The King's party remained perfectly still during the first few shots,
and then, unable to contain themselves, they seemed to the lads to be
preparing for immediate action. The tall, stern-looking Spaniard who
had seemed to be their leader the previous night, and who had given the
orders which resulted in the boys being dragged down into the priest's
room, now with a due show of deference approached the King, who remained
seated, and seemed to be begging his Sovereign to go in the direction he
pointed, where a dark passage evidently led onward right into the inner
portions of the cavern or deserted mine.
The conversation, which was carried on in Spanish, would not have been
comprehended by the two lads even if they had understood that tongue;
but in spite of the Spaniard going even so far as to follow up his
request and persuasion by catching at the King's arm and trying to draw
him in the direction he indicated, that refugee shook his head
violently, wrested his wrist away, drew his sword, placed himself in
front of his followers, and signed to them to advance towards the
entrance.
"Well done!" whispered Punch. "He is something like a king after all.
He means fighting, he does!"
"Hush," whispered back Pen, "or you will be heard."
"Not us," replied Punch, who began busying himself most unnecessarily
with his musket, placing the butt between his feet, pulling out the
ramrod and running it down the barrel to tap the end of the cartridge as
if to make sure that it was well driven home.
Satisfied with this, he drew the iron rod again, thrust it into the
loops, threw the piece muzzle forward, opened the pan to see that it was
full of powder, shut it down again, and made a careful examination of
the flint. For these were the days long prior to the birth of the
copper percussion-cap, and plenty of preliminaries had to be gone
through before the musket could be fired.
Satisfied now that everything possible had been done, he whispered a
suggestion to his companion that he too should make an examination.
"I did," replied Pen, "a few minutes ago."
"But hadn't you better look again?" whispered Punch.
"No, no," cried his companion impatiently. "Look at them; they are all
advancing to the entrance, and we oughtn't to be left behind."
"We ain't a-going to be," said the boy through his set teeth. "Come
on."
"No," replied Pen.
"Come on, I say," cried the boy again. "We have only got muskets, but
we are riflemen all the same, and our dooty is to go right in front
skirmishing to clear the way."
"Our orders were," said Pen, "to wait here till our captain fetched us
to the front and did what he told us."
"But he ain't come," protested Punch.
"Not yet," replied Pen. "Do you want him to come and find that we have
broken faith with him and are not here?"
"Course I don't," cried the boy, speaking now excitedly. "But suppose
he ain't coming? How do we know that he aren't got a bullet in him and
has gone down? He can't come then." Pen was silent.
"And look here," continued Punch; "when he gave us those orders he told
that other lot--the Spaniel reserve, you may call them--to stop yonder
till he come. Well, that's the King, ain't it? He's ordered an
advance, and he's leading it hisself. Where's his cloud of riflemen
feeling the way for him? Are we to stop in the rear? I thought you did
know better than that, comrade. I do. This comes of you only being a
year in the regiment and me going on learning for years and years. I
say our place is in the front; so come on."
"Yes, Punch; you must be right," said Pen unwillingly, "Forwards then.
Double!"
"That's your sort!" And falling into step and carrying their muskets at
the trail, the two lads ran forward, their steps drowned for the moment
by the heavy firing going on away beyond the entrance; and they were
nearly close up to the little Spanish party before their advance was
observed, and then one of the Spaniards shouted a command which resulted
in his fellows of the King's bodyguard of friends turning suddenly upon
them to form a _chevaux-de-frise_ of sword-blades for the protection of
their Sovereign.
For the moment, in the excitement, the two lads' lives were in peril;
but Pen did not flinch, and, though suffering acute pain from his wound,
ran on, his left arm almost brushing the little hedge of sword-points,
and only slackening his speed when he was a dozen yards in front and
came right upon the smuggler-leader, pistol in one hand, long Spanish
knife in the other.
Instead of angrily denouncing them for their disobedience to his order,
he signed to them to stop, and ran on to meet the King's party, holding
up his hand; and then, taking the lead, he turned off a little way to
his left toward a huge pile of stones and mine-refuse, where he placed
them, as it were, behind a bank which would act as a defence if a rush
upon them were made from the front.
The two lads watched him, panting the while with excitement, listening
as they watched to the fierce burst of firing that was now being
sustained.
The King gave way at once to the smuggler's orders, planting himself
with his followers ready for an anticipated assault; and, apparently
satisfied, the smuggler waved the hand that grasped his knife and ran
forward again with the two young Englishmen.
This time it was the pistol that he waved to them as if bidding them
follow, and he ran on some forty or fifty yards to where the entrance
widened out and another heap of mine-rubbish offered itself upon the
other side as a rough earthwork for defence, and where the two lads
could find a temporary parapet which commanded the entry for nearly a
hundred yards.
Here he bade the two lads kneel where, perfectly safe themselves, they
could do something to protect their Spanish friends behind on their
left.
"Do your best," he said hoarsely. "They are driving my men back fast;
but if you can keep up a steady fire, little as it will be, it will act
as a surprise and maybe check their advance. But take care and mind not
to injure any of my men."
He said no more, but ran forward again along the still unoccupied way,
till a curve of the great rift hid him from their sight.
"What did he say?" whispered Punch excitedly, as Pen now looked round
and diagonally across the way to the great chamber, and could see the
other rough stonework, above which appeared a little line of swords.
"Said we were to be careful not to hurt him and his friends if they were
beaten back."
"No fear," said Punch; "we can tell them by their red handkerchiefs
round their heads and their little footy guns. We've got nothing to do,
then, yet."
"For a while, Punch; but they are coming on fast. Hark at them!" For
the firing grew louder and louder, and was evidently coming nearer.
"And only two of us as a covering-party!" muttered Punch. "Oh, don't I
wish all our chaps were here!"
"Or half of them," said Pen.
"Yes, or half of them, comrade. Why, I'd say thank ye if it was only
old O'Grady, me boy. He can load and fire faster than any chap in our
company. Here, look at that!" For the sunlight shone plainly upon the
red silk handkerchief of a Spaniard who suddenly ran into sight, stopped
short, and turned to discharge his carbine as if at some invisible
pursuers, and then dropped his piece, threw up his hands, and fell
heavily across the way, which was now tenanted by a Spanish defender of
the King.
"Only wounded perhaps," panted Punch; and Pen watched the fallen man
hopefully in the expectation of seeing him make an effort to crawl out
of the line of fire; but the two lads now became fully conscious of the
fact that bullets were pattering faster and faster right into the
gully-like passage and striking the walls, some to bury themselves,
others to flatten and fall down, bringing with them fragments of stone
and dust.
The musketry of the attacking party and the replies of pistol and
carbine blended now in a regular roll, but it was evident that the
defenders were stubbornly holding their own; while the muskets that
rested on the stones in front of the two lads remained silent, and Punch
uttered an impatient ejaculation as he looked sharply round at Pen.
"Oh, do give us a chance," he cried. "Here, comrade, oughtn't we two to
run to cover a little way in advance?"
"No," said Pen excitedly. "Now then, look out! Here they come!"
As the words left his lips, first one and then another, and directly
after three more, of the _contrabandistas_ ran round the curve well into
sight and divided, some to one side, some to the other, seeking the
shelter of the rocky wall, and fired back apparently at their pursuing
enemy before beginning to reload.
They were nearly a hundred yards from the two boys, who crouched,
trembling with excitement, waiting impatiently to afford the little help
they could by bringing their muskets to bear. Then, as the firing went
on, there was another little rush of retiring men, half-a-dozen coming
one by one into sight, to turn, seek the cover of the wall, and fire
back as if in the hope of checking pursuit. But a couple of these went
down, and it soon became evident from the firing that the advance was
steadily continued.
Another ten minutes of wild excitement followed, and then there was a
rush of the Spaniards, who continued their predecessors' tactics, firing
back and sheltering themselves; but the enemy were still hidden from the
two lads.
"Let's--oh, do let's cross over to the other side," cried Punch.
"There's two places there where we could get shelter;" and he pointed to
a couple of heaps of stone that diagonally were about forty yards in
advance.
But as he spoke there was another rush of their friends round the curve,
with the same tactics, while those who had come before now dashed across
the great passage and occupied the two rough stoneworks themselves.
"Too late!" muttered Punch amidst the roar of musketry which now seemed
to have increased in a vast degree, multiplied as the shots were by
echoing repetitions as they crossed and recrossed from wall to wall.
"No!" shouted Pen. "Fire!" For half-a-dozen French chasseurs suddenly
came running into sight in pursuit of the last little party of the
Spaniards, dropped upon one knee, and, rapidly taking aim, fired at and
brought down a couple more of the retreating men.
There was a sharp flash from Punch's piece, and a report from Pen's
which sounded like an echo from the first, and two of the half-dozen
chasseurs rolled over in the dust, while their comrades turned on the
instant and ran back out of sight, followed by a tremendous yell of
triumph from the Spaniards, who had now manned the two heaps of stones
on the other side.
There was another yell, and another which seemed to fill the entry to
the old mine with a hundred echoes, while as the boys were busily
reloading a figure they did not recognise came running towards their
coign of vantage at the top of his speed.
"Quick, Punch! An enemy! Bayonets!" cried Pen.
"Tain't," grumbled Punch. "Nearly ready. It's Contrabando."
The next minute the Spaniard was behind them, slapping each on the back.
"Bravo! Bravissimo!" he shouted, making his voice heard above the
enemy's firing, for his men now were making no reply. "_Continuez!
Continuez_!" he cried, and then dashed off forward again and, heedless
of the flying bullets, crossed to where his men were lying down behind
the two farther heaps of stones, evidently encouraging some of them to
occupy better places ready for the enemy when they made their attack in
force.