OLD FRIENDS AND A NEW FOE.
I had made up my mind to see Carmen, if he still lived; and finding at
Chagres a schooner bound for La Guayra I took passages in her for myself
and Ramon, all the more willingly as the captain proposed to put in at
Curaçoa. It occurred to me that Van Voorst, the Dutch merchant in whose
hands I had left six hundred pounds, would be a likely man to advise me as
to the disposal of my diamonds--if he also still lived.
Rather to my surprise, for people die fast in the tropics, I did find the
old gentleman alive, but he had made so sure of my death that my
reappearance almost caused his. The pipe he was smoking dropped from his
mouth, and he sank back in his chair with an exclamation of fear and
dismay.
"Yor need not be alarmed, Mynheer Van Voorst," I said; "I am in the
flesh."
"I am glad to see you in the flesh. I don't believe in ghosts, of course.
But I happened to be in what you call a brown study, and as I had heard
you were shot long ago on the llanos you rather startled me, coming in so
quietly--that rascally boy ought to have announced you. But I was not
afraid--not in the least. Why should one be afraid of a ghost! And I saw
at a glance that, as you say, you were in the flesh. I suppose you have
come to inquire about your money. It is quite safe, my dear sir, and at
your disposal, and you will find that it has materially increased. I will
call for the ledger, and you shall see."
The ledger was brought in by a business-looking young man, whom the old
merchant introduced to me as his nephew and partner, Mynheer Bernhard Van
Voorst.
"This is Mr. Fortescue, Bernhard," he said, "the English gentleman who was
dead--I mean that I thought he was dead, but is alive--and who many years
ago left in my hands a sum of about two thousand piasters. Turn to his
account and see how much there is now to his credit?"
"At the last balance the amount to Mr. Fortescue's credit was six thousand
two hundred piasters."[2]
[2] At the time in question, "piaster" was a word often used as an
equivalent for "dollar," both in the "Gulf ports" and the West
Indies.
"You see! Did I not say so? Your capital is more than doubled."
"More than doubled! How so?"
"We have credited you with the colonial rate of interest--ten per
cent.--as was only right, seeing that you had no security, and we had used
the money in our business; and my friend, compound interest at ten per
cent, is a great institution. It beats gold-mining, and is almost as
profitable as being President of the Republic of Venezuela. How will you
take your balance, Mr. Fortescue? We will have the account made up to
date. I can give you half the amount in hard money--coin is not too
plentiful just now in Curaçoa, half in drafts at seven days' sight on the
house of Goldberg, Van Voorst & Company, at Amsterdam, or Spring &
Gerolstein, at London. They are a young firm, but do a safe business and
work with a large capital."
"I am greatly obliged to you but all I require at present is about five
hundred piasters, in hard money."
"Ah then, you have made money where you have been?" observed Mr. Van
Voorst, eying me keenly through his great horn spectacles.
"Not money, but money's worth," I replied, for I had quite decided to make
a confident of the honest old Dutchman, whom I liked all the better for
going straight to the point without asking too many questions.
"Then it must be merchandise and merchandise is money--sometimes."
"Yes, it is merchandise."
"If it be readily salable in this island or on the Spanish Main we shall
be glad to receive it from you on consignment and make you a liberal
advance against bills of lading. Hardware and cotton prints are in great
demand just now, and if it is anything of that sort we might sell it to
arrive."
"It is nothing of that sort, Mr. Van Voorst."
"More portable, perhaps?"
"Yes, more portable."
"If you could show me a sample--"
"I can show you the bulk."
"You have got it in the schooner?"
"No, I have got it here."
"Gold dust?"
"Diamonds. I found them in the Andes, and shall be glad to have your
advice as to their disposal."
"Diamonds! Ach! you are a happy man. If you would like to show me them I
can perhaps give you some idea of their value. The house of Goldberg & Van
Voorst, at Amsterdam, in which I was brought up, deal largely in precious
stones."
On this I undid my belt and poured the diamonds on a large sheet of white
paper, which Mr. Van Voorst spread on his desk.
"_Mein Gott! Mein Gott!_" he exclaimed in ecstacy, glaring at the diamonds
through his big glasses and picking out the finest with his fat fingers.
"This is the finest collection of rough stones I ever did see. They are
worth--until they are weighed and cut it is impossible to say how
much--but at least a million dollars, probably two millions. You found
them in the Andes? You could not say where, could you, Mr. Fortescue?"
"I could, but I would rather not."
"I beg your pardon. I should have known better than to ask. You intend to
go there again, of course?"
"Never! It would be at the risk of my life--and there are other reasons."
"There is no need. You are rich already, and enough is as good as a feast.
You ask my advice as to the disposal of these stones. Well, my advice is
that you consign them, through us, to the house of Goldberg, Van Voorst &
Company. They are honest and experienced. They will get them cut and sell
them for you at the highest price. They are, moreover, one of the richest
houses in Amsterdam, trustworthy without limit. What do you say?"
"Yes, I will act on your advice, and consign these stones to your friends
for sale at Amsterdam, or elsewhere, as they may think best. And be good
enough to ask them to advise me as to the investment of the proceeds."
"They will do that with pleasure, mine friend, and having financial
relations with every monetary centre in Europe they command the best
information. And now we must count and weigh these stones carefully, and I
shall give you a receipt in proper form. They must be shipped in three or
four parcels so as to divide the risk, and I will write to Goldberg & Van
Voorst to take out open policies 'by ship or ships'--for how much shall we
say?"
"That I must leave to you, Mr. Van Voorst."
"Then I will say two million dollars--better make it too much than too
little--and two millions may not be too much. I do not profess to be an
expert, and, as likely as not, my estimate is very wide of the mark."
After the diamonds had been counted and weighed, and a receipt written
out, in duplicate and in two languages, I informed Mr. Van Voorst of my
intention to visit Caracas and asked whether things were pretty quiet
there.
"At Caracas itself, yes. But in the interior they are fighting, as usual.
The curse of Spanish rule has been succeeded by the still greater curse of
chronic revolution."
"But foreigners are admitted, I suppose? I run no risk of being clapped in
prison as I was last time?"
"Not the least. You can go and come as you please. You don't even require
a passport. The Spaniards, who were once so hated, are now almost popular.
I hear that several Spanish officers, who served in the royal army during
the war, are now at Caracas, and have offered their swords to the
government for the suppression of the present rebellion. Do you intend to
stay long in Venezuela?"
"I think not. In any case I shall see you before I leave for Europe. Much
depends on whether I find my friend Carmen alive."
"Carmen, Carmen! I seem to know the name. Is he a general?"
"Scarcely, I should think. He was only a _teniente_ of guerillas when we
parted some ten years ago."
"They are all generals now, my dear sir, and as plentiful as frogs in my
native land. If you are ever in doubt as to the rank of a Venezolano, you
are always safe in addressing him as a general. Yes, I fancy you will find
your friend alive. At any rate, there is a General Carmen, rather a
leading man among the Blues, I think, and sometimes spoken of as a
probable president. You will, of course, put up at the Hotel de los
Generales. Ah, here is Bernhard with the five hundred dollars in hard
money, for which you asked. If you should want more, draw on us at sight.
I will give you a letter of introduction to the house of Blühm & Bluthner
at Caracas, who will be glad to cash your drafts at the current rate of
exchange, and to whose care I will address any letters I may have occasion
to write to you."
This concluded my business with Mr. Van Voorst, and three days later I was
once more in Caracas. I found the place very little altered, less than I
was myself. I had entered it in high spirits, full of hope, eager for
adventure, and intent on making my fortune. Now my heart was heavy with
sorrow and bitter with disappointment. Though I had made my fortune, I had
lost, as I thought, both the buoyancy of youth and the capacity for
enjoyment, and I looked forward to the future without either hope or
desire.
As I rode with Ramon into the _patio_ of the hotel, where I had been
arrested by the alguazils of the Spanish governor, a man came forward to
greet me, so strikingly like the ancient _posadero_ that I felt sure he
was the latter's son. My surmise proved correct, and I afterwards heard,
not without a sense of satisfaction, that the father was hanged by the
patriots when they recaptured Caracas.
After I had engaged my rooms the _posadero_ informed me (in answer to my
inquiry) that General Salvador Carmen (this could be none other than my
old friend) was with the army at La Victoria, but that he had a house at
Caracas where his wife and family were then residing. He also mentioned
incidentally that several Spanish officers of distinction, who had arrived
a few days previously, were staying in the _posada_--doubtless the same
spoken of by Van Voorst.
The day being still young, for I had left La Guayra betimes, I thought I
could not do better than call on Juanita, who lived only a stone's throw
from the Hotel de los Generales. She recognized me at once and received
me--almost literally--with open arms. When I essayed to kiss her hand, she
offered me her cheek.
"After this long time! It is a miracle!" she exclaimed. "We mourned for
you as one dead; for we felt sure that if you were living we should have
had news of you. How glad Salvador will be! Where have you been all this
time, and why, oh why, did you not write?"
"I have been in the heart of the Andes, and I did not write because I was
as much cut off from the world as if I had been in another planet."
"You must have a long story to tell us, then. But I am forgetting the most
important question of all. Are you still a bachelor?"
"Worse than that, Juanita. I am a widower. I have lost the sweetest
wife--"
"_Misericordia! Misericordia! Pobre amigo mio!_ Oh, how sorry I am; how
much I pity you!" And the dear lady, now a stately and handsome matron,
fell a-weeping out of pure tenderness, and I had to tell her the sad story
of the quenching of Quipai and Angela's death. But the telling of it,
together with Juanita's sympathy, did me good, and I went away in much
better spirits than I had come. Salvador, she said, would be back in a few
days, and she much regretted not being able to offer me quarters; it was
contrary to the custom of the place and Spanish etiquette for ladies to
entertain gentlemen visitors during their husbands' absence.
After leaving Juanita I walked round by the guard-house in which I had
been imprisoned, and through the ruins where Carmen and I had hidden when
we were making our escape. They suggested some stirring memories--Carera
(who, as I learned from Juanita, had been dead several years) and his
chivalrous friendship; Salvador and his reckless courage; our midnight
ride; Gahra and the bivouac by the mountain-tarn (poor Gahra, what had
become of him?); Majia and his guerillas; Griscelli and his blood-hounds
(how I hated that man, but surely by this time he had got his deserts);
Gondocori and Queen Mamcuna; the man-killer; and Quipai.
My mind was still busied with these memories when I reached the hotel.
There seemed to be much more going on than there had been earlier in the
day--horsemen were coming and going, servants hurrying to and fro, people
promenading on the _patio_, a group of uniformed officers deep in
conversation. One of them, a tall, rather stout man, with grizzled hair, a
pair of big epaulettes, and a coat covered with gold lace, had his back
toward me, and as my eye fell on his sword-hilt it struck me that I had
seen something like it before. I was trying to think where, when the owner
of it turned suddenly round, and I found myself face to face
with--GRISCELLI!!
For some seconds we stared at each other in blank amazement. I could see
that though he recognized me, he was trying to make believe that he did
not; or, perhaps, he really doubted whether I was the man I seemed.
"That is my sword," I said, pointing to the weapon by his side, which had
been given to me by Carera.
"Your sword! What do you mean?" "You took it from me eleven years ago,
when I fell into your hands at San Felipe, and you hunted my friend Carmen
and myself with bloodhounds."
"What folly is this? Hunted you with bloodhounds, forsooth! Why, this is
the first time I ever set eyes on you--the man is mad--or drunk"
(addressing his friends).
"You lie, Griscelli; and you are not a liar merely, but a murderer and a
coward."
"_Por Dios_, you shall pay for this insult with your heart's blood!" he
shouted, furiously, half drawing his sword.
"It is like you to draw on an unarmed man." I said, laying hold of his
wrist. "Give me a sword, and you shall make me pay for the insult with my
blood--if you can. Señores" (by this time all the people in the _patio_
had gathered round us), "Señores, are there here any Venezuelan caballeros
who will bear me out in this quarrel. I am an Englishman, by name
Fortescue; eleven years ago, while serving under General Mejia on the
patriot side, I fell into the hands of General Griscelli, who deprived me
of the sword he now wears, which I received as a present from Señor
Carera, whose name you may remember. Then, after deceiving us with false
promises--my friend General Carmen and myself--he hunted us with his
bloodhounds, and we escaped as by a miracle. Now he protests that he never
saw me before. What say you, señores, am I not right in stigmatizing him
as a murderer and liar?"
"Quite right!" said a middle-aged, soldierly-looking man. I also served in
the war of liberation, and remember Griscelli's name well. It would serve
him right to poniard him on the spot."
"No, no. I want no murder. I demand only satisfaction."
"And he shall give it you or take the consequences. I will gladly act as
one witness, and I am sure my friend here, Señor Don Luis de Medina, who
is also a veteran of the war, will act as the other. Will you fight,
Griscelli?"
"Certainly--provided that we fight at once, and to the death. You can
arrange the details with my friends here."
"Be it so." I said, "_A la muerte._"
"To the death! To the death!" shouted the crowd, whose native ferocity was
now thoroughly roused.
After a short conference and a reference to Griscelli and myself, the
seconds announced that we were to fight with swords in Señor de Medina's
garden, whither we straightway wended, for there were no police to meddle
with us, and at that time duels _a la muerte_ were of daily occurrence in
the city of Caracas. When we arrived at the garden, which was only a
stone's-throw walk from the _posada_, Señor de Medina produced two swords
with cutting edges, and blades five feet long; for we were to fight in
Spanish fashion, and Spanish duelists both cut and thrust, and, when
occasion serves, use the left hand as a help in parrying.
Then the spectators, of whom there were fully two score, made a ring, and
Griscelli and I (having meanwhile doffed our hats, coats, and shirts),
stepped into the arena.
I had not handled a sword for years, and for aught I knew Griscelli might
be a consummate swordsman and in daily practice. On the other hand, he was
too stout to be in first-rate condition, and, besides being younger, I had
slightly the advantage in length of arm.
When the word was given to begin, he opened the attack with great energy
and resolution, and was obviously intent on killing me if he could. For a
minute or two it was all I could do to hold my own; and partly to test his
strength and skill, partly to get my hand in, I stood purposely on the
defensive.
At the end of the first bout neither of us had received a scratch, but
Griscelli showed signs of fatigue while I was quite fresh. Also he was
very angry and excited, and when we resumed he came at me with more than
his former impetuosity, as if he meant to bear me down by the sheer weight
and rapidity of his strokes. His favorite attack was a cut aimed at my
head. Six several times he repeated this manoeuvre, and six times I
stopped the stroke with the usual guard. Baffled and furious, he tried it
again, but--probably because of failing strength--less swiftly and
adroitly. My opportunity had come. Quick as thought I ran under his guard,
and, thrusting his right arm aside with my left hand, passed my sword
through his body.
Then there were cries of bravo, for the popular feeling was on my side,
and my seconds congratulated me warmly on my victory. But I said little in
reply, my attention being attracted by a young man who was kneeling beside
Griscelli's body and, as it might seem, saying a silent prayer. When he
had done he rose to his feet, and as I looked on his face I saw he was the
dead man's son.
"Sir, you have killed my father, and I shall kill you," he said, in a calm
voice, but with intense passion. "Yes, I shall kill you, and if I fail my
cousins will kill you. If you escape us all, then we will charge our
children to avenge the death of the man you have this day slain. We are
Corsicans, and we never forgive. I know your name; mine is Giuseppe
Griscelli."
"You are distraught with grief, and know not what you say," I said as
kindly as I could, for I pitied the lad. "But let not your grief make you
unjust. Your father died in fair fight. If I had not killed him he would
have killed me, and years ago he tried to hunt me to death for his
amusement."
"And I and mine--we will hunt you to death for our revenge. Or will you
fight now? I am ready."
"No, I have no quarrel with you, and I should be sorry to hurt you."
"Go your way, then, but remember--"
"Better leave him; he seems half-crazed," interposed Medina. "Come into my
house while my slaves remove the body."