THERE was a pale shining in the eastern sky when the Sin Verguenza came
into sight of Santa Marta. The town lay, a smear of deeper shadow, upon
the dusky levels in front of them, but the transition from darkness to
light is swift in that country, and here and there a flat roof higher
than those it stood among grew out of the obscurity into definite form.
Save for the rhythmic beat of marching feet, there was stillness among
the cane, and nothing moved on all the dim levels but the long black
column that crawled down the shadowy road.
Then the distant peaks stood out in sharper contour against the paling
blueness of the western sky, and Tony, marching outside man of one four,
glanced over his shoulder. He could dimly see the lines of men behind
him plodding through the dust, and their sloped rifles led his gaze
aloft. The sky was now shining with a pearly lustre like the inside of a
shell, and low down upon a cane the flush of crimson blazed into
brilliancy. The rifles of the rearguard cut against it as they rose and
fell, and the faces of the men behind him became suddenly
distinguishable. He could also make out Appleby swinging along a few
paces away an his right hand. Then he glanced in front of him, and saw
that the great peaks were now flushed with a warm pink, until the dust
rolled thicker and blotted out everything. It thinned as they swung
through a white aldea, and the light which had swept down the hillsides
touched Santa Marta when they came out again, so that the city shone
immaculately white upon a setting of luminescent green.
He gazed at it in wonder, for the long night march through a silent
land, the thrill of excitement, and the unwonted bracing of his nerves
to face a physical peril had not been without their effect on him. Tony
was usually somewhat materialistic but just then the bodily part of him
was under the domination of the spirit, and he was sensible of a curious
exaltation Turning his head he glanced at Appleby with a little laugh.
"It is beautiful!" he said. "It came upon one so suddenly out of the
night that one could almost fancy it a vision--of the everlasting city."
"The one upon the Tiber?" said Appleby.
"The one seen in Patmos nearly two thousand years ago."
Appleby laughed curiously. "I'm afraid Santa Marta will be much more
like the other place before the day is through, and it is not a very
appropriate simile, Tony. One cannot storm those gates of precious
stones."
"Well," said Tony reflectively, "it's not a subject either of us know
very much about, but Nettie Harding seemed to think one could. We were
lounging on the lawn at Low Wood that afternoon, and she was so sure
about it that she almost convinced me. She said the gates were made of
gold and ivory, and she got the fancy from the song you have heard
Hester sing--but no doubt it means the same thing!"
Appleby glanced at him sharply, for the light was clearer now, and saw a
look in Tony's face which was new to him. It was curiously quiet in
spite of his little smile. Still, he made no answer, and there was
silence, until from beyond the dust cloud rose the strident crackle of
riflery.
"The advance guard are driving in the pickets. We'll be in the thick of
it directly," he said, and a murmur passed along the company, while the
rhythmic tread swelled in a sharp staccato.
It was evident to the Sin Verguenza that they had difficult work before
them, while a direct attack in daylight was not a manoeuvre they had any
great liking for. In this case, however, there was no evading it, for
while they knew adherents would flock in from every aldea once they held
Santa Marta, it was equally clear that should Candotto's Peninsulares
join hands with Morales they could never seize the town. Haste was also
advisable since he would know that an attack was imminent now, and when
Maccario's voice rang out of the dust the pace grew faster while the
column drew out in length.
Twice a half-company swung clear and vanished amidst the scattered
gardens, and at last the rest flung themselves into the little
enclosures between the aloe hedges close outside Santa Marta. Then there
was a flashing of pale flame from the crest of every white wall, and
Tony stared in astonishment when he saw none of the Sin Verguenza beyond
the little handful of men about him in a garden. They were crouching
beneath a low wall apparently made of blocks of sun-baked soil, while
Appleby lay behind a clump of aloes close in front of him.
Beyond the aloes, the white walls rose glaringly bright with smears of
bluish vapor drifting from every opening, though the smoke was thickest
about one wide gap between them. As he watched it, oblivious of the
rifle in his hand, there was a thin whirling of flame in the midst of
the vapor, and a sound that resembled a rapid hammering came sharply
through the din. Then a strip of the mud wall crumbled into dust, which
made a haze about the garden, and a spurt of flung-up soil struck him in
the face. A man behind him screamed, and while there was a pattering
among the bananas close on his right Appleby crawled past him.
"A quick-firer! Morales has two of them, and he has found our range.
We'll get on," he said.
Tony said nothing, but he could still see the portentous flashing amidst
the smoke, and next moment felt the jar of his rifle upon his shoulder.
He did not remember pressing the trigger but he could shoot well, and
his fingers seemed to move without any prompting from him, for he saw
the empty shell flung out and heard the snap of the lever as another
cartridge slid into the chamber. Then while he pressed his cheek down on
the stock and stiffened his left hand on the barrel he heard Appleby's
voice raised in Castilian, and saw that his comrades were flitting
forward. The rifle muzzle tilted upwards, and in another moment he was
on his feet, and clambering over a low wall, ran past several small
houses, and then dropped behind an aloe screen again.
Appleby, who knelt on one knee close beside him with a pair of glasses
which had once belonged to an officer of cazadores in his hand, was
still speaking sharply in Castilian, and Tony fancied that the men about
them were all gazing towards the gap in the high walls where the
carretera entered Santa Marta. Then there was a blast of riflery that
set the aloes quivering and rolled away to the right of him, while, when
a minute or two later nothing followed the click of the striker, he
found the magazine was empty and the rifle barrel hot in his hand It was
an American Marlin, and while he dropped fresh cartridges in through the
slide Appleby rose to his feet and the Sin Verguenza were once more
scrambling through enclosures nearer to the town.
The cluster Tony was attached to stopped among tall shrubs with crimson
flowers of a heavy scent, with nothing between them and the white houses
but a bare strip of dusty soil, and it became evident that they were
waiting for something, for the firing slackened. Then further away to
the right men sprang out into the open, straggling by twos and threes as
they ran towards the town. The smoke grew thicker along the white walls,
and some went down, while the dust they fell in splashed and spurted as
a still pool would do under a driving hail. Still, more came on behind
them, and Tony was struggling with an impulse to shout aloud when, from
the whole front of the Sin Verguenza, there broke out a crash of
riflery. He gasped as the smoke rolled down, for his desire to see had
become almost overwhelming, and then as the firing slackened again it
became evident that the little white forms were running still.
There were, however, not many of them now, and Tony grasped their
purpose when they swept in close beneath the dazzling wall, while
Appleby, who stood upright, with the glasses at his eyes, said something
hoarsely in evident approbation. Once more there was a crackle of
firing, and the smoke grew thick, while when it cleared the dusty strip
was empty save for the white objects which lay still here and there.
Tony surmised that the others had found entrance into the town by a
narrow lane, or through the house of a friendly citizen.
A minute or two later this became evident, for the crash of firing grew
furious on the roofs above the gap, and Appleby, who thrust his glasses
into their case, was shouting hoarsely. Rising by twos and threes the
men sprang out from among the flowering shrubs, and Tony saw the low
walls and clumps of aloes become alive with scurrying forms. They seemed
to move independently and without formation, though Appleby, with hand
swung up, was shouting in Castilian, and Maccario went by pointing with
a Spanish infantry officer's sword. The gleam of it in the intense
sunlight dazzled Tony's eyes, and he stood still, uncertain what was
going on, and gasping with excitement, when Appleby's hand fell on his
shoulder.
"I can't tell you to hold off now we're going in," he said. "Still, it's
devilishly risky. You'll not be unnecessarily rash, Tony."
He sprang forward with three or four more at his heels, and Tony found
himself running a few yards behind him. He could see that the Sin
Verguenza were following, but save that they ran with wide spaces
between them they seemed to keep no order, and to have only one purpose,
to cross the perilous bare space as rapidly as they could.
The time that cost them appeared interminable, but it became evident
that a few at least of those who had gained an entry into the town were
firing on the cazadores who held the mouth of the carretera, and in
another minute or two they swept up to it and stopped again, gasping in
the smoke, with high white walls above them, and a mound of soil and
torn-up pavement meshed with wires close in front of them. Tony
remembered he had heard that in these days of magazine rifles and
hopper-fed guns an attack of the kind was foredoomed to fail, but it
seemed that the Sin Verguenza meant to try it, for already Maccario was
half-way up the slope, with Appleby, pistol in hand, close behind him,
and while a savage cry went up a wave of scrambling men seemed to toss
together and roll on. It swept up to the crest of the barrier, and
plunged into the smoke, and the cazadores wavered, turned, and fled.
They were outnumbered, and, as it transpired later, had been galled by a
fire from the roofs above, while Appleby eventually discovered a
cartridge partly torn to pieces stuck immovably in the chamber of their
quick-firing gun.
In the meanwhile Appleby was grimed with perspiration, smoke, and dust,
while his hand was blackened by the fouling from the pistol. Strung to a
tension that was too great for nervous excitement, he moved, as it were,
with an automatic precision and collectedness, grasping the import of
each turn of the struggle with a dispassionate perspicacity, which in
less eventful moments he would have been incapable of. The faculty of
swift deduction and decision may have been born in him, but it was, at
least, evident to the Sin Verguenza, for even then in the stress of
desperate effort they seemed to comprehend and obey him. Now and then
Maccario had shouted hoarse questions to him, and though the answers
apparently came without reflection the leader of the Sin Verguenza
concurred when he grasped their purport.
It was by his order the shattered leading company flung itself into the
houses when the Sin Verguenza were met by an enfilading volley as they
reeled into the calle. The street might have proved a death-trap while
the cazadores held the windows, but one could pass along the roofs, and
the troops came out headlong when the Sin Verguenza descended upon them
from above. Then they in turn found the calle too hot to hold them when
they faced the fire of the second company which had taken shelter in the
doorways. It was strewn with huddled objects lying upon the hot stones
when they fled out of it, and a few minutes later Appleby stopped close
by where Tony stood in the larger plaza. Tony's face was set and white,
though there was a curious gleam in his eyes, and he seemed to shiver a
little as he glanced back up the glaring street. It was very still now,
a narrow gap between the white walls that were ridged with shattered
green lattices, but filmy wisps of vapor still drifted out of the
doorways.
"We have got in, but it has cost you a good deal," he said.
Appleby said nothing, but Maccario, who came up, and following Tony's
gaze glanced at the huddled figures on the stones, made a little
comprehensive gesture.
"There is a price to everything, but in this case it would have been
heavier had not your countryman been quick to copy Morales' plan," he
said. "Still, I think by the firing our friends who went on in front are
also in, and as they will close the way out Morales will be waiting us
in the cuartel."
"It stands alone," said Appleby. "One cannot get in by the roofs."
He pointed to a ridge of flat roof that, rising above the others, cut
the blue of the sky. A streak of gold and crimson flaunted above it from
a towering staff.
"We have perhaps four hours," said Maccario; "but if that flag is flying
when the Peninsulares march in it may never come down again."
"I think one will be enough," said Appleby quietly. "We will wait two or
three minutes until the rest come up."
The stragglers were formed into their companies in the plaza, and
Maccario, impressing a citizen whom he dragged out of his dwelling, sent
him on with a scribbled summons to Morales to deliver up the cuartel.
The message was terse and laconic, and Maccario smiled dryly when the
man departed very much against his wishes bearing a white handkerchief
on a cane.
"One complies with civilized customs; it is required of him. And a rest
of a few minutes will not hurt my men," he said. "Still, it is a waste
of courtesy when it is known beforehand what Morales' answer will be."
While they waited there was a little derisive laughter as, with Harper
on the flank of the first four, another band of the Sin Verguenza
tramped into the plaza. They had, he explained disgustedly, found a
feebly defended entrance by a narrow alley, and had lost their way
during the pursuit of the handful of cazadores who had attempted to hold
it. He had already left the ranks, and grinned at Maccario suggestively
as he laid a bottle of red wine in Tony's hands.
"The boys struck a place where they sell it, and you're not an officer,
anyway," he said. "It might come in handy, and if the others are stuck
on discipline they needn't have any."
The men had refilled the magazines by this time, and were growing
impatient when the citizen came back again. He carried a strip of paper
torn across the middle, and made a little deprecatory gesture as he
passed it to Maccario.
"That is the only answer the Colonel Morales sends," he said.
Appleby smiled dryly, but a faint flush crept into Maccario's face.
"It is what one would have expected--and it is evident he understands,"
he said. "There is no room in Cuba for him and the Sin Verguenza."
Then he spoke sharply, there was a passing of orders, and the Sin
Verguenza swung forward down the broad highway that led to the cuartel.
The street was silent and empty under the scorching sun, with green
lattices closed, and doors shut, but the men could see the square mass
of the building towering white and grim, with the crimson and gold of
Spain flaunting over it on the faint hot breeze. They marched in due
formation now, but behind them came a rabble long held down by terror,
men with bitter wrongs who carried rifles torn from the fallen
cazadores, machetes, and iron bars. They had also a long score against
Morales, and their time had come.
They were close on the cuartel, and still the white building was silent,
when the Sin Verguenza stopped a moment or two and men with iron bars
beat down the door of a house Maccario pointed to. Then the most part of
one company vanished within it, and it was not until they poured out on
the flat roof the rest went on. It seemed to Appleby that save for the
tramp of feet the street was curiously still, though he noticed that now
a green lattice was open every here and there.
Then the silence was suddenly broken by a crash of riflery, and the
front of the houses was smeared by drifting smoke! Morales, it was
evident, did not mean to hold his hand until they reached the cuartel.
Here and there a man staggered and reeled from the ranks, there was a
sharp snapping upon the stones, but Maccario's voice rang through the
din, and the Sin Verguenza went on at a furious run. They were met by
the flash of a volley when they swept into the open space in front of
the cuartel, shrank back, and reeled into the sliding smoke again, while
the rifles of their comrades swept the windows from the houses opposite.
Twice they beat the great door in the archway almost down, but those who
swung the hammers and machetes melted away under the rifle flame, and
then Harper went shouting at the door with a great iron bar. There were,
however, men with grim faces from the alleys of Santa Marta behind him
now, striking with torn-up railings, pounding with paving stones, while
from roof and windows the rifles crashed.
Then the door bent inwards, and with a shout of triumph and execration
the Sin Verguenza poured in across the barricade of stones and soil in
cases. The din had grown bewildering, and the men seemed oblivious of
sight and sound in their passion, while Appleby, who shouldered his way
through the press, noticed only the closed inner door of the patio, and
the ruins of the torn-up veranda stairway. Again it cost the Sin
Verguenza a heavy price to break that door down, but nothing would have
stopped them or those who followed them now, and they fought their way
up the wide stairway, driving the cazadores back until they poured out
on to the higher veranda where Morales stood with a bright sword in his
hand at the foot of the big flagstaff. There was a little cluster of
cazadores about him, but Appleby did not know where the rest had gone,
for the struggle had become general, and scattered handfuls of men were
fighting independently all over the building. He, however, fancied by
the shouts and the confused din that most of them and the Sin Verguenza
had swept on up the higher stairway to the roof above, for he and
Maccario and Tony were almost alone.
[Illustration: "THEY WERE MET BY THE FLASH OF A VOLLEY."]
Maccario stopped suddenly and swung off his hat.
"The cuartel is ours how, and it would serve no purpose to waste more
men. Your sword, senor," he said.
Morales made him a little punctilious salutation, and glanced at the
bright blade in his hand. Then he turned to the men about him, and
smiled grimly, as though in answer to the murmur that rose from them.
"Never while I live. It belongs to Spain," he said.
The little drama scarcely lasted a minute, but it forced itself into
Appleby's memory, and he could long afterwards picture Morales standing
very straight with set lips and a gleam in his dark eyes, the handful of
men with rifles behind him, and the grim face of the slim young officer
Harper had spared at the hacienda. Tony was gasping close at his side,
and the flag of Spain streamed, a strip of gold and crimson, above them
all.
Then more men grimed with dust and smoke poured into the veranda, and
Maccario, who made a little deprecatory gesture, raised his sword.
"Then, with excuses, senor! Comrades, we must have that flag," he said.
A man beside Morales whose head was bound with a crusted bandage flung
up his rifle, there was a flash, and one of the Sin Verguenza reeled and
plunged down from the shattered stairway into the patio. Then there was
a shout, a crash, and a whirling haze of smoke, and as Appleby sprang
towards the flagstaff a cazador lunged at him with his bayonet. His
finger closed on the pistol trigger, but there was no answering flash,
and another shadowy figure seemed to slip in between him and the
soldier. The latter went down with a man upon him, while Appleby pressed
on through the acrid haze. A man whom he recognized as Harper seemed to
reach the staff simultaneously with himself, a knife flashed, and a
hoarse voice cried in English as a rope was thrust into his hand.
"Haul!" it said. "Down she comes."
A moment or two later the limp folds of red and gold fell into Appleby's
hands, and it was evident that other men on the roofs and in the patio
had seen the flag come down, for a shout of exultation rolled across the
town. Then Appleby who flung the flag from him, turned and glanced along
the veranda with a little shiver.
Save for two or three who lay still in the glaring sunlight the
cazadores had melted away, and he fancied they had been driven through
the gap in the torn-up balustrade or had flung themselves into the
patio. The slim young lieutenant held himself up by a railing, with his
face horribly awry, while Maccario stood still looking down on the
olive-faced officer who lay close in front of him. His kepi had fallen
off, but his brown fingers were still clenched upon his sword, and he
stared back at the leader of the Sin Verguenza with sightless eyes.
Maccario, who apparently saw Appleby, stooped, and pointed to a little
blue mark on the side of the officer's head.
"It is what one would have expected. A brave soldier!" he said.
Appleby said nothing, but looked round for Tony, and felt suddenly
chilly when he did not see him. Then with horrible misgivings he turned
towards a man who lay partly upon a fallen cazador with a rifle beside
him. Just then the man lifted his head, and it was with a gasp he
recognized the drawn, white face as Tony Palliser's.
"Tony, you're not hurt?" he said, with hoarse anxiety.
Tony smiled wryly. "I think I am," he said. "This fellow got his bayonet
into me, and I have a notion that I'm bleeding internally. I suppose
there is a doctor in Santa Marta."
Appleby turned and seized Maccario by the shoulder. The latter, leaning
over the balustrade, called out sharply, and in a moment or two three or
four of the Sin Verguenza came up and lifted Tony. As they moved away
with him Maccario stooped and laid Morales' kepi over his face. Then he
touched Appleby gently.
"I have seen a good many wounds, and I think the Senor Palliser will not
fight again," he said.