HOW CAPTAIN ALVARADO CROSSED THE MOUNTAINS, FOUND THE VICEROY, AND
PLACED HIS LIFE IN HIS MASTER'S HANDS
The highway between La Guayra and Venezuela was exceedingly rough and
difficult, and at best barely practicable for the stoutest wagons. The
road wound around the mountains for a distance of perhaps twenty-five
miles, although as the crow flies it was not more than five miles
between the two cities. Between them, however, the tremendous ridge of
mountains rose to a height of nearly ten thousand feet. Starting from
the very level of the sea, the road crossed the divide through a
depression at an altitude of about six thousand feet and descended
thence some three thousand feet to the valley in which lay Caracas.
This was the road over which Alvarado and Mercedes had come and on the
lower end of which they had been captured. It was now barred for the
young soldier by the detachment of buccaneers under young Teach and
L'Ollonois, who were instructed to hold the pass where the road crossed
through, or over, the mountains. Owing to the configuration of the pass,
that fifty could hold it against a thousand. It was not probable that
news of the sack of La Guayra would reach Caracas before Morgan
descended upon it, but to prevent the possibility, or to check any
movement of troops toward the shore, it was necessary to hold that road.
The man who held it was in position to protect or strike either city at
will. It was, in fact, the key to the position.
Morgan, of course, counted upon surprising the unfortified capital as he
had the seaport town. It was the boast of the Spaniards that they needed
no walls about Caracas, since nature had provided them with the mighty
rampart of the mountain range, which could not be surmounted save in
that one place. With that one place in the buccaneer's possession,
Caracas could only rely upon the number and valor of her defenders. To
Morgan's onslaught could only be opposed a rampart of blades and hearts.
Had there been a state of war in existence it is probable that the
Viceroy would have fortified and garrisoned the pass, but under present
conditions nothing had been done. As soon as a messenger from Teach
informed Morgan that the pass had been occupied and that all seemed
quiet in Caracas, a fact which had been learned by some bold scouting
on the farther side of the mountain, he was perfectly easy as to the
work of the morrow. He would fall upon the unwalled town at night and
carry everything by a _coup de main_.
Fortunately for the Spaniards in this instance, it happened that there
was another way of access to the valley of Caracas from La Guayra.
Directly up and over the mountain there ran a narrow and difficult
trail, known first to the savages and afterwards to wandering smugglers
or masterless outlaws. Originally, and until the Spaniards made the
wagon road, it had been the only way of communication between the two
towns. But the path was so difficult and so dangerous that it had long
since been abandoned, even by the classes which had first discovered and
traveled it. These vagabonds had formerly kept it in such a state of
repair that it was fairly passable, but no work had been done on it for
nearly one hundred years. Indeed, in some places, the way had been
designedly obliterated by the Spanish Government about a century since,
after one of the most daring exploits that ever took place in the new
world.
Ninety years before this incursion by the buccaneers, a bold English
naval officer, Sir Amyas Preston, after seizing La Guayra, had captured
Caracas by means of this path. The Spaniards, apprised of his descent
upon their coasts, had fortified the mountain pass but had neglected
this mountain trail, as a thing impracticable for any force. Preston,
however, adroitly concealing his movements, had actually forced his men
to ascend the trail. The ancient chroniclers tell of the terrific nature
of the climb, how the exhausted and frightened English sailors dropped
upon the rocks, appalled by their dangers and worn out by their
hardships, how Preston and his officers forced them up at the point of
the sword until finally they gained the crest and descended into the
valley. They found the town unprotected, for all its defenders were in
the pass, seized it, held it for ransom, then, sallying forth, took the
surprised Spanish troops in the pass in the rear and swept them away.
After this exploit some desultory efforts had been made by the Spaniards
to render the trail still more impracticable with such success as has
been stated, and it gradually fell into entire disuse. By nearly all the
inhabitants its very existence had been forgotten.
It was this trail that Alvarado determined to ascend. The difficulties
in his way, even under the most favorable circumstances, might well have
appalled the stoutest-hearted mountaineer. In the darkness they would be
increased a thousand-fold. He had not done a great deal of mountain
climbing, although every one who lived in Venezuela was more or less
familiar with the practice; but he was possessed of a cool head, an
unshakable nerve, a resolute determination, and unbounded strength,
which now stood him in good stead. And he had back of him, to urge him,
every incentive in the shape of love and duty that could move humanity
to godlike deed.
Along the base of the mountain the trail was not difficult although it
was pitch-dark under the trees which, except where the mighty cliffs
rose sheer in the air like huge buttresses of the range, covered the
mountains for the whole expanse of their great altitude, therefore he
made his way upward without trouble or accident at first. The moon's
rays could not pierce the density of the tropic foliage, of course, but
Alvarado was very familiar with this easier portion of the way, for he
had often traversed it on hunting expeditions, and he made good progress
for several hours in spite of the obscurity.
It had been long past midnight when he started, and it was not until
daybreak that he passed above the familiar and not untrodden way and
entered upon the most perilous part of his journey. The gray dawn
revealed to him the appalling dangers he must face.
Sometimes clinging with iron grasp to pinnacles of rock, he swung
himself along the side of some terrific precipice, where the slightest
misstep meant a rush into eternity upon the rocks a thousand feet below.
Sometimes he had to spring far across great gorges in the mountains that
had once been bridged by mighty trunks of trees, long since moldered
away. Sometimes there was nothing for him to do but to scramble down the
steep sides of some dark canyon and force himself through cold torrential
mountain streams that almost swept him from his feet. Again his path lay
over cliffs green with moss and wet with spray, which afforded most
precarious support to his grasping hands or slipping feet. Sometimes he
had to force a way through thick tropic undergrowth that tore his
clothing into rags.
Had he undertaken the ascent in a mere spirit of adventure he would have
turned back long since from the dangers he met and surmounted with such
hardship and difficulty; but he was sustained by the thought of the
dreadful peril of the woman he loved, the remembrance of the sufferings
of the hapless townspeople, and a consuming desire for revenge upon the
man who had wrought this ruin on the shore. With the pale, beautiful
face of Mercedes to lead him, and by contrast the hateful, cruel
countenance of Morgan to force him, ever before his vision, the man
plunged upward with unnatural strength, braving dangers, taking chances,
doing the impossible--and Providence watched over him.
It was perhaps nine o'clock in the morning when he reached the
summit--breathless, exhausted, unhelmed, weaponless, coatless, in rags;
torn, bruised, bleeding, but unharmed--and looked down on the white city
of Caracas set in its verdant environment like a handful of pearls in a
goblet of emerald. He had wondered if he would be in time to intercept
the Viceroy, and his strained heart leaped in his tired breast when he
saw, a few miles beyond the town on the road winding toward the Orinoco
country, a body of men. The sunlight blazing from polished helms or
pointed lance tips proclaimed that they were soldiers. He would be in
time, thank God!
With renewed vigor, he scrambled down the side of the mountain--and this
descent fortunately happened to be gentle and easy--and running with
headlong speed, he soon drew near the gate of the palace. He dashed into
it with reckless haste, indifferent to the protests of the guard, who
did not at first recognize in the tattered, bloody, wounded, soiled
specimen of humanity his gay and gallant commander. He made himself
known at once, and was confirmed in his surmise that the Viceroy had
set forth with his troops early in the morning and was still in reaching
distance on the road.
[Illustration: ... he reached the summit--breathless, exhausted,
unhelmed, weaponless, coatless, in rags; torn, bruised, bleeding, but
unharmed.]
Directing the best horse in the stables to be brought to him, after
snatching a hasty meal while it was being saddled, and not even taking
time to re-clothe himself, he mounted and galloped after. An hour later
he burst through the ranks of the little army and reined in his horse
before the astonished Viceroy, who did not recognize in this sorry
cavalier his favorite officer, and stern words of reproof for the
unceremonious interruption of the horseman broke from his lips until
they were checked by the first word from the young captain.
"The buccaneers have taken La Guayra and sacked it!" gasped Alvarado
hoarsely.
"Alvarado!" cried the Viceroy, recognizing him as he spoke. "Are you
mad?"
"Would God I were, my lord."
"The buccaneers?"
"Morgan--all Spain hates him with reason--led them!"
"Morgan! That accursed scourge again in arms? Impossible! I don't
understand!"
"The very same! 'Tis true! 'tis true! Oh, your Excellency----"
"And my daughter----"
"A prisoner! For God's love turn back the men!"
"Instantly!" cried the Viceroy.
He was burning with anxiety to hear more, but he was too good a soldier
to hesitate as to the first thing to be done. Raising himself in his
stirrups he gave a few sharp commands and the little army, which had
halted when he had, faced about and began the return march to Caracas at
full speed. As soon as their manoeuvres had been completed and they
moved off, the Viceroy, who rode at the head with Alvarado and the
gentlemen of his suite, broke into anxious questioning.
"Now, Captain, but that thou art a skilled soldier I could not believe
thy tale."
"My lord, I swear it is true!"
"And you left Donna Mercedes a prisoner?" interrupted de Tobar, who had
been consumed with anxiety even greater than that of the Viceroy.
"Alas, 'tis so."
"How can that be when you are free, senor?"
"Let me question my own officer, de Tobar," resumed the Viceroy
peremptorily, "and silence, all, else we learn nothing. Now, Alvarado.
What is this strange tale of thine?"
"My lord, after we left you yesterday morning we made the passage safely
down the mountain. Toward evening as we approached La Guayra, just
before the point where the road turns into the strand, we were set upon
by men in ambush. The soldiers and attendants were without exception
slain. Although I fought and beat down one or two of our assailants,
they struck me to the earth and took me alive. The two ladies and I
alone escaped. No indignity was offered them. I was bound and we were
led along the road to a camp. There appeared to be some three hundred
and fifty men under the leadership of a man who claimed to be Sir Henry
Morgan, sometime pirate and robber, later Vice-Governor of Jamaica, now,
as I gathered, in rebellion against his king and in arms against us.
They captured the plate galleon with lading from Porto Bello and Peru,
and were wrecked on this coast to the westward of La Guayra. They had
determined upon the capture of that town, whence they expected to move
on Caracas."
"And Mercedes?" again interrupted the impetuous and impassioned de
Tobar.
"Let him tell his tale!" commanded the Viceroy, sternly. "It behooves
us, gentlemen, to think first of the cities of our King."
"They had captured a band of holy nuns and priests. These were forced,
especially the women, by threats you can imagine, to plant scaling
ladders against the walls, and, although the troops made a brave
defense, the buccaneers mastered them. They carried the place by storm
and sacked it. When I left it was burning in several places and turned
into a hell."
"My God!" ejaculated the old man, amid the cries and oaths of his
fierce, infuriated men. "And now tell me about Mercedes."
"Morgan--who met her, you remember, when we stopped at Jamaica on our
return from Madrid?"
"Yes, yes!"
"He is in love with her. He wanted to make her his wife. Therefore he
kept her from the soldiery."
In his eagerness the Viceroy reined in his horse, and the officers and
men, even the soldiers, stopped also and crowded around the narrator.
"Did he--did he--O Holy Mother have pity upon me!" groaned the Viceroy.
"He did her no violence save to kiss her, while I was by."
"And you suffered it!" shouted de Tobar, beside himself with rage.
"What did she then?" asked the old man, waving his hand for silence.
"She struck him in the face again and again with her riding-whip. I was
bound, senors. I broke my bonds, struck down one of the guards, wrested
a sword from another, and sprang to defend her. But they overpowered
me. Indeed, they seized the lady and swore to kill her unless I dropped
my weapon."
"Death," cried de Lara, "would have been perhaps a fitting end for her.
What more?"
"We were conveyed into the city after the sack. He insulted her again
with his compliments and propositions. He sent a slave to fetch her,
but, bound as I was, I sprang upon him and beat him down."
"And then?"
"Then one of his men, an ancient, one-eyed sailor, interfered and bade
him look to the town, else it would be burned over his head, and urged
him to secure the pass. In this exigency the pirate desisted from his
plan against the lady. He sent Donna Mercedes to a dungeon, me to
another."
"How came you here, sir, and alone?" asked de Tobar, again interrupting,
and this time the Viceroy, pitying the agony of the lover, permitted the
question. "Did you, a Spanish officer, leave the lady defenseless amid
those human tigers?"
"There was nothing else to do, Don Felipe. The sailor who interfered, he
set me free. I did refuse to leave without the senorita. He told me I
must go without her or not at all. He promised to protect her honor or
to kill her--at least to furnish her with a weapon. To go, to reach
you, your Excellency, was the only chance for her. Going, I might save
her; staying, I could only die."
"You did rightly. I commend you," answered the veteran. "Go on."
"My lord, I thank you. The way over the road was barred by the party
that had seized the pass."
"And how came you?"
"Straight over the mountain, sir."
"What! The Indian trail? The English way?"
"The same."
"What next?"
"At ten to-night, the sailor who released me will open the city gate,
the west gate, beneath the shadow of the cliffs--we must be there!"
"But how? Can we take the pass? It is strongly held, you say."
"My lord, give me fifty brave men who will volunteer to follow me. I
will lead them back over the trail and we will get to the rear of the
men holding the pass. Do you make a feint at engaging them in force in
front and when their attention is distracted elsewhere we will fall on
and drive them into your arms. By this means we open the way. Then we
will post down the mountains with speed and may arrive in time. Nay, we
must arrive in time! Hornigold, the sailor, would guarantee nothing
beyond to-night. The buccaneers are drunk with liquor; tired out with
slaughter. They will suspect nothing. We can master the whole three
hundred and fifty of them with five score men."
"Alvarado," cried the Viceroy, "thou hast done well. I thank thee. Let
us but rescue my daughter and defeat these buccaneers and thou mayest
ask anything at my hands--saving one thing. Gentlemen and soldiers, you
have heard the plan of the young captain. Who will volunteer to go over
the mountains with him?"
Brandishing their swords and shouting with loud acclaim the great body
of troopers pressed forward to the service. Alvarado, who knew them all,
rapidly selected the requisite number, and they fell in advance of the
others. Over them the young captain placed his friend de Tobar as his
second in command.
"'Tis bravely done!" cried the Viceroy. "Now prick forward to the city,
all. We'll refresh ourselves in view of the arduous work before us and
then make our further dispositions."
The streets of Caracas were soon full of armed men preparing for their
venture. As soon as the plight of La Guayra and the Viceroy's daughter
became known there was scarcely a civilian, even, who did not offer
himself for the rescue. The Viceroy, however, would take only mounted
men, and of these only tried soldiers. Alvarado, whom excitement and
emotion kept from realizing his fatigue, was provided with fresh
apparel, after which he requested a private audience for a moment or two
with the Viceroy, and together they repaired to the little cabinet which
had been the scene of the happenings the night before.
"Your Excellency," began the young man, slowly, painfully, "I could not
wait even the hoped-for happy issue of our plans to place my sword and
my life in your hands."
"What have you done?" asked the old man, instantly perceiving the
seriousness of the situation from the anguish in his officer's look and
voice.
"I have broken my word--forfeited my life."
"Proceed."
"I love the Donna Mercedes----"
"You promised to say nothing--to do nothing."
"That promise I did not keep."
"Explain."
"There is nothing to explain. I was weak--it was beyond my strength. I
offer no excuse."
"You urge nothing in extenuation?"
"Nothing."
"'Twas deliberately done?"
"Nay, not that; but I----"
"S'death! What did you?"
"I told her that I loved her, again----"
"Shame! Shame!"
"I took her into my arms once more----"
"Thou double traitor! And she----"
"My lord, condemn her not. She is young--a woman."
"I do not consider Captain Alvarado, a dishonored soldier, my proper
mentor. I shall know how to treat my daughter. What more?"
"Nothing more. We abandoned ourselves to our dream, and at the first
possible moment I am come to tell you all--to submit----"
"Hast no plea to urge?" persisted the old man.
"None."
"But your reason? By God's death, why do you tell me these things? If
thou art base enough to fall, why not base enough to conceal?"
"I could not do so, your Excellency. I am not master of myself when she
is by--'tis only when away from her I see things in their proper light.
She blinds me. No, sir," cried the unhappy Alvarado, seeing a look of
contempt on the grim face of the old general, "I do not urge this in
defense, but you wanted explanation."
"Nothing can explain the falsehood of a gentleman, the betrayal of a
friend, the treachery of a soldier."
"Nothing--hence I am here."
"Perhaps I have estimated you too highly," went on the old man musingly.
"I had hoped you were gentle--but base blood must run in your veins."
"It may be," answered the young man brokenly, and then he added, as one
detail not yet told, "I have found my mother, sir."
"Thy mother? What is her condition?" cried the Viceroy, in curious and
interested surprise that made him forget his wrath and contempt for the
moment.
"She was an abbess of our Holy Church. She died upon the sands of La
Guayra by her own hand rather than surrender her honor or lend aid to
the sack of the town."
"That was noble," interrupted the old de Lara. "I may be mistaken after
all. Yet 'twere well she died, for she will not see----"
He paused significantly.
"My shame?" asked Alvarado.
"Thy death, senor, for what you have done. No other punishment is meet.
Did Donna Mercedes send any message to me?"
Alvarado could not trust himself to speak. He bowed deeply.
"What was it?"
The young man stood silent before him.
"Well, I will learn from her own lips if she be alive when we come to
the city. I doubt not it will excuse thee."
"I seek not to shelter myself behind a woman."
"That's well," said the old man. "But now, what is to be done with
thee?"
"My lord, give me a chance, not to live, but to die honestly. Let me
play my part this day as becomes a man, and when Donna Mercedes is
restored to your arms----"
"Thou wilt plead for life?"
"Nay, as God hears me, I will not live dishonored. Life is naught to me
without the lady. I swear to thee----"
"You have given me your word before, sir," said the old man sternly.
"On this cross--it was my mother's," he pulled from his doublet the
silver crucifix and held it up. "I will yield my life into your hands
without question then, and acclaim before the world that you are
justified in taking it. Believe me----"
"Thou didst betray me once."
"But not this time. Before God--by Christ, His Mother, by my own mother,
dead upon the sands, by all that I have hoped for, by my salvation, I
swear if I survive the day I will go gladly to my death at your
command!"
"I will trust you once more, thus far. Say naught of this to any one.
Leave me!"
"Your Excellency," cried the young man, kneeling before him, "may God
reward you!"
He strove to take the hand of the old man, but the latter drew it away.
"Even the touch of forsworn lips is degradation. You have your orders.
Go!"
Alvarado buried his face in his hands, groaned bitterly, and turned away
without another word.