura; "no fighting, no starving! The next time we're taken prisoners we'll make the best of it, Juan."

"I doubt if the Spaniards will make many prisoners--that is, among the officers," growled Cordova. "The men will be spared, but we shall be put out of the way of doing mischief."

I think myself Cordova exaggerated the danger; but his opinion was shared by the great majority of the Patriots, and it was this fear which made them resolve to fight to the bitter end rather than surrender.

After breakfast we lounged about on the heights watching the Royalists, who had encamped just without gunshot, wondering what our leaders would decide to do.