San Ambrosio was, at the period of which we write, a small and thriving
place--though what may be styled a mushroom town, which owed its
prosperity to recently discovered silver-mines. All things considered,
it was a town of unusual magnificence on a small scale.
Being built with straight streets, cutting each other at right angles,
Lawrence and his man had no difficulty in finding the principal square,
or market-place, which was crowded with people selling and buying
vegetables, milk, eggs, fruit, etcetera, brought in from the surrounding
districts. The people presented all the picturesque characteristics of
the land in profusion--peons, with huge Spanish spurs, mounted on gaily
caparisoned mules; Gauchos, on active horses of the Pampas;
market-women, in varied costumes more or less becoming, and dark-eyed
senhoras on balconies and verandas sporting the graceful mantilla and
the indispensable fan.
The carts and donkeys, and dogs and fowls, and boys had the curious
effect of reducing the babel of voices and discordant sounds to
something like a grand harmony.
Besides these, there was a sprinkling of men of free-and-easy swagger,
in long boots, with more or less of villainy in their faces--adventurers
these, attracted by the hope of "something turning up" to their
advantage, though afflicted, most of them, with an intense objection to
take the trouble of turning up anything for themselves. Dangerous
fellows, too, who would not scruple to appropriate the turnings up of
other people when safe opportunity offered.
A clear fountain played in the centre of the square--its cool,
refreshing splash sounding very sweet in the ears of Lawrence, whose
recent sojourn in the cold regions of the higher Andes had rendered him
sensitive to the oppressive heat of the town. Besides this, a clear
rivulet ran along one side of the square, near to which was the
governor's house. A line of trees threw a grateful shade over the
footpath here. On the opposite side stood the barracks, where a few
ill-clad unsoldierly men lounged about with muskets in their hands. All
the houses and church walls and spires, not only in the square, but in
the town, bore evidence, in the form of cracked walls and twisted
windows and doorways, of the prevalence of earthquakes; and there was a
general appearance of dilapidation and dirt around, which was anything
but agreeable to men who had just come from the free, grand,
sweet-scented scenery of the mountains.
"They seem to have had some severe shakings here," said Lawrence,
pointing with his stick to a crack in the side of one of the houses
which extended from the roof to the ground.
We may remark here that, on entering the town, our travellers had laid
aside their arms as being useless encumbrances, though Lawrence still
carried his oaken cudgel, not as a weapon but a walking-stick.
"Yes, massa," replied Quashy, "got lots ob eart' quaks in dem diggins.
Ebery day, more or less, dey hab a few. Jest afore you come down dis
mornin' I hab some conv'sashin' wid de landlord, an' he say he don' like
de look ob t'ings."
"Indeed, Quashy. Why not?"
"'Cause it's gittin' too hot, he say, for de time ob year--sulfry, he
called it."
"Sultry, you mean?"
"Well, I's not 'zactly sure what I means, but _he_ said sulfry. An'
dey've bin shook more dan ornar ob late. An' dere's a scienskrific
gen'leman in our inn what's bin a-profisyin' as there'll be a grand
bust-up afore long."
"I hope he'll turn out to be a false prophet," said Lawrence. "What is
his name?"
"Dun' know, massa. Look dar!" exclaimed Quashy, with a grin, pointing
to a fat priest with a broad-brimmed white hat on a sleek mule, "he do
look comf'rable."
"More comfortable than the poor beast behind him," returned Lawrence,
with a laugh, as he observed three little children cantering along on
one horse.
There was no lack of entertainment and variety in that town, for people
generally seemed to a great extent to have cast off the trammels of
social etiquette, both in habits and costume. Many of the horses that
passed were made to carry double. Here would ride past a man with a
woman behind him; there a couple of girls, or two elderly females.
Elsewhere appeared a priest of tremendous length and thinness, with feet
much too near the ground, and further on a boy, so small as to resemble
a monkey, with behind him a woman so old as to suggest the idea he had
taken his great-grandmother out for a ride, or--_vice versa_!
For some hours master and man wandered about enjoying themselves
thoroughly in spite of the heat, commenting freely on all they saw and
heard, until hunger reminded them of the flight of time. Returning to
their hotel, Lawrence, to his surprise, found a note awaiting him. It
was from Pedro, saying that he had found his friend in a village about
three miles from San Ambrosio, describing the route to the place, and
asking him to send Quashy out immediately, as he wanted his assistance
that night for a few hours.
"I wonder what he wants with you?" said Lawrence.
"To help him wid de mischif!" replied the negro, in a half-sulky tone.
"Well, you'll have to go, but you'd better eat something first."
"No, massa; wid you's leave I'll go off at once. A hunk ob bread in de
pocket an' lots o' fruit by de way--das 'nuff for dis nigger."
"Off with you, then, and tell Pedro that you left Manuela and me quite
comfortable."
"O Massa Lawrie!--'scuse me usin' de ole name--it _am_ so nice to hear
you speak jolly like dat. 'Minds me ob de ole times!"
"Get along with you," said Lawrence, with a laugh, as the warm-hearted
black left the hotel.
Thus these two parted. Little did they imagine what singular
experiences they should encounter before meeting again.
Soon after Quashy's departure Lawrence went to the door of Manuela's
room, and, tapping gently, said--
"Dinner is ready, Manuela."
"I kom queek," replied the girl, with a hearty laugh.
It had by that time become an established little touch of pleasantry
between these two that Lawrence should teach the Indian girl English--at
least to the extent of familiar phrases--while she should do the same
for him with Spanish. There was one thing that the youth liked much in
this, and it also surprised him a little, namely, that it seemed to draw
the girl out of her Indian reticence and gravity, for she laughed with
childlike delight at the amazing blunders she made in attempting
English. Indeed, she laughed far more at herself than at him, although
his attempts at Spanish were even more ridiculous.
A few minutes later Manuela entered the room, and, with a modest yet
gracious smile, took a seat opposite her pupil-teacher.
"Dignity," thought the latter--"native dignity and grace! Being the
daughter of a great chief of the Incas--a princess, I suppose--she
cannot help it. An ordinary Indian female, now, would have come into
the room clumsily, looked sheepish, and sat down on the edge of her
chair--perhaps on the floor!"
But as he gazed at her short, black, curly hair, her splendid black
eyebrows, her pretty little high-bred mouth, beautiful white teeth, and
horribly brown skin, he sighed, and only said--
"Ay, ay! Well, well! _What_ a pity!"
"What ees dat?" inquired the girl, with a look of grave simplicity.
"Did I speak?" returned Lawrence, a little confused.
"Yes--you say, `Ay, ay. Well, well. _What_ a pittie!'"
"Oh!--ah!--yes--I was only _thinking_, Manuela. What will you have?"
"Som muttin," replied the girl, with a pursing of the little mouth that
indicated a tendency to laugh.
"It is not mutton. It's beef, I think."
"Well, bee-eef very naice--an' som' gravvie too, plee-ese."
She went off at this point into a rippling laugh, which, being
infectious in its nature, also set her companion off, but the entrance
of the landlord checked them both. He sat down at a small table near to
them, and, being joined by a friend, called for a bottle of wine.
"Hotter than ever," he remarked to Lawrence.
"Yes, very sultry indeed."
"Shouldn't wonder if we was to have a sharpish touch or two to-night."
To which his friend, who was also an American if not an Englishman, and
appeared to be sceptical in his nature, replied, "Gammon!"
This led to a conversation between the two which is not worthy of
record, as it was chiefly speculative in regard to earthquakes in
general, and tailed off into guesses as to social convulsions present,
past or pending. One remark they made, however, which attracted the
attention of our hero, and made him wish to hear more. It had reference
to some desperate character whose name he failed to catch, but who was
said to be in the neighbourhood again, "trying to raise men to join his
band of robbers," the landlord supposed, to which the landlord's friend
replied with emphasis that he had come to the right place, for, as far
as his experience went, San Ambrosio was swarming with men that seemed
fit for anything--from "pitch-and-toss to manslaughter."
Not wishing, apparently, to hear anything more about such disagreeable
characters and subjects, Manuela rose at the conclusion of the meal and
retired to her apartment, while Lawrence continued to sip his coffee in
a balcony which overlooked the vineyard behind the hotel.
It was evening, and, although unusually warm, the weather was very
enjoyable, for a profound calm reigned around, and the hum of the
multitudes in the distant square seemed hushed as the church bells rang
the hour for evening prayers. As the twilight deepened, and the stars
came faintly into sight in the dark-blue vault above, the thoughts of
Lawrence became strangely saddened, and, gradually quitting the scene of
peaceful beauty on which he gazed, sped over the Cordillera of the Andes
to that home of his boyhood which now lay in ashes. The frame of mind
thus induced naturally led him to dwell on past scenes in which his
mother had taken a part, and he was still meditating, more than half
asleep, on the joys which were never to return, when he was roused into
sudden and thorough consciousness by something--he could not tell what--
a sort of sensation--which caused him to leap from his chair.
At the same moment there arose from the streets a cry, or wail.
Suddenly a rumbling noise was heard. Lawrence bounded towards the
nearest door. Full well he knew what it meant. Before he could escape
there was a tremendous upheaval of the solid earth, and in one instant,
without further warning, the entire town fell with one mighty crash!
Lawrence just saw the walls and roof collapsing--then all was dark, and
consciousness forsook him.