"Senor Hallett, the writer of this letter has become aware of a plot
against you and a certain young lady in whom you have a great interest.
If you will call on him at twelve o'clock, he will be awaiting you on
the second _etage_ of the Number 2 Strada de Barcelona, the first door
to the right. He prays you to be silent as to this rendezvous, as his
life would be forfeited were it known that he had made this
communication to you."
The street was a central one and largely frequented, so no thought
entered Arthur's mind that there could be any danger in attending at the
rendezvous; and accordingly at a quarter to twelve he left his house,
carrying, however, a brace of pistols in his pocket. On arriving at the
place indicated, he passed through the open doorway and ascended the
stairs to the second floor, then he rang the bell of the door to the
right. It was opened by a little old woman.
"Come in, senor," she said; "you are expected."
He entered; she closed the door behind him, and led the way to an inner
room. He was about to go in, when there was a rush of footsteps behind
him, and four men flung themselves suddenly on to his back, the weight
and impetus of the charge throwing him forward on to his face. Before
he could recover from his surprise and attempt to struggle, a rope was
thrown over his head, pulled down to his elbows, and then tightened, and
in a minute he was bound and helpless. He was carried into the room and
the knots more securely fastened, his wrists being bound tightly behind
his back, and his ankles lashed together. Then two of the men left the
room, and the others remained sitting with their knives in their hands.
Arthur cursed his own folly in not having let Roper know where he was
going; and yet, as he told himself, it was but natural that, having been
informed that the plot affected Mercedes, he should have kept the matter
to himself. That he had fallen into the power of Count Silvio he did
not doubt for a moment; and yet he thought that, unscrupulous and
revengeful as he might be, he would hardly venture to put him to death.
Every moment he expected him to appear, but the hours went slowly by.
He had been gagged as soon as he was bound, and no effort he had made
had sufficed to get the gag from his mouth. From time to time he heard
footsteps as people went up and down to the floor above, and if he could
have freed his mouth he would have shouted, in spite of the knives with
which his guards menaced him. At length the light faded and the room
presently became dark.
Half an hour after night had fallen he heard a ring at the bell. One of
the guards answered it, and four figures in monks' clothes and with
hoods over their heads entered. They brought a stretcher and laid it
down beside Arthur, lifted him upon it, and fastened a strap across his
shoulders and another across his legs; then they lifted the stretcher
and bore him away. He was greatly puzzled by the proceedings. These
might be men employed by the count and disguised as monks--he could
hardly believe that they were really monks. He was carried for a long
time, but as a cloth had been thrown over him, he could form no idea
whatever as to the direction in which his bearers were proceeding. When
they stopped and knocked at a door, however, he calculated that the
journey had occupied at least three hours. They might therefore have
come miles from the city, but on the other hand they might have wound
about, and so might not be a hundred yards from the place where he was
captured. A door opened, and after a pause they moved on again. Then
Arthur felt that they were descending some stairs. When they reached
the bottom they turned into another door, lowered the stretcher to the
ground, and took off the cloth. The ropes that bound Arthur were
loosed, a lantern was placed on the floor, and without a word the whole
party of monks left the cell and locked the door behind.
Arthur got up at once, picked up the lantern, and examined his prison.
It was a cell some ten feet square. At one side was a stone pallet, on
which some straw had been thrown, otherwise the floor was perfectly
bare. The only window was an opening near the ceiling about a foot long
and six inches wide, with two strong bars across it.
"Well," he said to himself, "this certainly looks like a monk's cell, or
rather the prison cell of a monastery, and it appears as if I had not
fallen into the hands of the count after all. Things are bad enough in
all conscience, but even to be in the grip of the Inquisition, which
does not, so far as I know, exist now, would be better than to be in the
hands of such a scoundrel. Still, it is strange that the Church should
have interfered with me. I know how bigoted the clergy are, and how
unscrupulous, but I should not have thought that they would have dared
to meddle with a British officer. However, I can hardly believe that
they will attempt my life; I don't see what good it could do them. I
would give a good deal to know what their game is. Well, I suppose it
is useless to bother about it at present. I am so stiff both in the
wrists and ankles that I can scarcely stand. At any rate, it is civil
of them to leave me a light."
In a quarter of an hour the door opened again, and two monks came in.
They put a large jug of water and a dish of fried beans on the floor,
and retired without speaking.
"Let me think," Arthur said to himself. "This is Friday, so I suppose
it is fast day. I hope this is not a sample of their ordinary fare.
However, as I have had nothing since breakfast, it is not to be
despised."
He ate a hearty meal, and then lay down on the stone bench, and was soon
asleep. When he awoke, daylight was shining through the little window,
and he got up and looked round again. Certainly the prospect was not a
cheering one; the walls were perfectly bare, and broken only by the door
and the window. As the cell was twelve feet high, the window was
altogether beyond his reach. He would have given a good deal to be able
to look out and see whether he was in a town or in the country, and
whether or not the window opened into a courtyard. This question was,
however, presently settled by the sound of the rumble of distant
vehicles. At long intervals one passed the window, and occasionally a
foot-passenger went by. Arthur therefore concluded that he was in a
town, and was equally certain that the window looked into a quiet and
little-frequented street, and was probably level with the pavement.
This, however, gave him but little clue to the position of the
monastery, for there were, he knew, at least a dozen such buildings in
the town. Still, it was something to know that he was within reach of
human beings.
[Illustration: "A TALL MAN WITH A HARSH, ASCETIC FACE ENTERED"]
By standing against the opposite wall he could now obtain a glimpse
through the window. He saw that the wall of the building must be at
least two feet thick. Having made what observations he could, he sat
down on his bed and waited for what should come next. Presently his
breakfast was brought in; it consisted of bread, some fried meat, and,
to his satisfaction, some coffee. An hour later the door opened again,
and a tall man with a harsh ascetic face entered.
"You perhaps wonder why you are confined here," he said. "I have come to
tell you. You are an obstacle to the designs of the Church. You have
seduced the affections of one of her daughters, and in order that she
may be saved from perdition, which would be her doom if she were to many
a heretic, it has been thought necessary to seclude you here.
Doubtless, in time she will recover from the glamour that you have
thrown over her, and will deeply regret her passing aberration; will
again become an obedient daughter of the Church, and perhaps find a
happy refuge in its cloisters. When this takes place you will be
released, but not until then. We do not desire to be harsh with you;
you may be supplied with books and other indulgences, but a prisoner you
will remain until she enters the walls of a cloister."
"I understand, senor," Arthur said quietly; "and perceive that it is the
lady's revenues, and not her soul, which are the main object of your
care. Well, senor, you have made me a prisoner, but I have sufficient
faith in the young lady's affection to believe that until she is
absolutely convinced of my death she will not turn her thoughts towards
the cloister, and that therefore you are likely to have me on your hands
for a very considerable time. At least, I am grateful to you for your
offer of books, and shall be glad if you will furnish me with a
selection."
"I may say further," the man said, "that you will be instructed in the
tenets of our religion, and that should you see the error of your ways
and ask to be received into the bosom of the Church, possibly all
further objection to your union with the young lady in question may be
removed."
Arthur laughed. "Your opinion of my principles must be a very low one
if you can suppose that I shall be tempted to abandon them even with
such a bait as you have been good enough to hold out."
"Naturally that is your opinion at present," the monk said coldly; "it
may alter after a few months of confinement."
"I fancy not, senor; and I warn you that no more serious offence can be
committed than the capture and imprisonment of an officer in the British
service."
"I am prepared to take that risk, senor, and you are not likely to be
released, whatever happens, until matters are arranged. I will now
leave you to yourself."
When the door had opened Arthur observed that a number of monks were
grouped in the passage outside, evidently prepared to fall upon him
should he offer any violence to their prior, or attempt to make his
escape.
When the prior had left, Arthur sat down and thought the matter over.
The look-out was certainly not bright. He saw that he had very little
chance of making his escape from the monastery. It was no doubt a large
building, with any number of passages and corridors, in which, if he
could escape from the cell, he would simply be lost, so that long before
he could find his way to the gate, he would be overtaken and captured
again. One thing, however, he might do. No doubt for a short time the
two monks who brought him provisions would be accompanied by others, but
when they found that he showed no signs of trying to effect his escape,
they would become less vigilant. In that case he might possibly
overcome these two men, make his escape to the story above, and drop out
a note from the window which might be taken to Leon, who would assuredly
obtain his release without delay. He could tear a blank page out of one
of the books with which he was to be provided, and write a message upon
it. His pencil had not been taken from him, nor his pocket-knife.
The days went on. He had no reason to complain of his treatment; the
food was good and wholesome; the monks who attended to him brought a can
of water daily, carried away his basin and emptied it, and swept out his
cell. A mattress and blankets had been substituted for the straw, a
supply of such books as he asked for had been brought to him, and it was
evident that his captors desired that he should have nothing to complain
of save his loss of liberty.
After ten days he resolved to carry his plan into execution. Tearing out
a blank leaf carefully, he wrote upon it:
"I am confined in a monastery. I can give no information as to its
position save that it is in the town. Apply to regent for an order to
search."
He then signed his name, folded up the slip of paper, and on the outside
wrote:
"One hundred dollars will be paid by the Count Leon de Balen to anyone
who will bring this note to him."
He then waited for a favourable opportunity.
He had, one day when meat was served to him, abstracted the knife and
hidden it in his stocking. The monks, when they removed the tray, did
not notice that anything was missing, but he observed that on the
following day they carefully felt the mattress. By this he guessed that
the loss of the knife had not been discovered till that morning. The
monks, fearing that they would be blamed for carelessness, had very
likely protested that they had brought it as usual into the kitchen with
the tray; and had only for their own satisfaction looked to see if it
were hidden there. Arthur had taken it without any definite view of
using it; but he thought that if this attempt to obtain succour failed,
it might come in useful in any future plan he might devise.
Next day, when his attendant monks were bending to place his basin and
tray on the floor, he suddenly rushed at them and hurled them both to
the ground. Then he hurried out of the cell.
Four monks were standing in the passage. Running at full speed he
dashed at them. Two of them were levelled to the ground; he cast the
other two aside, and ran on. At the end of the passage was a staircase.
Up this he darted, and found himself in a corridor similar to that
below. A number of doors opened from it. He turned the handle of one
of these, ran across the room to the window, pushed his hands through
the bars, and dropped the note. A moment later he heard a bell ring
loudly and sharply. Doubtless one of the men he had overthrown had at
once run to it, and was giving the alarm, which would send all the monks
to the entrance. He had done what he had to do, so he walked quietly
downstairs again. Five of the monks were huddled in the passage, and at
his approach they took to headlong flight. With a laugh Arthur entered
his cell and sat down. Presently a terrified face appeared at the door
and looked in.
"Come in," Arthur said cheerfully. "I trust I did not hurt any of you.
I merely wished to see whether my muscles were in working order. I find
that they are quite right, thank you, and, having ascertained that, have
come back to my cell. You can, if you like, shut the door again, for
this room is rather draughty when it is open."
The door was immediately shut, and the bolts shot. Arthur wondered what
the next move would be. No one came near him for two hours; then to his
surprise he heard a grinding sound against the door, and half a minute
later the head of an auger appeared. Another hole was made touching the
first, then a fine saw was thrust through. This began to work, and
presently a piece was cut out of the door some six inches wide and
eighteen inches long. After a pause the piece was fitted in again.
Next he heard a sound of screws being driven in, and then he saw that
hinges had been fastened to the flap, so that it could be opened and
closed from the other side at will. Then he heard two bolts fixed to
it. The noise went on for some time, and he knew by the sound that two
more bolts had been screwed on to the door itself.
He saw at once that the monks intended in future to pass his food in to
him, instead of entering his cell. This proved to be the case. The
flap was opened and his tray handed in, together with a basin of water.
"They are determined that the monks shall not be exposed to assault and
battery again," he laughed. "I have evidently given them a scare. Now,
I have nothing to do but wait and see if anything comes of my note."
A fortnight of anxious waiting passed. His food, books, and water were
handed in regularly, but no one entered his cell. He listened anxiously
whenever he heard the slightest stir in the monastery that would tell
him that search was being made, but no such sound met his ear. At last
he came to the conclusion that his note could never have reached Leon's
hands. Being but a scrap of paper, it might have escaped the eyes of
passers-by and been trodden in the mud; or again, the prior might at
once have suspected the reason of his strange conduct and despatched a
monk to pick up the note. Several times he wrote the same message on
pieces of paper, rolled them up into a small ball, and threw them
through the window in the hope that some passer-by might be attracted by
the sight of the pellet, and open it to see what was in it.
Till the end of a fortnight he remained patient, spending most of his
time in reading; but when he finally determined that the letter had gone
astray, he threw aside his books and decided that he must rely upon
himself. It was evident that if he was to escape at all, it must be
through the wall under the window. He had read of escapes by prisoners,
and some of these had been performed in circumstances at least as
difficult as those that confronted him, and with means no better than
the knife he had in his possession. Much must, of course, depend upon
the thickness of the wall and the materials of which it was built. He
could see by the window that it must be at least two feet thick, and if
constructed of solid blocks of stone there would be no possibility of
getting them out, as his knife was but some six inches long in the
blade, so that it would be necessary to wear the wall away into dust.
Of course, if there were no other way, this is what he must attempt.
But for the precaution that had been taken to prevent his escape, this
would not have been possible, for the monks, when they came in, could
not have failed to notice the gradual crumbling away of the wall. There
was, however, one other chance. As this was a subterranean, or almost
subterranean room, there was not likely to be a vault under it;
therefore it was probable that the wall was not continued far under the
bottom of his cell. It might be one foot, it might be two, but the
solid stonework would not go much deeper; it would rest upon a bed of
concrete, or possibly of loose rubble. Once through that, he would
probably find nothing but earth between him and the pavement above.
These pavements were in most of the side streets mere cobble stones. He
therefore set to work now to examine the stones forming the floor. They
were about two feet square, and after some consideration he determined
that the best to operate upon would be that at the foot of his bed, as
this would be hidden from the sight of anyone looking through the trap.
His greatest difficulty would be to get rid of the materials that must
necessarily be removed. Stones he might manage to clear out by throwing
them through the window with sufficient force to carry them across the
street; earth, he finally concluded, he would have to dispose of in the
same way.
In order to do this, however, he would have to reach the window. Of
course, if he were certain that the cell would never be entered, he
could pile it up against the wall to the right and left of the door, for
the hole was too narrow to admit a head. However, this was a risk that
he would not like to run. The excavation would occupy many weeks,
possibly many months, and it was hardly likely that so long a time would
elapse before a visit was made to his cell. After much thinking he
concluded that if he took up two of the slabs, and placed one against
the wall and the other upon it, he could just reach the window. Then,
by fastening the end of a blanket to one of the bars, he could easily
pull himself up by it and throw the mould outside.
This was certain to be slow work, and a few handfuls of soil scattered
on the road would not be likely to attract any attention. Examining the
floor carefully, he saw that the slabs of stone were by no means even,
from which he concluded that they were not laid in cement, probably not
even in concrete, but that the ground had been simply smoothed down and
the flags laid on it, and perhaps hammered down. The cells had probably
not been intended as living rooms, but were used as prisons, perhaps as
far back as the days of the Inquisition.
Having once made up his mind and carefully examined the stones, Arthur
lay down on the floor and prepared to act. He had just finished his
breakfast and handed out the tray as usual, so he would not be disturbed
again for at least four hours. He began with his knife to loosen the
stone at the foot of his bed, which was on the left-hand side of the
cell, and found to his satisfaction that the slabs were laid close
together, but not so closely that the knife would not in most places go
down between them.
The crevices were filled up with the dust of many years, and it took him
till dinner-time to clear this out. He was gratified at finding,
however, that while in some places his knife encountered stones when he
thrust it deep, at other points he could push it down to the hilt
without encountering any obstacle. This showed him that his conjecture
was correct. The ground had simply been smoothed down, chips of stone
from the building thrown upon it and mixed with the sand, and on this
the paving had been laid down. Beyond the fact that his knife went lower
than the bottom of the stone, he could not tell how thick the floor was,
but he judged that it would probably be three or four inches. It was
evident that he could not get this up by the mere leverage of the knife,
and he would only break the tool if he attempted it.
This he had expected would be the case, and after the dinner interval he
began what he knew would be one of the most tedious parts of the
undertaking. It was necessary that he should scrape away part of the
stone in order to get his fingers under. His pocket-knife was evidently
a better tool for this than the dinner knife he had hitherto used. The
slab, so far as he could make out, was a sandstone, but how hard he
could not tell. He began by dipping his handkerchief into his basin and
letting fall a few drops at the place upon which he intended to operate,
namely, next his bed. He started very carefully, giving a sort of
rotatory motion to his knife. Gradually the water he had dropped there
became a little turbid; this afforded him some encouragement, and he
worked steadily on till evening, by which time he had succeeded in
removing a piece of the stone an eighth of an inch deep.
After supper he began again, and continued the work far into the night,
for he was always furnished with a lamp. At last he had increased the
hole to a depth of fully a quarter of an inch, and a width equal to that
of his four fingers. Well satisfied with this result, he threw himself
on his pallet and slept soundly until the flap was opened and his
breakfast tray thrust in. As soon as he had finished his breakfast he
set to work again, this time using the knife that had been handed in
with his breakfast, and which would not be demanded of him until he
returned the tray when he received his dinner. He was glad to make the
change, for his hands were blistered badly by the previous day's work,
and the smoothness of the dinner knife was a relief to him; besides, he
saw that he had already worn away the point of his pocket-knife.
After a fortnight's steady work he had the satisfaction of feeling the
knife go through. In two more days he was able to get his hand in. He
now cleared out some of the earth at the bottom, and then, putting his
hand below the stone, exerted his strength to the utmost, and was
delighted to find that it yielded. He laid it down and executed a dance
of triumph, which would have astonished the monks had they looked in.
*CHAPTER XVIII*
*ESCAPED*
It was evening when Arthur got up the stone, so he put it into its place
again after his delight had a little subsided, rubbed some dust into the
crevices, and then flung himself down for a long night's sleep. The
next morning after breakfast he set to work to remove the dust round the
next stone. When he had done this, he made a hole under it with his
fingers even more easily than in the case of the first. He then
replaced it, and waited until his dinner had been handed in. Having
eaten this, he took up the two stones again, laid one upright against
the wall under the window, placed the other on the top of it, then took
a running jump on to this, at the same moment stretching his arm as high
up above his head as he could. To his delight he found that he was able
to grasp one of the bars. He got down, took one of the blankets, and,
again leaping up, passed an end round the bar and managed to grasp it
before he fell backwards.
This pulled the blanket half-way round the bar. He caught hold of both
parts when he next sprang up, and was able without difficulty to raise
himself until his face was level with the window. The look-out was
better than he had expected. In front of him was a street, but on the
other side was a piece of waste ground. Nothing could have been handier
for his purpose, as the stones and earth thrown on to this would
certainly attract no notice. Having taken a good look he lowered
himself to the floor, relaid the second stone he had raised, and put the
other alongside it so that he could replace it in an instant if he
should hear footsteps coming down the passage. Then he took the
mattress and bedding off the bench, for he resolved to spread upon the
bed all the earth and rubble he got out during the day, as it would be
dangerous to throw it out until dark.
After this he set to work with the dinner knife, and it was not long
before he had loosened the earth and rubble some inches deep. This he
removed, and by night had excavated a hole two feet deep, spreading the
rubbish carefully, as he got it out, on the bed. He had not made the
hole quite so wide as the stone, in order that this might have a support
when it was replaced. Then he hung up one blanket as before, and placed
a considerable quantity of the earth in the other blanket and hauled
this up to the window, so as to save himself the labour of climbing up
afresh with each handful. Listening attentively, so as to be sure that
no one was coming along, he flung it with all his force through the
window. When he had disposed of all he had brought up he filled the
blanket again, and so continued until he had thrown out the whole.
On the following day he not only got out the earth to a greater depth,
but was able to push the trench under the adjoining slab, which was in
contact with the wall. He got rid of the earth and stones as before.
Next morning he worked with renewed vigour, for the result of the day's
labour would be to show whether the stone-work was carried down below
the level of the floor, or whether the wall rested upon concrete. The
third slab came up without difficulty, and, digging down by the wall, to
his great satisfaction he found that it rested on a foundation of coarse
concrete, which would no doubt be troublesome, but by no means
impervious. He soon cleared out the earth and rubble to the same level
as the other part of the trench, and after spreading it as usual under
his mattress, he began the important task of picking out the concrete.
He had not been at work long before he found that in order to get room
to use both arms he must widen it out at the end against the wall. This
caused a whole day's delay. The cutting of the concrete was toilsome,
and it took a week of almost incessant labour to make a passage
sufficiently large for him to crawl through. Having ascertained that,
as he had expected, the ground beyond this was composed of mixed soil,
as that within the wall had been, with fragments of stone, he gave
himself a day's rest before proceeding further. It was now six weeks
since his imprisonment began, and he felt sure that it would require
only three or four days' more work to get to the surface outside.
He wondered what his friends had been doing, and worried greatly about
the anxiety that Mercedes would have experienced. This thought indeed
had frequently kept him to his work when he would otherwise have
desisted, from the fatigue he felt in working in the cramped position
which was necessary while getting through the concrete. Roper, too,
would be in a terrible way, and Leon would be moving heaven and earth to
find some clue to his fate. He wondered what they had been doing, and
in what direction they had been searching, for he would have disappeared
as suddenly as if the earth had opened and swallowed him, without
leaving a single clue.
One thing was certain: suspicion would fall upon Don Silvio. Leon would
probably lay the case before the queen regent, and Don Silvio might not
impossibly be arrested on the charge of being concerned in his
disappearance. He could not help believing that this man was at the
bottom of it, for, think how he would, no other reason for his seizure
presented itself. Ostensibly he had been imprisoned in order that his
connection with Mercedes might be broken off, in which case she might
enter a convent, to the great advantage of its revenues. But the
knowledge that there was an engagement between them was at present
confined to Leon and his sisters, for it had been agreed that it would
be much better to keep it quiet until the time approached for their
marriage, as Leon felt that the Church would use every effort to prevent
this from taking place.
Mercedes might indeed have spoken of it in confession, but it was far
more likely that Count Silvio, whose jealousy had been clearly aroused,
and who hated him for the result of the duel, had set the Church
authorities to work. It was not probable that the prior of the
monastery had acted on his own responsibility. It was not a monastery
that would benefit by Mercedes' fortune, and mere zeal would scarcely
have prompted the prior to take so strong a step as to have him carried
off; doubtless, therefore, he was acting under superior authority.
Although the Inquisition had died out, and heretics could no longer be
tortured or brought to the stake, the Roman Church in Spain was still
almost as bigoted as in the olden days, and would assuredly not hesitate
to take steps to prevent what would be considered as the backsliding of
one of its faith. Knowing the enormous influence the priests still
exercised, the measure that had been taken with reference to himself
scarcely seemed extraordinary to Arthur, and he resented it rather
because he believed that Don Silvio was at the bottom of it than on
account of the outrage against himself.
After a rest of thirty-six hours, Arthur set to work as soon as he had
eaten his supper. The lamp contained enough oil to burn all night, and
it was only by its light that he was able to work. Lying on his stomach
in the hole he gradually drove the tunnel forward, being obliged
frequently to come out with the earth and rubble as he dug it down.
When he had got two feet beyond the wall he turned on his back and,
placing the lamp on his chest, began to bring down the earth above him.
Luckily the mould was firm and tightly packed, for while there was thus
no fear of sudden falls the walls stood upright and the earth dug out
like putty. He had not the trouble of taking it out; as it fell he
merely pushed it back into the open trench.
By morning he could stand upright to his work. As the bottom of the
hole was two feet below the floor he was now some four feet above it.
The labour had been very great, and although he had worked stripped to
the waist he had suffered much from the heat. He rubbed himself with
his blanket, as he had done ever since he began the work, for had he
washed the appearance of the water would at once have aroused suspicions
that he was engaged upon work of this kind. He dressed again, and was
ready to receive his breakfast, and after eating this he went soundly to
sleep. He could scarce rouse himself sufficiently to get up and take in
his dinner when it came, and putting the tray down he at once went off
to sleep again. At five o'clock he woke and ate his dinner, and when
his supper arrived he put that by till midnight.
He now set to work with renewed vigour, for if all went well he should
be free by morning. He put two of the paving-stones against the sides
of his shaft, and, standing upon these, was able to bring down the earth
rapidly. When he had dug two feet higher he trod the earth that had
fallen firmly down, and placing the stones on these, again mounted on
them. By twelve o'clock he could no longer reach overhead, and,
measuring from the level of the floor of the cell, found that the cavity
was now seven feet above it. He now pulled out the paving-stones, and
set to work to dig some holes on each side of the shaft, in which he
could place his feet. Having gained another foot by this means he went
out, ate his supper, and dressed himself.
He was certain now that he should be out before daybreak. Again he set
to work. The earth came down fast under the strokes of his knife. At
last, at about four o'clock in the morning, the blade struck against a
stone. This he felt was round, and differed altogether from those he
had met with embedded in the earth. Gradually he cleared the space
beneath it, and then found that a layer of stones closely packed
together formed the ceiling of his shaft. He worked with renewed energy
until the whole of the earth beneath was cleared away, then he dug two
more foot-holes two feet higher than those he had last rested on.
Taking his place in these, he pushed with all his force with both hands.
The stones gave way at once, and his hands were in the air. In another
minute the rest were cleared off, and, putting his hands on the edge of
the hole, he hauled himself up and was a free man.
In the joy of his heart he set off to run, but presently steadied down
into a walk. It was a quarter of an hour before he came upon a church
familiar to him, and he was then able to direct his course to his
lodgings. He had a key of the outer door, and, opening this, he felt
his way up the stairs until he reached his door. Another key gave him
admittance here. Opening the door of the sitting-room, he felt his way
to the mantel. Here were always placed a flint and steel and a bundle
of slips of rag dipped in sulphur, for although phosphorus matches were
rapidly making their way in England, they were as yet unknown in Madrid.
At the first blow of the flint against the steel he heard a movement in
the next room, and as the sparks flew on to the tinder by the stroke, he
heard Roper exclaim "Who is that?" as he jumped out of bed.
"It is I, Roper!"
There was a perfect shout of joy, and then he heard the honest fellow
burst into a fit of hysterical sobbing. A moment later the sulphur
ignited the tinder, and he lighted a candle. The door of Roper's
bedroom was open, and Arthur saw that he had sunk back on to his bed
again with his hands before his face. He went in to him and put his
hand upon his shoulder.
"Roper, old friend," he said, "compose yourself. Thank God, I am back
again safe and sound!"
"The Lord be praised!" Roper said, as, brushing his tears aside, he
stood up and grasped Arthur's hands. "It is almost as if you had come
back from the dead, sir. I have kept on saying you would return, though
I knew in ray heart that I had lost all hope. Why," he said, as they
went back to the light, "you are as black as a coal. What has happened
to you?"
"It is only honest dirt, Roper. I will go and have a thorough wash,
then I will tell you about it;" and he went into his own room, which
opened on the other side of the sitting-room. By the time he came back
Roper had lighted three more candles, had partly dressed himself, and
had got out a bottle of wine and a glass.
"Get out another glass, Roper, and light the fire, then we will sit down
and talk it all over. By the way, if you have anything to eat you may
as well put it on the table. It is five hours since I have had supper,
and I have been doing some hard work since."
Roper hurried away to get the things together while Arthur changed his
clothes entirely. Two or three shirts had been handed in each week to
him while he was confined in his prison, but he was glad enough of a
complete change.
"Now, Roper," he said, as he sat down, "we will eat and talk. In the
first place, tell me about my friends."
"The count has been looking for you everywhere, sir. He has had the
whole police in search of you. They have got Don Silvio under arrest,
but they cannot find out that he was concerned in your disappearance,
though nobody has any doubt about it. Miss Mercedes has been ill. She
was, I was told, in bed for a month; she is up now, but, as the servants
tell me, looking like a ghost. However, I have no doubt she will soon
get round, now that you are back.
"The difficulty has been to know where to start looking for you. No one
had seen you since you left this house one morning, some two months ago,
shortly after breakfast. From that time you had disappeared as if the
earth had swallowed you up. I always said, 'The captain will come back
if he is alive--bolts and bars won't hold him'. And I really believed
so for three or four weeks; but when time went on and there were no
signs of you, I began to think that you must have gone under. If you
had, I knew it must have been directly you were taken, for before two
days had passed Don Silvio had been caught. He was down at his place in
the country, and was able to prove that he was there at the date of your
capture. Well, they kept him under arrest, thinking that if you did
come back you would be able to prove that he had a hand in it somehow."
"I believe he had, Roper, though I may say I have no shadow of proof.
Now I will tell you all about it;" and he went into a full history of
his capture, of his imprisonment, of his interview with the prior, and
of the manner in which he had made his escape.
"You have done well indeed, sir, to get out of that place as you did!
If I had been there, I should never have come out again alive. Lord,
how you must have worked! So the priests were at the bottom of it after
all?"
"Not quite at the bottom; for I have no doubt whatever that Don Silvio
put them up to it. No doubt he said to them: 'Here is a young lady of
noble family with a fine income. She wants to throw herself away on a
Protestant and a foreigner; if you can manage to keep him away from her,
she is pretty sure to go into a convent. She said, when she threw me
over a year and a half ago, that it was her intention not to marry, but
to lead a religious life; therefore if you get her lover removed now, no
doubt she will do so.' You see, there were two motives for getting me
shut up--one to avoid the grievous scandal of a Catholic lady of good
family marrying a heretic, and the second, that of getting possession of
her dowry. Well, thank goodness, I have baulked them! Has Colonel
Wylde been here?"
"No, sir; he has been up in the north ever since you disappeared."
"Has there been much fighting there?"
"None at all. Maroto turned traitor and sold Don Carlos. He surrendered
on condition of a big grant of money. His army dispersed, and Don
Carlos has crossed the frontier."
"And Espartero?"
"He has been made Duke of Vittoria, and is still in the north settling
things. In the east there has been fighting, but only small affairs, so
you have not lost anything that way."
It was seven o'clock in the morning before Arthur had brought his story
to a close, and he now said: "You had better go at once across to Count
Leon's--I dare say he will be up by this time. Take him aside quietly,
and tell him that I am here, and that I leave it to him to break the
news to his sister as he thinks best. When he has done so, I will, of
course, go round and see her."
Roper returned in half an hour with the count.
"My dear Arthur! My dear Arthur!" the latter exclaimed, as he ran into
the room and embraced his friend. "Thank God that you are back again!
I had given up all hope, and had no question at all in my mind that you
had been murdered quietly by the orders of Don Silvio, and been buried
in some obscure spot where your body would never be found. I could not
at first believe what your man told me half an hour ago. I fancy I took
him by the shoulders and shook him, and told him he was either mad or a
liar. At last I was convinced that he was sane, and we hurried off
together. We came too fast for talk, but I gathered from him that you
had been confined in a monastery."
"Yes, Leon; and except that I was kept a solitary prisoner in a cell, I
had nothing much to complain of. I was frankly told by the prior that I
should remain there, however long a time it might be, until Mercedes had
taken the veil."
"The rascal!" Leon said wrathfully. "That is just what we feared, or at
least something like it, when we agreed that your engagement to her had
better be kept private for a time. Not, of course, that I ever dreamt
that they would attempt to carry you off, but I knew that they would
move heaven and earth to break off the match. Now, please tell me all
about it."
Arthur again went through the story, and gave his reasons for believing
that Don Silvio was at the bottom of it.
"I regard that as certain," Leon said; "but that does not alter the
facts. I shall have to take every care of Mercedes; they may try to
suppress her as they have tried to suppress you. I have seen Queen
Christina several times, and she is intensely interested in your case.
We must go and see her this afternoon, and lay all the facts before her,
and I shall ask her to take Mercedes under her protection, which I am
sure she will do. Even the Church would not venture to drag her from
the palace. As to your affair, it will require a good deal of talking
over. Of course, if you report what has happened to your government
they will kick up a tremendous row about it, but I don't know that that
would be of any advantage either to her or to us."
"No, I can quite understand that, Leon; and it is the last thing I
should wish to do. As you say, it will require a lot of thinking about
and talking over; but at the first blush it certainly seems to me that,
now that I have got away without further damage or injury than being
shut up for a couple of months, the best policy is to say nothing about
it; but, of course, we shall have to consider whether there will be any
repetition of it, and still more, whether your sister is likely to
suffer any persecution or to incur any risk of being kidnapped. Of
course you have not told her yet that I have turned up again?"
"No. She does not get up till ten o clock, and I thought it as well not
to disturb her; besides, I really knew nothing about it myself beyond
the fact that you had reappeared, and even of that I felt scarcely
assured until I saw you myself, for I had not entertained a shadow of
hope that you were alive. I will go and break the news to her now. You
may come across in half an hour."
"Very well, but I shall not expect to see her; perhaps I had better not
see her at all to-day. It may be well to break it to her very
gradually. If you were to tell her that this morning you had obtained a
clue, and thought it possible that I had been carried away and shut up
in a monastery; then this afternoon you could further say that you
believed you knew which monastery it was in which I was imprisoned, and
that you intended at once to take steps to obtain my release; then
either this evening or to-morrow morning you could tell her the truth,
and take me in to her."
"I believe that would be the best plan, Arthur. She has been very ill,
and is at present a mere ghost of herself; but she is of a cheerful
disposition, and although she has come to despair of ever seeing you
again, I am sure that she would eagerly grasp at any shadow of hope, and
once she has you again she will soon pick up."
"In that case I had better not come round to your house, Leon."
"No, I think not. If any of the servants were to see you they might, in
spite of any orders that I might issue, make a hash of it in some way or
other. I doubt whether they would be able to help doing so--by their
looks if not by their tongues, for you are a general favourite in the
house; and although no one has ever been told, I should think that many
must have some idea how matters stand between you and Mercedes. As
Colonel Wylde is away, there can be no reason for your leaving the
house, and it is better that you should not do so, because you would be
sure to meet somebody who would know you; and as your disappearance has
been the talk of the town, they would carry the news home to their
families, and some of the ladies might take it across to Mercedes. I
will be back again in an hour. I will come round in my carriage, and
then we will drive together to the palace. To prevent any possibility of
someone spreading the news from there, I will give strict orders that
whoever calls to-day--no matter who it is--is not to be allowed to see
my sister. Of course I shall not tell either of the girls, their looks
would let the secret out before they had been with her for two minutes."
Leon was back in the course of an hour. "I have administered the first
dose of hope," he said, "and the effect has been wonderful. Before that
she was sitting absolutely listless, taking no interest whatever in
anything that went on around her; now she is all flushed and excited. I
began by saying that information had reached me that led me to believe
that you had been carried to a monastery. I did this very gently and in
a roundabout way, but she leapt to her feet with her eyes blazing, and
insisted on knowing what were the grounds of my belief. I was obliged
to tell her that I knew for almost a certainty that on the evening of
the day on which you disappeared, monks were noticed carrying a litter
through the streets. I said that of course this might mean nothing, but
that it was certainly singular, and that I had already set a number of
men to work to find out where the monks had been last seen, and the
direction in which they were proceeding, and that I hoped by this
afternoon to get certain news. I promised her that I would let her know
directly I did so. I argued that four monks would hardly be carrying a
dead man, nor could I see any reason why they should be carrying a
living one. I said that a cloth had been thrown over the litter and
that no one could see who or what was beneath it. I left her walking up
and down the room in a state of great agitation, and I rather think it
would be better to change our plans and let her know the whole truth
shortly."
"Perhaps so, Leon. We will sit here for another half-hour, and then you
can go in and break the news to her little by little, till at last you
can tell her that I am in the house waiting to see her. But I should
advise you, as we go along, to call at your doctor's and take him with
you, in case the shock is too much for her."
"Perhaps that would be advisable," Leon said; "the anxiety and
excitement might be worse for her than the sudden joy would be."
Accordingly they drove back to Leon's, and the count went into his
sister's room, while Arthur went into the drawing-room, where the two
younger girls were sitting. These leapt up with a scream as he entered,
and looked at him as if doubting the evidence of their senses. He held
up his hand. "It is I myself," he said, "but do not make a noise. Your
brother has gone in to break the news to Mercedes." Convinced that
their eyes had not deceived them, the girls ran forward and embraced him
affectionately, pouring out questions as to where he had been, and how
it was that he had returned.
"It is a long story," he said, "and I cannot tell it all now. I have
been shut up to prevent me from marrying Mercedes, and I have managed to
make my way out again; and as you can see by looking at my hands," and
he held them out, "I have done a lot of hard work in breaking out."
Both girls uttered exclamations at the blistered state of his hands.
"They are nothing to what they were after the first four or five days'
work," he said; "they really were bad then. They have got pretty horny
now."
"But who could have wanted to interfere between you and Mercedes? No
one has any right to interfere with her except Leon."
"There are people who think they have a right to interfere," he said,
"and do interfere in most matters in this country."
"You look very white, Arthur," the elder girl said.
"Yes, I dare say; I have been two months in a cell with very little
light."
"In a cell?" they repeated.
"Yes. There was no great hardship in it. I had books to read and very
decent food, so the only thing I had to complain of was my loss of
liberty."
He chatted for a few minutes longer, and then the door opened and Leon
appeared and beckoned to Arthur to follow him. "She knows that you are
in Madrid and free, and that you will be here in a few minutes. You had
better leave her to herself for a little while to get calm. Of course
she is greatly shaken, but she stood it better than I had expected, when
I went in. I found that she believed I had not told her all, and was
prepared to find that I had really got some important clue as to your
whereabouts. Of course that made it easier for me to tell her the truth
gradually."
They talked for a short time and then Leon went out of the room, and a
minute later Mercedes ran in, and with a cry of joy rushed into Arthur's
arms. Leon came in ten minutes later, and found her sitting on a sofa
with her head on Arthur's shoulder.
"It is almost worth while having been so unhappy, Leon," she said, "to
feel such joy as I do now."
"Well, I won't say that, Mercedes; at the same time I admit that it is
very joyful to have him back again."
"I know nothing yet," she said, "of what has happened, or what has kept
him away from us. I have been too perfectly happy at having him back,
to think of asking what he has been doing."
"He has been shut up to keep him away from you."
"To keep him away from me?" Mercedes repeated.
"Yes, dear. It seems that it occurred to some of the worthy fathers of
the church that it would be a very sinful thing for you to marry a
heretic; and also that if this heretic were to disappear, possibly you
might take it into your head to enter a convent and bestow your wealth
upon the church. Accordingly they seized him and put him into a cell in
a monastery, and informed him that he would have to remain there until
you had entered a convent. As Arthur entertained quite different views
he set to work to escape from his cell, and after six weeks' hard
digging underground, he this morning made his way out, and here he is."
"Is it possible," the girl said, standing up with wide open eyes, "that
it was the church that took Arthur from me?"
"Yes, dear; some unworthy members of the church."
"Arthur," she said, "when we are married and you take me to England, you
shall teach me what your church believes. I will never remain in a
church that has treated us so."
"We will talk about that, dear, later on," Arthur said soothingly.
"There are bad people and good in every church, and there is no reason
for changing because some of them may do wrong things. If, some day,
you really come to think that our religion is the best, I shall be very
pleased, but it must not be because some men, in an excess of zeal for
their church, have somewhat ill-treated me."
Leon nodded approvingly. "You speak rightly, Arthur. Many evil things
have been done in Spain by the priests. I believe myself that the
misfortunes that have befallen us are a punishment for the evil deeds
done in the name of religion here. But, as you say, it is not because
evil deeds are mistakenly done in its name that the religion itself is
bad. I myself am no bigot--there are very few educated men in this
country who are so--and I fully recognized, when I first saw what
Mercedes' feelings were towards you, that if she became your wife it was
possible that in time she would adopt your religion. In all their main
features there is no great difference between the two creeds, and
certainly I should feel no great grief should Mercedes adopt your faith;
but I agree with you that it should be as the result of conviction, and
not merely because she has reason to complain of the action towards you
of certain fanatics. Now, we will go in to the girls, who will be dying
to know what has taken place."
*CHAPTER XIX*
*MILITARY MOVEMENTS*
"Now, girls," Leon said, when Arthur had given a full relation of his
adventure, "you must understand that this story must not go beyond
ourselves. Whether any steps will be taken in the matter must depend
largely upon what the queen regent and her advisers decide. It is a
grave matter for the state to embroil itself with the church, and Arthur
has already told me that he will be guided entirely by their wishes in
the matter. I thank him for his consideration. Angry as I am at what
has taken place, I feel that we ourselves could not but suffer were such
a grave scandal to get abroad, for whatever might be the results to the
people who have been concerned in this, we should undoubtedly be held in
some respects accountable for them; and it is certainly a serious matter
to quarrel with the church.
"The results might be very far-reaching. If this outrage upon a British
officer were known in England, it would produce a most unfavourable
impression. The cause of the queen has received warm support there,
British soldiers and sailors have been fighting for us; but there is
still a strong Carlist party in England, and these would certainly take
advantage of this affair to stir up public feeling against us.
Therefore I feel that we are all under a great obligation to Arthur for
volunteering to put himself in the hands of the regent, and to consent
to allow this business to be hushed up. At any rate, you must preserve
absolute silence until we know what is to be done. I am going to drive
to the palace now to lay the matter before the regent, and shall be able
to tell you more this afternoon. Now, Mercedes, if you will take my
advice you will lie down for a bit; you have been ill, you know, and are
not yet strong."
"I shall soon be strong again," she said; "still, I shall take your
advice, for I do feel shaken, and I want to be bright this afternoon
when you come back."
Leon drove with Arthur to the palace, and the former sent in word to the
queen regent that he begged to see her in private audience. A quarter
of an hour later they were shown into the room where she was sitting.
She rose with an exclamation of surprise on seeing Arthur.
"Why, where have you been, Captain Hallett?" she exclaimed. "I began to
give up all hope of ever seeing you again."
"It is a somewhat long story, your majesty, but if you will condescend
to listen to it I will tell it to you in full. I have come not to
demand justice at your hands, but to leave the matter entirely to you,
to take any steps or no steps at all, as you may decide."
He then told the story, his narrative being frequently interrupted by
exclamations of anger from Christina.
"It is infamous!" she exclaimed, when he brought the story to an end;
"most infamous! I thank you most heartily for having come direct to me
instead of sending your complaint home. It is a very serious matter.
The church is already by no means well disposed towards me, and the
priests throughout the country have largely thrown their influence on to
the side of my enemies. I have a council this afternoon, and shall
bring the matter before them; you have indeed added greatly to the
obligation I am already under to you by offering to leave the matter in
my hands. Of course you have a right to large compensation for this
illegal imprisonment."
"I can assure you that I desire no compensation at all, your majesty; I
have already benefited very largely by your bounty. The only thing I
would ask is, that if nothing is done, you will receive Donna Mercedes
at your palace and take her under your protection until we are married.
Having failed with me, the next attempt will be made upon her, and she
would find it a much harder task than I have to free herself from their
hands."
"That I will very gladly do, senor; and I don't think that even the
church would venture to interfere with a lady under my protection. If
it did, it would find me far less forgiving than you are."
The next morning Arthur received a message requesting him to go to the
palace.
"Your case was fully discussed yesterday, Captain Hallett," the queen
regent said, "and my council are all grateful for your magnanimity in
placing yourself in their hands. They are fully sensible of the great
wrong that has been inflicted upon you, and of the very serious
consequences that might have ensued if you had chosen to place your case
in the hands of the British government. I had sent to the prior of the
monastery of St. Isidore, and he was called before the council and
ordered to explain his conduct. He did not in any way attempt to deny
the facts as stated by you, but declared that he was acting under the
orders of the bishop, whereupon an order was sent the latter to leave
the country at once and take up his residence at Rome until he shall
have received permission to return. The council proposed to pay you ten
thousand pounds as an indemnity for the treatment you have received. I
told them that I would inform you of their decision, but that you had
already expressed to me your determination not to accept one. They were
a little incredulous," she said with a slight smile, "which is not to be
wondered at, considering that there was not one of them who would, in
similar circumstances, have felt the slightest hesitation in accepting
such an offer. However, I told them I would see you to-day and lay the
offer before you."
"Which I need hardly say, your majesty, I decline. I own that I am well
pleased to hear that the author of this affair has received some
punishment. After that, madam, I do not think it will be necessary for
Donna Mercedes to avail herself of your kind protection. The issue of
this order for the bishop to go into exile will be so strong a mark of
your majesty's displeasure that there can, I think, be no fear whatever
of any further steps being taken by my enemies. Donna Mercedes has been
very ill, and I think she will be more likely to recover her health
speedily in the society of her brother and sisters than in the
atmosphere of the palace, where, however great your majesty's kindness,
there must be a certain amount of stiffness and ceremony."
"I should have been glad to have her with me," Christina said, "but
there is no doubt a certain amount of truth in what you say. However, I
will have her here frequently, so that it may be understood that she is
a special friend of mine, in which case I am sure no one will try to
interfere with her."
Colonel Wylde returned that evening, and after hearing the whole story
from Arthur, expressed his warm approval of the course he had taken.
"It would have been most damaging to the royal cause," he said, "if this
affair had been made public in England; and though I think you would
have been more than justified in accepting the amount offered as an
indemnity, I can but admire your disinterestedness in refusing it."
"And now, colonel, I am ready to start for any point where you may
require my services; I have been idle too long already."
"Well, the war is practically over in the north. That scoundrel Maroto
has arranged terms for himself, and for a few of his friends, with
Espartero, but has made no conditions whatever for the soldiers who have
fought so hard for Don Carlos. However, these have been permitted to
return to their homes, and at present Espartero is occupied in settling
affairs there and in preparing his army to take the field in the spring
against Cabrera. A number of small isolated campaigns are going on in
Aragon. We have already three or four commissioners there, but it is
perhaps as well that you should proceed there at once, as it is now
three months since I have had any reports from you to send in with mine.
I have, of course, been obliged to report your disappearance, and shall
now mention that you had been pounced upon by some enemies of the queen
and held in confinement, but that you had effected your escape."
That evening Arthur heard from Leon that Count Silvio had been released
from the close observation he had been subjected to for the past two
months. "It is believed," he said, "that he was the instigator of the
action against you, but there is no proof whatever that this is so, and
there is therefore no excuse for keeping him further under arrest. He
has, however, been ordered to retire to his estates, as there is at
least the strongest ground for suspecting that he was concerned in the
attack upon you by those street ruffians, and his whole conduct has been
in the highest degree suspicious."
"I shall be glad to know that he is away, Leon. Of course I am not sure
that he was really concerned in my imprisonment; the priest who is
Mercedes' confessor is likely enough to be at the bottom of it."
"I think so too, and have told Mercedes that she had better choose some
other confessor."
"I think the two men were set upon me by him; but I am inclined to own
that I was in the wrong in the matter of that duel. It was somewhat
reasonable that he should have been jealous, and it would have been fair
if I had contented myself with running him through the shoulder instead
of making him a perfect laughing-stock. I was irritated by his manner,
and by the way in which he had brought two or three dozen of his friends
to see him run me through. Still, I own that I was wrong, and if the man
would come and offer to shake hands I would not refuse to do so."
"Then you are a good deal more forgiving than I should be," Leon said
heartily; "and I should like nothing better than to fight him myself.
However, I admit that there is something in what you say; certainly he
had some ground of complaint against Mercedes. I felt that it was hard
upon him when I wrote begging him to break off the engagement. Of
course, I have been glad that I did so since I have come to know him
better, and feel that Mercedes had a very fortunate escape."
"Don't let her go out unless she is accompanied by one of her sisters as
well as her duenna."
"No, I will take care of that; she shall be well looked after, I promise
you, and I don't suppose she herself will care for going out except to
the palace. It will be well for her to go there pretty often. She is
fond of Christina, and she will feel herself that her intimacy there
will be a great protection to her."
In Catalonia the Carlists were still very strong. The royal army
numbered at least fifty-five thousand men. About seventeen
thousand--half of whom were regular troops--garrisoned the permanent
forts, and of the remainder twenty-five thousand belonging to the local
militia were scattered among no fewer than two hundred and seventeen
fortified villages and small towns. These were of no military
importance, but if they had not been defended, Cabrera's forces, which
were marching about the country, would have swept them bare of their
inhabitants, carrying off all the stores they contained, and burning
them to the ground. It was therefore necessary to garrison them, not
only because this diminished the supply of stores available for the use
of the enemy, but because it enabled contributions to be levied for the
queen's cause. Undoubtedly the holding of these places answered those
purposes, but, upon the other hand, the employment in this manner of
practically the whole army in Catalonia completely unfitted it for all
operations in the field, and enabled Cabrera to carry on his operations
without meeting with any efficient opposition.
In this way he captured place after place, massacring the greater
portion of the inhabitants and striking terror into the others. Arthur
had been despatched to join the command of General Van Halen, who was
occupied principally in endeavouring to victual Lucena, and in trying in
a feeble way to fortify the castle of Onda. The operation progressed
slowly, for although the war had been going on for years no tools were
available, and it was necessary to send to Cadiz to purchase them.
Colonels Lacy and Alderson were with Van Halen when Arthur arrived, and
after staying here for a short time he joined the command of General
Ayerbe, who was endeavouring to mitigate the Carlist system of
atrocities. On this subject Arthur exchanged several letters with
Cabrera. General Ayerbe was also endeavouring to prevent the Carlists
from carrying out the fortification of Segura, an important place In
Aragon, as it lay on the line of march to Teruel and Alcaniz. Parra was
lying near, but refused to co-operate with Ayerbe, and Van Halen
determined to march on Segura himself and lay siege to it.
Before he arrived, however, Ayerbe, having been reinforced, defeated the
Carlists at a place two hours' march from the town, drove them back from
their new works, and in his report of the action mentioned that Captain
Hallett had rendered material services and had led a small party of
cavalry in a brilliant charge which decided the fate of the day. Serrano
brought up a battering train from Saragossa. It consisted, however, of
only three 16-pounders, a 12-inch mortar, and a 9-inch howitzer, and all
the ammunition he could obtain amounted to fifteen hundred shot and one
thousand shell. It was a long business to bring up even this feeble
train. The weather was inclement in the extreme, and when he arrived in
front of Segura--the garrison of which had been very strongly reinforced
by Cabrera--he found that his force was wholly insufficient for the
attack upon the place, and that the town itself had been burnt by the
Carlists to prevent it from affording any shelter to the besiegers.
The surrounding country had been wasted for many miles, and large bodies
of Carlists were seen upon some adjoining heights. He therefore
consulted with the officers commanding the various armies, and these
unanimously declared that it would be madness to attempt a siege in such
circumstances. Abandoning the idea, therefore, he embarked upon a series
of long and fatiguing marches, by which he caused the Carlists to give
up the siege of several places. He did not, however, mitigate the
animosity of his rivals, who succeeded in obtaining his recall on the
ground of his having abandoned the siege of Segura, which they said
might easily have fallen into his hands. Nogueras succeeded him, but
was speedily displaced by Ayerbe. He, however, did not long retain the
command, which was given to O'Donnell, an active and energetic young
officer.
Owing to the absence of any decisive action Arthur remained at
head-quarters, receiving orders from Colonel Lacy, who was the principal
of the four English commissioners attached to the armies of Catalonia
and Aragon. They hailed the appointment of O'Donnell as affording some
grounds for hope that at last something like vigour would be shown in
the operations of the army, which was at present scattered about the
country, employed rather in collecting provisions for their own
subsistence than in harassing the enemy.
"If it wasn't that the fighting in the north is finished, and that a few
more months will see the end of the whole affair, I should throw up my
commission and go home," Arthur said one day to Roper. "This really is
sickening; but having gone through so much of it, I should not like to
leave until it was all over."
"No, sir; I should like to see the Carlists smashed up altogether before
we go. Still, it is dull work. Of course, while we are staying down
here in Saragossa we get plenty to eat and drink, but when we are away
in the country it is pretty rough work, and a beggar would turn up his
nose at the food we have to eat. I should not mind if there was really
anything to do, but these Spaniards are so pig-headed that they won't
take advice. They have a big army if they would but gather it together
and go at the Carlists."
"Yes, it certainly seems like that, Roper; but you must remember that a
big army requires a tremendous transport train, for it would have to
carry everything with it. At this time of year little food is to be
obtained, and in fact the people of these villages and little towns
scarcely do any cultivation of the land, for they cannot tell who will
reap what they have sown. Then, too, most of the country is
mountainous, the roads are everywhere abominable, and even if we had a
train sufficient to carry the supplies, it would be so large and
cumbrous that its tail would not have left the halting-place when the
head arrived at its destination; and you must remember, that if we
concentrate, the Carlists would do the same. A portion of them would
harass us along the whole line of march, while another would make
excursions wherever they pleased, for they march light, and could go
three miles to every one that we can cover. There is no doubt that this
dispersal of our force over so large an extent of country, and among so
many towns and villages, is a grievous mistake; but it is very difficult
to see what else can be done, for if we gave them no defence these
places would all lie at the mercy of the Carlists, and would be obliged
in self-preservation to go over to them, thus enormously increasing
their recruiting-ground, and enabling them to get stores wherever they
marched. If Cabrera would but gather the whole of his force together
and allow us to do the same, and risk everything on a pitched battle,
the matter would soon be brought to an end. But, as it is, I am afraid
we shall have to wait till Espartero arrives before the business can be
wound up."
[Illustration: "THE TWO WEAPONS FLASHED AT THE SAME MOMENT"]
The first step General O'Donnell had to undertake was the relief of
General Asnar, who was shut up by the Carlists in Lucena. Having
received large reinforcements he started for that place, marching
unencumbered by baggage. The enemy's first position near Lucena was
easily carried. Five battalions then attacked the enemy's left, which
occupied a position that would enable them to take the Christino advance
in flank. When this movement was successful, two battalions attacked the
right of the Carlist position, while O'Donnell placed himself at the
head of the rest of the troops, who advanced with loud cheers to the
charge over very rugged ground and under a very heavy fire. The
Carlists would not wait to stand a bayonet charge, and abandoned their
ground, leaving the road open to Lucena, where Asnar with his troops had
been imprisoned for twenty-two days.
This was a brilliant piece of fighting, and immensely raised the spirits
of the royal troops, who found that they were at last commanded by a
man, and not by incapable and almost imbecile dummies. On the following
day O'Donnell marched to Murviedro, though he had not had more than
three hours' continuous rest since he had left Saragossa.
A fortnight later he proceeded to take possession of the heights beyond
Arteza, his intention being to besiege Tales, which was important
because it commanded the water-supply of the town of Onda. The position
of the enemy was a strong one: his right was on a hill called the Pena
Negro, and on a round hill on a slope between it and Tales; his centre
was upon the Castle of Tales; and his left on precipitous heights. From
the last-mentioned the Carlists were driven without loss, after offering
but a very slight resistance.
Arthur had been requested by Colonel Alderson--an engineer officer, who
was now senior commissioner--to reconnoitre the ground beyond these
heights to ascertain whether the place could be better bombarded from
the rear. Roper, as usual, rode with him. They had gone some distance
when they saw two horsemen approaching at full gallop. As these were
apparently unaccompanied, Arthur paid but little attention to them, and
rode on until he heard a loud and imperious order to stop. Reining in
their horses they awaited the arrival of the two unknown men. They were
within fifty yards when Arthur exclaimed, "It is Cabrera himself! Well,
I am not sorry to meet him."
Cabrera, as he approached, gave a shout of satisfaction as he recognized
Arthur. "Well," he exclaimed, "you have got the better of me twice;
this time it will be my turn!"
"That is as it may be," Arthur replied. He saw Cabrera draw a pistol
from his holster and he did the same, and the two weapons flashed out
together. Arthur felt a stinging pain, as if a red-hot iron had crossed
his cheek. Cabrera dropped his pistol, having evidently received a shot
in his right arm, but he drew his sword with his left, and rode at
Arthur. Both combatants fought with fury--Cabrera animated by a burning
desire for vengeance, Arthur by the thought of the importance of killing
Cabrera, for he was the spirit of the war, and after his death the
Carlist movement would soon come to an end.
The combat was short but desperate. The disadvantage of having to use
his left arm greatly hampered Cabrera. In point of skill he would have
been in any case inferior to his opponent, but for a time the fury of
his assault counterbalanced this. Parrying three or four furious cuts,
Arthur delivered a heavy blow on his antagonist's left shoulder,
inflicting a severe wound and striking him from his saddle. Cabrera
leapt to his feet again. Arthur dismounted and demanded his surrender.
"Never!" the Carlist said. "Cabrera will never be taken alive!"
Roper had by this time disembarrassed himself of his antagonist by
running him through the body, and he now rode up. Cabrera was half-mad
with rage. Both his arms were useless. Just as Arthur was about to
throw himself upon him and overpower him, Roper shouted, "Mount, master!
mount and ride! Fifty of his fellows are upon us."
Looking round, Arthur saw that a body of men were riding furiously
towards them, and were a little over fifty yards away. He hesitated a
moment, and then leapt on to his horse, shouting to Cabrera: "Next time,
senor, we will finish what we have begun!" and then rode off. Several
shots were fired, but, leaning low in their saddles, they galloped away
at full speed, and, both being well mounted, were speedily beyond
pursuit; and, indeed, most of the Carlists had gathered round their
chief.
On regaining their camp Arthur reported what had taken place to Colonel
Alderson, who at once took him across to O'Donnell.
"You have done well indeed, Captain Hallett," said the general; "and
though it is a grievous pity that you did not kill him, which would have
been more to our advantage than the winning of a pitched battle, it will
lay him up for a time, and that will be more to us than a reinforcement
of ten thousand men. I thank you most heartily, sir, in the name of the
government."
Cabrera, indeed, after his wounds were attended to, still gave his
orders for the defence of the town, and inspired his troops by his
presence. Under his eye they made several desperate sorties against the
battery which was being prepared for breaching the wall. The battery
was placed and but feebly worked, for throughout the war the Christino
operations in the way of sieges were always unskilfully managed, owing
to the utter incompetence of their engineers. However, a week after
their appearance before the town, fire was opened. The siege was delayed
for a time owing to the necessity for sending reinforcements to a body
of the queen's troops which had suffered a severe defeat at Chulilla.
The battering train was small and indifferent, and several of the guns
gave way during the bombardment, which lasted seven days. At the end of
that time an assault was ordered.
The engineers obstinately refused to accept Colonel Alderson's advice to
make ladders, although it was evident that the breach could not be
scaled without them. Resisting very strongly, the enemy's left was at
last turned, and the round tower on the right captured. The garrison,
however, fought desperately, and made continuous efforts to retake it.
All day the battle continued. The breach in the castle was found to be
impracticable, but was at last enlarged, and the enemy were compelled to
surrender. The day's fighting, however, had cost the queen's troops a
loss of at least four hundred killed and wounded, almost all of which
might have been spared had Colonel Alderson's advice been taken.
Cabrera had left the town before the attack began, being too much
injured to take the command himself. The defence, however, had been a
gallant one, and although the capture of the place gave great
encouragement to the Christinos, the stubbornness of the defence and the
loss they had inflicted served to show the Carlists that the conquest of
the number of strongly-fortified positions they held was beyond their
opponents' power.
O'Donnell destroyed the castle and tower, and then retired, as the town
could no longer be held by the Carlists for the purpose of harassing the
garrison of Onda. He decided now to reduce a number of the Carlists'
fortified places and wait for the arrival of Espartero; but the Carlists
took the offensive, and their columns moved about with such activity
that the army was kept constantly on the march to encounter them and
drive them back again into the mountains. It was not till October that
Espartero arrived at Saragossa and met O'Donnell there. Then it was
decided that, until the arrival of reinforcements which were coming from
the north, O'Donnell should continue in command, his force being
strengthened by seven battalions of the army of the north. Espartero
advanced with the rest of his own force. Their plans, however, were
altered by the early setting in of winter. The roads speedily became
impassable, provisions were terribly scarce, and the movements of the
armies paralysed. All the energies of the commanders were indeed
required to maintain the supply of provisions for the troops.