A SPANISH INN--THE SPANIARDS AROUSED TO ARMS--RONALD HEADS A GUERILLA
BAND--EDDA RESCUED BY RONALD.
The sun had set some short time when Ronald, with his companions,
reached the village where the guide told him he could obtain shelter and
refreshment. The village itself was small and mean, and the only house
of entertainment it possessed offered but few attractions to the
travellers to remain there. However, as their beasts required rest,
they were compelled to dismount, and while the guide with the boys of
the inn led the animals into the stables, Ronald and the two seamen
walked into the common room, which served as dining-hall, kitchen, and
apparently the sleeping-place of the family, as well as of a numerous
family of fowls. A very unattractive dame, who presided over the
culinary department of the establishment, was now engaged in preparing
supper for a very mixed and somewhat suspicious-looking company, who
were seated at a long table, on benches at one side of the room. None
of them rose as the strangers entered, and the few who condescended to
pay them any attention scowled at them from under their brows, as if
resenting their appearance as an intrusion. Ronald was very little
moved by the want of courtesy with which he was received, but, walking
up to the presiding genius of the place, he inquired, in the best
Spanish he could command, whether he and his followers could have beds
and food. The old woman looked up with a sinister expression without
speaking, while she continued stirring the pot boiling on the huge wood
fire. Her eyes were bleared with the smoke, and her face was wrinkled
and dried, with a few white hairs straggling over her brow, while the
long yellow tusks which protruded beyond her thin lips gave her a
peculiarly hag-like look. Ronald repeated his question.
"Food?--yes, and good enough for any one," she answered in a low
croaking voice; "but for beds, the enemy carried them off, and
everything in the house. There is space enough and to spare, upstairs,
for a taller man than you to stretch his legs. You can go and look when
you have a mind; your valise will serve you as a pillow, and a sack with
some straw must be your mattress. Many a better man has slept in a
worse bed."
"I do not doubt it," answered Ronald, calmly. "My men and I will manage
well enough, but we are hungry, and shall be glad of food."
"All in good time," said the old woman, somewhat softening her tone, and
pleased at being spoken to in her own language. "You may carry your
baggage upstairs, and select any corner you like for your
sleeping-place. The girl will be in and give you a light presently.
See that there are no holes in the roof above you, in case it should
rain. You will find it warmer too if you avoid those in the floor
beneath you."
The old woman said this evidently with serious good-will. Ronald
thanked her, and directly afterwards a stout buxom girl came from the
further end of the hall, with a brass oil lamp in her hand. Taking the
advice of the old woman, Ronald went upstairs to select a corner where
he and his party might rest a night. The apartment consisted of the
entire upper floor, but as the old woman had warned him, it contained
not a particle of furniture, though, from its appearance, there was
little doubt that there would be a large number of inhabitants. In
several places through the roof he could see the stars shining, while
the faint rays of light, and odours anything but faint, which came up
through the floor, showed the numerous holes and rents which time had
made in the boards.
"This is a rum place for our lieutenant to sleep in," observed Bob Doull
to Job; "and as to the gentry below there, they are as cut-throat a crew
as I ever set eyes on. I'll not let his valise go out of my hands, for
it would be whipped up pretty smartly by one of these fellows, and we
should never see more of it. Looking at the land from aboard the
frigate, I never should have thought it was such an outlandish sort of a
country. Should you, Job?"
"Can't say much for their manners. May be they are better than they
look," answered the elder seaman; "but if it came to a scrimmage, I
can't say but what I wouldn't mind tackling a dozen of them."
These remarks were made while Morton was taking a survey of the
unpromising apartment. It had apparently been used as a barrack by the
French when, not long ago, they occupied the village, and very little
trouble had since been taken to clean it out. Morton asked the girl if
his surmise was not correct.
"Yes, the demons! they have been here, and Heaven's curse go with them!"
she answered, with startling fierceness. "It was dark when you rode in,
or you would have seen the number of houses burnt down, vineyards and
orange-groves rooted up for firewood; but that was not all the harm they
did. Woe, unutterable woe, they inflicted on thousands. I had a lover,
to whom I was betrothed; they slew him, and me they rendered wretched.
But I need not tell my own griefs. Thousands have suffered as much as I
have. There, senor, that corner you will find the freest from
inconvenience. Place your valise and saddle-bags there--they will be
safe. We are honest, though our accursed foes have made us poor
indeed."
The poor girl's dark eyes flashed fire as she spoke. Ronald felt sure
that he might trust her entirely. He ordered Bob and Job, therefore, to
deposit his scanty baggage in the corner indicated, and to follow him
below.
"What! does the lieutenant think he'll ever see them again if we does?"
observed Bob.
"Orders is orders," answered Job; "but just you keep a bright look out
on the stair while we're below, and as soon as we've stowed away some
grub, we'll take it watch and watch, and go up and sit on 'em. The Dons
will find it a hard job to carry them off then, I'll allow."
Satisfied with their arrangements, the two seamen followed their
officer. He took his seat at one end of the table, and, as he did so,
he fancied the other guests seemed to regard him with more friendly
glances than before. Not a minute had elapsed before Maria placed
before him a smoking puchero (a dish to be found from one end of Spain
to the other, composed of various sorts of meats minced with spices).
There was a soup also, of a reddish tinge, from being coloured with
saffron, and sausages rather too strong of garlic, and very white bread,
and two dishes of vegetables, one of which was of garbanzos, a sort of
haricot beans. There was wine also, and brandy; indeed, the inhabitants
must have managed cleverly to hide their stores from their invaders to
enable them to produce so good a supply. Job and Bob did not conceal
their astonishment; the viands suited their taste, and they did ample
justice to them.
Though Ronald was in love, and had just cause to be anxious as to its
result, and though he had only just parted from his mistress, yet he was
a sailor; he had been a midshipman, and he had always a remarkably good
appetite; and now, much to his surprise (for when he stopped at the door
of the inn he had no thoughts of eating), he felt every inclination to
do justice to the feast set before him.
"He'll do," observed Job to Bob, as they sat at a respectful distance
from their officer. "At first I could not tell what had come over him
as he got on his horse after he'd been talking to that young lady up at
the window. Whenever I sees a man able to take his grub, whatever's the
matter with him, I knows it's all right."
Ronald had addressed some of the Spaniards near him. They listened
respectfully. He spoke to them of the tyranny to which Spain had been
so long subject; of the sufferings she had endured; of the only means of
freedom--the rising of the whole nation, as a man, to throw off the
yoke. "The English will help you, but they can only help, remember. It
is you who must do the work," he added.
"True, true! the cabaliero speaks well!" resounded from all parts of the
room.
"It is to urge you to rise in arms, to drive the invaders from your
country that I have come among you," said Ronald. He warmed on the
subject. His hearers grew enthusiastic.
"We have arms! we have arms!" they shouted. "We will bring them forth;
we have powder and shot. The enemy are not far off. We will go and
meet them. We will drive them before us like sheep."
Ronald was satisfied with the effect of his address. He knew perfectly
well that in the morning, after they had cleaned their arms and filled
their pouches with powder, they would stop and consider before they
advanced to meet the enemy. Altogether, he felt that the evening had
not been ill-spent, and at the end of it the very people who had, when
he came among them, cast on him such sinister looks, now regarded him
with the greatest respect. It was late before he threw himself down on
a sack of straw in a corner of the upper room, wrapped up in his cloak.
Though the room was occupied by a large portion of the rest of the
guests, who kept up a concert of snores all night long, he managed to
sleep soundly till daylight.
The next morning after breakfast, having bid farewell to his new
friends, he continued his journey. Nothing would induce his horse to go
out of a walk, while the mules refused to proceed at a faster rate than
their more noble companions, so that their progress was of necessity
slow. As they proceeded the sad traces of warfare were everywhere
visible. Whole farmsteads burnt to the ground, houses in ruins,
churches unroofed, groves of orange and olive trees cut down, fences
destroyed, and fields once fertile returning to a state of nature, and
overrun with weeds. The guide looked at them as objects to which he was
well accustomed, but now and then he ground his teeth and swore
vengeance on the heads of the fell invaders of his country.
Job had been remarking where the devastating hand of war had passed, and
had counted up the objects destroyed. At length he gave expression to
his thoughts.
"Well, to my mind, it's a mortal pity people take to fighting on shore.
Why don't they stick to their ships, and always have it out afloat?
that's the sensible thing, and then the only harm's done to the ships
and the men who has the fun of the thing, and gets the honour and glory,
and that's all natural and right."
Bob heartily joined in with Job's notion.
"If I was a king, I wouldn't let 'em," he remarked. "I'd say, just you
let the farms, and the gardens, and the women and children, and the
churches alone; and if you wants to tight, by all manner of means fight
it out, but keep afloat, and don't come here."
The seamen had been conversing for some time in this strain, when the
clatter of a horse's hoof was heard behind them, and turning their heads
they saw the same Spaniard who had accompanied them on their way the day
before. They told Morton, who turned his horse's head to meet him.
"Thank heaven that my steed has carried me so well, and that I have come
up to you," exclaimed Don Josef. "There is work for you; your aid is
wanted; you will not refuse it, I know? But come, ride back with me as
fast as your beast's legs will move, and I will tell you. Give him the
spur! spare him not; I may supply you with a better soon. The French
are at no great distance from this; secure as they fancy themselves, we
have spies among them to inform us of all their movements. After
daybreak this morning, one of the spies arrived, and brought me notice
that the enemy were advancing, and that they having heard that a British
commissioner was in the neighbourhood, had resolved to carry him off.
On hearing this, I instantly set out to warn your countryman of the
danger to which he was exposed, but on my way I met a person who
informed me that he and his party had set forth at a very early hour,
and were actually advancing in the very direction where they would
encounter the enemy. I, on this, instantly sent forth a person to warn
him of his danger, and galloped after you, to entreat you to head a
party, of strength sufficient to meet the enemy. I directed all the men
in the district to assemble in arms; they want a leader, however, in
whom they may have confidence. I have told them that they would find
one in you, and they believe me. You will come, will you not?"
"Indeed, I will!" answered Ronald, belabouring his horse, and digging
his spurs into his flanks with an energy proportioned to his anxiety.
So eager was he, that for some time he could scarcely ask questions.
One thought alone occupied his mind: Edda was in danger, and there was a
possibility that he might preserve her from it.
The party soon got back to the village, where, in front of the inn, a
large number of men with arms in their hands were assembled. They
received Morton as he rode up with loud vivas. He had won their regards
the previous evening by the way he had addressed them, and Don Josef had
been telling them what a gallant fellow he was. They were, therefore,
now prepared to place the most implicit confidence in him, and to hail
him as a leader in the enterprise Don Josef had projected. The Spaniard
had been giving him an exact account of all the information he had
received, and of the plans he had formed. Ronald thought them
excellent; there was, however, no time to be lost. Messengers with the
fiery cross--at least a message of the same import--had been sent round
to all the neighbourhood, and armed men were coming in from every
direction. When their numbers were counted, Morton found himself at the
head of a guerilla band, mustering upwards of three hundred men, cavalry
and infantry. They varied more in their arms than in their costume, and
though many were somewhat ragged, when massed together and all looking
fierce and eager for the fight, they had a very warlike appearance.
The great object was to overtake Colonel Armytage before he could reach
the spot where the ambush was supposed to be placed; he travelled with
only a small escort of a dozen troopers, merely sufficient for
protection against any brigands who might be roving through the country.
As to the French, he had fancied that they were at a considerable
distance, and had no fear of falling in with them: he ought of course to
have been better informed. The truth was, that though formal and
dignified, and so far fitted to have intercourse with the Spaniards, his
manners were not sufficiently conciliatory to have gained their
affections, and they consequently neglected to give him the information
on many points which it was most important for him to obtain.
Job and Bob exchanged a few passing remarks as they bumped along in a
way to which they were not at all accustomed, and which caused their
words to come out like shot from guns irregularly served in action, or
the pantings of a broken-down steam-engine; only such an invention was
not known in those days.
"I'd sooner be serving my gun aboard the frigate than be on the top of
this here brute," observed Bob. "But it's no odds, I suppose; if we
catches the Mounseers, and drubs them, we shall ride back on their
backs--eh, Job?"
"Not so sure of that; they'll sham lame and refuse to carry us,"
answered the other seaman. "But I say, Bob, what a hurry our
lieutenant's in; to my mind, it's all about that young lady at the
window; mark my words, there'll be a splice some day or other, and good
luck to him too; a finer-hearted fellow never stepped, for all he's a
boatswain's son. There's some men born to be officers, and he's one of
'em."
People seldom dream of the way in which they and their acts are
discussed by their inferiors.
Don Josef now told Ronald that they were approaching the spot where he
hoped to overtake Colonel Armytage and his party, but no traces of them
could be seen. They must have proceeded faster than Don Josef had
calculated. "On, on!" was the cry. They met a peasant, a half-witted
fellow; he had seen such a party--a carriage with ladies, a waggon and
some horsemen--pass an hour before.
"We shall be too late, I fear," exclaimed Don Josef; "but on, my
friends; we may still overtake the enemy."
The party redoubled their speed; never had Ronald been worked up to such
a pitch of anxiety and eagerness.
The sound of shots was heard; the road wound among low broken cliffs,
and trees growing thickly together; it was a likely place for an
assault; so frequent were the bends made by the road that seldom was
there a direct view of more than a hundred yards. Horse and foot rushed
on, till Ronald remembering that their impetuosity might do more harm
than good, halted them; and begging Don Josef to remain with them and
not to advance till summoned, rode on with the two seamen, and six other
men, of the best-equipped and best-mounted of the party. Now again he
pushed on as rapidly as he could. How his heart beat! Should he be in
time to rescue his friends? If not, how would they be treated? His
eagerness prompted him to shout to his men, but he recollected caution
was necessary, and restrained himself. Again the rattle of musketry was
heard, and dropping shots, and even the shouts of the combatants reached
his ears; he was close to them; a carriage was the first object which
met his view. The mule which dragged it had drawn it against the side
of the cliff, against which it lay half upset. Before it were a party
of men drawn up across the pass, and bravely contending against a whole
host who appeared beyond. It was evident, however, the small band would
be quickly overpowered, for men were seen climbing the cliff with
muskets in hand, belonging to the opposite party. By their dress, and
the rapidity with which they climbed the cliffs, they seemed to be
seamen. Ronald's plans were formed in a moment; he instantly despatched
the most trusty of his party to direct Don Josef to send a hundred men
up the cliffs, so as to gain a higher level than the French, and to
advance with all rapidity with the rest. Putting spurs to his horse,
Ronald, with his small body of companions, darted on, shouting in
English and Spanish, "To the rescue! to the rescue! Do not give way--a
strong force is at hand!"
He had neither been heard nor seen by the commissioner's escort: at that
moment they wavered and drew back. Once losing ground, the French
dashed in among them; while some of the latter engaged each of them in
single combat, a French officer and several others made their way to the
carriage; Ronald and his band galloped on. At that moment only were
they discovered. A shriek was heard. The Frenchmen were dragging the
ladies from their carriage. Ronald repeated the shouts he had already
uttered. Among the French were sailors as well as soldiers.
"We'll tackle them," cried Job.
"What business has they to be here?" exclaimed Bob.
The French officer was in naval uniform, and Ronald, even at that
distance, recognised Alfonse Gerardin.
Mrs Armytage and her daughter shrieked for help; they fancied they had
been attacked by bandits. They had been more alarmed for the safety of
Colonel Armytage than for their own; he was nowhere to be seen.
"Fear not, my beloved Edda; you and your mother are in perfect safety,"
said Alfonse Gerardin, who had thrown himself from his horse. He was
now endeavouring to draw her, with as little violence as possible, from
the carriage. "I have sought for you through many lands; I have found
you at last, and we will never again part."
These expressions frightened Edda far more than any threats would have
done. There was a concentrated energy and determination in the way he
spoke them that made her feel that he would keep his word.
"Oh, spare me! spare me!" she exclaimed. "You are not a brigand; you do
not war with women. Let us go free, and hasten to the assistance of my
father. You expressed friendship for him. Prove it now."
"I will, Edda, I swear; but you cannot remain here. Any moment you may
be sacrificed. The shot are falling thickly around. It is hopeless to
expect help from any one but me."
At that moment Edda saw him change colour, and then she heard the sound
of a voice which she knew full well--"To the rescue! to the rescue!"
while Bob and Job shouted, "Down with the Mounseers; down with them!"
Edda saw Ronald coming. She struggled to free herself; while Alfonse,
having leapt on his horse, was attempting to lift her up on the saddle;
but he was not a good horseman, and it seemed doubtful whether he would
succeed.
While some of his followers were endeavouring to carry off Mrs
Armytage, in obedience to his orders, the others were facing about to
defend themselves against the approaching enemy. When the French saw
the small body of men led by Morton, those who had faced to meet them
boldly advanced. Morton dashed forward. His great object was to reach
Alfonse Gerardin. He saw nothing else, he thought of nothing else but
Edda Armytage in his power.
"Release her, or you die!" he shouted.
Truefitt and Doull meantime had each singled out a French seaman, and
with hearty good-will were attacking them with their cutlasses. So
fierce was their onslaught that they drove them back into the midst of
the _melee_, where Colonel Armytage's troopers were still holding their
own against their foes. The French were, however, pressing them very
hard. Alfonse looked round and saw that the way was open to him. In
another moment Ronald Morton would be at his side. He stooped down, and
throwing his arms round Edda, by a violent effort lifted her off the
ground and placed her on his saddle.
"Retreat, men!" he shouted, "Let alone the other lady."
He was galloping off, but Ronald digging his spurs into his horse's
flanks, and cutting down a French soldier, who attempted to stop him,
was in another instant by the side of the young lieutenant. Gerardin
saw him coming with uplifted sword. He raised his own weapon to defend
himself, while he still held Edda with his left arm. He knew that
Ronald would not dare to fire; he doubted whether he would even venture
to strike, for fear of injuring Miss Armytage. Ronald's eye was
practised, his nerves were well strung.
"Release her, villain!--madman!" he shouted again. He saw what Alfonse,
who had to turn his head to look at him, did not see, Truefitt and Doull
springing across the road. Bob seized the horse's head; the animal
reared. Gerardin, in attempting to seize the rein, loosened his hold of
Edda, and she would have fallen to the ground had not Truefitt caught
her. The enemy were gathering thickly around. Bob, seeing what had
happened, let go the rein to defend his own head, as well as his
shipmate's, from the blows showered on them. Morton, too, was attacked
on all sides. He did not seek for revenge. Gerardin's horse sprang
forward and saved his rider from the only blow aimed at him by Morton.
All these events had passed within a few seconds of time. At that
instant the Frenchmen uttered a cry of "Retreat!--retreat! _Sauve qui
peut_!" They had good reason for so doing; for the cliffs on either
side appeared covered with guerillas, who began firing down upon them,
while a strong band was seen advancing at full speed along the road.
"Ronald Morton, I hate you!" exclaimed Gerardin, turning round in his
saddle, and shaking his clenched fist at the English lieutenant. "You
have foiled me again and again. I know you, and who you are; you stand
between me and my birthright; you shall not foil me again. I have
before sought your life; the next time we meet we will not separate till
one or the other dies."
These last words were uttered as, surrounded by the survivors of his
band, he was galloping off. The advantage of having sent the Spaniards
to crown the height was now apparent. They drove the French riflemen
down to the main body, and the enemy, not being able to ascertain the
number opposed to them, gave way before a very inferior and
undisciplined force. Ronald did not attempt to follow them till he had
placed Edda in safety by the side of her mother, whom he found half
fainting in the carriage. Then telling her that he would go in search
of Colonel Armytage, he leapt on his horse and joined Don Josef and the
surviving troopers who were moving on in pursuit of the enemy. He had
not gone far before he fancied that he could distinguish Colonel
Armytage mounted on a horse among the French, and drooping as if badly
wounded.
The road sloped considerably in front. The French were descending the
steep. Calling to his companions to charge, he led the way, attacking
the rear-guard of the enemy with irresistible impetuosity. Down they
went before the Spanish blades like corn before the sickle. Those in
front endeavoured to fly. Some few turned to withstand their opponents,
but they, too, gave way, and Ronald and his followers fought on till
they reached the prize the French fancied they had secured: the person
to capture whom the expedition had apparently been despatched. The
colonel, who had been secured to his horse, was almost insensible, and
seemed not at all aware by whom he had been rescued. The French,
meantime, when they discovered the small number of the guerilla band
opposed to them halted, and seemed about to return; but Ronald showed so
bold a front that they apparently thought better of it, and on finding
that they were not again attacked, formed in order, and continued their
retreat.
Ronald observed, as he rode back, that although there were numbers of
dead on the road, there was not a wounded man alive among them.