leave until I make clear to you----"
In the fashion of the country, Senora Rojas clapped her hands.
"Surely," she exclaimed, "you will not subject me to a scene before
the servants."
In answer to her summons the doors flew open, and the frightened
servants, who had heard of the blood-stained messenger, pushed into
the room. With the air of a great lady dismissing an honored guest
Senora Rojas bowed to Roddy, and Roddy, accepting the inevitable,
bowed deeply in return.
As he walked to the door he cast toward Inez an unhappy look of
apology and appeal. But the smile with which she answered seemed to
show that, to her, their discomfiture was in no way tragic. Roddy at
once took heart and beamed with gratitude. In the look he gave her he
endeavored to convey his assurance of the devotion of a lifetime.
"Good-by," said Inez pleasantly.
"Good-by," said Roddy.
* * * * *
On coming to Porto Cabello Sam Caldwell had made his headquarters at
the home of the United States Consul, who owed his appointment to the
influence of Mr. Forrester, and who, in behalf of that gentleman, was
very justly suspected by Alvarez of "pernicious activity." On taking
his leave of Senora Rojas, which he did as soon as Roddy had been
shown the door, Caldwell hastened to the Consulate, and, as there
might be domiciliary visits to the houses of all the Vegaistas,
Colonel Ramon, seeking protection as a political refugee, accompanied
him.
The police had precipitated the departure of Vega from the city by
only a few hours. He had planned to leave it and to join his adherents
in the mountains that same afternoon, and it was only to learn the
result of the final appeal to Roddy that he had waited. As they
hastened through the back streets to the Consulate, Ramon said:
"It was not worth waiting for. Young Forrester told nothing. And why?
Because he knows nothing!"
"To me," growled Caldwell, "he makes a noise like a joker in the pack.
I don't mind telling you he's got me listening. He wouldn't have
thrown up his job and quarrelled with his father and Senora Rojas if
he wasn't pretty sure he was in right. Vega tells me, three weeks ago
Roddy went to Curacao to ask Madame Rojas to help him get her husband
out of prison. Instead, she turned him down _hard_. But did that phase
him? No! I believe he's still working--working at this moment on some
plan of his own to get Rojas free. Every night he goes out in his
launch with young De Peyster. Where do they go? They _say_ they go
fishing. Well, maybe! We can't follow them, for they douse the lights
and their motor is too fast for us. But, to me, it looks like a
rescue, for the only way they could rescue Rojas would be from the
harbor. If they have slipped him tools and he is cutting his way to
the water, some dark night they'll carry him off in that damned
launch. And then," he exclaimed angrily, "where would I be? That old
Rip Van Winkle has only got to show his face, and it would be all over
but the shouting. He'd lose us what we've staked on Vega, and he'd
make us carry out some of the terms of our concession that would cost
us a million more."
Ramon exclaimed with contempt.
"Forrester!" he cried. "He is only a boy!"
"Any boy," snapped Caldwell impatiently "who is clever enough to get
himself engaged to the richest girl in Venezuela, under the guns of
her mother and Pino Vega, is old enough to vote. I take my hat off to
him."
The Venezuelan turned his head and looked meaningly at Caldwell; his
eyes were hard and cruel.
"I regret," he said, "but he must be stopped."
"No, you don't!" growled Caldwell; "that's not the answer. We won't
stop _him_. We'll let _him_ go! It's the other man we'll stop--Rojas!"
"Yes, yes!" returned Ramon eagerly. "That is the only way left. Rojas
must die!"
"Die!" laughed Caldwell comfortably. "Not a bit like it! I'm rather
planning to improve his health." He stopped and glanced up and down
the narrow street. It was empty. He laid his hand impressively on the
arm of the Venezuelan.
"To-day," he whispered, "some one will send a letter--an anonymous
letter--to San Carlos, telling the Commandante why General Rojas would
be more comfortable in another cell."
* * * * *
From Miramar, Roddy returned directly to his house. On the way he
found the city in a ferment; all shops had closed, the plazas and
cafes were crowded, and the Alameda was lined with soldiers. Wherever
a few men gathered together the police ordered them to separate; and
in the driveways, troopers of Alvarez, alert and watchful, each with
his carbine on his hip, rode slowly at a walk, glancing from left to
right. At his house, Roddy found gathered there all of the White Mice:
Peter, McKildrick, Vicenti and Pedro. They had assembled, he supposed,
to learn the result of his visit to Miramar, but they were concerned
with news more important. Vicenti had called them together to tell
them that, at any moment, the Rojas faction might rise and attempt to
seize the city and San Carlos. The escape of Vega, and the fact, which
was now made public, that he had proclaimed himself in revolt, had
given the Rojas faction the opportunity for which it had been waiting.
The city was denuded of Government troops. For hours they had been
pouring out of it in pursuit of Vega and his little band of
revolutionists; and until reenforcements should arrive from Caracas,
which might not be in twenty-four hours, the city was defenseless. The
moment for the Rojas party had come.
But Vicenti feared that the assault on San Carlos would result, not
only in the death of many of those who attacked it, but also would be
the signal on the inside for the instant assassination of Rojas. It
therefore was imperative, before the attack was made, to get Rojas out
of prison. He dared not inform even the leaders of the Rojas party of
the proposed rescue. It must be attempted only by those who could be
absolutely trusted, those already in the secret. And it was for that
purpose he had called the White Mice together. When Roddy arrived they
had, subject to his approval, arranged their plan. From what Vicenti
had learned, the assault on the fortress would be made at midnight. It
was accordingly agreed that at nine o'clock, when it would be quite
dark, they would blow open the wall. Roddy, McKildrick and Peter would
dine together at Roddy's house, and at eight, in the launch, would
leave his wharf. Pedro, whose presence would assure General Rojas of
the good intentions of the others, was directed to so arrange his
departure from Miramar as to arrive by the shore route at the wharf in
time to accompany them. And Vicenti, who had set his watch with
McKildrick's, was at once to inform General Rojas of what was expected
to happen, and at nine o'clock, when the wall fell, to rush with him
through the breach.
In the _patio_ the men, standing and in silence, drank to the success
of their undertaking, and then, after each had shaken hands with the
others, separated. By Roddy's orders Pedro was to inform Inez of their
plan and to tell her that, if the Rojas party, in its attack upon the
city, was successful, her father might that night sleep at Miramar.
If, after his release, the issue were still in doubt, the launch would
carry him to Curacao.
Vicenti left for San Carlos. In case it should be necessary to make
the dash to Willemstad, Peter remained at the house to collect for the
voyage provisions, medicine, stimulants, casks of water, and
McKildrick and Roddy departed in the launch to lay the mine which was
to destroy the barrier. On their way they stopped at the light-house,
where McKildrick collected what he wanted for that purpose. It was now
four o'clock in the afternoon, and by five they had entered the tunnel
and reached the wall. McKildrick dug a hole in the cement a few feet
above the base, and in this shoved a stick of dynamite of sixty per
cent. nitro, and attached a number six cap and a fuse a foot long.
This would burn for one minute and allow whoever lighted it that
length of time to get under cover. In case of a miss-fire, he had
brought with him extra sticks, fuses and caps. These, with drills and
a sledge-hammer, they hid in a corner of the wall.
In the damp darkness of the tunnel it was difficult to believe that
outside the sun was still shining.
"If it were only night!" said Roddy. "I hate to leave it. I'd only
have to touch a match to that, and he'd be free."
"Free of the cell," assented McKildrick, "but we could never get him
away. The noise will bring the whole garrison. It will be like heaving
a brick into a hornets' nest. We must wait for darkness. This is no
matinee performance."
On the return trip to the city they sat in silence, the mind of each
occupied by his own thoughts. How serious these thoughts were neither
cared to confess in words, but as they passed under the guns of the
fortress they glanced at each other and smiled.
"You mustn't think, Mac," said Roddy gratefully, "I don't appreciate
what you're doing. You stand to lose a lot!"
"I can always get another job," returned McKildrick.
"You can't if one of these fellows puts a bullet in you," said Roddy.
"You know you are making a big sacrifice, and I thank you for it."
McKildrick looked at him in some embarrassment.
"You stand to lose more than any of us," he said. "I'm told you are to
be congratulated." His eyes were so full of sympathy and good feeling
that Roddy held out his hand.
"You're the first one to do it," he said happily; "and it's good to
hear. Mac!" he exclaimed, in awe-struck tones, "I'm the happiest,
luckiest, and the least deserving beggar in all the world!"
McKildrick smiled dryly.
"I seem to have heard something like that before," he said.
"Never!" cried Roddy stoutly. "Other poor devils may have thought so,
but I _know_. It never happened to any one but me!"
McKildrick turned his eyes seaward and frowned,
"I even used the same lines myself once," he said; "but I found I'd
got hold of some other fellow's part. So if anything _should_ come my
way to-night it wouldn't make such a lot of difference."
Roddy took one hand from the wheel and, leaning forward, touched
McKildrick on the knee.
"I'm sorry," he said; "I didn't know."
McKildrick nodded, and as though glad of an interruption, held up his
hand.
"Listen!" he cried. "Stop the engine!"
Roddy let the launch slip forward on her own headway. In the silence
that followed they heard from the city the confused murmur of a mob
and the sharp bark of pistols. They looked at each other
significantly.
"The surface indications seem to show," said McKildrick, "that things
are loosening up. I guess it's going to be one of those nights!"
As they rounded the point and the whole of the harbor front came into
view, they saw that the doors of the bonded warehouses had been broken
open, and that the boxes and bales they contained had been tumbled out
upon the wharf and piled into barricades. From behind these, and from
the windows of the custom-house, men not in uniform, and evidently of
the Rojas faction, were firing upon the tiny gun-boat in the harbor,
and from it their rifle-fire was being answered by an automatic gun.
With full speed ahead, Roddy ran the gauntlet of this cross-fire, and
in safety tied up to his own wharf.
"Go inside," he commanded, "and find out what has happened. And tell
Peter we'll take his cargo on board now. Until we're ready to start
I'll stay by the launch and see no one tries to borrow her."
Peter and McKildrick returned at once, and with gasoline, tins of
biscuit and meat, and a cask of drinking water, stocked the boat for
her possible run to Curacao. The Rojas party, so Peter informed them,
had taken the barracks in the suburbs and, preliminary to an attack on
the fortress, had seized the custom-house which faced it; but the
artillery barracks, which were inside the city, were still in the
hands of the government troops. Until they were taken, with the guns
in them, the Rojas faction were without artillery, and against the
fortress could do nothing. It was already dusk, and, in half an hour,
would be night. It was for this the Rojas crowd were waiting. As yet,
of Vega and his followers no news had reached the city. But the
government troops were pursuing him closely, and it was probable that
an engagement had already taken place.
"By this time," said Roddy, "Vicenti has told Rojas, and in an hour
Pedro will arrive, and then we start. Go get something to eat, and
send my dinner out here. I've some tinkering to do on the engine."
Before separating, McKildrick suggested that Peter and Roddy should
set their watches by his, which was already set to agree with
Vicenti's.
"For, should anything happen to me," he explained, "you boys must blow
up the wall, and you must know just when you are to do it. Roddy knows
_how_ to do it, and," he added to Peter, "I'll explain it to you while
we're at dinner."
They left Roddy on his knees, busily plying his oil-can, and crossed
the garden. In the _patio_ they found the table ready for dinner, and
two lamps casting a cheerful light upon the white cloth and flashing
from the bottle of red Rioja.
As they seated themselves, one of the stray bullets that were singing
above the housetops dislodged a tile, and the pieces of red clay fell
clattering into the court-yard. Peter reached for the claret and, with
ostentatious slowness, filled McKildrick's glass.
"Dynasties may come," he said, "and dynasties may go; but I find one
always dines."
"Why not?" replied McKildrick. "Napoleon said an army is a collection
of stomachs. Why should you and I pretend to be better soldiers than
Napoleon's?"
As a signal to the kitchen he clapped his hands; but the servant who
answered came not from the kitchen, but from the street. His yellow
skin was pale with fright. He gasped and pointed into the shadow at a
soldier who followed him. The man wore the uniform of a hospital
steward and on his arm the badge of the Red Cross. He stepped forward
and, glancing with concern from Peter to McKildrick, saluted
mechanically.
"Doctor Vicenti!" he exclaimed; "he wishes to see you. He is outside
on a stretcher. We are taking him to the hospital, but he made us
bring him here first." The man shook his head sharply. "He is dying!"
he said.
In this sudden threat of disaster to their plan the thought of both
the conspirators was first for Rojas.
"My God!" cried Peter, and stared helplessly at the older man.
"Dying?" protested McKildrick. "I saw him an hour ago; he was----"
"He was caring for the wounded in the streets. He was shot," answered
the man gravely, laying his finger on his heart, "here!"
"Caring for the wounded!" cried McKildrick. "Why in hell wasn't
he----"
"Be quiet!" warned Peter.
McKildrick checked himself and, followed by Peter, ran to the street.
In the light from the open door he saw an army stretcher, and on it a
figure of a man covered with a blanket. An officer and the soldiers
who had borne the stretcher stood in the shadow. With an exclamation
of remorse and sympathy, McKildrick advanced quickly and leaned
forward. But the man on the stretcher was not Vicenti. To make sure,
McKildrick bent lower, and in an instant the stranger threw out his
arms and, clasping him around the neck, dragged him down. At the same
moment the stretcher bearers fell upon him from the rear, and,
wrenching back his arms, held them together until the officer clasped
his wrists with handcuffs. From Peter he heard a muffled roar and,
twisting his head, saw him rolling on the sidewalk. On top of him were
a half-dozen soldiers; when they lifted him to his feet his wrists
also were in manacles.
McKildrick's outbursts were silenced by the officer.
"You need not tell me you are Americans," he said, "and if you go
quietly no harm will come. We wish only to keep you out of mischief."
"Go?" demanded Peter. "Go where?"
"To the _cartel_," said the officer, smiling. "You will be safer
there."
He stepped into the light and waved his sword, and from across the
street came running many more soldiers. A squad of these the officer
detailed to surround his prisoners. To the others he said: "Search the
house. Find the third one, Senor Forrester. Do not harm him, but," he
added meaningly, "bring him with you!"
At the word, Peter swung his arms free from the man who held them.
With a yell of warning, which he hoped would reach Roddy, and pulling
impotently at his handcuffs, he dashed into the house, the soldiers
racing at his heels.
Roddy had finished his inspection of his engine, but was still
guarding the launch, waiting with impatience for some one to bring him
his dinner. He was relieved to note that from the direction of Miramar
there was no sound of fighting. In the lower part of the city he could
hear a brisk fusillade, but, except from the custom-house, the firing
had more the sound of street fighting than of an organized attack.
From this, he judged the assault on the artillery barracks had not yet
begun. He flashed his electric torch on his watch, and it showed half
past seven. There was still a half-hour to wait. He rose and, for the
hundredth time, spun the wheel of his engine, examined his revolver,
and yawned nervously. It was now quite dark. Through the trees and
shrubs in the garden he could see the lights on the dinner-table and
the spectacle made him the more hungry. To remind the others that he
was starving, he gave a long whistle. It was at once cautiously
answered, to his surprise, not from the house but from a spot a
hundred feet from him, on the shore of the harbor. He decided, as it
was in the direction one would take in walking from Miramar, that
Pedro had arrived, and he sighed with relief. He was about to repeat
his signal of distress when, from the _patio_, there arose a sudden
tumult. In an instant, with a crash of broken glass and china, the
lights were extinguished, and he heard the voice of Peter shrieking
his name. He sprang from the launch and started toward the garden. At
that moment a heavy body crashed upon the gravel walk, and there was
the rush of many feet.
"Roddy!" shrieked the voice of Peter, "they're taking us to jail.
They're coming after _you_. Run! Run like hell!"
In the darkness Roddy could see nothing. He heard what sounded like an
army of men trampling and beating the bushes. His first thought was
that he must attempt a rescue. He jerked out his gun and raced down
the wharf. Under his flying feet the boards rattled and Peter heard
him coming.
"Go back!" he shrieked furiously. "You can't help us! You've got work
to do! Do it!"
The profanity with which these orders were issued convinced Roddy that
Peter was very much in earnest and in no personal danger.
The next moment he was left no time for further hesitation. His flying
footsteps had been heard by the soldiers as well as by Peter, and from
the garden they rushed shouting to the beach. Against such odds Roddy
saw that to rescue Peter was impossible, while at the same time, even
alone, he still might hope to rescue Rojas.
He cast loose the painter of the launch, and with all his strength
shoved it clear. He had apparently acted not a moment too soon, for a
figure clad in white leaped upon the wharf and raced toward him. Roddy
sprang to the wheel and the launch moved slowly in a circle. At the
first sound of the revolving screw there came from the white figure a
cry of dismay. It was strangely weak, strangely familiar, strangely
feminine.
"Roddy!" cried the voice. "It is I, Inez!"
With a shout of amazement, joy, and consternation, Roddy swung the
boat back toward the shore, and by the breadth of an oar-blade cleared
the wharf. There was a cry of relief, of delight, a flutter of skirts,
and Inez sprang into it. In an agony of fear for her safety, Roddy
pushed her to the bottom of the launch.
"Get down!" he commanded. "They can see your dress. They'll fire on
you."
From the shore an excited voice cried in Spanish "Do I shoot,
sergeant?"
"No!" answered another. "Remember your orders!"
"But he escapes!" returned the first voice, and on the word there was
a flash, a report, and a bullet whined above them. Another and others
followed, but the busy chug-chug of the engine continued undismayed
and, as the noise of its progress died away, the firing ceased. Roddy
left the wheel, and, stooping, took Inez in his arms. Behind them the
city was a blaze of light, and the sky above it was painted crimson.
From the fortress, rockets, hissing and roaring, signalled to the
barracks; from the gun-boat, the quick-firing guns were stabbing the
darkness with swift, vindictive flashes. In different parts of the
city incendiary fires had started and were burning sullenly, sending
up into the still night air great, twisting columns of sparks. The
rattle of musketry was incessant.
With his arm about her and her face pressed to his, Inez watched the
spectacle unseeingly. For the moment it possessed no significance.
And for Roddy, as he held her close, it seemed that she must feel his
heart beating with happiness. He had never dared to hope that such a
time would come, when they would be alone together, when it would be
his right to protect and guard her, when, again and again, he might
try to tell her how he loved her. Like one coming from a dream, Inez
stirred and drew away.
"Where are we going?" she whispered.
"We're going to the tunnel to save your father," answered Roddy.
The girl gave a little sigh of content and again sank back into the
shelter of his arm.
They passed the fortress, giving it a wide berth, and turned in toward
the shore. The city now lay far to the right, and the clamor of the
conflict came to them but faintly.
"Tell me," said Roddy, "why did you come to the wharf?" He seemed to
be speaking of something that had happened far back in the past, of a
matter which he remembered as having once been of vivid importance,
but which now was of consequence only in that it concerned her.
Reluctantly Inez broke the silence that had enveloped them.
"They came to the house and arrested Pedro," she said. To her also
the subject seemed to be of but little interest. She spoke as though
it were only with an effort she could recall the details. "I knew you
needed him to convince father you were friends. So, as he could not
come, I came. Did I do right?"
"Whatever you do is right," answered Roddy. "We might as well start
life with that proposition as a fixed fact."
"And do you want me with you now?" whispered the girl.
"Do I want you with me!" Roddy exclaimed, in mock exasperation. "Don't
provoke me!" he cried. "I am trying," he protested, "to do my duty,
while what I would like to do is to point this boat the other way, and
elope with you to Curacao. So, if you love your father, don't make
yourself any more distractingly attractive than you are at this
moment. If you don't help me to be strong I will run away with you."
Inez laughed, softly and happily, and, leaning toward him, kissed him.
"That's not helping me!" protested Roddy.
"It is for the last time," said Inez, "until my father is free."
"That may not be for months!" cried Roddy.
"It is for the last time," repeated Inez.
Roddy concealed the launch in the cove below El Morro and, taking from
the locker a flask of brandy and an extra torch, led the way up the
hill. When they drew near to the fortress, fearing a possible ambush,
he left Inez and proceeded alone to reconnoitre. But El Morro was
undisturbed, and as he and McKildrick had left it. He returned for
Inez, and at the mouth of the tunnel halted and pointed to a place
well suited for concealment.
"You will wait there," he commanded.
"No," returned the girl quietly, "I will go with you. You forget I am
your sponsor, and," she added gently, "I am more than that. After
this, where you go, I go."
As she spoke there came from the wharf of the custom-house, lying a
mile below them, a flash of flame. It was followed by others, and
instantly, like an echo, the guns of the fort replied.
"Shrapnel!" cried Roddy. "They've captured the artillery barracks, and
we haven't a moment to lose!"
He threw himself on the levers that moved the slabs of stone and
forced them apart. Giving Inez his hand, he ran with her down the
steps of the tunnel.
"But why," cried Inez, "is there more need for haste now than before?"
Roddy could not tell her the assault of the Rojas party on the
fortress might lead to a reprisal in the assassination of her father.
"The sound of the cannon," he answered evasively, "will drown out what
we do."