XVII

Silencio passed the night in wakeful watching and planning. Raquel slept

the innocent sleep of a careless child. Gil had promised that all would

come out well. She trusted him.

Very early in the morning the scouts whom Silencio had placed along the

boundaries of his estate were called in, and collected within the patio

of the casa. The outer shutters of the windows were closed and bolted;

the two or three glass windows, which spoke of the innovation which

civilization brings in its train, were protected by their heavy squares

of plank. The doors were locked, and the casa at Palmacristi was made

ready for a siege.

Silencio awakened Raquel as the first streak of dawn crept up from the

horizon. Over there to the eastward trembled and paled that opalescent

harbinger which told her that day was breaking. She looked up with a

child's questioning eyes.

"It is time, sweetheart. Now listen, Raquel. Pack a little bag, and be

ready for a journey."

Raquel pouted.

"Cannot Guillermina pack my bag?"

"No, not even Guillermina may pack your bag. When it is ready, set it

just inside your door. If you do not need it, so much the better. You

may open your windows toward the sea, but not those that look toward

Troja."

Silencio flung wide the heavy shutter as he spoke. Raquel glanced out to

sea.

"Oh, Gil! where is the Coco?"

"I wish I knew. She should be here."

"Are we to go on board, Gil?"

"Unfortunately, even should she arrive now, she is a half-hour too late.

Now hasten, I will give you fifteen minutes, no more."

"We might have gone out in the boat, Gil. Oh! why did you not call me?"

Silencio pointed along the path to the right. Some of Escobeda's men,

armed with machetes and shotguns, stood just at the edge of the forest,

where at any moment they could seek protection behind the trees. They

looked like ghosts in the early dawn.

"And where is your friend, Beltran?"

Silencio shook his head.

"He cannot have received my message," he said.

"And are the men of Palmacristi too great cowards to fight those

wretches?"

Silencio started as if he had been struck. He did not answer for a

moment; then he said slowly: "Raquel, do you know what we should be

doing were you not here?--I and my men?"

He spoke coldly. Raquel had never heard these tones before.

"We should be out there hunting those rascals to the death, no matter

how they outnumber us; but I dare not trust you between this and the

shore. My scouts tell me that they have kept up picket duty all night.

Escobeda expected the Coco back this morning; at all events, he was

ready for our escape in that way. The orders of those men are to take

you at any cost. Should I be killed, your protection would be gone. I am

a coward, but for you only, Raquel, for you only."

The young wife looked down. The colour mounted to her eyes. She drew

closer to her husband, but for once he did not respond readily to her

advances. He was hurt to the core.

"Get yourself ready at once," he said. "I will give you fifteen minutes,

no more. We have wasted much time already."

Raquel hardly waited for Silencio to close the door. She began to dress

at once, her trembling fingers refusing to tie strings or push the

buttons through the proper holes. As she hurriedly put on her everyday

costume, she glanced out of the window to see if in the offing she could

discover the Coco. The little yacht was at that very moment hastening

with all speed toward her master, but a point of land on the north hid

her completely from Raquel's view.

"Although he will not own it, he evidently intends to carry me away in

the yacht." Raquel smiled. "So much the better; it will be another

honeymoon."

When Silencio left Raquel, he ran out to the patio. On the way thither

he met old Guillermina with a tray on which was her mistress's coffee.

Upon the table in the patio veranda--that used by the servants--a hasty

meal was laid. Silencio broke a piece of cassava bread and drank the cup

of coffee which was poured out for him, and as he drank he glanced

upward. Andres was standing on the low roof, on the inner side of the

chimney of stone which carried off the kitchen smoke. He turned and

looked down at Don Gil.

"The Señor Escobeda approaches along the gran' camino, Señor."

Silencio set down his cup and ran up the escalera. He walked out to the

edge of the roof, and shaded his eyes with his hand.

"Yes, Andres; it is true. And I see that he has some gentlemen with

him." He turned and called down to the patio.

"Ask Guillermina if her mistress has had her coffee."

As he faced about a shot rang out. The bullet whistled near his head.

"Go down, Señor, for the love of God!" said Andres.

The company of horsemen were riding at a quick pace, and were now within

hearing.

Silencio waved his arm defiantly.

"Ah! then it is you, Señor Escobeda! I see whom you have with you. Is

that you, Pedro Geredo? Is that you, Marcoz Absalon? You two will have

something to answer for when I report this outrage at the government

town."

Escobeda had ridden near to the enclosure. His head was shaking with

rage. His earrings glittered in the morning sun, his bloodshot eyes

flashed fire. He raised his rifle and aimed it at Silencio.

"You know what I have come for, Señor. Send my niece out to me, and we

shall retire at once."

"How dare you take that name upon your lips?" Silencio was livid with

rage. Another shot was fired. This time it ploughed its way through

Silencio's sleeve.

"Shall I kill him, Señor?" Andres brought his escopeta to his shoulder;

he aimed directly at Escobeda. "I can kill him without trouble, Señor,

and avoid further argument. It is as the Señor says!"

Silencio looked anxiously seaward. No sign of the Coco!

"Not until I give the word, Andres." And then to Escobeda, "I defy you!

I defy you!"

Shots began to fall upon the casa from the guns of Escobeda's impudent

followers. Escobeda leaped his horse into the enclosure; his men

followed suit. Silencio saw them ride in lawless insolence along the

side of the building, and then heard the hollow ring of the horses'

hoofs upon the veranda. He ran down the escalera. The mob were battering

at the front door with the butt ends of their muskets.

Raquel appeared in the patio, pale and terrified.

"Gil! Gil!" she cried, "they are coming in! They will take me!"

"Coward! Come out and fight," was the cry from the outside.

"I am a coward for you, dear." He seized her wrists. "To the

counting-house!" he whispered, "to the counting-house!" As they ran she

asked, "Is there any sign of the Coco?"

"None," answered Silencio; "but we could not reach her now."

Together they flew through the hallways, across the chambers, where the

blows were sounding loud upon the wooden wall of the house, upon the

shutters, and the doors. They ran down the far passage and reached the

counting-house door. Silencio stumbled over something near the sill.

"Ah! your bag," he said. "I told Guillermina to set it there."

He opened the door with the key held ready, and together they entered.

Silencio tore the rug from the middle of the room, and disclosed to

Raquel's amazed eyes a door sunken in the floor. He raised it by its

heavy ring. A cold blast of air flowed upward into the warm interior.

Raquel had thought the room cool before; now she shivered as if with a

chill. Silencio pushed her gently toward the opening. "Go down," he

said.

Raquel gazed downward at the black depths.

"I cannot go alone, Gil." She shuddered.

"Turn round, dear Heart; put your feet on the rungs of the ladder, so!

Ah! what was that?" Silencio glanced anxiously toward the open doorway.

A heavy cracking of the stout house-door showed to what lengths Escobeda

and his followers were prepared to venture.

"Go, go! At the bottom is a lantern; light it if you can, while I close

the trap-door."

Raquel shrank at the mouth of this black opening, which seemed to yawn

for them. The damp smell of mould, the cold, the gloom, were sudden and

dreadful reminders of the tomb which this might become. She imagined it

a charnel house. She dreaded to descend for fear that she should place

her feet upon a corpse, or lay her fingers on the fleshless bones of a

skeleton.

"Courage, my Heart! Courage! Go down! Do not delay."

At the kindness of his tone, Raquel, taking courage, began to descend.

Terrible thoughts filled her mind. What if Escobeda and his men should

discover their retreat, and cut off escape at their destination? What

that destination was she knew not. Her eyes tried vainly to pierce the

mysterious gloom. It was as if she looked into the blackness of a

cavern. She turned and gazed for a moment back into the homelike

interior which she was leaving, perhaps for all time. The loud blows

upon the house-door were the accompaniment of her terrified thoughts.

Raquel descended nervously, her trembling limbs almost refusing to

support her. She reached the bottom of the ladder, and by the aid of the

dim light from above, she found the lantern and the matches, which

Silencio's thoughtful premonition had placed there, ready for her

coming. As she lighted the lantern she heard a terrific crash.

Silencio, with a last glance at the open door of the counting-house,

which he had forgotten to close, now lowered the trap-door, and joined

Raquel in the dark passage. He stood and listened for a moment. He heard

a footstep on the floor above, and taking Raquel's hand in his,

together they sped along the path which he hoped would lead her to

safety.

"Oh, child!" he said, in sharp, panting words, as they breathlessly

pursued the obscure way, "for the first time I have given you proof of

my love."

Raquel turned to look at him. She saw his dark face revealed fitfully by

the flashes of the lantern swinging from his hand.

"Here am I flying from that villain, when I ache to seize him by the

throat and choke the very breath of life out of him. Here am I running

away, _running away!_--do you hear me, Raquel?--while they, behind

there, are calling me coward. But should he take you--"

Raquel stumbled and almost fell at these dreadful words.

"Gil, Gil, dearest! do not speak of it; perhaps he is coming even now

behind us."

At the dreadful suspicion she fell against the wall, dragging him with

her. She clung to him in terror, impeding his progress.

"This is not the time to give way, Raquel." Silencio spoke sternly.

"Call all your will to your aid now. Run ahead of me, while I stand a

moment here."

Raquel gathered all her resolution, and without further question fled

again upon her way. Silencio waited a moment, facing the steps which

they had just descended, and listened intently. But all that he heard

was the sound of Raquel's flying feet. When he was convinced that no one

was following them, he turned again and ran quickly after Raquel. He

easily gained upon her.

"I hear nothing, Raquel. Do not be so frightened."

At these words the changeable child again regained confidence.

"You have heard of a man building better than he knew," he said. He

waved the lantern toward the sides of the tunnel. "There were wild tales

of smuggling in the old days--"

The colour had returned to Raquel's cheek. She laughed a little as she

asked:

"Did your grandfather smuggle, Gil?"

"He was no better and no worse than other men; who knows what--we will

talk later of that. Come!"

He took her hand in his, and again together they fled along the passage.

As no sound of pursuing feet came to their ears, confidence began to

return. They were like two children running a race. Silencio laughed

aloud, and as they got further from the entrance to the passage he

whistled, he sang, he shouted! The sound of his laughter chilled the

heart of Raquel with fear.

"Gil," she pleaded, "they will hear you. They will know where we have

gone." She laid her fingers on his lips as they ran, and he playfully

bit them, as he had seen her close her teeth upon El Rey's.

The passage was a long one. Raquel thought that it would never end.

"Have we come more than two miles, Gil?" she asked.

Raquel was not used to breathless flights in the dark. Silencio laughed.

"Poor little girl! Does it seem so long, then? When we have reached the

further end we shall have come just three hundred feet."

At last, at last! the further door was reached. Silencio unlocked it and

pushed it open. This was rendered somewhat difficult by the sand which

had been blown about the entrance since last he had brushed it away. A

little patient work, and the two squeezed themselves through the narrow

opening.

"Hark! I hear footsteps," whispered Raquel, her face pale with renewed

terror.

Silencio stood still and listened.

"You are right," he said; "they are behind us. Take the lantern and hold

it for me close to the keyhole." He began pushing the door into place.

She took the light from him and held it as he directed.

"Hold it steady, child. Steady!--Do not tremble so! I must see! I

_must!_ steady!"

Raquel's hand shook as if with a palsy.

The footsteps came nearer. To her they sounded from out the darkness

like the approach of death.

"Hasten!" she whispered, "hasten!" She held the lantern against the

frame of the solid door and pressed her shoulder against it, that her

nervousness should not agitate the flame, whispering "Hasten!" the while

to Silencio, whose trembling fingers almost refused to do this most

necessary work. At last, with a bang and a sharp twist of the key, the

heavy door was closed and locked.

"Do you see an iron bar anywhere, Raquel, in the bushes there on the

left?"

She ran to the side of the tunnel, which still arched above them here.

Silencio was close to her, and at once laid his hand upon the strong

piece of metal. He sprang back to the door, and slipped the bar into the

rust-worn but still faithful hasps.

Then he turned, seized her hand again, and led her hurriedly along

between the high banks. It was still dark where they stood, so overgrown

was the deep cut, but Silencio knew the way. He took the lantern from

Raquel's hand, extinguished it, and set it upon the ground. "We shall

need this no more," he said.

The trees and vines growing from the embankment, which nearly closed

overhead, were interwoven like a green basket-work, and almost shut out

the daylight. Silencio took Raquel's hand in his and led her along the

narrow path. The light became stronger with every step.

Suddenly Raquel stopped short.

"What was that, Gil?"

"What, dearest?"

"That! Do you not hear it? It sounds like a knocking behind us."

Silencio stood still for a moment, listening to the sounds.

"Yes," he said at last, "I do hear it. It is some of those villains

pursuing us. Hasten, Raquel. When they find the door is closed, they

will return to the casa to cut off our retreat."

Raquel found time to say:

"And the poor servants left behind, will they--"

"They are safe, child. You are the quarry they seek. Escobeda does not

exchange shots to no purpose."

A few more steps, and Silencio parted the thicket ahead. Raquel passed

through in obedience to his commanding nod, and emerged into the

blinding glare of a tropical morning. Beneath her feet was the hot,

fine sand of the seashore. A few yards away a small boat was resting,

her stern just washed by the ripples. Raquel turned and looked backward.

The mass of trees and vines hid the bank from view, the bank in its turn

concealed the casa. As she stood thus she heard again a slow knocking,

but much fainter than before. It was like the distant sound of heavy

blows.

"Thank God! they are knocking still," said Silencio. "Run to the boat,

child, quickly."

Raquel shrank with fear.

"They will see me from the house," she said.

"You cannot see the beach from the casa; have you forgotten? Run, run!

For the boat! the boat!"

Obeying him, she sped across the sand to the little skiff.

"The middle seat!" he cried.

He followed her as swiftly, and with all his strength pushed the light

weight out from the shore, springing in as the bow parted with the

beach. The thrust outward brought them within sight of the house. For a

moment they were not discovered, and he had shipped the oars and was

rowing rapidly toward the open sea before they were seen.

It required a moment for the miscreants to appreciate the fact that the

two whom they had thought hidden in the house had escaped in some

unknown way. Then a cry of rage went up from many throats, and one man

raised his rifle to his shoulder, but the peon next him threw up the

muzzle, and the shot flew harmless in the air.

It is one thing to fire at the bidding of a master, on whose shoulders

will rest all the blame, and quite another to aim deliberately at a

person who is quite within his rights--you peon, he gran' Señor.

Escobeda was nowhere to be seen. There was no one to give an order, to

take responsibility. The force was demoralized. The men formed in a

small group, and watched the little skiff as it shot out to sea,

impelled by the powerful arm and will of Silencio. As he rowed Silencio

strained his eyes northward, and perceived what was not as yet visible

from the shore. He saw the Coco just rounding the further

point--distant, it is true, but safety for Raquel lay in her black and

shining hull.

When old Guillermina saw Don Gil and the Señora retreat from the patio

and cross the large chamber, she knew at once their errand. Had she not

lived here since the days of the old Don Oviedo? What tales could she

not have told of the secret passage to the sea! But her lips were

sealed. Pride of family, the family of her master, was the padlock which

kept them silent. How many lips have been glued loyally together for

that same reason!

As Guillermina crossed the large chamber she heard the blows raining

upon the outer shutters and the large door. She heard Escobeda's voice

calling, "Open! open!" as he pounded the stout planking with the butt

end of his rifle. The firing had ceased. Even had it not, Guillermina

knew well that the shots were not aimed at her. She had withstood a

siege in the old Don Oviedo's time, and again in the time of the old Don

Gil, and from the moment that Silencio had brought his young wife home

she had expected a third raid upon the casa.

Guillermina walked in a leisurely manner. She passed through the

intervening passages, and found the counting-house door open. This she

had hardly expected. She joyously entered the room and closed the door.

Then her native lassitude gave way to a haste to which her unaccustomed

members almost refused their service. She quickly drew the rug over the

sunken trap-door, smoothed the edges, and rearranged the room, so that

it appeared as if it had not lately been entered. It was her step

overhead which Don Gil and Raquel had heard at first, and which had

caused them so much uneasiness.

As Guillermina turned to leave the room, she heard a crash. Escobeda,

having failed to break in the great entrance door, had, with the aid of

some of his men, pried off a shutter. The band came pouring into the

house and ran through all the rooms, seeking for the flown birds. As

Guillermina opened the door of the counting-house to come out, key in

hand, she met Escobeda upon the threshold. His face was livid. He held

his machete over his head as if to strike.

"So this is their hiding-place," he screamed in her ear.

He rushed past her, and entered the counting-house. Its quiet seclusion

and peaceful appearance filled him with astonishment, and caused him to

stop short. But he was not deceived for long. He tore away the green

hangings, hoping to find a door. Instead a wall of iron stared him in

the face. He ran all round the room, feeling of the panels or plates,

but nowhere could he discover the opening which he sought. Each plate

was firmly screwed and riveted to its neighbour. He turned and shook his

fist in Guillermina's face.

"You shall tell me where they have gone," he howled, in fury, and then

poured forth a volley of oaths and obscenities, such as no one but a

Spaniard could have combined in so few sentences.

Guillermina faced him, her hands on her fat hips.

"The Señor should not excite himself. It is bad to excite oneself.

There was the woodcutter over at La Floresta--"

"To hell with the woodcutter! Where is that Truhan?" Then Escobeda began

to curse Guillermina. He cursed her until he foamed at the mouth, his

gold earrings shaking in his ears, his eyes bloodshot, his lips sending

flecks of foam upon her gown. He cursed her father and her mother, her

grandfather and her grandmother, her great-grandfather and

great-grandmother, which was quite a superfluity in the way of cursing,

as Guillermina had no proof positive that she had ever possessed more

than one parent. He cursed her brothers and sisters, her aunts, her

uncles, her cousins, her nephews and nieces.

"The Señor wastes some very good breath," remarked Guillermina in a

perfectly imperturbable manner. "I have none of those people."

Escobeda turned on her in renewed frenzy. The vile words rolled out of

his mouth like a stream over high rocks. He took a fresh breath and

cursed anew. As he had begun with her ancestors, so he continued with

her descendants, the children whom she had borne, and those whom she was

likely to bear.

"The good God save us!" ejaculated old Guillermina. And still Escobeda

cursed on, his fury now falling upon her relationships in all their

ramifications, and in all their branches.

"Ay de mi! The gracious Señor wastes his time. If the gracious Señor

should rest a little, he could start with a fresh breath."

As Guillermina spoke, she rearranged the curtain folds, smoothed and

shook the silken pillows, and laid them straight and in place. She kept

her station as near the middle of the sunken door as possible.

Again he thundered at her the question as to where the fugitives had

found refuge. Guillermina, brave outwardly, was trembling inwardly for

the safety of her beloved Don Gil. The young Señora was all very well,

she might grow to care for her in time, but her little Gil, whom she had

taken from the doctor's arms, whom she had nursed on her knee with her

own little Antonio, who lay under the trees on the hillside yonder--she

must gain time.

"Does not the Señor know that the Señor Don Gil Silencio-y-Estrada and

the little Señora have gone to heaven?"

Escobeda stopped short in his vituperation.

"Dead? He was afraid, then! He killed her." Escobeda laughed cruelly.

"If I have lost her, so has he."

"Ay, ay, they have flown away, flown to heaven, the Señores. The good

God cares for his own. I wonder now who cares for the Señor Escobeda!"

With the scream of a wild beast he flew at her, and she, fearing

positive injury, sprang aside. Escobeda's spur caught in the rug and

tore it from its place on the floor. He stumbled and fell, pulling the

green and white carpet after him. Concealment was no longer possible;

the trap-door was laid bare. With a fiendish cry of delight he flew at

the ring in the sunken door.

"To hell! to hell!" he shouted. "That is where they have gone; not to

heaven, but to hell."

Escobeda had heard rumours all his life of the secret passage to the

sea--the passage which had never been located by the curious. At last

the mystery was solved. He raised the door, and without a word to

Guillermina, plunged into the black depths. The absence of a light was

lost sight of by him in his unreasoning rage. Almost before his fingers

had disappeared from view, Guillermina had lowered the trap-door into

its place in the most gentle manner.

If one is performing a good action, it is best to make as little noise

about it as possible. As she fitted the great iron bar across the

opening, there came a knocking upon the under side of the iron square.

"Give me a light! A light! you she-devil! A light, I say."

Guillermina went softly to the door of the counting-house and closed it

to prevent intrusion. She could hear Escobeda's followers running

riotously all over the casa. Her time would be short, that she knew. She

knelt down on the floor and put her lips close to the crack in the

trap-door.

"And he would curse my mother, would the Señor! And my little Antonio,

who lies buried on the hill yonder."

"A light!" he shouted, "a light! she-devil, a light, I say!"

"May the Señor see no light till he sees the flames of hell," answered

Guillermina. "The Señor must pardon me, but that is my respectful wish."

She smoothed the innocent-looking carpet in place, replaced the chairs,

and went out, locking the door after her.

"Let us hope," said she quietly, "that my muchacho has barred the door

at the further end of the passage." Looking for a wide crack, she found

it, and dropped the key through it.

This is why the disused passage is always called Escobeda's Walk.

Sometimes, when Don Gil and the little Señora sit and sip the

straw-coloured tea at five o'clock of an afternoon, the teapot, grown

more battered and dingy, the lid fitting less securely than of yore, the

Señora sets down her cup, and taking little Raquel upon her knee, holds

her close to her heart, and says:

"Do you hear that knocking, Gil? There is certainly a rapping on the

counting-house floor."

"I hear nothing," answers Silencio, as he gives a large lump of sugar to

the grandson of the brown lizard. And for that matter, there is an

ancient proverb which says that "None are so deaf as those who will not

hear."