ON HIS TRIAL
Several hours had passed since Dom Clemente left Ormsgill's quarters
when he sat with one of his staff under a lamp in a room of the
fazienda. He had laid his kepi on the table, and leaned back in his
chair looking at a strip of paper with a little grim smile in his
eyes. A negro swathed in white cotton squatted against the wall
watching him uneasily, and a black soldier who had led the man in
stood with ordered rifle at the door. At length Dom Clemente tossed
the paper across to the officer sitting opposite him.
"I should be glad of your opinion," he said.
"It is discreet," said his companion, who examined the paper
carefully. "The writer evidently foresaw the possibility of his
message falling into the wrong hands. It is also indifferent
Portuguese, but I think it is the writing of an educated man."
"Exactly! The question is why should an educated man express himself
in that fashion?"
The officer shook his head. "That," he said reflectively, "is a thing
I do not understand."
Dom Clemente smiled a little, and took up another strip of paper.
"This," he said, "is a message of the same kind which has also fallen
into my hands. Does anything else occur to you when you put the two
together?"
"They are from the same man," and then a light seemed to break in upon
the officer. "He does not write like a native of the Peninsula."
"No," said Dom Clemente. "I do not think he has ever been there.
Still, he had, no doubt, reasons for attempting to write in
Portuguese." Then he turned sternly to the crouching negro. "Who gave
you this message. Where were you to take the answer?"
"A man of a tribe I do not know," said the messenger who was evidently
in a state of terror. "I was to meet him before the morning at a spot
about a league away."
"Then," said Dom Clemente, "there is a little service I want from you.
You will take some of my soldiers with you when you meet this man. If
you attempt to warn him you will probably be shot."
He turned to his companion. "I think it would be advisable for you to
go yourself. You will take a reliable sergeant and several files, and
arrest the man who wrote this letter. I think you will find that he is
the leader of a big game expedition."
The officer raised his eyebrows. "There is no big game in this part of
the country."
"That," said Dom Clemente, "is a point the man in question has
probably forgotten. In any case, you will arrest him and bring him
here. It is, however, advisable that the thing should be done
quietly."
The officer signed to the black soldier who moved forward and touched
the messenger's shoulder, and Dom Clemente smiled grimly as he once
more busied himself with the papers in front of him when they went
out.
In the meanwhile Ormsgill lay half-asleep upon a few empty sugar bags
in the ruinous shed. His head ached, for the fever still troubled him
now and then and the place was almost insufferably hot, but the strain
he had borne that afternoon had left him a trifle dazed and insensible
to physical discomforts, and at length he sank into fitful slumber.
Several times he wakened with a start and closed a hot hand as his
troubles returned to him, but he was too limp in mind to grapple with
them. It was rather late in the morning when a patter of naked feet
and the shouting of orders roused him. It suggested that the troops
were being paraded, and looking out through the window he saw Dom
Clemente and several officers descend from the planter's house. After
that there was a stir and bustle, and by and by he saw a man whom he
did not recognize being led towards the house by a group of
deferential officers. This, however, did not appear to concern
Ormsgill, and leaving the window when his breakfast was brought him he
sat down on the sugar bags for another hour or two. Then the door of
the shed was flung open and he saw a black sergeant who stood outside
beckoning to him.
"Your presence is required," he said in Portuguese.
Ormsgill stood still a moment blinking in the brightness when he left
the shed, for the glare of sunlight on trampled sand and white walls
set his heavy eyes aching, but when the sergeant made a sign he
followed him to the planter's house. He was led into a big scantily
furnished room which had green lattices drawn across two of the open
windows, but a dazzling shaft of sunlight streamed in through one that
was not covered, and he saw a grave-faced gentleman sitting in state
at a table. He was, though Ormsgill did not know this, the man who had
talked to Benicia on board the gunboat, and had arrived at the
fazienda that morning. Two black soldiers with ordered rifles stood
motionless behind him, and Dom Clemente sat on the opposite side of
the table. Beside him there were also two other officers, one of whom
seemed to be acting as secretary, for there was a handful of papers in
front of him, and several of Ormsgill's boys squatted, half-naked,
impassive figures, against the wall.
Ormsgill stood still, looking at the men at the table with heavy eyes.
His thin duck garments were more than a trifle ragged and stained with
travel, and his face was haggard. He was, it seemed, to be tried, but
he felt no great concern. The result was almost a matter of
indifference to him since it only remained for him to go back to Las
Palmas if he was set at liberty. There was a momentary silence when he
was led in, and then Dom Clemente handed one or two more papers to the
secretary.
"There are, as you are aware, several somewhat serious complaints
against you," he said in Portuguese. "It is now desirable that they
should be investigated. I will have them read to you."
Ormsgill listened gravely while the officer read aloud. He was, it
appeared, charged with abducting a native woman from the trader
Herrero, and taking away by force labor recruits who had engaged
themselves to the latter's associate Domingo. There were also charges
of supplying the natives with arms and inciting them to mutiny.
"You have heard?" said the man at the head of the table. "If you do
not admit the correctness of all this we will hear what you have to
say. You will, however, be required to substantiate it."
Ormsgill roused himself for an effort. After all, liberty was worth
something, and it was a duty to attempt to secure it, and for the next
quarter of an hour he concisely related all that he had done since he
came back to the country after the death of Lamartine. None of those
who heard him made any comment, but he could see the little smile of
incredulity which now and then flickered into the eyes of the younger
officers. The man who sat in state at the head of the table, however,
listened gravely, and Dom Clemente's face was expressionless.
"That is all," said Ormsgill at last. "It is very possible that what I
have told you may appear improbable, and I can not substantiate it.
Most of those concerned are dead. Still, you have some of my boys
here, and you can question them."
There was a little silence until the man at the head of the table
leaned back in his chair.
"It is a very astonishing story," he said. "There are one or two
points I should like made clearer, but in the meanwhile we will hear
the boys."
An interpreter was brought in, and with his assistance two of the boys
told what they knew. Then he went out again, and Dom Clemente turned
to his companion.
"I must admit that I have information which partly bears out what has
been said about the native woman Anita," he said. "If this assurance
is not sufficient she could be examined later. I have,"--and he looked
hard at Ormsgill--"at least no cause to be prejudiced in the
prisoner's favor. In the meanwhile one might ask if he can think of
nobody else who would support what he has said?"
"No," said Ormsgill dryly, "as I mentioned, most of those concerned
are dead."
He saw Dom Clemente glance at the man opposite him who smiled.
"There is one point on which we have not touched," said the latter,
who turned to Ormsgill. "How did you get the first eight boys you say
you set free out of the country?"
"That," said Ormsgill, "is a thing I can not tell you. It was, at
least, not with the connivance of anybody in the city."
Dom Clemente made a little sign to his secretary, who went out, and
there was silence for a while. The room was very hot, and Ormsgill
felt himself aching in every limb. He had been standing for half an
hour now, and his leg was becoming painful. Then there were footsteps
outside, and he gasped with astonishment as a black soldier led
Desmond in. The latter, however, turned to the officers.
"You have had me brought here against my will, gentlemen, and it is
very possible that you will have grounds for regretting it," he said
in English. "It would be a favor if you will tell me what you want?"
The gentleman at the head of the table leaned forward in his chair. "A
little information--in the meanwhile," he said quietly. "You recognize
the prisoner yonder?"
Dom Clemente translated, and Desmond carefully looked Ormsgill over.
"Well," he said, "I have certainly met him before--in Las Palmas--and
other places. He doesn't seem to have thriven since then."
"We would like to know what you were doing at the spot where the
soldiers arrested you?"
"That," said Desmond sturdily, "is my own business; and a thing I have
not the least intention of telling you."
Two of the officers frowned, but the man at the table waved his hand.
"Well," he said, "we will try another question. It is desirable that
we should know how a certain eight boys whom the prisoner brought down
to the coast were smuggled out of the country."
Desmond looked at Ormsgill, who nodded. "I think you may as well
tell him," he said. "There is reason for believing that our friend
yonder who speaks excellent English"--and he indicated Dom
Clemente--"is acquainted with it already. I don't think they can
hold--you--responsible."
Then Desmond spoke boldly, answering their questions until almost
everything was explained. Dom Clemente's eyes twinkled, and his
companion leaned back in his chair with a curious little smile.
"What I have heard is so extraordinary as to be almost
incomprehensible," he said. "It seems that you and your friend must
have spent a very large amount of money to set these fourteen boys at
liberty."
He waved his hand towards the squatting negroes. "Señores," he said
turning to the officers, "I would ask you to look at them, and tell me
if the thing appears reasonable."
The manner in which the officers smiled was very expressive. It was,
they were assured, for these thick-lipped, woolly-haired bushmen
crouching half-naked against the wall, without a spark of intelligence
in their heavy animal-like faces, that the two English gentlemen had
spent money broadcast, faced fatigue and peril, and hazarded the anger
of the Government. The thing certainly appeared incomprehensible to
them. Desmond guessed their thoughts, and a red flush crept into his
sea-bronzed face and a little portentous glint into his eyes.
"I admit that it sounds nonsensical," he said. "Still, Señores, I have
the honor of offering you my word."
Then somewhat to the astonishment of all except Dom Clemente, who
smiled, the man at the head of the table made Desmond a little
punctilious inclination.
"Señor," he said, "I think your word would go a long way. In the
meanwhile we will hear what the priest has to tell us."
Ormsgill started a little when Father Tiebout was brought in a minute
or two later. He sat down and nodded when Dom Clemente had spoken to
him.
"Most of what I know is at your service," he said. He commenced with
the death of the trader Lamartine, and told his tale quietly but with
a certain dramatic force. When he came to the point where he and Nares
had written to Ormsgill after Domingo's raid he stopped a moment, and
the pause was impressive.
"You will understand, Señores, that we had faith when we wrote to this
man," he said.
"You believed he would come back and undertake the task at his peril?"
"The thing," said Father Tiebout quietly, "was, to us at least,
absolutely certain."
There was blank astonishment in two of the officers' faces, but the
man at the head of the table made a sign of concurrence, and once more
a little gleam crept into Dom Clemente's eyes. Then the priest went
on, and when at last he stopped there was a full minute's silence.
After that the man at the head of the table spoke to Ormsgill, and his
voice had a curious note in it.
"How was it you did not ask us to send for this priest and hear him in
your defense?" he said.
Ormsgill smiled dryly. "It is not as a rule advisable for a
missionary to meddle with affairs of State."
"Ah," said the other man, "it would, I think, make our work easier if
none of them did. Well, you have given us a reason, and it is one I
could consider satisfactory--in your case."
Then he turned to Desmond. "Señor, I had the honor of asking you a
question a little while ago. Perhaps, it may not appear desirable to
withhold the information I desired any longer."
Desmond laughed, and looked at him steadily.
"Well," he said, "since you have no doubt guessed my purpose, I will
tell you. I came up here to take my friend out of your hands, and if
it hadn't been for the thick-headed boy who let the soldiers creep in
on us while we were asleep I think I would in all probability have
managed it."
"Ah," said the other man spreading out his hands, "I almost believe it
is possible."
Then he turned to his companions. "One naturally expects something
quite out of the usual course from men like these."
After that he sat silent for at least a minute, until he leaned
forward and spoke awhile in a low voice with Dom Clemente who once or
twice made a sign of concurrence.
Then he turned to Ormsgill.
"I shall probably have something to say to you again," he said. "This
is an affair that demands careful consideration, and in the meantime
there are other matters which can not be delayed."
Dom Clemente spoke sharply, and a black sergeant at the door who
beckoned Ormsgill and Desmond to follow him went with them to their
quarters in the ruinous shed.
"There are, I think, very few men in this country who would have
spoken to that man or Dom Clemente as you have done," he said. Then he
grinned in a very suggestive fashion. "It is probably fortunate that
he seemed to believe you, though if he had been any other man I would
have called him very foolish."
Ormsgill said nothing, but sat down among the empty sugar bags, and he
and Desmond looked at one another when the patter of the sergeant's
feet grew indistinct. Both were glad they were alone, but for a minute
or two neither of them broke the silence.