COMPLETELY STRANDED
"There don't seem to be any Mexican warships in the harbor," said Ned to
the senor, as they looked landward from the deck of their badly mauled
bark. "There isn't one in sight to come out after that sloop."
"There are two good reasons for it," growled the senor, gloomily. "One
is that there isn't any harbor here. Nothing but an open roadstead,
exposed to all the storms that come, so that to anchor off Vera Cruz is
to run a fair chance of being wrecked. The other is that my unfortunate
country has no navy. There isn't a Mexican vessel afloat that would care
to go out after a Yankee man-of-war. We are not yet a nation, and I'm
half-afraid we never will be. This war may do something for us. There
they come! I shall know very soon now."
As he spoke, he pointed at several boats which were pulling out toward
the _Goshawk._ Some of them appeared to come from the wharves of the
city, but one, which was nearer, was evidently from the castle, and it
was in this that the senor took the deepest interest. Besides its
half-dozen of oarsmen, it contained a tall man in a gorgeous uniform,
and it was only a minute or so before Zuroaga exclaimed:
"Yes, that is Colonel Guerra himself. I am glad he is all alone!"
The bark was now drifting pretty rapidly landward, under such canvas as
she had left, and the _Portsmouth_ was safely out of range of the
Mexican guns, which were throwing away an occasional shot at her. She
had not been touched by one of them, and she had the honor of being the
first United States ship to try her batteries upon the renowned old
Spanish fortress. It was, indeed, a well-built fortification, and it
carried many guns, most of which had been brought over long ago from the
foundries of old Spain. It did not stand upon the main shore, but on an
island about half a mile out, and it therefore seemed unassailable,
except from the sea or by heavy siege-guns on the shore. It had been one
of the last places surrendered when the Spanish government reluctantly
gave up Mexico. From that day onward, in each of the successive
revolutions, it had been a first object with each new tyrant of the
nominal republic or empire to get control of the fortress, which
dominated nearly all of the commerce of Mexico with the outer world. At
the present time, it was commanded by an officer whom President Paredes
believed that he could trust--or he would have shot him. This, of
course, was the main reason for the dark doubts of Senor Zuroaga. On the
other hand, it might be taken into account that any prominent Mexican
officer, like Colonel Guerra, would be willing to strengthen himself for
such political changes as were entirely likely to come. For the sake of
old friendship and family ties, for instance, he might be even desirous
of binding to his own interests a man who was known to have a large
number of personal adherents in the important State of Oaxaca.
That very man stood aft upon the deck of the _Goshhawk_ when the boat of
Colonel Guerra touched her side, but he did not at once come forward to
extend a greeting. That ceremony was performed sufficiently well by
Captain Kemp, and the responses of the castle commander were to the last
degree enthusiastic. According to him, indeed, the fort could not have
held out against a siege for a week without the powder in the hold of
the bark. Therefore, it might be that not much of it was likely to be
distributed among the other forces of Mexico. The captain had many
things to say, but before long Colonel Guerra walked slowly aft without
anybody following him. He may have merely desired to look over the side
and examine the injuries inflicted by the shot of the _Portsmouth_, for
that was the first thing he did, without so much as appearing to
recognize any human being in the neighborhood. One of the two persons
who were there, however, drew slowly near him, and, as he did so, he
heard the colonel mutter, in a very low tone:
"My dear friend, you have done well to bring me the powder. Thank you
for your devotion to me and to Santa Anna, but you are in deadly peril.
The orders of Paredes are out against you. General Morales, whom Paredes
trusts, will soon be here to supersede me, but he will really come to
hold this place for our general when he returns from exile. Consider
that I do not know that you are here, for my next in command is a spy on
me. This ship will never put to sea again. The captain and crew will be
cared for, but that gringo boy is not safe, now that there has been
bloodshed on the Rio Grande. Take him with you to the house of your
cousin, Colonel Tassara, in the lower part of the city. Then get away to
Oaxaca as soon as you can. President Paredes is still in the city of
Mexico, and he will not go to take command of the army in the north for
some time. You and I believe, of course, that he is really gathering it
to have it led by our one-legged hero, Santa Anna. Paredes, however,
suspects that a revolution is springing up under him, and he is watching
for it. Of course, for that reason, he would shoot you at once as a
returned conspirator against him. As for that matter, be careful how you
land, for there are many spies. No doubt you can go where you please,
after you get back among your own people. Farewell, but do not speak to
me."
He turned and strolled carelessly away, and the senor bowed his head for
a moment, as if in deep thought, while Ned Crawford was aware of an
entirely new idea, which had crept into his mind as he had listened to
the warning utterances of Colonel Guerra.
"I declare!" he said to himself, "he believes that Senor Zuroaga brought
the powder, and he didn't. He believes that the senor is going in for
old Santa Anna, and he isn't. He believes that the senor and I are
enemies of Paredes, and so we are. I am! I hope that he'll be beaten out
of his boots by General Taylor, and then upset by the new revolution. I
guess he's right, though, about this ship, and I must find out how I can
send a letter home. I want father and mother to know all about this
business. Go ashore and hide? I'm ready for that, but I'd like to get a
good look at the old city somehow."
Ned had been laboring under many perplexities and a great deal of
depression of spirits during several days, but now he felt a kind of
exhilarating fever creeping all over him, and at first he did not know
exactly what it might be. When his father had taken him with him across
the Atlantic,--it seemed so long ago now,--he had gone eagerly enough,
and he had had a grand time looking at Liverpool and London. It had been
a rare treat for a youngster who had but recently passed up from a
grammar school into the counting-room of a New York shipping-house.
After that, when he had been sent on this trip, to make his voyage home
by way of Mexico, he had considered himself exceedingly lucky. But what
was all that in comparison with this in the way of strange and wild
adventure? Why, he had sailed through a naval engagement, cannonading
and all, and right on out of that into a full-grown war and a half-grown
revolution. The thrill which went over him was, therefore, the adventure
fever. Something like this fever, in the veins of all sorts of men,
young and old, has made the world what it is, discovering its new
countries, its new sciences, its new institutions, and leading it
forward and upward out of its old-time dullness and barbarism. So Ned
stood straighter and felt older and had a pair of very brave, bright
eyes when he walked forward to try and have a few words with Captain
Kemp.
"Captain," he asked, "when can I go ashore?"
"Not quite yet," said the captain. "Don't bother me now. Of course, the
ammunition for the castle goes out first. Then all the rest of the cargo
must go ashore as fast as it can, and you are bound to attend to that.
I'm glad that all of it is apparently on English account, and not for
the American part of the concern. That makes all things easy. I hardly
know what to do with the ship, though. We can't repair her here."
That was evidently the disadvantage of having a vessel get out of order
in a place where there were no good dockyards. As for the unlading,
there were already "lighter" barges on their way from the fort, and
others, no doubt, would soon be on hand from the city. Haste was the
main object, under the circumstances, and the entire work would be
rapidly accomplished.
Zuroaga went below, and Ned followed him, for there was nothing more
that he could do on deck just then.
"Senor," he asked, as soon as they were in the cabin, "how can I send a
letter home? I don't know exactly what to say, either."
"Say anything you please," replied the senor. "Your letter will go by
the mail of the English consul, and the mails for England will not be
meddled with by the Mexican authorities."
"I'll sit right down and begin one," said Ned, but the senor interrupted
him very soberly with:
"One word before you begin, please. I know you overheard what Colonel
Guerra said to me. You and I must get on shore as soon as we can, and it
will not do for either of us to remain in Vera Cruz. I have decided
that I must take you with me to Oaxaca."
"Well," hesitated Ned, "I understand that you must go, but what am I in
danger of if I should stay here?"
"Edward, my dear fellow," said the senor, "I will tell you, and you had
better put it into your letter. First, you just wait and see what
becomes of the _Goshhawk_. She will never sail out of the Gulf of Mexico
again. The captain and crew will get away as best they can, and I can't
tell how long it will be before they can do it. Meantime, you would be
around on shore, and you would be known for a Yankee, a gringo. That
might mean danger for you from any evil-minded Mexican. Some of this
coast population are worse than savages, and they all carry knives.
You'd never know who hurt you."
"That's awful!" exclaimed Ned. "I never thought of that."
"There is another reason," calmly continued the senor, "for your not
lingering down here in the _tierra caliente_--the hot country--any later
in the season. It is the yellow fever, and that is pretty sure to show
itself before long. It takes people from the north quicker, a good deal,
than it does those who were born here. I have even heard that there is
a rumor of some cases occurring already. Your father is an old friend of
mine, and he would never forgive me if I were to permit you to be
exposed to it, when you can so easily get away into the uplands, where
it is never heard of. Be a good clerk now, and attend to your cargo, and
be glad that it hasn't been sent to the bottom of the gulf."
Ned had been thinking of that pretty seriously, and he sat down to write
his home letter, well pleased that he had nothing to do with the
unloading of the contraband of war part of the cargo. With reference to
that, moreover, he had learned from Zuroaga that a Mexican
post-commander of the rank of Colonel Guerra was a kind of local
military dictator. Only so much of the ammunition as he might see fit to
send would ever find its way into any other hands than his own. The
senor had added that it was almost the same with whatever customs duties
were collected by the civil officers of the port, with the one drawback
that a dishonest army collector, if discovered, might possibly get
himself shot as a kind of supposable revolutionist, stealing the profits
of the others.
The lighter barges were now swarming around the bark, and a hundred busy
workmen were doing their best, quite patriotically, for the guns and
gunners of the castle. It was easy to see that the American sailors did
not fancy that job, and were willing to keep out of it. So they
sauntered around, attending to a few ship's duties here and there, while
now and then one or another of them might have been heard to grumble his
unwillingness to ever again go to sea under an English captain. The
truth was that they had excellent reasons for discontent concerning the
scrape into which they had been led, and they were well aware that they
had not yet by any means seen the end of it. Almost the best they could
hope for was that they were to be sent back to some country of Europe,
on some ship or other which had not yet arrived at Vera Cruz, and which
might not sail away with them on board for a number of weeks to come.
Any man among them was now almost willing to have had the _Portsmouth_
sink the _Goshhawk_.
Heavy shot may be craned over into boats, and kegs or barrels of
gunpowder may be let down tenderly, gently, as well by moonlight and
lantern-light as by any other. Therefore, the coming on of night did not
interfere with the landing processes. Moreover, any amount of sleep may
be performed by a healthy boy in a battered ship lying safely at
anchor. So Ned made up, more or less, for the sleep he had lost during
the long race of the _Goshhawk_, and it was not early when he came on
deck the next morning. When he did so, he found his duties as nominal
supercargo cut out for him, and Captain Kemp appeared to be especially
anxious that a son of one of the owners should supervise whatever was to
be done with the peaceable part of his cargo. He even explained to Ned
that he might yet be called upon in some law court to testify to the
honest accuracy of all the papers he was now to sign.
"It'll take about two days more," he told him, "and you mustn't go
ashore till the ship's empty. The American consul hasn't taken his
passports yet, but he expects to get away soon, somehow or other. Most
likely, he'll be taken off by a ship of war. So, perhaps, will other
Americans. You might wait and get away then, if you think best, but you
can't hope to ever go on this ship."
Ned had an increasingly strong feeling that he did not now care to go on
that or any other craft of war or peace. He would much rather go to
Oaxaca than to New York, and he felt more sure than ever that his
father would not wish him to run any risk of the dreadful yellow fever.
So he worked on industriously, learning a great deal concerning the
processes required in getting a cargo out of a ship. During several
hours, he was so occupied that he almost forgot the existence of his
Mexican friend, but he was dimly aware that a small rowboat had come to
the off-shore side of the ship, and had shortly pulled away without any
interference on the part of the officials, military or civil. Perhaps
she was understood to have come there by order of Colonel Guerra. Toward
nightfall, however, that boat came again, as she did before, not running
in among the barges, but seeming to avoid them. There were five men in
her, and one of them stood up to say to a sailor at the rail:
"I wish to see young Senor Carfora. Is he on board?"
"Hullo!" thought Ned. "That's the Spanish name Senor Zuroaga told me I
was to go by." Then he sang out aloud, as he hurried across the deck,
"Here I am. What do you want of me?"
"Lean over and talk low," responded the man in the boat, but the one
sailor near them did not understand a word of Spanish, and he might
suppose, if he wished to do so, that it was something about the cargo.
Ned himself listened eagerly, while the speaker went on: "I am Colonel
Tassara. Senor Zuroaga must not come to the ship again. I will be here
to-morrow evening. May I be assured that you will then be ready to come
to my house?"
"Tell him of course you will!" said a voice behind Ned, peremptorily,
and it was Captain Kemp who had come over for a few words with Tassara.
"I'll be ready, colonel," said Ned, when his turn came to speak, and the
boat pulled away, leaving him and the captain by themselves.
"It's a good arrangement for you, my boy," said the captain. "Unless I
am mistaken, though, there are signs of the worst kind of a
northeasterly storm. This is a dangerous anchorage for that sort of
thing. I don't think I shall risk having too many men on board when the
norther gets here. The cargo will be all out, and the ship's well
insured. The American consul doesn't know a thing about the ammunition
or the running away from the cruisers. He has enough else on his hands
just now."
Ned did not care a great deal about that, but he was more than ever in a
hurry to see the end of his supercargo business. The fact was that an
air of something like mystery appeared to be gathering around him, and
there is a tremendous fascination in anything mysterious. What if he
were now getting right in behind the war, after a fashion, and at the
same time into the darkest kind of revolution or rebellion against the
power of President Paredes, in company with that wonderful adventurer,
General Santa Anna, and all the desperate characters of Mexico?