All doubts as to the character of the new-comers were chased away by the
coming up of the skipper to welcome the Don, who had nothing but bad
news to communicate.
He had passed the night in full retreat with the remnant of his
followers before the forces of the rival President.
"Everything has gone wrong," he said. "I have lost heavily, and thought
that I should never have been able to join my friends. What about the
hacienda? Have you done anything for its defence?"
"The best we could," replied the skipper. "I suppose you know that the
enemy had been here, that there had been a fight, and that they had
wrecked the place."
"I? No!" cried the Don, in a voice full of despair. "I sent a party of
my friends here to meet you, and this was the _rendezvous_. Don't tell
me that they have been attacked and beaten."
"I have as good as told you that," said the skipper dryly.
"Ah-h-h!" panted the Don.
"We have put the place in as good a state of defence as there was time
for, but we have not seen a soul."
"It is terrible," groaned the Don. "My poor friends! prisoners, or
driven off! But you! You have your brave men."
"I have about half my crew here, sir," said the skipper sternly; "but we
haven't come to fight, only to bring what you know."
"Ah! The guns, the ammunition, the store of rifles!" cried the Don
joyously. "Magnificent! Oh, you brave Englishmen! And you have them
landed safe?"
"No," replied the skipper, as the middy's ears literally tingled at all
he heard. "How could I land guns up here? And what could you do with
them in these pathless tracts? Where are your horses and mules, even if
there were roads?"
"True, true, true!" groaned the Don. "Fortune is against me now. But,"
he added sharply, "the rifles--cartridges?"
"Ah, as many of them as you like," cried the skipper, and Fitz Burnett's
sense of duty began to awaken once again as he seemed in some undefined
way to be getting hopelessly mixed up with people against whom it was
his duty to war.
"Excellent; and you have them in the hacienda?"
"No, no; aboard my vessel."
"But where is this vessel? You could not get her up the river?"
"No; she is lying off the mouth. I came up here in a boat to meet you
and get your instructions, after, as you know, being checked at San
Cristobal and Velova, where your emissaries brought your despatches."
"Brave, true fellows! But the gunboat! Were you seen?"
"Seen? Yes, and nearly taken. I only escaped by the skin of my teeth."
"You were too clever," cried the Don enthusiastically. "But you should
have sunk that gunboat. It would have meant life and success to me.
Why did not you send her to the bottom?"
"Well," said the skipper quietly, "first, because I am not at war, and
second, because she would have sent me to the bottom if I had tried."
"No, no," cried the Don enthusiastically. "You English are too clever
and too brave. The captain of that gunboat is a fool. You could easily
have done this thing. But you have the guns you brought all safe
aboard?"
"Yes."
"And you have some of your brave men with you?"
"Yes; more than half my crew."
"Then I am saved, for you will fight upon my side, and every one of your
brave Englishmen is worth a hundred of the miserable three parts Indian
rabble bravos and cut-throats who follow Villarayo's flag."
"Well, I didn't come here to fight, Don Ramon, and I have no right to
strengthen your force," said the skipper sternly. "My duty is to land
the munitions of war consigned to you; and that duty I shall do."
"But your men! They are armed?"
"Oh yes. Every one has his rifle and revolver, and knows how to use
them."
"And suppose you are attacked?" said the Don, catching him by the arm.
"Well," said the skipper dryly, "we English have a habit of hitting back
if we are tackled, and if anybody interferes with us in what we have to
do, I dare say we shall give a pretty good account of ourselves. But at
the present moment it seems to me that it's my duty to get back to my
ship and wait until you show me where I can land my cargo."
"Ah!" said the Don, and as he spoke Fitz had his first announcement that
day was near at hand, for he began to dimly see the eager, animated
countenance of the Spaniard, and to make out the figures of his
well-armed followers clustering round.
"Well, sir, what is to be done?"
"One moment; let me think. It will be safest, perhaps, for you to
return to the ship and wait."
"Where?" said the skipper. "That gunboat is hanging about the coast,
waiting to capture us if she can."
"Yes, I know; I know. And ashore Villarayo's men are swarming. They
have hunted us through the pass all night, and hundreds of them are
coming along the coast to cut us off from reaching boats and escaping
out to sea."
"Then it's time we were off," said the skipper sharply.
"Too late," replied the Don.
"But my schooner?"
"Will they capture that?" cried the Don.
"Well no," replied the skipper. "There's not much fear, sir; my mate
will look out too sharply. No. That will be safe. Don Ramon, if you
will take my advice, you and your party had better break up and take to
flight for the present, while I will make for any port you like to name
and wait your orders, ready for when you can gather your friends
together and make another attempt."
"Ah, yes, Captain Reed, you mean well; but where shall I flee? This is
my last place of refuge! Here, at my own home! It is best perhaps that
you and your men should get back to your ship. I and my friends are
pretty well surrounded, and have but two ways open to us. The one is to
surrender to Villarayo's merciless cut-throats and die like dogs; the
other, to stand at bay behind the walls of my poor home, fight to the
last, and die for our wretched country like soldiers and like men.
Shake hands, captain, in your brave English way. I and my friends thank
you for all you have done, and for making, as you say you have, a little
stronghold where we can hold on to the last. It is not your fault,
neither is it mine. I could have won the day, and brought happiness and
peace to my poor land; but it was not to be. Villarayo has been too
strong. That war-vessel with its mighty gun holds us at its mercy.
Whoever has that to back him up can rule this place; for any fort that
we could raise, even with the guns you have brought, would be crumbled
into the dust. There! Farewell! You have your boat. Save yourself
and your true, brave men. Quickly, while there is time!"
"Yes, Don Ramon; that must be so," said the skipper, and Fitz Burnett's
cheeks began to burn, heated with the spirit within him, as he listened
to the speaker's words, almost in disgust, for in his excitement it
seemed as cowardly as cruel to leave these brave Spaniards to such a
fate.
But then came the change, and his heart gave a leap, and his eyes
flashed with pride. He thought no more of his own position in the Royal
Navy than he did of the complications that had placed him where he was.
The British fighting spirit that has made our nation what it is was
strong within him, and his fingers tingled to clasp the skipper's hand,
and failing that, he tightly gripped Poole's arm, as the lad's father
said--
"No, Don Ramon, I can't leave you in the lurch like this. You and your
fellows must come with me."
"No," said the Don proudly; "my place is here," and he drew himself up,
looking every inch in the broadening light the soldier and the man.
What more the skipper would have spoken remained unsaid, for _crack,
crack, crack_! sounding smothered amongst the trees, came the reports of
the rifles and the replies made by Don Ramon's vedettes as they were
driven in, and the skipper's eyes flashed as he placed a little whistle
to his lips and blew shrilly, bringing his own men together at the run.
Then taking in the position in one quick glance, he could see a puff of
smoke arising from the direction of the river and the boat, telling only
too plainly that even had he wished to escape with his men, the way to
safety was cut off.
But in those moments no such idea entered his head, any more than it did
that of Fitz or Poole. The way was open to the hacienda, and joining
hands with the Spanish Don, he began to retire towards the defence he
had prepared, and in a very few minutes the house had been reached, and
the breastworks manned by the mingled force, consisting of Don Ramon's
followers and the schooner's crew, whose shots began to tell in such a
way that the enemy's advance was checked, and the bright sun rose above
the distant jungle, lighting up the enemy at bay.