HOW I CHARGED THE CITADEL.
Now, I reckon that during the course of my nomadic life I have looked
upon as many strange scenes as fall to the lot of the average biped;
but it so chanced that up to this particular time it had never as yet
been my fortune or misfortune to participate in an actual, _bona-fide_
revolution.
Of course, I had a pretty fair idea as to what such an upheaval might
be, especially in these small but seething countries bordering the
Caribbean Sea, and experienced more or less of a desire to ascertain at
close quarters whether my impressions were correct or faulty.
When I quitted the modest little building that sheltered Hildegarde, I
ran down the street to the cathedral first of all.
This being somewhat of a central point, I was in a fair position to get
my bearing and head straight for the _plaza_.
At least, one thing was positive--the little affair had not as yet been
decided in favor of either party, for the tumult was still in full
blast.
Indeed, I was myself of the opinion that it had increased rather than
diminished, and found considerable to amuse and interest me in the
remarkable lung power of these inflammable people.
As I advanced, I found that I had no longer cause to complain on
account of a scarcity of people upon the streets, for men were to be
seen in knots and clusters, men carrying guns and men without, but all
apparently eager to have a hand in the fray.
I also noticed that they wore green in their hats, green being the
sign manual of the party that was out--if the government won the fight
it was a very simple matter to change this for a red feather or ribbon;
thus readily does the average Central American republican adapt his
politics to the present need.
That these revolutions were a sort of guerrilla warfare I knew from
hearsay--no pitched battles were fought, or rarely, at least; and the
party that by stress of circumstances was forced to give ground in
the encounter, after a fair trial of strength, accepted the decision
philosophically, the leaders ran for the friendly border, the rank and
file affiliated with the victors, and peace once more descended for a
brief interval on the republic.
But such a thing as continued peace has not as yet been known in these
countries, nor was it in Mexico until the firm hand of Diaz seized the
wheel of the ship of state.
Let us hope for a Diaz in each republic, whose astute statesmanship
and unbending will can force them along the path of progress and crush
every threatening evil.
The soldiers holding the citadel were few in number, but they had the
gun.
That was what dismayed the enemy, who had never been drilled to face
cannon; had it been a Gatling or a pompom, I could not have blamed
them, for such destructive weapons might sweep the _plaza_, and leave
winrows of disabled revolutionists there; but a simple brass gun--well,
they were away behind the times.
What I wanted now was to find Robbins.
Many of the insurgents looked at me curiously while they skulked behind
angles and were ready to drop flat on the ground whenever the big gun
roared.
Carmencita had, with her own hands, fastened a green ribbon upon the
sombrero I had secured, so that I appeared to be _en regle_.
Even as I reached the _plaza_, I saw a brilliant flash of fire from
the citadel opposite, then came a thunderous discharge, a rattle of
adobe bricks in a building just to the right of me, followed by an
angry outburst of shouts.
Jove! I fancied I felt the windage of the ball as it sped past.
At any rate, it appeared that the gunners were not firing blank
cartridges--they meant business.
Instead of giving me a fright, this thing did just the contrary--it
aroused my fighting blood. I felt a hot thrill pass over my whole
frame, as though I had been suddenly immersed in a fiery furnace like
Shadrach and his comrades of old. Yes, it was easy for me to understand
now what was meant when they spoke of the fierce battle spirit sweeping
over a man, and transforming a novice into a veteran.
That one shot, added to the warlike shouts, had accomplished this
transformation.
I seemed to see in that gun the one thing on earth I longed to
possess--all else faded into insignificance beside it, and I was even
willing to undergo every manner of bodily torment and deprivation in
order to accomplish its capture.
Alone, I could do nothing.
Here were men--if I could only harangue them and inflame them with but
a modicum of my fierce desire, how easy it would be to accomplish the
overthrow of the citadel.
Apparently, it took the defenders several minutes to charge their gun
after a shot; this gave oceans of time for a rush across the open to
gain the shelter of such buildings as flanked the barracks.
And, wonderful to relate, this simple trick had not been
turned--indeed, to all appearances, had not even been considered.
Truly, there was a crying need of leaders among these good people, men
who had the brain to plan and the nerve to execute.
They had fallen into a rut, and even the uncommon bark of a cannon
appeared to have paralyzed their powers.
Could I enthuse them?
At least, it was worth the effort.
Accordingly, I sprang upon the step of a house around the corner, and
began to hold forth as best I could--it was necessary for me to bellow
at the top of my voice, but this helped to disguise any blunders of
which I might possibly have been guilty.
The wearers of the green came flocking around.
Doubtless, it was no novelty for them to hear a hot harangue, but my
style was entirely different from that to which they were accustomed;
instead of urging them on, I asked them to follow me in an assault on
the citadel--moreover, I explained my simple plan.
It was an easy task to work upon these fellows, already at the battle
pitch--it required few of the orator’s tricks to arouse them until they
were a shouting crowd, breathing vengeance on the defenders of the
barracks, and clamorous that I should lead them into the breach.
This was as I wanted it.
I asked for nothing more.
At the time, I was not moved by any other purpose than a desire to
assist these friends, who, in a measure, had been the means of my own
rescue, as well as that of Hildegarde; perhaps, too, I forced myself to
believe in the corruption of the government, and that an upheaval might
purify the atmosphere.
At any rate, I am very sure I entertained no selfish motives, beyond
the natural longing of a soldier enlisted for the war, who is desirous
of seeing victory perch upon his standard.
And yet, although ignorant of the fact at the time, I was making
history.
Of that, more anon.
Having raised the fighting spirits of my compatriots to the desired
pitch, it would not do for me to let them cool down again--I must
strike while the iron was hot.
There were at least twenty of them, all told.
Whether every man would follow me across the open remained to be seen.
So we clustered near the corner, only waiting for the heavy discharge
that was to serve as the signal for our rush.
I cast one last glance over the scene, so that I might never forget
it--the swarthy faces, the glittering eyes, the determination to be
discovered on every set countenance--all these things were a part of
that weird picture on which the flickering lights of the _plaza_ fell.
Then came a thunderous roar, a crash of falling masonry, and a house
toppled over just where we gathered for the tiger spring, as though the
gunners had suspected the danger that lurked around our corner.
I remember shouting at the top of my voice, of whirling around the
corner, and seeing the whole crowd follow me.
Another moment, and we were hustling across the wide square, heading
for the barracks.
It was not in the nature of things that we could thus dash across the
open, with plenty of light to disclose our movements, and expect to
escape without a baptism of fire.
The soldiers who held the citadel were armed with good guns, and could
send volleys of lead into the _plaza_; but I had a contempt for their
marksmanship, and believed that if my force suffered it would be
through accident.
Of course, we took precautions; every man as he ran leaped from side
to side, or sprang into the air like a deer.
Altogether, I imagine we must have presented a most astonishing
spectacle as we thus moved across the open square, where, on most
nights, the military band was wont to discourse sweet music to the
keen enjoyment of a different kind to-night--the boom of cannon, the
crackling of rifles, the fierce shouts of excited rivals and perchance
the wailing of unfortunates in whom flying missiles had found a
lodgment.
This sight, which I would have given something to have seen, I missed,
for my attention was wholly taken up with what lay in front.
Our sudden and surprising appearance had, I imagine, somewhat
disconcerted and demoralized the defenders of the barracks, for we were
allowed to cover at least one-third of the distance before a single
shot was fired.
After that they came hot and fast enough, but sent at random, after the
manner of men who had become so rattled that they no longer thought it
incumbent to take aim, but simply discharged their pieces.
Two-thirds over, and now we opened on the home stretch.
I kept my eyes on the buildings, determined to know what was
transpiring, so that I might take advantage of any opening that
appeared.
One came, but, singularly enough, I shrank from it as from the black
plague; for, through the embrasure in the heavy wall a shining object
was thrust forth which I had no difficulty in recognizing as the muzzle
of the cannon.
It bore directly on me, as I could readily see.
My ideas of valor and glory did not necessitate my remaining there to
accept the compliments of the brass gun--indeed, I never made a more
rapid change of base in my life than when I discovered what I was up
against, at the same time whooping out a warning for the men who were
supposed to be following pell-mell at my very heels.
That was as close to eternity as I have ever come thus far on my
journey through life--even when struggling in the mad surf after the
wreck of the yacht I hardly think I made a more narrow escape, for the
windage of the passing ball knocked me flat upon my back.
I was not hurt, at least seriously, and, having the same old fierce
desire to overwhelm these gunners and take the fort by storm, I
struggled to my feet, expended what little breath I had remaining in a
shout of defiance, and once more took up my charge.
Impulse, not reason, carried me on--I could not have told why I did
this thing had the question been fired at me--perhaps some power beyond
my control. Destiny, if you please, was in charge of my affairs.
Again the rattle of guns burst out--flashes came from various parts of
the building, and the bullets tore all around me, but I was unharmed;
I, who seemed to bear a charmed life, ran on, still shouting defiance,
until at length, I arrived in front of the heavy door of the citadel.
Then, having covered the ground, I turned to give my valiant band
orders to attack, only to find that not a moving figure was to be seen
upon the whole broad _plaza_.