_A Dash for Port_
The Queen of Carlina, after a restless night, rose one fair morning
early in October and dressed herself long before the appearance of her
maids. There had been much to disturb her sleep, rumor upon rumor and
arrest after arrest during the last few days, and last night a long
conference with her advisers. Before she retired she had turned
wearily to Otaballo, who remained a few minutes after the others
departed.
"My General," she said, "I'm tired of it all. Let them do as they
will."
"Not so long as there is a loyal man to carry a gun," he answered
stubbornly.
"You are old, General; it is time you had peace."
"I am as young as my queen."
"She is very old to-night," she answered, with a weary smile. "I
fear I am not a real queen,--just a woman. And women grow old
quickly--without love."
The General bit his moustache. He had long seen that it was more this
than the plotting of the Revolutionists which was undermining his
power. He did not know how to answer.
"You have the love of your people."
"Not even that. The sentiment of love for their queen is dead. That is
the root of the whole matter. There is but one thing, then, for me to
do: to retire gracefully--to anticipate their wishes--to listen to
their cry and declare a republic. Then you and I will go back to the
cottage together and drink our tea in peace."
"You are wrong. That is not the wish of the people; it is the wish
only of a few hundred blackguards led on by those devils brought here
from over the sea."
"You mean Dick's men?"
"The devil's men. If you give me authority, I'll have every mother's
son of them shot before morning."
She shook her head.
"Not even to please my bloodthirsty general. They have played us false
but--still they are countrymen of his."
"You insult him. They belong to no country."
"Why," she asked thoughtfully, "why should I expect them to fight for
me? Perhaps they think I played Dicky false. They have reason--he is
not here where he won his right to be."
"Then for the love of God, bring him here," he answered, forgetting
himself. She started at that.
"No! No!" she cried hastily, as though fearing he might make the
attempt to find him; "not to save the kingdom. You should listen to me
to-night, General; I am very wise. The reports which have come in are
without exception bad. You arrest here, you arrest there, but still
the people gather and still they state their wishes. I know how it is;
at first they were amused to have their queen,--it was like a holiday.
Especially when Dicky talked to them. But freedom is in the blood and
it is as foolish to fight against it as against the foreign ships we
once tried to keep out of our harbor. Carlina--the old Carlina, your
Carlina and mine, is no more."
She paused at the look of horror which had crept over his withered
face. She dropped her hand to his arm.
"Do I sound disloyal? It is only because the kingdom remains as it
used to be in your dear heart and yours alone. I am your queen,
General, because you are still in the past. But the others are not.
They are of the present and to them I am only a tradition. If they
were all like you, my heart and soul, my life and love would all be
theirs. It is to save what is left of the former things--to save you
and the few others of that old kingdom--to have our dear Carlina as we
used to have it out there in the sunshine of the garden--that I would
leave this turmoil before it is too late."
The white head drooped as she spoke,--drooped low over the wrinkled
hands clasped upon the jeweled sword handle. Dreams--dreams that had
seemed about to come true in these his later years now faded before
his misty eyes. He had thought to see, before he died, the glory of
the former times returned; and now his queen was the first to call
them dead. For the moment he felt himself as solitary as one returned
from the grave. But, as she had said, if there were more like
Otaballo, the kingdom would still be, without all this strife. His
stubborn thoughts refused to march into the present. He raised his
head again, still a general of Carlina.
"Your Majesty," he said, "there is but one way in which a servant of
the house of Montferaldo may save himself."
And clicking his heels together, he had turned with military precision
and left her. Then she had tossed the night long, dreaming horrible
things. Now she sat in her private apartments staring with troubled
eyes over the sunlit grounds. So an hour passed, when without warning,
the door snapped open, closed, and she looked up, startled, to see
Danbury himself.
Her breath was cut off as though her heart had been stopped, as when
one thrusts in a finger and halts a clock. There was the same dead
silence that closes in upon the cessation of the long-continued
ticking--a silence as though the whole world paused a moment to
listen. He limped across the room to her side. She saw that his hair
was dishevelled, his coat torn, as though he had been in a struggle.
Then his arms closed about her and she felt a great sense of safety,
of relief, as though everything had suddenly been settled for her.
There was no kingdom, no throne, no Otaballo, no cityful of
malcontents,--nothing but Dicky. She felt as much at peace as when
they used to sit in the garden together. All this other confusion had
been only some story which he had told her. But in a minute he drew
back from her and thrust the present in again.
"Come," he whispered, "we must hurry."
"But Dicky--what is it?"
"The city is up in arms. We haven't a second to spare."
"And Otaballo--my general?"
He clenched his fists at the memory.
"Dead. They killed him and a handful of men at his side."
"Dead--my general dead?"
"Like the brave general he was."
She put her hands to her face. He drew her to his shoulder where he
let her weep a moment, his own throat big.
"Oh, but they shall answer for it!" he cried. "Hush, dear. I'm coming
back with a thousand men and make 'em sweat for that."
His quick senses caught a sound without.
"Come," he commanded, "we shall be cut off here." He took her arm and
hurried her along. They scurried down the stairs and across the palace
grounds to a small gate in the rear. Here a carriage was waiting for
them. Danbury helped her in and stooped to kiss her lips before he
jumped up beside the driver.
"Now drive for your life!" he commanded.
The whip fell across the quivering flanks of the nervous animals and
they leaped forward. The driver kept to the deserted side streets
where they raced along unchallenged, but soon it became necessary to
turn into the main thoroughfare in order to reach the water front and
the boat. In the four minutes it would require to go those dozen
blocks their fate would be decided. If the army had not yet advanced
that far, they would be safe; otherwise he must depend upon a dash for
it, covering the mob with the two revolvers he had. Eight shots to
ward off the attack of a thousand men!
Danbury leaned far out over the box as the horses took the turn at a
speed which almost swung the rear wheels clear of the ground. The
animals had become panic-stricken now and were bolting madly ahead
like horses from a burning stable.
But though the road looked clear they had not advanced a block before
men sprang up as though from the ground. The populace had heard of the
advancing column and such as had not already joined it prepared to
meet it here. In order to avoid immediate suspicion, they were forced
to steady the horses down to something like a walk. To Danbury it
seemed as though they had stopped stock-still. He was not a good man
in such a position as this; he was all for dashing action. He could
hardly sit still. They received many side glances from the excited
groups, but they passed merely as a carriage full of nervous
foreigners. Danbury himself was not recognized. So they crept along
and Danbury gained hope, until they were within two hundred yards of
the turn which would take them out of the line of march. Then with
hoarse shouting, the advance line of the revolutionists swept around a
corner and directly towards them.
They were a yelling horde of half-drunken maniacs,--a disordered horde
eager for the noisy excitement their Southern blood craved. With half
of them it was more the frenzied love of flags and noise that had
brought them out than any deep-seated conviction of right. But the
thing that brought Danbury to attention was the sight of Splinter with
forty of his fellows from the boat leading the crowd. In an instant he
was off the box and inside the carriage. He realized what it would
mean to be recognized by him. He had but one thought--to guard the
safety of her within.
The driver advanced at a walk, keeping as close as possible to the
curbing. There was just one chance in a thousand that the crowd might
be too intent upon their goal to bother with passing vehicles. They
were not after the Queen herself, for they looked upon her as a mere
girl influenced by Otaballo. Should they chance upon her, undoubtedly
they would feel obliged to arrest her, but she was not at the moment
of such supreme importance as to make them alert to prevent her
escape. Danbury knew this. The danger lay in the impudent curiosity of
some one of the soldiers. Each felt the license of the law breaker. It
was the spirit that led them to destroy property for the sheer joy of
destroying that he had to fear. He held his weapon ready, sitting far
back. The girl was white and calm. They watched the first few
stragglers pass in dead silence; they heard the clattering confusion
yet to pass.
Then a soldier thrust his musket through the glass with a coarse
laugh. He peered within, but the girl's face was shielded so that the
most he saw was that she was a girl. The muzzle of Danbury's revolver
was within a foot of his head and a finger trembled upon the hair
trigger. Still he forced himself to wait a second longer.
"Get out, my pretty lady--get out an' join us," he shouted.
"What have you there?" shouted his comrade.
Then someone started the cry:
"The Queen! It may be the Queen!"
There was a rush towards the carriage. Danbury fired through the
bottom--a signal to the driver to dash for it. The horses sprang but
were brought back upon their haunches. Beatrice spoke to Danbury.
"Wait. Not yet," she pleaded as he raised his weapon.
It was almost like Providence; a shout from across the street which
grew in volume until it drowned out all other cries. Then a rush in
that direction which was followed blindly by every man of them. In a
few seconds the carriage was deserted. Danbury rose to his feet and
looked out. He almost lost his breath as he saw Stubbs, Wilson, and a
girl, the center of a thousand excited men. The girl, white-cheeked,
turned a moment in his direction. He was dumbfounded. Then he caught
the cry, "Down with the traitors!"
The cry was taken up and voiced by a hundred throats. He saw Stubbs
thrust his fists in the faces of the crowding men,--saw him fight them
back until his own blood boiled with the desire to stand by his side.
But the driver had whipped up the horses again and the carriage was
taking him away--out of danger to her. In spite of the look of quick
relief he saw in the face of Beatrice, he felt almost like a
deserter.
It was what Stubbs took to be a return of the bad luck which had
pursued him from childhood--this chance which led the three into the
city at such a time as this. They had thought of nothing when they
rose early that morning but of pushing through as soon as possible to
Bogova. Wilson felt that it was high time that the girl reached
civilization even as crude as it was in that city, with some of its
comforts. The hardships were beginning to show in her thin cheeks and
in dark rings below her eyes. The outskirts of the city told them
nothing and so they trudged along with joyous hearts intent only upon
finding decent lodgings. They had not even the warning of a shout for
what was awaiting them. The upper street had been empty and they had
turned sharply into this riot as though it were a trap set to await
them.
Both men were quick to understand the situation and both realized that
it meant danger. But Stubbs was the first to shake himself free. He
recognized the crew at the head of the motley army. It roused his ire
as nothing else could. Instantly he felt himself again their master.
They were still only so many mutinous sailors. He turned upon them
with the same fierceness which once had sent them cowering into the
hold.
"Ye yaller dogs," he roared. "Get back! Get back!"
They obeyed--even though they stood at the head of a thousand men,
they obeyed. Once these fellows admitted a man their master, he
remained so for all time. They shrank before his fists and dodged the
muzzle of his revolver as though they were once again within the
confines of a ship. In a minute he had cleared a circle.
"Now," shouted Stubbs, "tell 'em we're through with their two-cent
revolution. Tell 'em we're 'Mericans--jus' plain 'Mericans. Tell 'em
thet and thet I'll put a bullet through the first man that lays a hand
on one of us. Splinter, ye blackguard,--tell 'em that! Tell 'em
that!"
Through a Carlinian lieutenant who understood English, Splinter made
the leaders understand something of what Stubbs had said. They
demurred and growled and shouted their protests. But Splinter added a
few words of his own and they became quieter.
"Huh?" exploded Stubbs, impatiently; "perhaps some of 'em 'members me.
Tell 'em we're goin' home, an' tell 'em thet when a 'Merican is bound
fer home it don't pay fer ter try ter stop him. Tell 'em we ain't
goneter wait--we're goin' now."
He turned to Wilson.
"Come on," he commanded. Throwing up his arms he pressed back the men
before him as a policeman brushes aside so many small boys. Whether it
was the sheer assurance of the man, whether it was his evident
control over their allies, or whether it was all over before they had
time to think, they retreated and left a clear path for him.
"You boys guard our rear," he shouted back to Splinter, "and when
we're outer sight ye can go ter hell."
Obedient to the command, the small band of mercenaries took their
place behind the three retreating figures. The latter made their way
across the street without hurrying and without sign of fear. They
turned a corner and so disappeared from sight. The army paused a
moment. Then someone raised a new cry and it moved on, in three
minutes forgetting the episode.
Stubbs at the corner found himself in the arms of an excited man, who,
revolver in hand, had run back to meet him.
"Lord!" exclaimed Danbury, "I was afraid I was too late."
Without further parley he hurried the girl into the closed carriage
and with a yell over his shoulder for the two men to follow, clambered
back upon the box.
"The boat's at the dock," he shouted. "Steam all up. Get on behind!"
The two men had their hands full to keep pace on foot with those wild
horses, but the distance was short. In less than an hour the group was
all on board the yacht which had her nose pointed straight for the
open sea.