ATTACK BY PAMPA INDIANS.
So lonesome a ride in the darkness of night, through a country wild and
bleak, with danger lurking perhaps on either side of me, might easily have
daunted a bolder heart than mine.
Something of the unspeakable feeling of dread I had experienced in the
_fonda_ while surrounded by those awful corpses came back to me now. I
tried to banish it, but failed. My nervousness became extreme, and
appeared to increase rather than diminish as I left the camp farther and
farther behind me. It was almost a superstitious fear that had gotten
possession of my soul. It was fear of the unseen; and even at this
distance of time I can only say I would willingly face death in open day a
hundred times over rather than endure for an hour the terrors I suffered
that night. Every bush I saw I took for a figure lurking by the roadside,
while solitary trees I had to pass assumed the form and shape and even
movement of an enemy on horseback riding silently down to meet me. Again
and again I clutched my revolver, and even now I cannot tell what power
prevented me from firing at my phantom foes. Over and over again I reined
up to listen, and at such times the wind whispering through the tall grass
sounded to me like human voices, while the cry of birds that now and then
rose startlingly close to me, made my heart beat with a violence that in
itself was painful.
Sometimes I closed my eyes, and gave the horse his head, trying to carry
my thoughts back to the lights of the camp, or forward to the fort which I
hoped soon to reach.
I had ridden thus probably five good miles, when I ventured to look behind
me, and so great had been the strain on my nerves that the sight I now
witnessed almost paralyzed me.
It was the reflection as of a great fire on the brow of the hill where my
people were beleaguered.
'The camp is already attacked, and in flames,' I muttered. Whither should
I ride now--backwards or forwards?
While I yet hesitated the flames appeared to wax fiercer and fiercer, till
presently--oh, joy!--a big round moon gradually shook itself clear of a
cloud and began slowly to climb the eastern sky.
All fear fled now. I muttered a prayer of thankfulness, dashed the spurs
into my good horse's sides, and went on at the gallop.
The time seemed short after this, and almost before I knew I came right
upon the fort, and was challenged by the sentry.
'_Amigo!_' I yelled. '_Amigo! Angleese!_'
I dare say I was understood, for soon after lights appeared on the
ramparts, and I was hailed again, this time in English, or for what passed
as English. I rode up under the ramparts, and quickly told my tale.
In ten minutes more I was received within the fort. A tumble-down place I
found it, but I was overjoyed to be in it, nevertheless. In the principal
room most of the men were playing games, and smoking and talking, while
the commandant himself lounged about with a cigarette in his mouth.
He considered for a minute or two--an age it appeared to me--ere he
answered. Yes; he would come, and take with him fifteen soldiers, leaving
the rest to guard the fort. I could have embraced him, so joyful did I
feel on hearing these words.
How long would he be? One hour, no more. For arms had to be cleaned, and
ammunition to be got ready; and the men must feed.
A whole hour! No wonder I sighed and looked anxious. Why, every minute was
precious to my poor beleaguered friends. It would be long past midnight
ere I reached the camp again, for these men would not be mounted. Yet I
saw the good little commander was doing his best, not only to expedite
matters, but to treat me with kindness and hospitality. He brought forth
food and wine, and forced me to eat and drink. I did so to please him; but
when he proposed a game to pass the time, I began to think the man was
crazed. He was not. No; but possessed a soldierly virtue which I could not
boast of--namely, patience.
* * * * *
The work of entrenchment was soon completed after my departure; then there
was nothing more to be done except to appoint the men to their quarters,
place sentinels on the highest of the waggons, and wait.
Ah, but this waiting is a weary thing under circumstances like the
present--waiting and watching, not knowing from what quarter the attack
will come, what form it will take, or when it will commence.
Except in the chief caravan itself, where Moncrieff and Donald sat for a
time to keep up the hearts of the ladies, no lights were lit.
There was no singing to-night, hardly a smile on any face, and no one
spoke much above a whisper. Poor old Jenny had gone to sleep, as usual.
'Wake me,' had been her last words. 'Wake me, laddie, when the Philistines
are upon us.'
'The old lady's a marvel!' Moncrieff had whispered to aunt.
Moncrieff was doing all he could to keep conversation alive, though,
strange to say, Bombazo seldom spoke. Surely he could not be afraid.
Moncrieff had his suspicions. Brave as my aunt was, the waiting made her
nervous.
'Hark!' she would say every now and then; or, 'Listen! What was that?'
'Only the cry of a burrowing owl,' Moncrieff might have to answer; or,
'Only the yap of a prowling fox.' Oh, the waiting, the weary waiting!
The moon rose at last, and presently it was almost as light as day.
'Will they come soon, think you?' whispered poor Aileen.
'No, darling; not for hours yet. Believe me there is no danger. We are
well prepared.'
'Oh, Alec, Alec!' she answered, bursting into tears; 'it is you I fear
for, not myself. Let me go with you when they come. I would not then be
afraid; but waiting here--oh, it is the waiting that takes all the heart
out of me.'
'Egyptian darkness!' murmured the old lady in her sleep. Then in louder,
wilder key, 'Smite them!' she exclaimed. 'Smite this host of the
Philistines from Gideon to Gaza.'
'Dear old mither, she's dreaming,' said Moncrieff. 'But, oh, we'll laugh
at all this by to-morrow night, Aileen, my darling.'
One hour, two hours went slowly, painfully past. The moon mounted higher
and higher, and shone clearer and clearer, but not yet on all the plains
were there signs of a mounted Indian.
Yet even at that moment, little though our people knew it, swarthy forms
were creeping stealthily through the pampas grass, with spears and guns at
trail, pausing often to glance towards the camp they meant so soon to
surprise and capture.
The moon gets yet brighter. Moncrieff is watching. Shading his eyes from
the light, he is gazing across the marsh and listening to every sound. Not
a quarter of a mile away is a little marshy lake. From behind it for
several minutes he has heard mournful cries. They proceed from the
burrowing owls; but they must have been startled! They even fly towards
the camp, as if to give warning of the approach of the swarthy foe.
Suddenly from the edge of the lake a sound like the blast of a trumpet is
heard; another and another, and finally a chorus of trumpet notes; and
shortly after a flock of huge flamingoes are seen wheeling in the moonlit
air.
'It is as I thought,' says Moncrieff; 'they are creeping through the
grass. Hurry round, Dugald, and call the men quietly to quarters.'
Moncrieff himself, rifle in hand, climbs up to the top of the waggon.
'Go down now,' he tells the sentry. 'I mean to fire the first shot.'
He lies down to wait and watch. No bloodhound could have a better eye.
Presently he sees a dark form raise itself near a tussock of grass. There
is a sharp report, and the figure springs into the air, then falls dead on
the pampas.
No need for the foe to conceal themselves any longer. With a wild and
unearthly scream, that the very earth itself seems to re-echo, they spring
from their hiding and advance at the double towards the fort--for fort it
is now. As they come yelling on they fire recklessly towards it. They
might as well fire in the air.
Moncrieff's bold Doric is heard, and to some purpose, at this juncture.
'Keep weel down, men! Keep weel to cove_rrr_! Fire never a shot till he
has the o_rr_der. Let every bullet have its billet. Ready!
Fire-_r_-_r_-_r_!'
Moncrieff rattled out the _r_'s indefinitely, and the rifles rattled out
at the same time. So well aimed was the volley that the dark cloud seemed
staggered. The savages wavered for a time, but on they came again,
redoubling their yells. They fired again, then, dropping their guns,
rushed on towards the breastwork spears in hand. It was thus that the
conflict commenced in dread earnest, and the revolvers now did fearful
execution. The Indians were hurled back again and again, and finally they
broke and sought cover in the bush. Their wounded lay writhing and crying
out close beneath the rampart, and among these were also many who would
never move more in this world.
On seeing the savages take to the bush, Moncrieff's anxiety knew no
bounds. The danger of their discovering the horses was extreme. And if
they did so, revenge would speedily follow defeat. They would either drive
them away across the pampas, or in their wrath slaughter them where they
stood.
What was to be done to avert so great a catastrophe? A forlorn hope was
speedily formed, and this my two brothers volunteered to lead. On the
first shout heard down in the hollow--indicating the finding of our
horses--Donald, Dugald, and fifteen men were to rush out and turn the
flank of the swarthy army if they could, or die in the attempt.
Meanwhile, however, the enemy appeared bent on trying cunning and
desperate tactics. They were heard cutting down the bushes and smaller
trees, and not long afterwards it looked as if the whole wood was
advancing bodily up towards the breastwork on that side.
A rapid and no doubt effective fire was now kept up by Moncrieff and his
men. This delayed the terrible _denoument_, but it was soon apparent that
if some more strategic movement was not made on our part it could not
wholly thwart it.
At all hazards that advancing wood must be checked, else the horrors of
fire would be the prelude to one of the most awful massacres that ever
took place on the lonely pampas.
'How is the wind?' asked Moncrieff, as if speaking to himself.
'It blows from the wood towards the camp,' said Dugald, 'but not quite in
a line. See, I am ready to rush out and fire that pile.'
'No, Dugald,' cried Donald; 'I am the elder--I will go.'
'Brother, I spoke first.'
'Yes,' said Moncrieff, quietly, 'Dugald must go, and go now. Take five
men, ten if you want them.'
'Five will do--five Gauchos,' said Dugald.
It was wise of Dugald to choose Gauchos. If the truth must be told,
however, he did so to spare more valuable lives. But these wild plainsmen
are the bravest of the brave, and are far better versed in the tactics of
Indian warfare than any white man could be.
Dugald's plan would have been to issue out and make a bold rush across the
open space of seventy and odd yards that intervened between the moving
pile of brushwood and the camp. Had this been done, every man would have
been speared ere he got half across.
The preparations for the sally were speedily made. Each man had a revolver
and knife in his belt, and carried in his hands matches, a bundle of _pob_
(or tarred yarn), and a small cask of petroleum oil. They issued from the
side of the camp farthest from the wood, and, crawling on their faces,
took advantage of every tussock of grass, waving thistle, or hemlock bush
in their way. Meanwhile a persistent fire was kept up from behind the
breastwork, which, from the screams and yells proceeding from the savages,
must have been doing execution.
Presently, close behind the bush and near the ground, Moncrieff could see
Dugald's signal, the waving of a white handkerchief, and firing
immediately ceased.
Almost immediately afterwards smoke and flames ran all along the wood and
increased every moment. There was a smart volley of revolver firing, and
in a minute more Dugald and his Gauchos were safe again within the fort.
'Stand by now, lads, to defend the ramparts!' cried Moncrieff; 'the worst
is yet to come.'
The worst was indeed to come. For under cover of the smoke the Indians now
made ready for their final assault. In the few minutes of silence that
elapsed before the attack, the voice of a Gaucho malo was heard haranguing
his men in language that could not but inflame their blood and passions.
He spoke of the riches, the wealth of the camp, of the revenge they were
going to have on the hated white man who had stolen their hunting fields,
and driven them to the barren plains and mountains to seek for food with
the puma and the snake, and finally began to talk of the pale-face
prisoners that would become their possession.
'Give them another volley, men,' said Moncrieff, grimly. 'Fire low through
the smoke.'
It would have been better, probably, had our leader waited.
Little need to precipitate an onslaught that could have but one
ending--unless indeed assistance arrived from the fort.
* * * * *
The long, long hour of waiting came to an end at last, and the commander
and myself left the frontier fort at the head of the men.
How terribly tedious the march back seemed! The officer would keep talking
as cheerfully as if going to a concert or evening party. I hardly
answered, I hardly heard him. I felt ashamed of my anxiety, but still I
could not help it. I was but a young soldier.
At last we are within sight, ay, and hearing, of the camp, and the events
of the next hour float before my memory now as I write, like the shadowy
pantomime of some terrible dream.
First we see smoke and fire, but hear no sound. All must be over, I
think--tragedy and massacre, all--and the camp is on fire.
Even the commander of our little force takes a serious view of the case
now. He draws his sword, looks to his revolver, and speaks to his men in
calm, determined tones.
For long minutes the silence round the camp is unbroken, but suddenly
rifles ring out in the still air, and I breathe more freely once again.
Then the firing ceases, and is succeeded by the wild war-cries of the
attacking savages, and the hoarse, defiant slogan of the defending Scots.
'Hurrah!' I shout, 'we are yet in time. Oh, good sir, hurry on! Listen!'
Well might I say listen, for now high above the yell of savages and ring
of revolvers rises the shriek of frightened women.
I can stand this no longer. I set spur to my horse, and go dashing on
towards the camp.