recesses of which echoed to the loud report, while the sudden light
filled its windings and craggy nooks, illuminating them for an instant
as a flash of lightning would have done. Three of the banditti fell
splashing in the middle of the stream, which bore them off from the
reach of their comrades, whom this unlooked-for volley had stricken with
dismay. Ronald missed Narvaez, owing to a sudden motion of the latter;
but severely wounded Puerco Vadija, who was behind him. Evan and Pedro
had both killed their men.
The wild shrieks and outcries of the drowning robber, re-echoing among
the windings of the stream, so greatly appalled and terrified his
brother rogues, that, instead of advancing to the assault, they
re-crossed the stream, fled up the bank, and ensconced themselves behind
the rocks and trees, seeking shelter from the deadly aim of their
concealed enemies, and abandoning Vadija to his fate; but his last
drowning cry, as it came sweeping towards them on the night-wind, found
an echo in the heart of his slayer. From behind the covers where they
had posted themselves, a sharp fire was maintained on both sides for
some hours, without any damage being done. However, the three soldados
had the best of it in this bush-fighting sort of warfare, as they could
aim steadily at a head, or a leg, or an arm, the moment it appeared in
view, without exposing themselves in the slightest degree; while their
opponents took for their object of attack the large dark cluster of
vines which concealed the cavern's mouth, and leaden bullets innumerable
came whistling through the intertwined foliage, and were flattened
against the rocks, or sunk with a loud bang into the soft green turf
near its entrance. But Ronald and his friends escaped most
miraculously, while the shot hissed often within an inch of their ears,
causing a peculiarly unpleasant and tingling sensation within them,
which must be experienced to be comprehended properly.
"_Dios mio_, senors! my cartridges are nearly expended. I have but six
left," cried the dragoon, shaking the little cartridge-box which hung at
his shoulder-belt.
"Heavens! I have fired my last shot," exclaimed Stuart in reply, when,
on putting his hand into Lazarillo's canvas pouch, he found it empty.
"We can never hold out till some relief comes. Evan, how stands your
pouch?"
"Four charges, sir; deil a ane mair. We maun defend this hole by the
cauld airn when a' are gane."
"Stay,--cease firing. Reserve the ten rounds, to be used only in case
of some pressing extremity," said Ronald, first in English, and then in
Spanish.
"Exactly, senor; ten rounds are the lives of ten men. Should the
ladrones advance again, we will not fire until we are well assured our
fire will prove effective."
"They are more numerous now than before," observed the officer, pushing
aside the vines to view their foes. "There are a dozen more
high-crowned sombreros among them; I see them plainly above the rocks."
"_Santos_! O senor, allow me to fire," asked Pedro, slapping
impatiently the butt of his carbine. "See yonder fellow behind the
chesnut; his whole body is visible. Do allow me, noble senor; 'tis a
fair chance."
"Hold, my fiery sargento! we must be sparing of what is left us---- The
devil! Draw back, man, or you will certainly be shot."
At that moment six musquets flashed from concealed places, and some of
the balls grazed the cone of Pedro's steel helmet, which the waning
light of the moon had revealed to them.
It soon became apparent to the bandits that the ammunition of their
antagonists was expended; and their courage and insolence rose
accordingly. They showed their whole figures at times, and fired with
greater rapidity than before, shouting,--
"_Mueran los heregos! Muera, borrachos! perros! ladrones!_" and many a
loud and deep _carajo_, together with innumerable other Spanish epithets
and maledictions.
"Thank Heaven, day begins to break!" observed Pedro Gomez, as a pale
light in the east began to replace that of the faded moon.
"We shall then get rid of these bawling rascals; they will scarcely dare
to besiege us in open daylight."
"I have my doubts as to what course they may pursue, senor."
"How, Pedro?"
"Indeed, senor, in the present disorganized state of the country, our
Spanish robbers are bold enough to do any thing. Throughout the whole
land they are numerous as the leaves of the forest, and keep up lines of
regular communication between one place and another. We may thank the
French invasion for such a state of things."
"Why are such bands permitted to exist?"
"Exist, senor! Can shaven monks or lazy alcaldes subdue them?"'
"No; but armed soldiers may."
"Lord Wellington does not meddle with them, as they never assault his
troops; and old Murillo's soldiers have always work enough on hand,
without making war on the banditti."
"But how do these fellows come to be so numerous? Ah, curse that ball!
a narrow escape!"
"Senor, war compels our peasantry to become fierce and roving guerillas:
from the guerilla to the bandit is an easy transition."
"I may rejoice that at home, in my own country, we have nothing of that
kind to experience. 'Tis perfect day-light now: the thieves are still on
the watch. I would they had retired, as I feel very much exhausted by
fatigue and want of sleep."
The two soldiers felt in the same predicament, and the reader may
imagine the comfort of being drenched by fording the deep stream, and
then being obliged to pass the night in a damp cavern without sleep or
rest, after the stirring events, exhaustion, and fatigue of the day, and
the exposure to the bullets of some twenty desperadoes for an entire
night. Evan was seized with a cold shivering, like a fit of the ague,
and began to drop asleep in spite of his strenuous efforts to keep
himself awake.
Pedro produced his crucifix, and began to mutter his morning orisons,
mingling with them sundry invectives against the ladrones, and wishes
for a cup of aquardiente to stimulate him to fresh exertion. The fire
of the besiegers had now ceased, and they contented themselves with
watching the spot as they sat among the rocks smoking paper cigars, and
fixing new flints to their pieces; while coarse jokes were mingled with
the growls and curses of three or four that lay bleeding under the
shelter of a large block of granite rock, but untended and uncared for
by their comrades, who had half-stripped three others of their dead, now
tossed under the willow trees to be out of view,--the features of the
slain being too unpleasant an object for them to contemplate.
"The sun has risen," said Ronald, as its bright beams darted through
openings in the vines. "I will reconnoitre round about, and perhaps I
may discover some sign of our troops, if I can see the road which leads
to Merida." He received no answer. The mumble-jumble of Pedro's
paternoster, and a prolonged snore from Iverach, informed him that his
companions in peril were not inclined for conversation. Laying aside
his bonnet, he crept close to the mouth of the cave, and putting back
the foliage softly, cast a careful and keen glance around him. Their
besiegers on the opposite bank of the stream were still stationed as I
have described them, and appeared evidently determined to revenge the
fall of their comrades by starving their slayers into a capitulation.
Behind them, and to the right rose the umbrageous foliage of the cork
wood, intermingled with lofty chesnuts, stretching away in long vistas
until lost in gloom and obscurity. On the left the trees were more
scattered, and between the trunks he beheld the wide plain extending
away in the direction of Merida, its broad and level extent bounded by a
blue undulating ridge of far-off mountains, the line of which lay low
down in the distance, and formed the boundary of the horizon. The warm
lustre of the morning sun was shed joyously on the wide expanse, calling
into life a thousand birds and insects, and causing the wild flowers to
raise their dewy heads, and shake the moisture from their opening
petals.
But throughout all the wide prospect which the lofty situation of their
retreat enabled him to command, not one human being appeared,--no
succour was in sight. O how he longed to behold the glitter of arms,
the flash of burnished steel, through the dusty cloud which announces
afar off the march of armed men! And his heart beat with redoubled
velocity while he gazed upon the band of contemptible yet dreaded
ruffians, whom they had kept at bay the live-long night.
The report of a musquet, the whiz and crack of a ball, as it was
flattened against the hard granite walls of the cavern, made him
suddenly withdraw his head; and the loud shout of savage derision and
laughter which arose from those below caused his blood to boil
tumultuously, and his heart to swell with anger and impatience. He soon
found himself becoming a prey to weariness and exhaustion, owing to the
fatigue, excitement, and want of sleep which he had endured during the
last twenty-four hours, and it was with the utmost difficulty he
refrained from following Evan's example, and falling into slumber.
Often did Pedro Gomez recommend him earnestly to do so, reminding him
how much might yet have to be endured, and promising to keep faithful
watch and ward; but Ronald dared not trust him, fearing that he too
might be overcome with drowsiness, and leave them at the mercy of the
bandits. Towards noon, to their inexpressible satisfaction, the
besiegers began to draw off by degrees, as if wearied of the affair, and
retired into the wood, leaving the ford of the river free.
"_Hio!_ our Lady del Pilar!" cried Pedro, exultingly. "_Viva!_ senor;
they have abandoned their post. Should we get off scathless, I vow most
solemnly to visit the shrine of our Lady of Majorga, and present her
with three days' pay, and a new hat of the best kind that Badajoz or
Zafra can produce."[*]
[*] Great manufactories of hats are carried on in these towns.
"And should we not get off scathless, Pedro?" said Ronald merrily, as he
rose from the ground and stretched his limbs.
"Then not a maravedi shall she get from Sargento Gomez,--no, _diavolo_!"
Ronald laughed aloud at the Spaniard's ideas of religious gratitude, and
aroused his servant, who started up with agility, grasping his musquet,
all alive in an instant to the recollection of their situation.
"Gracious me, sir! I daur say I have slept. On sic an occasion as this
to tempt Providence wi'--"
"Never mind, Evan, my honest man; all is right now."
"But the reiving loons--"
"Have abandoned their post and fled. We have nothing to do now but to
march off, and make the best of our way to some safe place. Had we
accepted the offer of the honest muleteer, we should have escaped a most
disagreeable night; but as the play says, 'All is well that ends well.'"
"But dinna be ower rash, sir," said Evan cautiously, as he looked
through the screen of vines, and surveyed the ground with a sharp
glance. "Be weel assured that the caterans are gane for gude and a'," he
added, grasping his master's belt as he was about to descend.
"Gone? I tell you they are so undoubtedly," replied Ronald, testily.
"You see there is no trace of them now, and we had better depart from
our uncomfortable billet without further delay."
"I beg your pardon, sir; but just bide a wee--bide a wee. What ca' ye
that?"
While he spoke the head of a man rose slowly above one of the masses of
granite overhanging the forest river, evidently watching their place of
concealment. The instant it appeared, Evan levelled and fired his
musquet, and the black scowling visage of Narvaez Cifuentes withdrew
immediately.
"The scoundrels are only in ambush," said Ronald, in a fierce tone of
disappointment. "They are watching us still!"
"I do not believe, senor," replied Pedro, "that they would dare to hem
us in thus, if the French were not in Merida. The corregidor and
alguazils of the city would have been upon them long ere this time."
"I do not think so. Few pass this deserted place; and unless some of
our troops, when crossing the plain, are attracted towards us by the
sound of our arms, we have no other chance of friendly succour."
"And if not, senor?"
"Then nothing is left us but to make one bold dash for our liberty, or
sell our lives as dearly as possible. Their design is evidently to
starve us out, the revengeful dogs!"
"The whole band are rising from their cover. Santos! had we left this
cavern, what a fate would have been ours! _Cuidado, senor! Carojo!_
keep back."
Scarcely had Pedro spoken, when the report of twenty musquets awoke the
echoes of the place, and enveloped the bank, the stream, and the wood in
white volumes of curling smoke; and many of the shot whistled into the
cave, but luckily fell on the rocks, against which they were flattened
as broad as crown pieces, leaving, wherever they struck, a white round
star marked upon the stone. Shot after shot was fired at the place, but
without better success. A sort of natural breast-work of turf, running
across the mouth of the den, completely shielded the three fugitives
from the dangerous and well-directed fire of the outlaws, who continued
this system of distant warfare for several hours, until towards evening
they again ceased entirely, but continued to watch, although they did
not dare to come to closer combat with their opponents, the deadly
accuracy of whose aim was a sufficient cause to deter them from
attempting to carry the cavern by storm.
"The rogues are indeed very determined, senor," said Pedro. "I hope we
shall not have to spend another night in this dismal place, cowering and
shivering like rats concealed in a drain."
"I trust not; but when it grows darker, we must make one desperate
attempt to cut away through them, or perish. I trust to a running fight
for setting us free of them."
"Our Lady of Succour! would that the hour was come! The holy father
that dwelt here must have liked a damp couch better than I do,
_demonio_!"
"Doubtless he cheered himself with many a long horn of aquardiente, if
they had it in those days."
"Ay, senor, and the place was often enlivened by the presence of the
peasant girls of La Nava, who came hither for confession. They are
droll dogs, these solitary monks. Many a strange story is current of
the white-bearded Padre of San Bartolomi."
"What he who shows the sulphurous spring of Alange?"
"Ay; he is as arrant a knave as we have on this side the pass of
Roncesvalles. But the sun is setting now, senor caballero: I see the
trees are casting long shadows across the plain towards the eastward."
"Haud ye awee, Pedro. As sure as I live, I hear--I hear the skirlin o'
a bag-pipe?"
"A pipe, Evan?" exclaimed Stuart, "a pipe? I trust it is not
imagination! By all that's sacred I hear it too!" he added, stooping
his ear anxiously to listen. "'Tis playing--what is the air?"
"The 'Haughs o' Cromdale.' O, sir! I ken it weel," replied the
Highlander in a thick voice, while his eyes began to glisten.
"_Senor officiale_," said Pedro, who had been reconnoitring through the
vine bushes, "there are British troops moving on the plain,--red
uniforms at least."
"Highlanders! Highlanders!" replied Ronald exultingly, as he beheld a
long way off a party of kilted soldiers marching across the dusty plain.
The setting sun was shining on the polished barrels of their sloped
arms, which flashed and gleamed between the trunks of the trees at every
step; even the ribbons fluttering from the drones on the piper's
shoulders could be discerned, and the heart-stirring strain he was
blowing came floating towards them on the fitful wind.
"What troops are these? and where can they have come from? They march
towards Merida, and the French are there."
"What regiment they belang to, sir, I dinna care: let that flea stick to
the wa'. But they are some o' oor ain folk, that's certain. I see the
braw feathered bonnet, the filledh-beg, and the gartered hose. O
Maister Stuart! can we no fa' on some plan to win their attention? They
are fast leaving us behind; and it's an awfu' thocht to be here, hunted
in a hole like a yirded tod lowrie, and yet to see the tartan waving in
the sun, and hear the wild skirl of the piob mhor. O'd, sir! my birse
is getting up; I feel myself turning wild."
"Stay, Evan. Unless you want a bullet to make a button-hole in your
skin, keep back! A man on horseback has met them;--they have halted."
"'Tis a pity the knaves cannot see them, senor. By the elevation of this
place, we command a farther view than the post which these rascals
occupy by the river-side."
"They must have heard the sound of the pipe to which they marched."
"I do not think so; they would have fled had they heard it. Sound is
said to ascend, senor."
"True--"
"O'd, sir," interrupted Evan, who continued to look through the vines in
spite of one or two shots which were fired at him, "I would fain ken if
thae chields are Gordon Highlanders or no. I think they belang to the
auld forty-twa: they have some red feathers in their bonnets."
"Red feathers? Not one; they are all black and white,--I see them
distinctly; but whether they are the Ross-shire Buffs or any of ours, I
know not. They are certainly not 42nd men; their long feathers are all
white."
"The gloaming's sae mirk and sae far advanced, that I canna see very
weel; and my een are sair wi' being in the gloom o' this dismal den sae
lang."
"They are British troops; to what corps they belong we need not care, as
all are friends alike. They have piled their arms. Surely they mean to
bivouac there for the night. I pray to Heaven they may!"
"O sir! let us do something to let them ken o' their friends that are
here in tribulation and jeopardy. Fire twa or three shots, just to draw
them towards us."
"Not one. We have but nine rounds left,--three each; and as our lives
depend upon them, they must be reserved for a grand attempt as soon as
it is dark. Besides, from the way the wind blows, they would never hear
the reports at such a distance. The clouds are fast gathering, and I
see with pleasure we shall have a very black night. We shall certainly
escape them, if we are courageous and discreet. What think you, Pedro
Gomez?" he asked in Spanish.
"Of course, senor caballero. And as you will scarcely know the way
after it is dark, if I have the honour to be again your guide I will get
you off securely. Should I be shot,--a fate which our Lady of Succour
avert!--you will find an easy ford some hundred yards down the stream.
You may cross it fearlessly, and gain safely the place where our friends
are bivouacked so quietly on the plain."
"We shall scarcely find the spot in the dark, even with your aid, Pedro.
What marks the ford?"
"A stone cross, erected by the monks of San Juan to guide travellers.
During a storm, one of the brotherhood perished when crossing the stream
just below us here, and they marked the shallow part by a stone, to
avoid such accidents in future."
"But think o' the sleuth-hounds, Maister Ronald," said Evan, who had
been listening attentively to Pedro, and endeavouring to comprehend his
Spanish. "I scunner at the very thocht o' them, after the douking that
ane gied me in the burn below."
"We must take our chance of these infernals. But be cool and firm: the
time is coming when we must have all our wits about us."
Their conversation had often been interrupted by a stray bullet from the
besiegers, who lounged lazily on the opposite bank, smoking their
cigars, tearing hard American _bacallao_ with their teeth, and sucking
the purple wine from a huge pig-skin, which they had pierced in several
places with their knives, allowing it to stream on the green sward with
a heedless prodigality, which showed how easily it had been come by.
This employment they varied by venting curses at each other, and at
their obstinate opponents, at whom they now and then sent a random shot;
and on one occasion a complete volley at Evan's bonnet, which, by way of
bravado, he had elevated to their view on the point of his bayonet. A
storm of balls whistled about it, and the young Gael laughed heartily at
the joke.
"Your bonnet is riddled," said Ronald, on seeing the feathers nearly all
shot away.
"Deil may care, sir! the king has mair bonnets than this ane; and
there's plenty ostrich feathers whar thae cam frae," replied he,
hoisting it again through the vines; but the Spaniards did not waste
their ammunition upon it a second time.
The bivouac of their comrades, which they watched with untiring eyes,
and other distant objects, faded gradually from their view as the
increasing darkness of night deepened around them. The sky grew black,
as masses of dense and heavy clouds drifted slowly across it; and the
cold Spanish dews began to descend noiselessly (yet heavy and wetting as
a shower of rain) on the grass and leaves, which, as the wind died away,
hung motionless and still; and, save the muttering voices of the
outlaws, not a sound broke the stillness of the lonely place but the
hoarse brawl of the mountain-torrent as it rushed over its stony bed,
from which the white foam glimmered through the darkness. Now and then,
afar off, a red streak shot through the parted clouds, or a broad lurid
flash of sheet-lightning lit the edge of the horizon, showing distinctly
the curved outline of the distant hills and the tall black trunks of the
neighbouring trees: but no sound of thunder followed these appearances.
"Senor," whispered Pedro, "the night is perfectly dark,--just such as
one would wish for on such an occasion."
"Then now is our time to sally," was Ronald's reply, as he grasped his
musquet, and slung his claymore on the brass hook of his shoulder-belt
that it might not impede him. "Now or never: follow me!"
He pushed softly aside the foliage, and issued from the cavern. They
were enabled to see objects with greater distinctness, owing to the
pitchy darkness they had endured in their retreat, where it was so
dense, that one could not discern the face of the other. Enabled thus
to see his way with greater accuracy, Ronald descended the bank of the
river in the direction of the stone cross. The others followed with
hasty and stealthy footsteps, and in a few minutes they gained the rude
column which marked the ford.
"We are safe, senor caballero!" exclaimed Pedro, when they stood on the
opposite side. "Our Lady of Majorga shall get the three days' pay, a hat
of the best Zafra felt, and a pound of wax candles to boot."
"You are liberal to her ladyship. When are your presents to be given?"
"The first time I pass her shrine," laughed the other, "which may not be
during the term of my natural life."
"Yonder is the bivouac," said Ronald, as they scrambled hurriedly up the
embankment; "they have lit a fire. How very close upon us it appears."
"The plain is so level, that distance deceives; but they are fully a
quarter of a mile from us yet."
"Hurrah!" cried Evan, overjoyed to find himself safe. "Tak' that, ye
ill-faured loons!" firing his musquet in the direction of their foes.
"Fool!" exclaimed Ronald angrily; "how have you dared to fire without my
desiring you?"
Evan's deprecating reply was cut short by a shout from their baffled
enemies, who, firing their pieces at random, rushed hurriedly towards
the ford, mingling their outcries with the yells of their dogs. But the
unexpected appearance of the large watch-fire blazing on the plain, and
the dusky forms of the soldiery crowding around it, served completely to
check their pursuit; and with many a hoarse malediction and threat,
after firing a volley in the direction where they supposed the fugitives
to be, they retired with precipitation into the fastnesses of the
cork-wood.
"What a cursed adventure we have had!" exclaimed the officer, throwing
away the pouch and musquet of Lazarillo de Xeres de los Cavalleros, when
they halted to draw breath for a few seconds. "Evan Iverach, you are a
rash fellow: by firing that useless shot we might all have lost our
lives. It may also have alarmed the troops yonder, and caused them to
get under arms."
"O'd, sir, never mind; there's nae folk like our ain folk," replied his
follower, capering gaily when the figures of their countrymen, clad in
the martial Scottish garb, became more distinct. "O how my heart loups
at sicht o' the belted plaid, the braw filledh-beg, and the bare legs o'
our ain douce chields."
"Wha gangs there?" shouted close by the voice of an advanced sentry, the
black outline of whose bonnet and grey great-coat they saw looming
through the gloom. "Wha gangs there?"
"Friend!" replied Ronald.