Kitabı oku: «Last of the Incas: A Romance of the Pampas», sayfa 7
CHAPTER XIII.
THE PAMPERO
During the whole course of their journey, which lasted two hours, Don Sylvio and Don Blas did not exchange a single word, to the great surprise of the capataz. Don Sylvio was thinking of his approaching happiness, which was slightly over-clouded, through the sadness of the leave-taking, and Doña Concha's presentiments. But these vague alarms were dissipated like the morning mist by the sun, so soon as he arrived at El Carmen.
Don Sylvio's first care was to visit the house to which he would lead Doña Concha, after the nuptial ceremony was performed. Though comfort does not exist in South America, it was a fairy palace, thronged with all the splendours of luxury. A band of English, French, and Italian workmen, collected with extraordinary difficulty, were toiling without relaxation, under the orders of a skilful architect, in putting the final touch to this creation out of the Arabian Nights, which had already swallowed up large sums, and which would be in a condition to receive its new hosts within eight and forty hours. At Carmen nothing was talked of but the splendours of Don Sylvio d'Arenal's palace; the curious crowd that collected in front of the gates related marvels about this princely residence.
Don Sylvio, satisfied at seeing his dream accomplished, smiled as he thought of his betrothed, and after complimenting the architect and the workmen, proceeded to pay a visit to the governor, where important business summoned him.
The commandant gave the young man, with whose father he had been intimate, a gracious reception. Still, in spite of the courteous manner of Don Antonio Valverde, Sylvio fancied he could notice traces of secret annoyance in his face.
The governor was a brave and honourable soldier, who had rendered good service in the War of Independence, and the government had placed him on honourable half pay, by entrusting to him the command of Carmen, a post he had held for fifteen years. Courageous, strict, and just, the commandant kept the gauchos in order by the punishment of the garrota, and foiled the repeated attempts of the Indians, who came even under the guns of the fortress, to harry cattle, and carry off prisoners, especially women. Gifted with but a poor intellect, but supported by his own experience, and the esteem of all the honest people in the colony, he was not deficient in a certain energy of character. Physically, he was a tall, stout man, with a rubicund, pimpled face, full of self-satisfaction, who listened to people speaking, and carefully weighed his words, as if they were made of gold.
Don Sylvio was surprised at the anxiety which disturbed the usual placidity of the colonel's face.
"It is a miracle," the latter said, as he cordially pressed the young man's hand, "for which I thank nuestra Señora del Carmen, to see you here."
"In a few days you will not be able to reproach me thus," Don Sylvio replied.
"Then, it is coming off soon?" Don Antonio said, rubbing his hands.
"Yes, I hope to be married within four days. I have come to Carmen today to give the master's look at the final arrangements of my house."
"All the better," the commandant replied; "I am enchanted that you are about to settle among us, Don Sylvio; your betrothed is the prettiest girl in the colony."
"I thank you in her name, colonel."
"Do you spend the day at Carmen?"
"Yes, and I intend returning to the estancia at an early hour tomorrow."
"In that case you will breakfast with me, without ceremony?"
"Willingly."
"That is famous," said the commandant, as he rang a bell.
A Negro slave appeared.
"This gentleman is going to breakfast with me. By the bye, Don Sylvio, I have a large packet of papers addressed to you, which arrived last night from Buenos Aires by express."
"Heaven be praised! I feared some delay. These papers are indispensable for my marriage."
"All is for the best," Don Antonio remarked.
The young man placed the packet in his coat pocket, and the slave opened the door again.
"Your Excellency is served," he said.
A third guest was waiting for them in the dining room. It was Major Bloomfield, a tall, dry, punctilious Englishman, who had been second in command at Carmen for twenty years past. Don Antonio and the major had fought side by side in their youth, and had a fraternal attachment. They sat down, after the usual ceremony, to an abundantly and delicately covered table, and at the dessert the conversation, which had suffered through the appetite of the guests, became thoroughly friendly.
"By the way," Don Sylvio asked, "what is the matter with you, Don Antonio? You do not seem in your usual good spirits."
"That is true," the commandant said, as he sipped a glass of Jerez de la Frontera; "I am sad."
"You sad? Hang it, you alarm me; if I had not seen you breakfast with such a good appetite, I should fancy you ill."
"Yes," the old soldier answered with a sigh; "my appetite is all right."
"What else can annoy you?"
"A foreboding," the commandant said seriously,
"A foreboding," Don Sylvio repeated, remembering Doña Concha's parting words.
"I, too, feel anxious, in spite of myself," the major added; "there is something, I know not what, in the air. A danger is suspended over our heads, but whence it will come, the Lord alone knows."
"Yes," Don Antonio remarked, "He knows; and, believe me, Don Sylvio, He gives warnings to men when they are in danger."
"Major Bloomfield and you, both old soldiers, brave as their swords, cannot be frightened at a shadow; so what are your reasons?"
"I have none," said the colonel; "still —
"Come, come, Don Antonio," Sylvio remarked gaily, "you are suffering from what the major would call blue devils. It is a species of spleen produced by the English fogs, and not at all at home in this country, which is full of sunshine. Take my advice, colonel; have yourself bled, and in two days the fog over your imagination will be dissipated; do you not agree with me, major?"
"I wish it may be so," the old officer answered, with a shake of his head.
"Nonsense!" Sylvio remarked, "Life is too short as it is, then why sadden it by chimeras?"
"On the frontier men can be sure of nothing."
"The Indians have become lambs."
"Excellency," a slave said, opening the door, "a bombero, who has arrived at full speed, requests an interview."
The three gentlemen looked at one another.
"Let him come in," the colonel said.
Heavy footsteps echoed in the passage, and the bombero appeared; it was Pedrito. He certainly had at this moment the look of a bearer of ill tidings, and seemed to have just come out of a fight. His ragged clothes were stained with blood and mud, an unusual pallor covered his face, and he leant on his rifle, for he was exhausted by his hurried ride.
"Take this glass of wine," said Don Sylvio, "it will restore you."
"No," Pedrito answered, thrusting the glass away, "it is not wine I thirst for, but blood."
The bombero wiped his dank forehead with the back of his hand, and said in a sharp, quick voice, which conveyed terror to the hearts of the three hearers —
"The Indians are coming down."
"Have you seen them?" the major asked.
"Yes," he replied hoarsely.
"When?"
"This morning."
"Far from here?"
"Twenty leagues."
"How many are they?"
"Count the grains of the sand on the Pampa, and you will have their number."
"Oh," the colonel exclaimed, "that is impossible, the Indians cannot thus organize an army at a day's notice. Terror must have made you see double."
"Terror, nonsense!" the bombero answered disdainfully, "In the desert we have not time to know it."
"But, tell me, how are they coming?"
"Like a hurricane, burning and plundering everything on their passage. They form a vast semicircle, whose two extremities are gradually drawing nearer to Carmen. They act with a certain method, under the orders of a chief who is, doubtless, practised and skilful."
"That is serious," the commandant said.
The major shook his head.
"Why did you warn us so late?" he said to the bombero.
"This morning at sunrise my three brothers and I were surrounded by two or three hundred Indians, who seemed to emerge suddenly from the ground. What a fight it was! We defended ourselves like lions; Juan is dead, Pepe and Lopez are wounded, but we escaped at last, and here I am."
"Return to your post as speedily as possible; a fresh horse will be given you."
"I am off."
"Well," said Don Antonio, after Pedrito had retired, "what do you think of our presentiments, Don Sylvio? But where are you going?" he asked the young man, who had risen from his chair.
"I shall return to the Estancia of San Julian, which the Indians have, perhaps, attacked. Oh, Doña Conchita!"
"San Julian is fortified, and safe against surprise. Still, try and induce Don Valentine and his daughter to return to Carmen, where they will be in greater security."
"Thanks, colonel, I will try, and do you offer a bold front to the enemy. As you are aware, the Indians only attempt surprise, and so soon as they see that their plans are discovered, they are off again."
"May heaven hear you."
"Good-bye for the present, gentlemen, and I wish you success," said the young man, as he pressed the hand of the two old soldiers.
Don Blas Salazar, who was waiting for Don Sylvio in the courtyard, ran up to him so soon as he perceived him.
"Well," the capataz said, "you know the news. The Indians are making a descent."
"I have just been told so."
"What are we going to do?"
"Return to the estancia."
"Hum, Don Sylvio, that is not at all prudent; the Indians will, doubtless, bar our way."
"We will pass over their bodies."
"Of course, of course, but suppose they kill you?"
"Nonsense! Doña Concha is expecting me."
"As you please," the capataz answered, "all is ready for our departure; the horses are here, saddled and all. Let us be off."
"Thank you, Blas, you are a good fellow," Sylvio said, as he held out his hand to him.
"I am aware of it."
"Off we go."
Don Sylvio and Blas, escorted by the two slaves, walked their horses through the crowd of idlers who had assembled in front of the fortress to hear the news; then they went at a sharp trot down the rather steep hill that leads from the citadel to old Carmen, and at length galloped towards San Julian.
They had not noticed the behaviour of sundry suspicious looking fellows who had followed them at a distance ever since they started, and were talking eagerly together.
The weather was stormy, and the clouds were gray and low. The air seemed motionless, a deep silence brooded over the solitude; a white cloud, light as a sand drift, collected in the southwest, which advanced, and each moment grew larger. All announced the approach of the pampero, that simoom of the prairies.
The clouds collected, the dust rose and ran along in dense columns, suspended between earth and sky. The clouds enveloped the plain as in a mantle, whose comers the gusts lifted at every moment, and which lightning flashes rent here and there. Puffs of hot air traversed the space, and suddenly the tempest rushed up furiously from the horizon, sweeping the Pampa with irresistible violence. The light was obscured by masses of sand; a thick gloom covered the earth, and the thunder mingled its terrible artillery with the howling of the hurricane. Enormous masses were detached from the lofty cliffs, and fell with a frightful din into the sea.
The travellers got off their horses, and sheltered themselves behind rocks on the seashore. When the worst of the storm had passed, they set out again, Don Sylvio and Blas riding silently side by side, while the two slaves, twenty yards ahead, trembled at the thought of seeing the Indians appear.
The storm had slightly diminished in intensity, the pampero had carried its fury further, but the rain fell in torrents, and thunder and lightning followed each other uninterruptedly. The travellers could not continue their journey, for they ran the risk of being thrown at every moment by their horses, which reared in affright. The ground and the sand, moistened by the rain, did not offer a single spot where the brutes could set their feet in safety; they stumbled, slipped, and threatened to fall.
"Whatever we may do," said the capataz, "it is impossible to go any further, so we had better halt again, and seek refuge under that clump of trees."
"Very good," Don Sylvio said, with a sigh of resignation.
The little party proceeded toward a wood that bordered the road. They were only some fifteen paces from it, when four men, whose faces were concealed by black masks, dashed out of the wood at a gallop, and silently attacked the travellers.
The slaves rolled off their horses, struck by two bullets the strangers had fired, and writhed on the ground in convulsions of agony. Don Sylvio and Blas Salazar, astonished at this sudden attack on the part of men who could not be Indians, for they wore the dress of gauchos, and their hands were white, immediately dismounted, and making a rampart of their horses, awaited the attack of their adversaries, with levelled rifles.
Bullets were exchanged on both sides, and a fierce combat, silent and unequal, began; one of the assailants fell with his skull cleft to the teeth; and Don Sylvio passed his sword through the chest of another.
"Well, my masters," he shouted to them, "have you had enough? Or does another of you wish to form the acquaintance of my blade? You are fools, ten of you should have come to assassinate us."
"What!" the capataz added, "Are you going to give in already? You are clumsy fellows for cut-throats, and the man who pays you ought to have made a better choice."
In fact, the two masked men had fallen back; but immediately four other men, also masked, appeared, and all six rushed at the Spaniards, who firmly awaited their attack.
"Hang it! Pardon our having calumniated you; you know your trade," said Don Blas, as he fired a pistol into the thick of his adversaries.
The latter, still silent, returned the fire, and the fight began again with fresh fury. But the two brave Spaniards, whose strength was exhausted, and whose blood was flowing, fell in their turn on the corpses of two other assailants, whom they sacrificed to their rage before succumbing.
So soon as the strangers saw Don Sylvio and Blas were motionless, they uttered a cry of triumph. Paying no heed to the capataz, they raised Don Sylvio d'Arenal's body, laid it across one of their horses, and fled away at full speed along the devious path.
Seven corpses strewed the ground. After the assailants the vultures arrived, which hovered and circled above the victims, and mingled their hoarse croaks of triumph with the sound of the hurricane.
CHAPTER XIV.
PREPARATIONS FOR A SIEGE
"It is a heavy blow," the governor said, after Don Sylvio had left the room; "but, ¡viva Dios! the pagans shall find someone to talk to. Major, warn the officers to assemble at one, for a council of war, so that we may arrange the defensive operations."
"That is the plan," the major answered; "I am satisfied with you. You draw yourself up haughtily, and I find you again, at last, my dear fellow."
"Ah! My dear Bloomfield, the presentiment of an unknown misfortune depresses one's courage, while danger, however great it may be, once we have it face to face, ceases to cause us terror."
"You are right," said the major, who left the room to carry out his chiefs orders.
The officers of the garrison, six in number, without counting the colonel and the major, were soon assembled in the governor's rooms.
"Sit down, caballeros," he said to them, "you are doubtless aware of the motive of this meeting. The Indians are threatening the colony, and a powerful league has been formed among the Patagonians. What forces have we at our disposal?"
"We are not deficient in arms and ammunition," the major replied. "We have more than two hundred thousand cartridges, and abundance of muskets, pistols, sabres, and lances; and our guns are amply supplied with round shot and canister."
"Very good."
"Unfortunately," the major continued, "our troops – "
"How many have we?"
"Our effective strength should be one hundred and twenty, but death, illness, and desertions, have reduced it to scarce eighty."
"Eighty!" the colonel said, with a shake of his head. "In the presence of a formidable invasion, as the common safety is at stake, can we not compel the inhabitants to get under arms?"
"It is their duty," one of the officers said.
"An imposing force must crown our walls," Don Antonio continued; "and this is what I propose. All the Negro slaves will be enlisted, and formed into a company; the merchants will form a separate corps; the gauchos, well armed and mounted, will defend the approaches to the town, and act as patrols outside. We shall thus muster seven hundred men, a sufficient force to repulse the Indians."
"You know, colonel," an officer objected, "that the gauchos are utter scoundrels, and that the least disturbance is to them an excuse for plundering."
"On that account they will be employed for the external defence. They will be encamped outside the colony, and, to diminish the chances of revolt among them, they will be divided into two squadrons, one of which will scout, while the other is resting. In this way we shall have nothing to fear from them."
"As for the creoles, and strangers residing in the colony," the major remarked, "I think it will be as well to give them orders to come to the fortress every night, to be armed in case of necessity."
"Excellent. The number of bomberos will be doubled to prevent a surprise, and barricades raised at each entrance to the town, to protect us from the terrible charges of the Indians."
"If that is your opinion, colonel," the major interrupted, "a sure man ought to be sent off to the estancias, to tell them to seek refuge in Carmen, when they are warned of the approach of the enemy by their cannon shots."
"Do so, major, for the poor people would be piteously massacred by the savages. The inhabitants of the town must also be warned that all their females must withdraw into the fort, when the pagans come in sight, unless they wish them to fall into the hands of the Indians. In the last invasion, if you remember, they carried off upwards of two hundred. And now, gentlemen, all that is left to us is to do our duty truly, and confide in the will of Heaven."
The officers rose, and were about to take leave of their chief, when a slave announced another bombero.
"Show him in, and pray be seated again, Caballeros."
The scout was Pepe, Pedrito's brother. Although he had started five hours after his brother from their place of ambush, he was scarce an hour behind him. His great pace indicated the gravity of the news he brought. He had retained his cunning look, although his face was pale, blood-stained, and black with gunpowder. His torn clothes, the handkerchief fastened round his head, his arm in a sling, but above all, four scalps hanging from his girdle, showed that he had ridden through the Indians in order to reach Carmen.
"Pepe," the governor said to him, "your brother has just left me."
"I know it," colonel.
"Is your news worse than his?"
"That depends on the way in which you take it."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Why," the bombero said carelessly, "if you are fond of your ease, I have not come to reassure you; if you feel a desire to mount your horse and to see the Patagonians, you will have no occasion to indulge your fancy, as what I have to tell will cause you immense pleasure."
In spite of the gravity of the circumstances, and the anxiety of his hearers, they smiled at Pepe's singular arguments.
"Explain yourself, Pepe," the governor said to him.
"Ten minutes after my brother's departure," the bombero went on, "I examined some bushes which I had seen moving in an unusual manner. I discovered a Negro, who was pale in spite of his black hide, and whose tongue terror appeared to have tied. At length he made up his mind to speak. He belonged to a poor old gentleman of the name of Ignacio Bayal, one of the two men who alone escaped from the massacre on the peninsula of San José, during the last invasion of the Patagonians. The slave and his master were gathering wood, when the Indians appeared a short distance off; the slave had time to conceal himself behind a pile of biscacha, but the old man fell beneath the blows of the savages, who attacked him with lances and bolas perdidas. I began reassuring the Negro, but at the same moment perceived a multitude of Indians driving prisoners and cattle before them, burning and destroying everything as they passed in full march on Carmen. The Estancia of Punta Rosa and that of San Blas are at this moment a pile of ashes, and serve as tombs to the owners. That is my news, Excellency, and you can do what you like with it."
"And those bleeding scalps?" the major asked, pointing to the human trophies that hung from the bombero's belt.
"That is a personal matter," Pepe replied with a smile. "Through friendship for the Indians, I preferred to lift their hair rather than leave them my head."
"Perhaps it is only a band of plunderers of the Pampas, who have come to steal cattle, and will retire with their booty."
"Hum," said Pepe, with a shake of his head, "they are too numerous, too well equipped, and are advancing with too much regularity. No, colonel, it is not a skirmish, but an invasion."
"Thanks, Pepe," the colonel said, "I am satisfied with you. Return to your post, and redouble your vigilance."
"Juan is dead, colonel, and that will tell you how fond my brothers and I are of the Indians."
The bombero retired.
"You see, gentlemen," said Don Antonio, "that time presses. Go all of you to your duties."
"One moment," said Major Bloomfield, "I have one more suggestion to make."
"Speak, my friend."
"We are, so to speak, lost in this corner of the earth, and remote from any help; we may be besieged in Carmen, and forced into surrender by starvation. Under these imperious circumstances, I ask that a ship should be sent to Buenos Aires to describe our situation, and request reinforcements."
"What do you think, gentlemen, of the major's suggestion?" the colonel asked, looking inquiringly at the officers.
"It is excellent, colonel, excellent," one of them answered.
"The suggestion will be carried out at once," Don Antonio continued, "and now, gentlemen, you can withdraw."
The defence of the fort and town was organized with a rapidity inconceivable to anyone acquainted with Spanish sloth; danger gave courage to the timid and doubled the ardour of the others. Two hours later the cattle had been driven in and corraled, the streets barricaded, the guns sponged out, and the women and children shut up in buildings adjoining the fort, a vessel was sailing for Buenos Aires, and one hundred and fifty resolute men were intrenched at Población del Sur, the houses of which they had loop-holed.
The governor and Major Bloomfield seemed to be everywhere at once; encouraging the troops, ordering the workmen, and imparting energy to all.
About three in the afternoon, a violent breeze sprang up, which bore from the southwest the smoke occasioned by firing the country, and hiding distant objects. The inhabitants of Carmen were devoured with anxiety.
Such is the simple and ingenious plan the southern nations employ to favour their invasion of the territory of the whites, to hide their manoeuvres, and conceal their numbers from the piercing eyes of the bomberos. The smoke like a floating wall, separated the Indians from Carmen, and in consequence of the brightness of the nights they had selected the period of the full moon.
The scouts, in spite of the dense smoke that protected the enemy, arrived at a gallop one after the other, and announced that they would be before Carmen during the night. In fact, the Indian hordes, whose numbers incessantly increased, covered the whole extent of the plain, and advanced on the town with startling rapidity.
By the governor's orders, the three alarm shots were fired. The estancieros could then be seen flocking up, driving their cattle before them, and on seeing their houses fired, and their rich crops destroyed, they shed tears of despair. These poor people encamped where they could, in the open places of the town, and after leading their wives and daughters to the fort, those who were of manly age took up arms, and rushed to the barriers and barricades, resolved to take vengeance for their ruin.
The consternation and terror were general; on all sides could be heard lamentation and stifled sobs; the night arrived to add its horrors to the situation, and enfold the town in its mourning. Numerous patrols traversed the streets, and, at intervals, daring bomberos slipped furtively out of the city to watch the approach of the coming peril.
About two in the morning, in the midst of an impressive silence, a slight sound was audible, at first almost imperceptible, but which was every moment augmented, and, as if by enchantment, the Aucas crowned the top of the barricades in Población del Sur, and waving lighted torches, uttered their war yell.
For a moment the inhabitants fancied the town captured; but Major Bloomfield, who commanded this post, was on his guard against the tricks of the Indians. At the moment when the Aucas prepared to escalade the barricades, a sharp fusillade broke out, which hurled them to the foot of the entrenchments. The Argentines dashed forward at the bayonet point, and there was a frightful medley, from which issued groans of agony, imprecations, and the harsh clang of steel against steel. This was all; the Spaniards regained their position, the Indians disappeared, and the town, so lately illumined by the light of the torches, fell back into shadow and silence.
As the Indian surprise had failed, they would either withdraw or invest the town. At daybreak, however, all the illusions of the inhabitants were dissipated – the enemy had not thought of retreating.
It was a heart-rending sight! the country was devastated, and the expiring flames could still be seen in the distance. Here, a band of Aucas were driving horses off; there, warriors, with lances erect, were watching the movements of the townspeople; behind them squaws and children were driving cattle, which uttered long lowings; here and there prisoners, men, women, and children, forced along by blows with lance staves, were holding up their suppliant arms to the town walls. Patagonians were planting poles and erecting toldos; and, lastly, far as eye could reach, fresh bands of Indians descended into the plain from all sides.
The oldest soldiers in the fort, who had been witnesses of previous wars, were amazed at the regularity of the enemy's march. The toldos were skilfully grouped; the infantry executed, with great precision, movements which they had hitherto been ignorant of, and it was an extraordinary thing, which stupefied the colonel and the major, to see the Aucas form a parallel round the town, and almost instantaneously throw up earthworks, which protected them from the artillery.
"¡Sangre de Dios!" the colonel exclaimed, "There is a traitor among the villains; never before have they waged war in this way."
"Hum!" the major muttered, biting his moustache; "if Buenos Aires does not send succour, we are lost."
"Yes, my friend, we shall leave our skins here."
"How many are they, colonel? – twenty thousand; thirty thousand?"
"And those who are still coming up, and who blacken the distant plains? – But what means the sound of that bugle?"
Four Ulmens, preceded by an Indian, who carried a white flag, had halted within half gunshot of the first barriers of Población del Sur.
"They seem," the colonel said, "to be desiring a parley. Do they fancy me fool enough to venture into that trap? Major, just fire a round of canister into that group to teach them not to treat us as fools."
"We should be wrong, colonel; let us learn what they want."
"But where shall we find a man fool enough to risk his carcase among those pagans, who have neither faith nor law?"
"I will go, with your permission," the major said simply.
"You?" Don Antonio exclaimed in amazement.
"Yes, I. Unfortunate persons have been confided to our guard and our honour. I am but a man; my life is of but little consequence for the defence of the town. I am old, colonel, and will try to save the inhabitants of Carmen."
The governor suppressed a sigh, and affectionately shook his old friend's hand.
"Go," he said with considerable emotion, "and may Heaven protect you!"
"Thanks," Major Bloomfield answered.
