point of departure. A bugle rang out shrilly from somewhere in the
courtyard; a stentorian voice barked out certain orders, and the
Peruvian guards closed up round their captives. Then, just as dusk was
falling, the gates were thrown open, and the column of three hundred men
marched out of Lima castle into the broad streets, on the road to
Sorata.
Nothing could be done that night, Jim decided; and a week elapsed before
he could even speak to his companions upon the subject which was
uppermost in his mind. Then, one evening, shortly before midnight, when
the vigilance of the guards had somewhat relaxed, Jim found his
opportunity. He softly wakened the man next to him, and whispered
earnestly to him for about ten minutes. The Chilian officer listened
intently, and then awoke his companion in turn and passed the idea on to
him. Thus the "word" percolated through the sleeping camp, and before
morning every one of the Chilians who could be trusted had been informed
of Jim's plan, and had agreed to be on the watch for the signal which
the young Englishman had promised to give them upon the very first
opportunity which presented itself as being likely to promise success.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
THE RED DAY OF CUZCO.
A fortnight had passed since that memorable night upon which Jim
communicated his plan of escape to his fellow-prisoners, and still no
opportunity had come for the Chilians to make a bid for freedom. For
some days after Douglas had communicated with them the weary men had
brightened up considerably. The spark of hope which glimmered in the
midst of their darkness gave them strength to bear up under their many
misfortunes. But as day after day came and went without the signal
being given, a dull despair had taken the place of hope, and many a
worn-out and soul-sick man fell down in the dusty road, never to rise
again. Belonging, as the bulk of the prisoners did, to a southern race,
they were very easily cheered up or cast down, and their despair was all
the deeper for the short interval of hope which had been given them.
The majority of them seemed to have almost resigned themselves to fate,
and were looking forward to nothing better than a lifelong captivity in
the mines of Sorata. To such an extent, indeed, was this the case that
Jim realised that, unless an opportunity should very shortly occur
whereby he could put his scheme into execution, his companions would be
too profoundly dispirited to attempt to make use of the chance of escape
when it should actually arrive. He had told them, however, at the
outset that it would be folly to make the attempt while crossing the
mountains; for, even should they contrive to get away, they would be in
the heart of a hostile country, where they might easily be recaptured.
The young Englishman's plan had been to wait until they got farther
south, when they would again be comparatively close to the coast, so
that they might escape thither and trust to being able to get away in
boats. But the long-protracted waiting, coupled with the intense cold
which they experienced up among the mountains, was fast taking all the
heart out of the prisoners, and Jim saw that unless the attempt were
made almost at once everything would be lost.
They were now nearing Cuzco, having travelled nearly half the distance
to Sorata, and the weary men hoped to sleep that very night in the
ancient capital of the Incas. Jim had managed to interchange a few
hasty words about mid-day with the officers of his own group, all men of
high courage and of advanced rank, and they and he had come to the
conclusion that the escape should be attempted that very night, should
they fail to reach Cuzco, or the night after leaving that city, should
they happen to arrive there that day. These few were the only men who
had retained their courage unimpaired, and Jim felt that he could rely
upon them. It would not do, they all decided, to wait any longer; and
although Cuzco itself lay among the mountains, it would be better to
make the attempt there, and trust to being able to get away to the sea-
coast, than be obliged to defer it indefinitely.
The word to be on the watch and ready was therefore passed round
immediately after the mid-day halt; and it was astonishing to see how
the news brightened up the weary men and made new beings of them.
Indeed, Jim almost felt sorry that he had not delayed the message until
the evening, for he felt alarmed lest the guards should observe the
change and guess at its cause. They seemed, however, to take no notice
of it, and the forlorn procession moved forward slowly along the great,
dusty road, which had not been repaired since the time of Pizarro's
conquest. Hour after hour went by and there was still no sign of the
City of the Sun; so that, by the time that four o'clock arrived, Douglas
decided that the escape would have to be attempted that very night.
Just before dusk the clouds, which had been covering the heavens all day
long, broke; the glorious setting sun shone out in all his majesty; and
there before them in the distance, some fifteen miles away, his beams
fell on the city of Cuzco, gilding and glorifying it until it actually
did present the appearance of a city of gold. It was a magnificent
sight, and drew an exclamation of admiration and delight from the
Chilians, weary as they all were; but they hoped that the view which
they had just obtained of the place was all that they would ever see of
it--as it would be, if fortune would but favour them that night.
It was now perfectly evident that they would not be able to reach Cuzco
that evening, and as the darkness was fast coming on the Peruvians began
to look about them for a suitable place in which to camp for the night.
About half a mile farther on could be seen, through the gathering gloom,
a small hillock, crowned with great rocks and boulders, apparently the
remains of some ancient Inca fortification. This struck Douglas as a
place that might have been made on purpose for their attempt, could the
guards but be induced to pitch the camp there. He was casting about in
his mind for some scheme by which they might be induced to select the
spot as a halting-place, when the officer in command of the troop rose
in his stirrups and, pointing to the hillock with his sword, exclaimed:
"There, over yonder, is the place for us, _mi hijos_; we will encamp
among those boulders. We shall be as comfortable there as in the city
of Cuzco itself. Forward, _guerreros_; we shall soon be there; and we
will have a good long rest to-night."
"Ay, that you will, you inhuman scoundrel," muttered Jim; "but it will
not be the sort of sleep of which you are thinking!" However, the
prisoners and their guards pushed forward, and in about ten minutes'
time the group arrived at the foot of the little hill, which they at
once began to climb.
"Now I wonder," thought Jim, "whether the next time we tread this road
it will be as free men once more. God grant us success this night, for
if we fail there will be no second chance for us!"
The other officers seemed to be occupied with similar thoughts, for they
examined the whole place and its surroundings very carefully as they
ascended; evidently in order that, should the attempt be successful,
they might be able to find their way down in the darkness. At last the
summit was reached; but before the weary men could enjoy the rest of
which they stood in such great need, they were obliged to unload the
tents and provisions from the pack mules, the Peruvians being much to
lazy to do anything for themselves. It was therefore about eight
o'clock by the time that the tents were pitched and the evening meal
prepared; and when the food was ready the prisoners ate as much as they
could, for they did not in the least know where they would obtain their
next meal. This having been done, the pots and pans had to be cleaned
and put away; so that it was a tolerably weary company which at last
sought its tents to lie down and rest.
But not to slumber. There was not a single Chilian among those to whom
the plan had been revealed who closed his eyes, lest he should fall
asleep and thus not be ready when the momentous signal should be given.
Long before this it had been ascertained that there were but four keys
for the purpose of locking and unlocking the prisoners' manacles; one
being held by the captain, while the other three were distributed in
turn among the soldiers, being given to three different men every day,
for the better security of the prisoners, and to make sure that there
could be no tampering with the guards. Jim had been keeping his eyes
very wide open all through the day, and he had noticed which of the
Peruvians were the men who had the keys in their possession that night,
while he had also carefully marked the positions where they had thrown
themselves down to sleep. Two of the soldiers had retired to a tent,
but the third had fortunately elected to sleep in the open, as the night
was very warm.
The plan arranged was for Jim and his group of manacled fellow-officers
to crawl forward, and either kill or stun one of the gaolers--it would
be too risky to tackle more than one--secure his key, unlock their own
fetters, and then to go silently the rounds, setting free their
companions. When all were at liberty they were to seize their shovels
and pickaxes and with them attack the slumbering soldiery, killing as
many as possible before they were fully awake and could seize their
rifles. Should they be discovered before the work was complete, those
who were free were to keep off the Peruvians while the remainder were
set at liberty.
It sounded rather a barbarous scheme, but Jim could think of no other
which would be at all likely to be successful; and he was by this time
rendered altogether too hardened by privation and ill-treatment to feel
very much pity for the callously brutal Peruvian guards. Besides, it
was his life or theirs, and he had no difficulty in choosing.
The young Englishman waited until midnight, in order to allow the
soldiers to get well asleep, and then he silently nudged his companions
to make sure that all were awake. They all were,--very wide awake,
too,--and, after a few low-voiced instructions from Douglas, the little
body of men began to crawl away through the darkness, taking the utmost
care that there should be no clanking of chains to betray their
movements. Forward on hands and knees they went, all moving together;
and they soon passed through the ranks of their comrades, who did not
make a single movement while the gallant little band crawled past.
Soon they had left the Chilian part of the encampment behind; and a few
minutes later, Jim, who was the leading man of the party, came abreast
of the first Peruvian tent. The night was pitchy dark, although there
was a young moon, for the sky was covered with dark, low-lying clouds.
This was all the better, for it lessened the probability of their being
seen by the sentries; but they had to exercise a great deal of caution
to avoid colliding with and so disturbing any soldiers who had elected
to sleep out in the open.
"Now," whispered Jim, as they came abreast of a certain tent, looming up
dim and ghostly in the darkness; "Pedrillo is sleeping just outside this
tent. Forward, men; but carefully, for your lives. One false step now,
and all will be lost. Come along, and remember--we must be quick and
silent at--at the work which we have to do. There must not be so much
as a single struggle."
His companions now came up abreast of Douglas, instead of following in
single file; and, still abreast, they crawled toward the slumbering
custodian of the key. Nearer and nearer they drew, until only a few
yards separated them from their prey, then only a few feet. They were
almost within arm's length of him now; silently they crept forward
again, then they paused. The only sound was that caused by the heavy
breathing of the victim and the soft, hissing breaths of his
executioners. Now they crept forward again until they were close to the
man; Jim plucked the sleeve of the Chilian nearest to him, and together
they leaned over the gaoler.
"_Now_!" hissed Jim, and four men flung themselves upon the fellow's
body at the same moment that Douglas's hands clutched his throat. There
was a short quick scuffle, and it was all over.
In a second he had snatched the key from the dead man's girdle and was
feverishly unlocking his comrades' fetters. Then they, in turn,
unlocked his, and in less than five minutes the twelve men were all
free. Back they sped to their own portion of the camp, and were soon
unlocking their friends' manacles, with the result that in less than
twenty minutes at least half the Chilians were free, and stood, grasping
their pickaxes and shovels, ready for the fight which was inevitable
before they could get away.
Then a horrible thing happened.
Among the Chilians was a naval petty officer, a surly, cunning--faced
creature whom nobody trusted, and from whom, therefore, all particulars
of the plot had been kept secret. Jim had just inserted the key in his
manacles, when this traitor shrieked at the top of his voice:
"Help! help! the Chilians are escaping!"
Why the fellow did it nobody ever knew, but it was surmised that, being
too much of a craven himself to attempt to escape, he had hoped to
purchase his own freedom by betraying his comrades. But he must have
been mad to do such a thing, surrounded as he was by Chilians, for he
might have felt certain that before assistance could reach him he would
be dead.
The mischief, however, was done, and the slumbering camp was effectually
alarmed. The sentries squibbed off their rifles, and then, reloading,
began to blaze away into the Chilian encampment. The captain's harsh
voice was heard giving orders, and in a few seconds the Peruvian
soldiers had formed up in line, fixed their bayonets, and were prepared
to charge.
"Quick," exclaimed Jim; "seize your shovels and pickaxes and repel their
attack. I will help you. You, Manuel, take the key and free the others
while we who are already free keep the Peruvians at bay. But be cool--
keep calm, and all will be well; we will defend you."
Tossing the key to Manuel, Jim seized a shovel, and put himself at the
head of his men. "Charge! charge!" he roared, and the fifty free
Chilians charged straight at the place where the Peruvians were known to
be.
The next second a sanguinary and ferocious struggle had commenced in the
darkness. The Peruvians, hearing the Chilians approach, had levelled
their rifles, and poured a withering volley into the charging men, with
murderous effect. But, their rifles once emptied, conditions were
somewhat more equal, and for a quarter of an hour the combat raged
furiously. But such an unequal contest could not last very long; the
soldiers were able, during pauses in the struggle, to reload their
rifles; and this being done, they mowed the Chilians down by dozens.
Manuel did his work well, but the liberated men who straggled up, by
twos and threes, did not prove a very valuable reinforcement for the
prisoners.
Then, to crown all their misfortunes, the moon came out and flooded the
battle-ground with light; and light was all that the Peruvians needed to
enable them to turn a one-sided combat into a massacre. The Chilians,
mowed down by the score, at last threw down their primitive weapons and
called for quarter; but the soldiers, rendered still more ferocious by
the sight and smell of blood, continued to fire into the defenceless
prisoners until they were sated with slaughter. Then the hapless band
was surrounded once more, and the unhurt and least seriously wounded men
were manacled afresh. The mortally wounded were simply bayoneted as
they lay, their friends being unable to stay the murderers' hands.
At last it was all over; the casualties were counted up and the roll
called. The Peruvians had lost but eleven men, all killed, whereas the
Chilians were reduced to forty, all told, scarcely one of whom did not
bear a more or less serious wound on his person. But the Peruvian
captain was furious at what he called the "dastardly attack" of the
Chilians on his men, and he swore to take a full and complete revenge
when the next morning should arrive. The wretched men were then allowed
to lie down once more and sleep--if they could; and thus the remaining
hours of that ghastly night passed slowly away.
The next morning, as soon as day dawned, Captain Garcia-y-Garcia, having
appointed a sergeant and a corporal to assist him, constituted himself
and his two assistants into what he called a "court-martial," and then
proceeded to try the prisoners.
Jim he promptly pounced upon as the ringleader, and subjected the young
Englishman to a short examination, which, however, was the merest farce,
for the captain had already determined upon his fate. After a trial
lasting, perhaps, five minutes, therefore, Jim was condemned to be shot
before mid-day, as were nine more of his unfortunate companions. The
remaining thirty Chilians were each sentenced to receive a flogging of a
hundred lashes as soon as they arrived at the mines; and Captain Garcia-
y-Garcia promised himself that he would be the man to supervise the
punishment.
The ten men who were condemned to death were then separated from the
rest of the troop, and were told to seat themselves on the ground at
some little distance away, where they were at once surrounded by guards.
Garcia-y-Garcia then selected a squad of twenty Peruvian soldiers, and
told them off for the firing-party. They were then formed up in a
single line and ordered to load their rifles with ball cartridge.
When everything was in readiness, the ten unfortunate prisoners were
brought forward and made to stand, also in line, with their backs
against a huge rock which was to serve as a background; and Jim found
himself, for the second time in his life, facing a firing-party and
condemned to death. But this time there seemed to be no hope or
possibility of reprieve. He was surrounded by cruel men who had no
feelings save those of a brutal nature, and it seemed as though no power
on earth could save him.
Jim was very thankful that no attempt was made to blindfold them, for he
had had a bandage round his eyes on a previous occasion, and knew from
experience that the suspense of waiting for the squad to fire, not
knowing what they were doing meanwhile, was worse than death itself
could possibly be.
At last the fatal moment came, and the unlucky men shook hands with one
another in sad farewell. The doomed men then stood to attention, and
the soldiers examined the breeches of their rifles to make sure that
they were properly loaded.
Then came the word "_Ready_!" and the twenty rifles came up to the
soldiers' hips as though by machinery. At the second word of command
the barrels glinted in the sun as the men planted the rifle-butts in the
hollow of their shoulders. Jim involuntarily cast his eyes skyward as
he waited for the final word, and his lips were seen to move slightly.
A painful pause--and then Garcia-y-Garcia's voice rang out, loud, clear,
and triumphant: "_Fire_!"
There was a simultaneous crash as the rifles were discharged, and Jim
felt a sharp, stinging sensation in his left side and in his arm as he
fell back upon the ground. A body fell a second after his own and lay
right across his face, and Jim had actually put up his hand to push away
the corpse before he realised that he was not at all severely hurt. He
was recalled to his senses by hearing the captain's voice commanding his
men to reload and fire again into the heap of corpses, to "make
assurance doubly sure," as he put it, and Jim had presence of mind
enough to abstain from making any further movement, though he suffered
agonies of suspense while waiting for the second discharge.
It came at last, and Douglas escaped yet a second time, although the
body lying above his own was riddled with bullets. The Englishman could
feel now that the bullet which struck him had passed between his left
side and his left arm, grazing both, but inflicting no injury worth
speaking of. But would he escape after all, or would he have his brains
blown out as he lay? The question was soon answered, for even as he was
thinking about it, the body was hauled off his face and a soldier
shouted: "Why, captain, here is a man who is still alive."
Garcia-y-Garcia ran up and stood over Jim, looking down at him with eyes
that glittered with savage menace. He half turned away to give the
order for Jim's death, when he checked himself. His expression
gradually changed, and presently he spoke:
"No; I don't think I'll shoot you to-day, Senor Chileno, although I
don't know that I may not change my mind later. However, I will spare
you this once, for you deserve to escape death after having been shot at
twice. Get up!"
Hardly able to believe his ears, Jim rose to his feet, and was
immediately secured to the chain once more. Then, still in a dream, he
heard the command given to march, and the sadly depleted company moved
down the side of the knoll, leaving nearly seventy unburied corpses
lying on its summit. How very differently things had looked yesterday
at this hour, thought Jim: how sadly everything had changed! Between
now and yesterday lay this blood-red day of Cuzco--a day which Jim knew
he would never forget so long as he lived.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
A CURIOUS DISCOVERY.
After the dreadful episode near Cuzco a heavy gloom settled down upon
the poor remnant of the prisoners, and the group marched forward and
ever forward in a sullen, hopeless silence. Jim made several efforts to
put fresh heart into his comrades, and to persuade them that everything
was not lost, even yet, if they could but pull themselves together. He
told them that the mines were still some distance away, and that a
second attempt at escape might perhaps be so engineered as to be
successful; but it was all to no purpose; the unhappy Chilians had
completely lost heart. Moreover, they seemed to think that the ill-
success which had attended their effort at Cuzco was in some measure due
to the young Englishman who had, as they put it, misjudged the time; and
Jim soon found that he was everywhere greeted with sullen looks instead
of with the cheery smiles which were once accorded him. He therefore
gave up the idea of inciting them to another attempt, and came to the
conclusion that he would have to make his escape alone, if it was to be
made; and he determined that henceforth he would keep his intentions
secret from the others, and would not even invoke their assistance; for
he feared treachery on their part in the temper that then possessed
them.
Watch as he might, however, the young man could find no opportunity, for
the guards had redoubled their vigilance, and they kept an especially
sharp eye on Jim, for he was considered by all the Peruvians to have
been the ringleader of the Cuzco affair; indeed, the soldiers quite
failed to understand why Captain Garcia-y-Garcia had shown him any mercy
on that occasion. The young Englishman also kept his eyes open,
carefully marking in his mind the route by which they had come, so that
he might find his way back along it upon some future occasion. They had
now left the strictly mountainous region, and had entered upon the flat
dusty tableland in the midst of which Lake Titicaca is situated; and it
was for the northern end of the lake that the party was now heading.
Then, one day at dawn, they beheld a magnificent sight. There, before
them, lying at a slightly lower level than the surrounding country, lay
the blue waters of the lake, shimmering in the sun, whose beams had
already gilded the snowy summit of Mount Sorata, which lay a little to
the south-eastward. It was at the foot of this giant among mountains
that the village of Sorata was situated, and Jim realised that their
long journey of seven hundred miles was nearly ended.