CAUGHT IN A TRAP.
So much had passed between the first visit of the Scudamores to Madrid
as Spanish peasant boys, and their second entry as captains upon Lord
Wellington's staff, that they had scarcely given a thought to the
dangers they had at that time run, or to the deadly hatred with which
they had inspired the guerilla chief Nunez. When they first rode
into the town, indeed, they had spoken of it one to the other, and
had agreed that it would be pleasant to be able to walk through the
streets without fear of assassination; for even, as Tom said, if the
scoundrel had any of his band there, they would not be likely to
recognize them in their uniforms.
One evening, however, when they had been in Madrid about a fortnight,
an incident happened which caused them to doubt whether their security
from the hatred of the guerilla was as complete as they had fancied.
They were sitting with a number of other officers in a large café in
the Puerta del Sol, the principal square in Madrid, when a girl came
round begging; instead of holding out her hand silently with a murmur
for charity in the name of the holy Virgin, she began a long story,
poured out in rapid language.
Several of the officers present knew more or less Spanish, but they
were unable to follow her quick utterances, and one of them said
laughingly, "Scudamore, this is a case for you, she is beyond us
altogether."
The girl followed the direction of the speaker's eye, and moved across
to the brothers, who happened to be sitting next to each other, and
began her story again. It was a complicated tale of French oppression,
and the boys, interrupting her here and there to ask for details,
talked with her for some minutes.
"I believe she is lying," Tom said, in English, "she tells her story
as if she had learned it by heart, and gets confused whenever we
cross-question her; there, give her a few coppers, I am out of
change."
As Peter put his hand into his pocket for the money, Tom glanced
up sharply at the girl. She was not, as might have been expected,
watching Peter's movements with interest, but was looking inquiringly
at some one in the crowd of promenaders. Tom followed her glance, and
saw a peasant, standing half-hidden behind a group of passers, nod to
her, and motion her to come to him. She waited until Peter put the
coins into her hand; then, with a brief word of thanks, she moved away
into the crowd.
"Peter, I believe those scoundrels are up to their old game, and
that we are watched. Once or twice since we have been sitting here I
have noticed a heavy-looking fellow glance at us very closely as he
passed, and I just saw the same fellow, who was evidently hiding from
observation, nod to that girl, and beckon her away."
"Her story was a lie from beginning to end," Peter said, "and it is
quite possible that it was a got-up thing, on purpose to see whether
we could talk Spanish well. I don't think any one could swear to us
who only saw us then; but the fact of our speaking Spanish so well
would go a long way towards settling the point in the mind of any one
who suspected us!"
"We must be careful in future, Peter, and avoid quiet streets after
dark, and keep a sharp look-out at all times, or we shall get a knife
between our ribs, as sure as fate."
Time, however, passed on without anything occurring to give any
support to their suspicion, they could not discover that they were
being watched, or their footsteps dogged. They, nevertheless,
continued to be, to a certain extent, upon their guard after dark; in
the daytime the number of English soldiers about the streets was so
large that there was very little danger of any attack.
On the evening before the army marched for Burgos, Tom, whose turn it
was for duty at head-quarters, received a despatch, to carry to one of
the generals of division encamped a mile or two out of the town. He
did not need to go round to his quarters, as his horse was standing
saddled in readiness in the courtyard. He was but an hour away, and,
as he knew that he would not be farther required, he rode round to the
house where he was quartered. His orderly came forward at his shout,
and took his horse, and he mounted the broad stairs of the house,
which was a very handsome one, and rang at the door on the second
floor; for in Spain, as indeed almost all over the Continent, each
floor is a separate dwelling.
Sam opened it.
"Nothing new, Sam?"
"No, sar, nothing new."
Tom passed through the sitting-room, and entered Peter's bedroom. It
was in darkness.
"Asleep, old man?" he asked.
There was no answer. He came back into the sitting room, where two
lamps were burning, and looked at his watch. "Half-past eleven. He is
off to bed early. Sam, bring me some supper if you have got anything,
I am hungry."
Sam came in, in a minute, with a small tray.
"How long has my brother been gone to bed?"
"Me did not know he gone to bed at all," Sam said, in surprise. "Me
thought Massa Peter been reading book."
Tom took up a light, and went into the bedroom, it was empty. "Sam,
there's something wrong here!" Tom said sharply, for a sudden
sensation of alarm seized him. "Peter is not here."
Sam came into the bedroom, and looked round in astonishment. "What
become of him?" he said. "Where de debil he got to?"
"That's what I want to know, Sam. Now, then, just give all your
attention. What time did he come in?"
"He came in at about nine o'clock, sar, with three other officers,
Captain Farquharson, Major Heriot, and Captain Brown. Dey have bottle
wine, and sit here and smoke. Well, Massa Tom, Sam sit in his room,
and smoke him pipe, and he doze off a little; after a bit, may be
ten o'clock, Sam hear dem move, and go to door; they were saying
good-night, when Massa Peter said, 'I will just go down to see that
the horses are all right.' Den dey all go down togeder."
"Did they shut the door?" Tom asked.
"No, Massa Tom, dey did not shut de door, because, a little while
after, Sam, he wake up wid little start; he hear de door bang, and
'spose Massa Peter come back. Sam go off to sleep again till you ring
bell."
Tom looked very grave. "What can Peter have gone off with Farquharson
at this time of night for?"
Then he looked round the room, and said, almost with a cry, "Sam,
look there, there are his cap and sword. He has not gone out with the
others at all. What can have happened?"
Tom first glanced into his own room, and then ran downstairs in haste,
followed by Sam, who was now also thoroughly alarmed. The orderly had
just made the horse comfortable for the night, and was leaving the
stable.
"Johnstone, when did you see my brother?"
"Well, it may be an hour, or an hour and a half back, sir. He came
down with some other officers; I did not see them, but I heard them
talking for a minute or two before he came in to look at the horses,
and he asked if they were all right, and said they must be saddled by
half-past five, and then he went up again--at least, I suppose he went
up, for he had not got his cap on. Is anything wrong, sir?"
"I don't know, I am afraid to think," Tom said, in a dazed way. "He is
not upstairs; he has not gone out; what can have become of him?"
He stood quiet for a minute or two, and then, with a great effort,
brought his thoughts within control again. "The first thing is to
assure ourselves whether he returned upstairs. Sam, fetch a lamp, the
stairs are not lighted, and I want to examine them."
Sam soon returned with the lamp, and Tom, beginning at the street
door, examined every step carefully all the way up, Sam and the
soldier following him.
"There has been no scuffle on the stairs," he said; then he went
through the little hall into the sitting-room again. Nothing appeared
to have been disturbed. Then he looked at the floor, which was of
polished oak, and knelt down to examine it more closely. "There have
been men with dirty shoes standing here," he cried. "Do you see the
marks on each side of the door, and there, do you see that scratch and
that? There has been a scuffle. Good heavens! what has taken place
here?"
Sam's face was pale with apprehension that something had happened to
Peter; but, he said, "How dat be, Massa Tom, with Sam in the next room
all the time?"
Tom made no reply; but was closely examining the floor--back across
the hall. "There is a mark; there is another," he said, "not made by
boots, but by their native sandals." Then he went out from the door,
and up the next flight of stairs.
"There," he said, "just as I thought." Just round the angle of the
stairs two steps were dirty and stained, as if dirty feet had been
trampling upon them for some time. "I suppose they knew I was out, and
watched here, for hours, perhaps. Then, when Peter went down, they
slipped in through the open door, and then"--without completing the
sentence, Tom went back into the room, and threw himself into a chair
in tearless despair.
Sam sobbed loudly. For some time there was silence. "There is no
blood, sir, that I can see, not a speck," the orderly said. "They
can't have killed Captain Scudamore, and, if they had, why should they
have carried his body away?"
This was the question Tom had been asking himself. Assassinations
were, in Madrid, every-day occurrences, and that Peter and he were
especially liable to be murdered, owing to the hatred of Nunez and his
gang, was clear; but, so far as he could see, not a drop of blood had
been shed here. Presently Sam began to sob more loudly. "Dis break
my heart, Massa Tom, to tink dat Sam be next door all de time, and,
instead of watching, he sleep so sound dat Massa Peter carried
straight away."
"You are not to blame, Sam, there was, probably, no noise whatever.
But, what can it all mean? Johnstone, you had better go to bed, you
can do no good now. Sam, give me my pistols; take that big stick of
yours, and come round with me to head-quarters, we will call in at
Captain Farquharson's on the way."
That officer, on being roused, and made to understand what was the
matter, confirmed the account given by the orderly; he and his
companions had parted at the street door, and Peter had gone down the
yard to the stable.
"It is clear that Peter has been carried off," Tom said, "and I have
not the least doubt that it has been done by some of the band of
Nunez. As you have heard me say, they owe us a grudge, and have, no
doubt, been on the look-out ever since we came here. We have been
on guard, and never gave them a chance, and, I suppose, they got
desperate when they found the army was moving again, and so carried
out this audacious plan."
"If your brother had been found murdered I should understand it,"
Captain Farquharson said; "but, what on earth did they carry him off
for?"
Tom was silent for a minute.
"That fiend, Nunez, would have had us stabbed if he could do nothing
else; but he would, if I judge him rightly, be really contented with
nothing short of putting us to death himself in some horrible manner.
My own idea is, that Peter is hidden away somewhere near, will be kept
in concealment until the road is clear, and will then be taken to
Nunez. I must go off and try and save him at all hazards."
Captain Farquharson was silent, while Tom walked up and down the room
thoughtfully.
"I don't suppose the chief would refuse me leave," Tom said. "If he
does, I must throw up my commission."
"No, no; you are sure to get leave for such a thing as this, but the
difficulty of the affair will be to know how to proceed. The country
will swarm with French, the guerillas are sure to keep a sharp
look-out, and if you find him, how are you going to rescue him?"
"I don't know," Tom said, "but it's got to be done; that's clear. I
can't set out as a Spanish peasant," he went on after a pause. "They
know me as that now. At least, if I do I must get up as an old man
and change my appearance. I might go as a woman, but I am too tall in
the first place, and then women don't go wandering over the country
in such times as this. But there, I have time to think it over before
morning. I suppose the general will be moving about five o'clock;
I will see him the first thing, and tell him the whole story.
Good-night."
And so Tom went back to his quarters, and sat thinking deeply until
morning, while Sam sat gloomily in his little room, sometimes with
tears rolling down his cheeks, sometimes muttering terrible threats
against the guerillas, at other times cursing himself for having been
asleep instead of watching over his young master's safety. Tom had
briefly told him that he intended to get leave in order to search
for Peter. At daybreak, when he heard Tom moving, he went into the
sitting-room.
"Look here, Massa Tom, Sam only one word to say. He going to look for
Massa Peter. Sam know dat him color berry spicuous, dat people look
at him and tink he de debil. Sam don't spect he going wid you. Dat
wouldn't do. Dese fellows watch him, know dat black fellow here. Only
Sam go somehow. He trabel night, hide up at day time. He join you de
last ting when you go to mash up dem guerillas like squash. Anyhow,
Sam must go. If can get leave, berry well, if not he desert. Anyhow he
go, dat sartin. Sam kill himself if he stay behind."
Tom had already thought over this. He was sure that the faithful negro
would not remain behind, but he had seen that his companionship would
be fatal. He had, therefore, formed some plan in his head similar to
that which Sam proposed, and he knew that when the moment for action
came his courage, strength, and devotion would be invaluable.
"You shall go, Sam," he said, holding out his hand to his attached
follower. "As you say, you can't go with me, but you shall go
somehow."
"Thank you, Massa Tom," the negro said gratefully, "You berry sure if
Massa Peter die Sam die too."
Tom now went to head-quarters, and found that Lord Wellington was
just up. Sending in to say that he wished to speak with him for a few
minutes on a matter of urgent personal importance, he was admitted,
and related as concisely as he could Peter's disappearance, and told
the story of the affair with the guerillas, which accounted for the
intense desire for vengeance on the part of Nunez. He ended by asking
for leave of absence.
The general heard him to the end, asking a brief question here and
there.
"You can have the leave certainly, Captain Scudamore, I know that it
is needless for me to point out the risks that you will run, both from
the French and guerillas. I think that it might be an advantage if I
give you a note which you can, in case of absolute necessity, show to
any French officer."
So saying, the general sat down and wrote as follows:--
"To the French officer commanding.--The Earl of Wellington,
commander-in-chief of His Britannic Majesty's forces in Spain, gives
his assurance that the bearer of this, Captain Scudamore, although not
in English uniform, is not engaged upon any mission connected with the
army, or to obtain information respecting the strength and position of
the French forces. His business is entirely private, and he is engaged
in an attempt to discover and rescue a brother who has been carried
off by the guerilla chief Nunez in order to gratify private vengeance.
The Earl of Wellington, confiding in the natural courtesy of the
French nation, trusts that officers of that service will, if applied
to, assist Captain Scudamore in any way in their power, and he will
feel personally obliged to them by their so doing."
Tom expressed his deep gratitude for this, which might, he foresaw, be
of inestimable advantage to him.
"I am taking my servant with me, sir--the negro; he will not travel
with me by day, but will join me wherever I tell him; he is very
strong and brave, and is deeply attached to us."
"Yes, I remember," the general said; "that is the man whose life you
saved. Do you leave at once?"
"No, sir; I am thinking of riding with you to-morrow at any rate. The
route lies on the way I have to go, and I am sure to be watched here."
"Very well," the general said; "I wish you good fortune; but you have
a difficult, almost a desperate, service before you."
Upon leaving head-quarters, Tom again called on Captain Farquharson.
"Farquharson, I hear that it will be eleven before the chief leaves. I
wish you would go to that little shop opposite the opera-house; they
have got wigs and all that sort of thing there. Please get me two
old men's wigs and beards, and one set of those mutton-chop shaped
whiskers, and a woman's wig. I haven't made up my mind yet what I am
going to wear, but I want these things to choose from. I am sure to be
watched, and if I were to go there they would find out, five minutes
afterwards, what I had bought. In the meantime I am going to the head
of the police to give notice of Peter's disappearance, and to ask him
to have the carts leaving the town for the next few days searched.
I have no doubt the fellows will outwit the police, but it's no use
throwing away a chance."
It was six days after this that an old man, with long white hair
and gray beard, and with a box containing cheap trinkets, beads,
necklaces, earrings, knives, scissors, and other like articles, was
sitting at the junction of two roads near the lower slopes of the
Pyrenees, some twenty miles north of Vittoria. He had one of his
sandals off, and appeared to have just risen from a bed of leaves in
the forest behind him. The dawn had broken, but it was still twilight.
Presently he heard a footstep coming along the road, and at once
applied himself to wrapping the bandages, which serve for stockings
to the Spanish peasant, round his leg, looking eagerly from under his
wide sombrero to see who was approaching. As the new-comer came in
sight, the pedlar at once ceased his employment and rose to meet him.
He had recognized the figure, but the face was hidden, the Spanish
cloak, worn as is usual by peasant and noble alike, with one end
thrown over the shoulder, hiding the chin and lower part of the face,
while the wide felt hat, pressed well down in front, allowed scarcely
a glimpse even of the nose. That, however, would have been sufficient
in the present case, for the man was a negro.
Upon seeing the pedlar rise, he ran forward to meet him.
"Ah, Massa Tom, tank de Lord me find you safe and sound. I always
keep on tinking you taken prisoner or killed eider by de French or de
robbers--one as bad as de oder."
"I have thought the same of you, Sam, for your risk has been far
greater than mine. Well, thank God, it is all right thus far. But come
back into the wood, I have got some food there, and here any one might
come along."
They were soon deep in the wood, where, by a pile of grass and leaves
which had evidently been used as a bed, was an open wallet, with some
bread, cheese, cold meat and a small skin of wine.
"Are you hungry, Sam?"
"Downright starving, sar; dis chile eat noting for two days."
"Why, how is that, Sam; you had six days' provision with you when you
started?"
"Dat true enough, sar, but Sam's appetite bigger than usual, noting to
do all day sitting in de woods, waiting for night to come so as to go
on again; so had to eat, and de food all went before Sam thought dat
dere was two more days before he meet you."
"Well, sit down now, Sam, and eat away; we have plenty of time."
They had much to tell each other. They had traveled by the same road,
one by night, the other by day--Sam passing the days sleeping in the
woods, his master traveling by day and at night sleeping in wretched
village posadas. He, too, would far rather have slept in the woods,
for the insects and filth made sleep almost impossible in these
places, besides which he ran a good deal of risk as to the discovery
of his disguise. He had, however, chosen the inns in hopes of hearing
something which might give him a clue as to the object of his search.
The only information, which he had gained was to the effect that Nunez
still had his quarters at the old place. He had been driven out of it,
and the village had been burned by the French, but the position was
a convenient one, and the houses had been cleared and roughly roofed
with boughs of trees and straw, and the band was still there. This
much was satisfactory, and he could hardly have expected to learn
more, unless he had happened to meet some of the members of the band
itself. They had not traveled by the main road, as upon that large
forces of the French were collected; and even if Tom could have
passed through, boldly, Sam could not have made his way. Even by the
road they had chosen Tom had met several bodies of French, while at
Vittoria a very large force was assembling, destined for the relief of
Burgos.
Sam had but few incidents to relate. He had been carefully instructed
by Tom before starting as to the road he should take, and the position
and distances apart of the towns and villages upon it. He had traveled
only at night, and had but once or twice exchanged a word with passers
by. People did not travel much at night in so disturbed a country,
and when Sam heard a foot-passenger approaching, or, as was more
frequently the case, a party of French cavalry, he left the road and
lay down, until they had passed. The one or two foot-passengers he had
met suddenly he had passed with the usual Spanish muttered salutation,
and the darkness and the disguise prevented any recognition of his
color.
"Now, sar," Sam said, when they had finished breakfast, "what am to be
done next?"
"I do not think, Sam, that the party who have got Peter have arrived
yet. They could only have started on the day that we did; they have as
long a road to go, and most likely they have got a bullock-cart, which
won't travel more than fifteen miles a day at the outside. They have
got Peter in a cart covered up with something, we may be sure. I don't
think they will be here for another day or so at the earliest. If we
knew what sort of cart it was, we could attack them on the way if
there are not too many of them; but unfortunately we don't know that;
and as there are three or four roads up to the village, and they are
sure to make a detour, we don't know which they will come by. I hope
to learn at the village. We will stay where we are till dark, then we
will push on; it is only a couple of miles or so from here. I will
steal into the place after dark, and try and overhear what is going
on. You shall remain at a point where you can see down into the
village and can hear a shout. I will give you this letter of Lord
Wellington, and if you hear a pistol shot and hear me shout 'Sam!' you
will know I am caught, and must make off as hard as you can to that
small town in the plain, where there is a French garrison; ask for the
commanding-officer, show this letter, and offer to guide them so as
to surprise Nunez and his band. That is our sole chance. But I don't
think there is much risk of being caught. I shall be very careful, you
may rely upon it; and as I know the position of the house, I shall be
able to make my way about. Once night has fallen they go off to bed;
and even if I walked boldly about the place I should likely enough
meet no one all night."
That evening Tom entered the village as soon as it was fairly dark. He
knew, from his former experience, that sentries were always placed at
points whence they could get a view of the roads, and he made his way
so as to avoid any risk of observation by them; but when he reached a
place whence he could in turn view the posts of the watchers, he found
that they were deserted, and concluded that the brigands had become
careless, from the belief that, now the French had once destroyed the
village, they would not be likely to come up to search for them there
a second time; besides which, they might reckon that the French had
their hands much too full with the advance of the Allied Army to spare
either men or time in raids upon the guerillas. In this particular,
indeed, they would have argued wrongly, for the French during the
whole war, however much they were pressed by Wellington, always kept
sufficient forces in hand to scatter the guerillas as fast as they
become formidable.
Tom had now taken off his beard and wig, and had put on the small
whisker, which is the general fashion of wearing the hair throughout
Spain. Thus he trusted, if surprised in the dark, to pass as one of
the band. So quiet was the village when he entered, that he at first
thought it was deserted; at last, however, he saw a light in one of
the houses in the center of the village. Approaching carefully and
noiselessly he saw a group of five men sitting and drinking round a
fire made on the ground, in the center of one of the windowless rooms,
the smoke finding its way out through the roof.
"I tell you," one said, "I am getting sick of this life; I am ready to
go and kill the French, but to be left up here, where there is nothing
to do, no one to talk to, not a roof to cover one; bah! I am sick of
it. But Nunez will be back in three days, and we shall be merry enough
then."
"Not we," another said, "this was a pleasant village in the old days,
what is it now? There are no women, not even old mother Morena, who
used to cook well, if she was free of her tongue. There is not even a
priest now to shrive us if one is brought in to die."
"Nunez will come back in a good temper if it is true what Lope said
yesterday when he came through, that the lads at Madrid had got one
of those English boys who made a fool of him two years ago. That was
a go. Demonio! but it was a fine thing. If it is true that they have
got him and are bringing him here I would not be in his skin for all
the treasures of King Joseph. Yes, Nunez was always a devil, but he is
worse now. Somehow we always have bad luck, and the band gets smaller
and smaller, I don't suppose there's above fifty with him now. I
expect we shall have them pretty well all here this week."
"No fear of a visit from the French?"
"None; Reynier at Vittoria is busy now in sending every man he can
spare forward to the army that's gathering near Burgos."
This was enough for Tom, who stole silently away to the spot where Sam
was anxiously awaiting him.