FRIEND OR FOE!
I have before said that Don Felipe was our nearest neighbour; the
grounds of his house, indeed, joined our own, and I might easily have
gone there on foot. Perhaps it was a touch of pride which induced me
to go on horseback, as I was a good rider, and young enough to feel a
certain satisfaction in my appearance.
I had grown beyond the recollection of the gatekeeper, who admitted me
to the courtyard with a show of deference, saying that both his master
and young mistress were at home. Rosa's mother had been dead for some
years.
Don Felipe had numerous servants, and to one of them I threw the reins,
telling him to mind my horse. Then going to the door, I inquired for
Don Felipe.
The major-domo was showing me to a small room, when a girl, merrily
humming a popular Royalist song, came tripping along the corridor.
Suddenly she stopped, looked hard at me, and then came forward again,
saying, "Juan! Surely you are Juan Crawford?"
I have sometimes laughed since at my stupidity, yet there might be
found some excuse for it. During my absence from Lima I had often
thought of my little playmate, but it had never occurred to me that
time would change her as well as myself. And now, instead of the merry
child with whom I had romped and played, there appeared a beautiful
girl at whom I gazed in wonder.
"Are you not Juan Crawford?" she asked again, speaking softly.
"Yes," said I, "I am Juan; but you, señorita?"
Her face rippled with merry laughter; but pouting her lips, she said,--
"What a poor compliment to your old friend, Juan! Surely you have not
forgotten Rosa!"
"Nay, that have I not; I have forgotten nothing. But you are so
changed, Rosa--so different!"
"So are you; but I knew you at once. When did you come home? Have you
come to see me?"
"Yes, and your father as well. I have some business with him."
"Oh!" cried she, tossing her head and frowning, "of course you and he
are on the same side. My father is a Patriot now, and cries, 'Down
with the king!' I suppose your meddlesome general has sent you with a
message."
I did not undeceive her; and while the servant carried my name to his
master, we entered one of the rooms and continued our conversation. I
saw she was troubled; yet with great skill and grace she put me at
ease, and led me to talk of what had happened during the last two years.
"What a fire-eater you are, Juan!" she cried banteringly. "I am quite
afraid of you. But what a fine sword you have! Ah, if I were only a
boy! Can you guess what I would do?"
"No," I replied, with a shake of the head. "No one can guess what a
girl will do."
"But I said a boy."
"Ah! that would be altogether different."
"I will tell you then," she said, standing up and speaking very
earnestly. "I would get a sword and pistols and join the king's
friends. I would be a loyal Spanish cavalier, Juan, if I were the only
one in Peru!"
"Then it is lucky you are a girl, Rosa, or you would soon be killed. I
would not harm the king, even if he were here instead of being in
Spain, thousands of miles away; but I have no love for those who rule
in his name."
"No," said she, casting down her eyes, and I thought her voice sounded
sad; "you have suffered at their hands. But it is not the king's
fault, Juan; he would have seen you righted."
"It is a long way from Peru to Spain," said I, trying to speak
carelessly, "and it seems as if in these days one must right one's own
wrongs."
After that we sat speaking very little, each afraid lest the talk
should drift into an awkward channel, for I felt sure that she knew how
her father had robbed us of our estates.
On the return of the servant she whispered earnestly, "My father has
changed greatly. I am sure he is unhappy. If he should appear cross
and irritable, you will bear with him, won't you, Juan?"
"I will do my best, Rosa. But why should he be angry with me? I am
only going to ask him a question."
Don Felipe was truly much altered. His dark hair was plentifully
sprinkled with silver; there were deep lines in his forehead and around
his lips; his eyes had become shifty, and there was a look of cunning
in them. He gave me just one swift, searching glance, and then looked
away. It was an awkward meeting, and I hardly knew what to say.
Fortunately Don Felipe took the lead.
"You have grown almost out of knowledge, my young friend; and I notice
you have obtained military rank," said he, with a covert sneer.
"I have the honour to be a lieutenant in the army to which we both
belong, señor," I replied.
He winced at that, and his eyes glowed angrily.
"If you have brought me a message from your general," said he, "will
you at once deliver it? I am very busy just now."
"I will not take up more than five minutes of your valuable time,
señor. My errand is an important one, though _at present_ it has
nothing to do with General San Martin."
Again he glanced at me sharply, and I thought he seemed slightly
nervous.
"I must ask you to be quick with it," he said coldly.
"I only desire to ask you about the death of my father. I am sure you
will give me all the information in your power, as he died for the
independence of Peru, which to-day both you and I are trying to secure."
At that he started up, his eyes blazing, his hand on his sword.
"Do you think I killed your father?" he roared furiously. "He died
through his own fault. I warned him again and again that the time was
not ripe, but he paid no heed to me."
"Are you not mistaken?" I asked. "According to the Indians' account,
he was slain while trying to prevent them from rising."
"Then the government was deceived. No good can be done by digging up
the dead past, but you shall hear all that I know of the story. At
that time there were three parties in the country. One section, led by
your father, resolved upon armed insurrection; another, composed of
Royalists, determined that nothing should be changed; the third, to
which I belonged, endeavoured to obtain reform by moderate means. I
need not say that your father was a marked man. One day the viceroy
received word that he had started for the mountains in order to rouse
the Indians to revolt, and, to prevent mischief, it was arranged that
he should be placed in prison. As you may know, he refused to submit
quietly, and, unfortunately, was shot in the fight which ensued."
"Was his body brought back to Lima?"
"I never heard so. Most probably it was left on the mountains. I was
sorry for him; but he was a headstrong man, and would not listen to
reason."
"That was foolish of him," I remarked quietly. "Had he waited till the
proper time to declare his real opinions, he would not have lost his
life, nor my mother her property. It is possible, indeed, that our
estates would have been largely added to."
"The estates were confiscated, it is true," said Don Felipe slowly,
"but they fell into friendly hands." Then, in quite a kindly tone, he
added, "You feel bitter against me, Juan--I see it in your face.
Perhaps it is natural; yet you really have no reason to do so. I must
not say more now, but all will come right in the end."
"So I intend," said I stoutly, yet feeling rather mystified.
The man's sudden change of manner puzzled me. After all, I was only a
boy, with little ability and no training to seek for things lying
beneath the surface. And Montilla seeing the state of my mind, played
upon it with consummate skill.
I cannot truthfully say that he made any definite promise, but this was
the impression I received:--Knowing that all my father's property was
forfeit to the law, he had exerted his influence to secure it. At that
time he thought the trouble would be settled without fighting, and
intended in a year or two to restore the estates. When the war broke
out, he endeavoured to bring the viceroy over to the cause of reform,
but finding that impossible, was compelled reluctantly to join the
Patriots. Of course, in the matter of the estates, nothing could be
done now till the war was over.
"Thus," said he cheerfully, "the future is safe. If the Patriots win,
we can have the confiscation revoked; while, on the other hand, I count
so many friends among the moderate Royalists that the viceroy would
hardly care to thwart me."
"In any case," said I bluntly, though with no wish to vex him, "the
Indians will see that I am not wronged!"
"Trust me," he answered, his voice sounding now like the purring of a
cat; "Felipe Montilla never makes mistakes."
I had a stinging reply on my lips, but refraining from giving it
utterance, I bade him farewell.
"Come again, Juan," said he, "if the general can spare you!" And
though not overburdened with wits, I had a sense of being laughed at.
I was joined in the corridor by Rosa, who wanted to know why I was
going so soon.
"I really must," I answered, smiling. "I have spent no time with my
mother yet, and I may be sent for at any moment."
"But this will not be _good-bye_?"
"On the contrary, I hope to see you often. Your father has given me
the kindest of invitations."
At this she opened her eyes wide; but quickly recovering herself, she
smiled pleasantly, and accompanied me to the hall. As I rode by, she
was standing at a window waving her hand.
I had much to think of during the short ride home, but I got little
satisfaction from my thoughts. Nothing had been gained by my visit to
Montilla, and his story only went to confirm the truth of the reports
of my father's death. As to my faith in his startling promises, it
grew weaker with every step my horse took.
I said nothing to my mother; but José, to whom I related all that had
passed, laughed loudly.
"The cunning old fox!" cried he; "he hasn't his equal for craft in
Peru! You will see that, whoever sinks, Don Felipe Montilla will swim."
"Not at my expense," I exclaimed, "while I have strength to raise an
arm."
The rest of that day I spent with my mother, forcing myself to forget
that any trouble existed in the world. It was only a brief spell of
happiness, but we enjoyed every second of it, and by nightfall my
mother's face had lost some of its sadness, and her eyes shone brightly
as in the olden days.
Early next morning an order was brought to me to rejoin Colonel Miller,
as it was arranged that, for a time at least, José should remain behind
to look after the affairs of the hacienda. The servants assembled in
the courtyard to see me off, and my mother came to the hall door.
There she embraced me, and stood smiling bravely as I mounted.
Whatever sorrow she felt was locked up tightly in her own breast.
Accompanied by the man who had brought the order, I rode briskly to
Mirones, the headquarters of the Patriot army, and about a mile from
Callao.
The colonel was with San Martin and a group of officers, watching the
enemy's movements; but he turned to me at once, saying, "General, this
is Lieutenant Crawford, of whom I spoke."
San Martin, the Protector of Peru, was a tall man with black hair,
bushy whiskers, and a deep olive complexion. He had black, piercing
eyes, fringed by long lashes and overhung by heavy brows and a high,
straight forehead. He was strong and muscular, with an erect, military
carriage. He looked every inch a soldier, and one, moreover, with an
iron will that nothing could bend. His voice was harsh and unmusical,
but he spoke in a kindly, simple, and unaffected manner.
"Colonel Miller has told me many things of you, lieutenant," said he,
"and all to your credit. I am glad to know that the son of Don Eduardo
Crawford is following so well in his father's steps."
"Thank you, general," I replied, bowing low.
"I understand," he continued, "that Colonel Miller wishes to keep you
with him. It is certainly an honourable post; but I fancy you are
likely to get many hard knocks," he concluded, with a laugh.
"He has had a strong taste of the service, general," observed Miller,
with a merry smile.--"Are you willing to stay with me, Crawford?"
"Yes, certainly, sir, with the general's permission."
"Very well," said San Martin. "And, by the way, colonel, let him have
on hour's sleep now and again,"--a little joke at which the group of
officers, knowing the Englishman's habits, laughed heartily.
The general presently rode off to his quarters, the officers went to
their several duties, and I accompanied Colonel Miller to that part of
the field in which his men were stationed. He had been appointed to
the command of a column seven hundred strong, which was held in
readiness to move at any moment. The officers were unknown to me, but
they seemed pleasant, genial fellows, and in a short time I felt quite
at home with them. The younger ones were grumbling because San Martin
did not at once attack the enemy, saying that Canterac would slip away
to the mountains in the night.
"Then his army will break up of its own accord," remarked a grizzled
major. "He can't take his guns, and his troops are starving. Hundreds
will throw down their weapons on finding us close at their heels."
"Better have a straight fight and have done with it," grumbled a
youngster. "There's no fun playing at hide-and-seek in the hills."
"Should you live to be a man," said the major reprovingly, "you won't
talk in such a light-hearted way of a battle." And the boy's face
flushed at the laugh which greeted the remark.
"Don't be too sarcastic, Gamarra," cried another. "The youngster's
right in the main. If Canterac escapes, the war may drag on for
months, and will cost thousands of lives. The mountains will kill more
than a pitched battle would."
"Canterac can't escape if we follow him up properly," said the major,
"and Colonel Miller seems the man to do that."
"That is so; but he can't move without orders; and there's more than
one man in high places who will prefer Lima to a pursuit."
Thus they talked during the afternoon, and early in the evening Colonel
Miller ordered that every one not on duty should turn in at once; which
we took to be a sign that something was going to happen shortly.
At ten o'clock the column was roused. The men assembled silently, and
a whisper went round that Canterac had begun his retreat. For more
than an hour we awaited fresh orders, the colonel on horseback fuming
impatiently, until at last the word came to march.
"An hour thrown away," muttered the colonel angrily. "Canterac will
laugh in our faces."
To our disgust, we found that the column was attached to the main army,
and that we had to move step by step to the will of the chief. I knew
very little about military tactics, but it was a strange kind of
pursuit, and made me think of a tortoise chasing a hare.
"I wonder what Captain Plaza would think of this performance?" said the
colonel, rather bitterly, as we jogged along. "This isn't the way he
took you after Santalla, eh?"
"Indeed no, colonel!" I replied, laughing. "The captain would have had
us on the other side of Lima by now."
"It's like a funeral procession," he muttered impatiently; "and if they
don't mind, 'twill be a funeral procession in reality. We shall be
burying the independence of Peru."
The ridiculous part of it was that our column had been formed of all
the light companies on purpose to swoop down on the foe. As far as I
could judge, the swoop was much like that of a hawk whose wings had
been carefully tied to its body.
However, we tramped along throughout the night, halting at daybreak
without getting a glimpse of the exulting Canterac.
"Never mind," exclaimed the colonel, who hated to look on the dark side
of things; "we may catch them during the day."
In this he was disappointed, as we proceeded in the same leisurely
manner, just as if we were out for a quiet stroll on a summer's day.
Several times Miller rode off to the staff, but on each occasion he
returned looking more dissatisfied than before.
The men wondered, and at each halt the officers talked pretty freely
among themselves, giving their opinions with refreshing vigour.
"Canterac has the start of us now," said one, "and we shall never
overtake him. We had the game in our hands, and have simply thrown it
away."
The grizzled major remained optimistic, saying, "You may depend that
San Martin has some scheme in his head." But the rest of us were
doubtful.
"If I had an enemy in a trap, my scheme would be to keep him there and
not to let him walk out through an open door," laughed a young captain.
"The war might have been finished to-day; now it's likely to go on for
another twelvemonth."
"Well," remarked one of his comrades, "it's a comfort to think we
shan't kill ourselves through over-exertion."
By degrees we pushed on to a place about nine leagues east of Lima,
where it seemed as if the lumbering machine had broken down altogether.
It was evening when we arrived and halted; the men ate the last morsel
of their scanty rations; the chief officers, though no one could
imagine what they found to discuss, held a conference, and presently it
leaked out that the pursuit had been abandoned.
"I don't profess to understand it," exclaimed Major Gamarra, "but you
will find that there's some grand scheme in the air."
"Ah!" interrupted another officer, in a sarcastic tone, "and no doubt
it will stay there; most of these precious schemes do. What I should
like to see would be a little common sense."
"Would you recognize it if you saw it?" put in the major quick as
lightning; and all the others laughed.
"Perhaps not. I've had little opportunity of renewing my acquaintance
with it since San Martin came to Peru."
This was a dangerous remark, as we were a very mixed crowd. Some had
come from Buenos Ayres with San Martin; others were Chilians who had
fought with him throughout the Chilian War; several, like myself, were
natives of Peru; while two or three were Englishmen.
Fortunately, before the dispute had had time to become hot, the colonel
returned from the conference, and joined us at the fire.
"I don't know, gentlemen, that anything is likely to happen," said he;
"but we may as well enjoy a night's rest while we can," and wrapping
his cloak around him, he lay down, setting an example which most of us
followed.