Towards the close of a bright and warm day, between fifty and sixty
years ago, a solitary man might have been seen, mounted on a mule,
wending his way slowly up the western slopes of the Andes.
Although decidedly inelegant and unhandsome, this specimen of the human
family was by no means uninteresting. He was so large, and his legs
were so long, that the contrast between him and the little mule which he
bestrode was ridiculous. He was what is sometimes styled "loosely put
together;" nevertheless, the various parts of him were so massive and
muscular that, however loosely he might have been built up, most men
would have found it rather difficult to take him down. Although wanting
in grace, he was by no means repulsive, for his face, which was
ornamented with a soft flaxen beard and moustache of juvenile texture,
expressed wonderful depths of the milk of human kindness.
He wore boots with the trousers tucked into them, a grey tunic, or
hunting coat, belted at the waist, and a broad-brimmed straw hat, or
sombrero.
Evidently the times in which he travelled were troublous, for, besides
having a brace of large pistols in his belt, he wore a cavalry sabre at
his side. As if to increase the eccentricity of his appearance, he
carried a heavy cudgel, by way of riding-whip; but it might have been
observed that, however much he flourished this whip about, he never
actually applied it to his steed.
On reaching a turn of the road at the brow of an eminence the mule
stopped, and, letting its head droop till almost as pendent as its tail,
silently expressed a desire for repose. The cavalier stepped off. It
would convey a false impression to say that he dismounted. The mule
heaved a sigh.
"Poor little thing!" murmured the traveller in a soft, low voice, and in
a language which even a mule might have recognised as English; "you may
well sigh. I really feel ashamed of myself for asking you to carry such
a mass of flesh and bone. But it's your own fault--you know it is--for
you _won't_ be led. I'm quite willing to walk if you will only follow.
Come--let us try!"
Gently, insinuatingly, persuasively, the traveller touched the reins,
and sought to lead the way. He might as well have tried to lead one of
the snow-clad peaks of the mighty Cordillera which towered into the sky
before him. With ears inclining to the neck, a resolute expression in
the eyes, his fore-legs thrown forward and a lean slightly backward, the
mule refused to move.
"Come now, _do_ be amiable; there's a good little thing! Come on," said
the strong youth, applying more force.
Peruvian mules are not open to flattery. The advance of the fore-legs
became more decided, the lean backward more pronounced, the ears went
flat down, and incipient passion gleamed in the eyes.
"Well, well, have it your own way," exclaimed the youth, with a laugh,
"but don't blame me for riding you so much."
He once more re-m-; no, we forgot--he once more lifted his right leg
over the saddle and sat down. Fired, no doubt, with the glow of
conscious victory the mule moved on and up at a more lively pace than
before.
Thus the pair advanced until they gained a rocky eminence, whence the
rich Peruvian plains could be seen stretching far-away toward the
glowing horizon, where the sun was about to dip into the Pacific.
Here again the mule stopped, and the rider getting off sat down on a
rock to take a look at the level horizon of the west--for he had reached
a spot where the next turn in the road would partially shut out the
plains and enclose him among the giant mountains.
As he sat there meditating, while the mule cropped the herbage at his
side, he observed two riders a considerable way down the circuitous road
by which he had ascended--a man and a boy, apparently.
Whether it was the fine stalwart figure of the man that influenced him,
or the mere presence of wayfarers in such a solitary place, our
traveller could not tell, but he certainly felt unusual interest, and
not only watched the pair as they approached, but sat still until they
came up. As they drew near he perceived that the smaller of the two,
whom at a distance he had taken for a boy, was an Indian girl, who,
according to custom, bestrode her mule like a man. Her companion was a
handsome Spanish-looking man--a Peruvian or it might be a Chilian--with
fine masculine features and magnificent black eyes. He was well-armed,
and, to judge from his looks, seemed a little suspicious of the tall
Englishman.
The hearty salutation of the latter, however, in bad Spanish, at once
dissipated his suspicions. Replying in the same tongue, he then added,
in good English:--
"You are a stranger in this land, I perceive."
"In truth I am," replied the other, while the Peruvian dismounted,
"nevertheless, I ought scarcely to admit the fact, for I was born in
Peru. This perhaps may seem contradictory, but it is not more so than
your being apparently a native of the soil yet speaking English like an
Englishman."
"From which it follows," returned the Peruvian, "that men ought not to
judge altogether by appearances. But you are wrong in supposing me a
native of the soil, and yet--I am not an Englishman. I have got a gift
of language, however--at least I feel myself equally at home in English,
Indian, Spanish, and Portuguese, which is not to be wondered at, seeing
that I have been forced to talk in all four languages for nigh a quarter
of a century."
"Then you must have been but a boy when you came here," returned the
Englishman, "for you seem to be not yet middle-aged."
"Right, I was indeed a mere boy when I came to this land."
"And I was a boy of seven when I left it to be educated in Europe,"
returned the Englishman. "It is sixteen years since then, and I had
feared that my memory might have failed to recognise the old landmarks,
but I am rejoiced to find that I remember every turn of the road as if I
had left home but yesterday."
We have said that the tall youth's face was not handsome, but the glow
of animation which rested on it when he spoke of home, seemed for a
moment to transform it.
"Your home, then, cannot be far distant?" remarked the Peruvian, with a
peculiar look that might have attracted the attention of the younger man
if his gaze had not at the moment been directed to the Indian girl, who,
during the foregoing conversation, had remained motionless on her mule
with her eyes looking pensively at the ground, like a beautiful statue
in bronze.
"My home is close at hand," said the Englishman, when the question had
been repeated; "unless memory plays me false, two more turns in the road
will reveal it."
The earnest look of the Peruvian deepened as he asked if the Estate of
Passamanka was his home.
"Yes, you know it, then?" exclaimed the youth eagerly; "and perhaps you
knew my father too?"
"Yes, indeed; there are few people within a hundred miles of the place
who did not know the famous sugar-mill and its hospitable owner, Senhor
Armstrong. But excuse me," added the Peruvian, with some hesitation,
"you are aware, I suppose, that your father is dead?"
"Ay, well do I know that," returned the other in a deeper tone. "It is
to take my father's place at the mills that I have been hastily summoned
from England. Alas! I know nothing of the work, and it will be sorely
against the grain to attempt the carrying on of the old business in the
desolate old home."
"Of course you also know," continued the Peruvian, "that the country is
disturbed just now--that the old smouldering enmity between Chili and
Peru has broken forth again in open war."
"I could not have passed through the low country without finding that
out. Indeed," said the youth, glancing at his belt with a
half-apologetic smile, "these weapons, which are so unfamiliar to my
hand, and so distasteful to my spirit, are proof that I, at least, do
not look for a time of peace. I accoutred myself thus on landing, at
the urgent advice of a friend, though my good cudgel--which has sufficed
for all my needs hitherto--is more to my mind, besides being useful as a
mountain staff. But why do you ask? Is there much probability of the
belligerents coming so far among the hills?"
"Wherever carrion is to be found, there you may be sure the vultures
will congregate. There is booty to be got here among the hills; and
whether the soldiers belong to the well-trained battalions of Chili, or
the wretched levies of Peru, they are always prepared, for plunder--
ready to make hay while the sun shines. I only hope, Senhor Armstrong,
that--but come, let us advance and see before the sun sets."
Turning abruptly as he spoke, the man mounted his mule and rode briskly
up the winding road, followed by the Indian girl and our Englishman.
At the second turning of the road they reached a spot where an opening
in the hills revealed the level country below, stretching away into
illimitable distance.
As had been anticipated, they here came upon the mills they were in
quest of. The Peruvian reined up abruptly and looked back.
"I feared as much," he said in a low tone as the Englishman rode
forward.
Rendered anxious by the man's manner, Lawrence Armstrong sprang from his
mule and pushed forward, but suddenly stopped and stood with clasped
hands and a gaze of agony.
For there stood the ruins of his early home--where his mother had died
while he was yet a child, where his father had made a fortune, which, in
his desolation, he had failed to enjoy, and where he finally died,
leaving his possessions to his only child.
The troops had visited the spot, fired no doubt with patriotic fervour
and knowing its owner to be wealthy. They had sacked the place, feasted
on the provisions, drunk the wines, smashed up, by way of pleasantry,
all the valuables that were too heavy to carry away, and, finally,
setting fire to the place, had marched off to other fields of "glory."
It was a tremendous blow to poor Lawrence, coming as he did fresh from
college in a peaceful land, and full of the reminiscences of childhood.
Sitting down on a broken wall, he bowed his head and wept bitterly--
though silently--while the Peruvian, quietly retiring with the Indian
girl, left him alone.
The first paroxysm of grief over, young Armstrong rose, and began sadly
to wander about the ruins. It had been an extensive structure, fitted
with all the most approved appliances of mechanism which wealth could
purchase. These now helped to enhance the wild aspect of the wreck, for
iron girders had been twisted by the action of fire into snake-like
convolutions in some places, while, in others, their ends stuck out
fantastically from the blackened walls. Beautiful furniture had been
smashed up to furnish firewood for the cooking of the meal with which
the heroic troops had refreshed themselves before leaving, while a
number of broken wine-bottles at the side of a rosewood writing-desk
with an empty bottle on the top of it and heaps of stones and pebbles
around, suggested the idea that the warriors had mingled light amusement
with sterner business. The roofs of most of the buildings had fallen
in; the window-frames, where spared by the fire, had been torn out; and
a pianoforte, which lay on its back on the grass, showed evidence of
having undergone an examination of its internal arrangements, with the
aid of the butt-ends of muskets.
"And this is the result of war!" muttered the young man, at last
breaking silence.
"Only one phase of it," replied a voice at his side, in tones of
exceeding bitterness; "you must imagine a few corpses of slaughtered men
and women and children, if you would have a perfect picture of war."
The speaker was the Peruvian, who had quietly approached to say that if
they wished to reach the next resting-place before dark it was necessary
to proceed without delay.
"But perhaps," he added, "you do not intend to go further. No doubt
this was to have been the end of your journey had all been well. It can
scarcely, I fear, be the end of it now. I do not wish to intrude upon
your sorrows, Mr Armstrong, but my business will not admit of delay. I
must push on, yet I would not do so without expressing my profound
sympathy, and offering to aid you if it lies in my power."
There was a tone and look about the man which awoke a feeling of
gratitude and confidence in the forlorn youth's heart.
"You are very kind," he said, "but it is not in the power of man to help
me. As your business is urgent you had better go and leave me. I thank
you for the sympathy you express--yet stay. You cannot advance much
further to-night, why not encamp here? There used to be a small hut or
out-house not far-off, in which my father spent much of his leisure.
Perhaps the--the--"
"Patriots!" suggested the Peruvian.
"The scoundrels," said Lawrence, "may have spared or overlooked it. The
hut would furnish shelter enough, and we have provisions with us."
After a moment's reflection the Peruvian assented to this proposal, and,
leaving the ruins together, they returned to the road, where they found
the Indian girl holding the youth's mule as well as that of her
companion.
Hastening forward, Lawrence apologised for having in the agitation of
the moment allowed his mule to run loose.
"But I forgot," he added, "of course you do not understand English."
"Try Spanish," suggested the Peruvian, "she knows a little of that."
"Unfortunately I have forgotten the little that I had picked up here
when a boy," returned Lawrence, as he mounted, "if I can manage to ask
for food and lodging in that tongue, it is all that I can do."
They soon reached an opening in the bushes at the roadside, and, at the
further end of a natural glade or track, observed a small wooden hut
thatched with rushes. Towards this young Armstrong led the way.
He was evidently much affected, for his lips were compressed, and he
gave no heed to a remark made by his companion. Entering the hut, he
stood for some time looking silently round.
It was but a poor place with bare walls; a carpenter's bench in one
corner, near to it a smith's forge, one or two chairs, and a few
tools;--not much to interest a stranger but to Lawrence full of tender
associations.
"It was here," he said in tones of deepest pathos, "that my father
showed me how to handle tools, and my mother taught me to read from the
Word of God."
Looking at his companions he observed that the large dark eyes of the
Indian girl were fixed on him with an expression of unmistakable
sympathy. He felt grateful at the moment, for to most men sympathy is
sweet when unobtrusively offered whether it come from rich or poor--
civilised or savage.
"Come, this will do," said the Peruvian, looking round, "if you will
kindle a fire on the forge, Senhor Armstrong, Manuela will arrange a
sleeping chamber for herself in the closet I see there, while I look
after the beasts."
He spoke in cheering tones, which had the effect of rousing the poor
youth somewhat from his despondency.
"Well, then," he replied, "let us to work, and it is but just, as we are
to sup together, and you know my name, that I should be put on an equal
footing with yourself--"
"Impossible!" interrupted the other, with a slight curl of his
moustache, "for as I am only six feet one, and you are at least six feet
four, we can never be on an equal footing."
"Nay, but I referred to names, not to inches. Pray, by what name shall
I call you?"
"Pedro," returned the Spaniard. "I am known by several names in these
parts--some of them complimentary, others the reverse, according as I am
referred to by friends or foes. Men often speak of me as a confirmed
rover because of my wandering tendencies, but I'm not particular and
will answer to any name you choose, so long as it is politely uttered.
The one I prefer is Pedro."
He went out as he spoke to look after the mules, while Lawrence set
about kindling a small fire and otherwise making preparations for
supper.
The Indian girl, Manuela, with that prompt and humble obedience
characteristic of the race to which she belonged, had gone at once into
the little closet which her companion had pointed out, and was by that
time busily arranging it as a sleeping chamber for the night.