THE FORAGERS.
About ten days had passed between the events that we have just related
and the day on which we resume our narrative. The scene is no longer in
the Cordilleras, but in the midst of the vast deserts which separate
Brazil from the Spanish possessions--a kind of neutral territory, which
the two nations had for a long time desperately disputed, and which was
held by warlike and independent Indians.
The spot to which we have transported our scene was an immense plain
enclosed by high mountains, whose peaks were covered in snow. A large
river divided the plain into two nearly equal parts, though with a
thousand capricious windings; its silvery waters, slightly rippled
by the morning breeze and glittering in the first rays of the sun,
reflected changing colours as if thousands of diamonds had been
scattered on its bosom.
The calm of this majestic desert was only disturbed at this moment by
a numerous troop of horsemen, who skirted at a gallop the left bank of
the river.
These horsemen, whose nationality it was impossible to discover so far
off, appeared to be warriors.
Whoever they might be, they appeared to be in great haste, and dashed
forward with such rapidity that, if they continued thus for a few
hours, some of them would be inclined to fall back and lag behind.
The more this troop advanced into the plain the easier it was, through
the cloud of dust that enveloped them, which was at times driven away
by the wind, to discover the circumstances under which they were
travelling. The troop was composed of more than four thousand men. Each
horseman of the principal corps had a foot soldier riding on the same
horse behind him.
This circumstance was not at all extraordinary.
Arrived at a point of land jutting into the river, the advanced guard
stopped.
Two hours later the tents were ready, intrenchments made, sentinels
posted, and the corps d'armée was firmly established in an excellent
position out of the reach of a surprise.
It was ten o'clock in the morning.
Except the corps d'armée, the immense plain appeared quite deserted.
Nevertheless, several measures of precaution had been taken. Sentinels,
placed at certain distances, watched over the common safety, and their
horses, which are generally left to browse at liberty during a halt,
were attached to pickets fixed in the earth. The bivouac fires were
lighted in hollows and fed by an extremely dry wood, which only emitted
light and scarcely perceptible smoke.
A remarkable circumstance was that several whites, or rather several
persons clothed in the costume of the Spanish-Americans of the Banda
Oriental, were among the Indians, and were treated as guests and
friends.
Then, on the other side of the river, at the opposite angle of the
triangle, of which the corps formed, so to say, the summit, was a third
troop of horsemen, also very numerous; but the latter had simply halted
among the high grass.
These horsemen were Montoneros, that is to say, partisans.
As to the former, they had not neglected any precaution to escape
observation. Concealed behind a thick curtain of shrubbery, they were
ambuscaded like hunters on the watch.
The horses, saddled and ready to be mounted, had their nostrils covered
with girdles, to prevent them from neighing. Near each horse a lance
was struck in the ground, the point downwards.
This last troop evidently knew the precarious situation in which they
were, and the disagreeable neighbours that chance or fatality had given
them.
Meanwhile the Montoneros, far from showing the least inquietude or the
slightest fear of the enemies camped so near them, appeared gay and
very unconcerned.
But in all other respects the plain preserved its calmness; no
suspicious undulation agitated the grass; the woods preserved their
mysterious silence.
Hours passed; it was about two o'clock in the afternoon. A heavy heat
oppressed the earth; a heated atmosphere which no breeze refreshed bent
towards the ground the half-burnt grass. At this moment some thirty
horsemen, amongst whom glittered the golden embroidery of the uniforms
of several officers, left the camp of which we have previously spoken,
and proceeding in a slanting direction, gained the river.
These horsemen wore the Brazilian uniform. Whether they were persuaded
that the plain was really solitary, whether they reckoned on the
proximity of their camp to be defended against any dangers which might
threaten them, or whether there was any other motive, they marched
with very little order, the officers, amongst whom was a general,
keeping in advance, and the horsemen forming the escort going on
haphazard.
Nearly at the same time, when these foragers or scouts left their
camp to make, at so unusual an hour, a trip into the plain, at some
distance before them, on the bank of the river, a troop of horsemen,
equal in number--that is to say, composed of about thirty men, in the
picturesque costume of the Buenos Aireans, appeared marching to meet
them.
This second troop marched as rapidly as their horses, harassed by a
long journey, could proceed.
The two troops soon found themselves in sight.
"Eh! Eh!" said the Brazilian general, addressing a captain who was
riding by his side, "I think those are our people; what do you think of
it?"
"I think so too, general," answered the officer; "come, that will set
me right with them."
"Yes, they are men of their word; I think it augurs well for the result
of our conference. Remember that we are very far from Tucumán, and that
they must have made great haste to arrive here on the day."
"Just so, general; we are, if I am not deceived, on the territory of
the Indian bravos, on neutral ground."
"Yes, you are right," answered the other, suddenly becoming pensive. "I
think I have even a confused remembrance of these parts."
"You, general!"
"Yes, yes, but a long time ago; I was young then; I did not think Of
taking service. Impelled by I know not what furious ardour, I traversed
these desert regions in search of adventures--for my pleasure," he
added.
The captain looked at him for a moment with an expression of gentle
pity.
Some minutes thus passed. At last the general raised his head, and
again addressing his aide-de-camp--that was the position that the
captain occupied towards him:
"These gauchos are rude men, are they not, Don Sebastiao?" he asked.
"It is said, general," answered the officer, "that these men are
remarkable for power, skill, and courage. I cannot vouch for it, only
having heard so much."
"I know them; I have seen them at work; they are demons."
"It is possible," said the captain smiling; "but I think that, without
going very far, it would be easy to find in Brazil men who for bravery,
power, and cunning are equal to them, if they are not superior."
"Oh! Oh! You are of course joking, Don Sebastiao?"
"I am not at all joking; I express my conviction."
"A conviction! And of whom do you speak then?"
"Why, the Paulistas, general--the Paulistas whom you know as well as I
do--those extraordinary men who have accomplished so many extraordinary
things since the discovery of America, and to whom Brazil owes her
incalculable riches."
The aide-de-camp would have continued speaking in the same manner,
but the general did not listen to him; his countenance had become of
a livid paleness; a convulsive trembling had, like an electric shock,
run through his body, and he had sunk upon his horse as if he were on
the point of losing consciousness.
"Good Heaven! What is the matter with you, general?" cried the officer.
"I do not know," answered the latter, in a choking voice: "I do not
feel well."
"The heat, no doubt, general?"
"Yes, that is it, I think; but never mind, I am better--much better; it
will be nothing, I hope."
"God grant it, general! You really frightened me."
"Thank you, Don Sebastiao, I know your kindness. For some time I have
been subject to sudden faintness, that I do not know how to account
for; but as you have seen, the fit is always very short."
The captain bowed without answering, and the conversation ceased.
Meanwhile the horsemen whom Don Sebastiao had perceived, advanced
rapidly, and they were soon within fifty paces of the Portuguese.
Then they made a halt, and for a short time they appeared to consult
together. Then a horseman separated from the group and set off direct
towards the Brazilians.
The general had attentively followed with his eye the movements of
the newcomers. On a sign from him Don Sebastiao left his troop, which
remained motionless, and spurring his horse, boldly approached the
gaucho, after having attached a white handkerchief to the point of his
sword.
The two envoys, who were recognised as such, met at an equal distance
from the two troops still remaining in the rear, but ready for attack
as for defence.
After having attentively examined the man in face of whom he was, Don
Sebastiao at last resolved, seeing that the other remained silent, to
speak first.
"Caballero," said he in Spanish, slightly bowing his head, "I am Don
Sebastiao de Vianna, captain in the Brazilian service, sent to you by
my general, who has himself come to meet you to know if you and your
companions are enemies or friends."
"The question that you do me the honour to address to me, señor
captain," answered the gaucho, "is extremely delicate; I cannot myself
answer it, and will leave to others more competent than myself to
determine it."
"That is very well put, caballero; however, I have the honour to tell
you that, holding this plain with superior forces, we have a right, for
our own safety, to exercise a strict watch over the territory which
surrounds us. I am pleased to hope that among the persons who accompany
you, there is at all events one who is in a position to give me an
answer."
"I hope so too, caballero," answered the gaucho, smiling; "nothing is
more easy than to assure yourself of that. The heat is suffocating. At
a few paces from here there is a woody copse. Let us stop there for an
hour, swearing on our honour to separate without striking a blow, if
our mutual explanations are not satisfactory."
"¡Vive Dios, caballero! Your proposition appears to me very honourable,
and I shall heartily accept it."
The two horsemen then ceremoniously bowed, turned their bridles, and
rejoined at a gallop those who had sent them forward.
A few minutes afterwards, the two troops met and mingled with each
other; the horsemen alighted, and stretched themselves carelessly on
the grass under the shade of the giant trees which skirted the wood;
the Brazilian officers and three or four of the gauchos who appeared to
be the chiefs of the troop, after politely bowing, without exchanging
a word, penetrated the covert, where they soon disappeared from the
observation of their people, who had not even turned their heads to see
what they were doing.
If these officers had not been so absorbed by their thoughts on
entering the woods, they would not have adventured into the covert
without having carefully examined the underwood and the thicket which
surrounded them. But, thanks to the profound secrecy with which they
had kept their intentions--and, more than all, confident in the
numerous forces that accompanied them, they were convinced that they
ran no danger.
Alter a walk of about a quarter of an hour, the officers reached a
rather extensive glade surrounded by thickets almost impenetrable.
The dead cinders of a fire, and some remains of burnt wood, showed that
some days or perhaps hours before other travellers had been here to
seek a temporary shelter.
"We are not the first who have discovered this glade," said the
general, stopping and courteously bowing to the persons who accompanied
him; "but never mind, señor, I think the place is well chosen for our
conversation that we wish to have, and I think we shall do well to stop
here."
"I am thoroughly of your opinion, señor general; let us stay here, it
would be difficult to have a better place."
The six officers then formed a group in the middle of the glade, and
then commenced the presentations, for those men, who knew each other
well by name, and who had come so far to treat on important matters,
had never seen one another before that day.
These officers were, on the part of the Spanish creoles--the General.
Don Eusebio Moratín; the Duc de Mantone--the Frenchman, who insisted
that he should only be called Louis Dubois; and Don Juan Armero, a
Montonero officer of the squadron of Zeno Cabral.
The Brazilians were represented by General Don Roque, the Marquis de
Castelmelhor; Captain Don Sebastiao Vianna, his aide-de-camp; and
another officer of an inferior grade, who plays too insignificant a
part in this history for us to present him more formally to the reader.
The Marquis de Castelmelhor was no longer the elegant and handsome
cavalier that we have seen in the former part of this narrative. Years,
accumulating on his head, had furrowed his face with long wrinkles;
the fire of his eye was deadened, so as to leave only a restless
expression, sad and almost fierce; his hair had whitened, and his tall
figure began to bow under the weight of the incessant fatigues of
military life, or perhaps, as his enemies said--and the general had a
great many--under the heavy burden of sharp remorse.
M. Dubois was still the same personage of ascetic features, of pale
complexion, and of cold and stately manners.
After their mutual presentation, the six men examined each other
curiously, secretly studying one another's features, to see where one
could the best attack the other.
These officers, silent and sombre, thus looking at each other
stealthily before commencing the conversation, rather resembled
duellists making ready to fire at each other, than diplomatists
assembled to discuss important political questions.
The marquis soon decided that if this silence were prolonged it would
become more and more embarrassing for all; so having several times
passed his hand over his forehead, as if to chase away some importunate
thought, he took upon himself to speak.
"Caballeros," he said, claiming attention by a gesture, "I am glad
that we are at last permitted to meet face to face. The occasion that
presents itself is too precious for us not to take advantage of it like
men of spirit, so as to try and smooth the apparently insurmountable
difficult ties which have so long divided us, and which, animated as we
are by truly patriotic sentiments, will not, I hope, exist many minutes
longer."
"That is well said!" cried a mocking voice, coming from the interior
of the wood, "And I should have been much annoyed had I not arrived in
time to assist at so philanthropic a meeting."
The officers looked about with astonishment, which almost amounted to
fear, on hearing the ironical accents of this voice, and started back,
quickly putting their hands to their firearms.
"Is this treason?" cried the marquis, with an inquiring look at General
Moratín.
At the same moment the shrubbery was parted, and a man bounded, rather
than entered into the glade.
"Don Zeno Cabral!" cried the astounded Buenos Aireans.
"Yes, it is I, señores," mockingly answered the Montonero, removing
his hat, and bowing courteously all round; "you did not expect me it
seems?" And then, taking a step or two in advance; "I come opportunely,
I think. Do not disturb yourselves; go on, I beg. I am sorry I do
not know the name of this caballero, but you will inform me, eh?" he
added, bowing with an expression of biting sarcasm to the marquis. "The
caballero was in the act of saying some very sensible thing which I
should be very sorry further to interrupt."