A STRANGE DISAPPEARANCE.
News filtered through the lines from the south of serious reverses to
Peruvian arms. It came overland, for there was no communication by sea.
The word was to the effect that Arica had been taken by assault on June
7, and that there had been great loss of life in the Peruvian army.
No man doubted that the Peruvian city had fallen, but as for the
particulars, so many rumors were afloat that no credence was given any
of them, and every one anxiously awaited definite information.
Much lawlessness prevailed about this time, both in the cities and in
the surrounding country. Nearly half the population was under arms in
Lima and Callao, and these many thousand soldiers, inactive save for the
daily drills, became restless, and when given liberty they resorted to
deeds of violence. Day after day reports reached the towns of country
haciendas having been pillaged, and the occupants forced to pay tribute
to marauding bands; citizens, out late at night, were frequently robbed;
and a prominent English physician of Callao was attacked while walking
on the plank road leading from Chucuito, and was killed.
The army as a whole deplored this reign of terror, and officers did
their best to check the wave of crime. Courts-martial were frequent; the
guilty were ranged against a wall and shot, but, despite this energetic
action, deeds of violence continued. Some of the worst characters in
Peru had volunteered for the ranks, and as they were known as desperate
fighters, their services had been accepted. All would have been well
could they have been led at once against the enemy, but retained in
camp, and months passing without action, their worst natures came to the
surface.
When the reign of terror had become recognized as beyond the power of
the authorities entirely to subdue, Mr. Dartmoor regretted more than
ever that he had not sent his family to the United States; indeed, he
regretted that he had not left the country with them before the enemy’s
ships had closed the port.
Captain Saunders, convinced that no vessels could enter the harbor for
many more months, and realizing that in their absence his presence in
Peru was of no benefit to the American Board of Marine Underwriters,
decided upon an overland journey, with Carl, to one of the northern
cities, from where they could take passage for Panama. He spoke of the
plan to Mr. Dartmoor, and the iron merchant decided to accompany him.
Mr. Lawton, hearing of their proposed trip, and having arranged his
affairs in a satisfactory manner, said that he also would go.
“But your newspaper?” asked Captain Saunders.
“I shall suspend publication. All my obligations have been met, thanks
to Harvey and his father, and I am in a position where I can close the
plant and reopen it when peace shall be declared and business resume.”
“I think it would be wise for us all to go,” declared Mr. Dartmoor.
“Nothing can be done with the mine until this unfortunate war shall come
to an end, and we are constantly exposing our lives here. What will you
do?” he asked, turning to Señor Cisneros, who had remained in Callao,
hoping that the clouds of depression might lift.
“I shall return to Huari and wait for peace,” he replied. “We are safe
in the mountains. I wish you all could go with me.”
They thanked him, but declined. Mr. Dartmoor had not been home save for
a brief period since the Civil War; he wished his children to become
better acquainted with the great republic to the north, and he was
anxious that Mrs. Dartmoor should see more of the United States.
Plans were formed to travel overland to Payta, and some forty or fifty
other Americans and English decided to accompany them. The day for
departure had been set when two events occurred, the first of which put
a temporary stop to preparations, and the second altered their
arrangements materially.
One evening, during the last week in July, five young persons were
gathered in the parlor of Mr. Dartmoor’s Chucuito residence—Carl
Saunders, Louis and Harvey Dartmoor and their sister Rosita, and Bella
Caceras. The presence of the girls in the Callao suburb was due to a
temporary truce that had been agreed to by the commander-in-chief of the
land forces and the admiral of the Chilean fleet, whereby it was agreed
not to exchange shots for a fortnight.
This had no effect upon the blockade, but it made Callao a safe place to
live in so far as the element of bombardment was eliminated, and, taking
advantage of the lull in hostilities, those who had homes near the sea
removed from Lima, so as to enjoy the bracing salt-laden air and have a
brief respite from the crowded, soldier-burdened life of the capital.
The evening had been prefaced by one of those dinners for which John
Dartmoor’s home had been noted before his financial difficulties had
embarrassed him. To be sure, this day the dishes were not as numerous as
they had been before the blockade, and that which was served cost four
and five times the price of edibles in the olden times, but steaming
pucharo was there, as of yore, and there was no lack of paltas and other
fruit.
After the enjoyable hour at table, Mr. Dartmoor, Captain Saunders, and
Señor Cisneros went to the billiard room, and Mrs. Dartmoor accompanied
the young people to the parlor, from where, after a few minutes’
conversation, she went to her bedroom, having some sewing to do—for
these days of preparations were busy ones, and, as all women know, it
was upon the mother that the greatest burdens fell.
Toward eight o’clock, Harvey, who had stepped out on the balcony for a
minute, suggested that they stroll over to Mar Bravo beach.
“It’s a perfect night,” he said. “The moon is full and there’s hardly a
cloud to be seen; only a few of fleecy white that scud along as if
ashamed to interrupt the light.”
“Do you realize, sir, that if you should change that sentence a trifle
you would have a verse for a poem?” laughingly said Bella Caceras. “But
you are right. It is lovely. Let’s all go. The evening is warm and we do
not need any wraps, do we, Rosita?”
“I think not,” and rising, Miss Dartmoor joined her friend, then all
passed out the door and down the stairs.
“Where are you going?” called Mr. Dartmoor, from the billiard room.
“To the beach, father,” answered Louis.
“Don’t be gone long.”
“No, sir; not over a half hour.”
It was the first time the five had visited Mar Bravo beach since the
happy days preceding the blockade, when these evenings at Chucuito were
of frequent occurrence.
“This does seem good!” exclaimed Harvey, as he sat down on a circular,
flat-topped stone, as near the line where spray dashed as he could
venture without being wet.
“What did you say?” called Bella Caceras, who was seated somewhat above
him.
“I said that this seems good,” he called back. For, although they were
almost within touch, the roar of the breakers and their accompanied
undertow was so loud as to drown conversation.
“Better than fighting Majeronas with pincushions?” he heard her
mischievously ask.
At this he followed a receding breaker, and snatching a clump of seaweed
from the swirl, he returned and threatened to crown the Peruvian with
the dripping mass unless she offered an apology.
“I’ll be good! I’ll be good!” she shouted, endeavoring to rise. “Oh,
look at the beautiful starfish you have in the bunch!”
Harvey deposited the seaweed at her feet, and Rosita came over with Carl
and Louis, to examine closely the red stellerid that had been so
unexpectedly captured. The time passed only too quickly, and all were
surprised when Louis, looking at his watch, and recalling the remark he
had made to his father, said they must hasten home, for they had been
absent from the house nearly an hour.
On the return, when halfway between the beach and the Dartmoor Row, as
the house owned by the boys’ father and those adjacent to it were
called, Carl proposed a race.
“I can’t run,” protested Bella Caceras.
“Oh, try,” urged Louis.
“Let me whisper in your ear,” said Rosita, and then exclaiming, “Pardon
me, boys,” she said to her friend, very low, “Let’s start with them,
then you and I stop suddenly, and walk on. We will have a nice talk all
alone and they’ll never notice it.”
“Very well.”
“Will you race?” asked Carl.
“Yes, we’ll race.”
“Then all in line,” said Louis. “One, two, three, and off!”
Great rivalry had always existed between the boys, and once started they
strained every muscle to call forth speed. Before his trip into the
interior Harvey had never been able to keep up with his brother and
chum; but that journey had toughened him greatly, made him more agile,
and this evening he surprised the other two by taking the lead and
keeping it. So intent were all three, that they never looked around
until the house was reached, nor even then, for Harvey dashed in at the
front door, the others after him, and all sat down on the steps, panting
and out of breath.
“Well, that’s the jolliest sprint we’ve had for a long time,” said
Louis, when he had recovered sufficiently to form the words.
“I believe it is the first time we have tried to see who could beat
since we used to run from Chucuito to La Punta in the old days of the
Rowing Club,” replied Carl. “And say, Louis, what do you think of your
young brother here? Beating us square and fair by three feet or more in
a three hundred yard dash!”
“Sh!” exclaimed the boy whom they were complimenting. “Listen! What’s
the row in the yard? And, Louis, mother is screaming, calling out, or
something. Come on! Come on, Carl!”
They needed no urging, but dashed up the stairs, two and three steps at
a time, then through the house to the rear balcony, which overlooked a
large court. There they met Mrs. Dartmoor, who was crying hysterically.
“What’s the matter, mother?” asked Louis and Harvey, at the same
instant.
“I don’t know,” she sobbed. “There was a noise in the stables and your
father went down. I heard some terrible sounds, and then he called for
Carl’s father and Señor Cisneros. They were already on the way to him,
and the three must have had an encounter with some one. It seemed as if
all the horses had been turned loose. Oh, I don’t know what has
happened!”
At that moment a voice came from below, calling:—
“Have the boys returned?”
“Yes, father,” replied Louis. “We are here.”
“Come down.”
“All right, sir,” he replied, and the lads obeyed only too willingly.
Mrs. Dartmoor, reassured at hearing her husband’s voice, returned to her
room.
The Dartmoor Row, which included the house occupied by John Dartmoor
before his failure, and to which he had removed since the discovery of
the gold mine, and the advance to him of money by capitalists of Lima,
consisted of a number of fine residences, built in a semicircle in the
heart of Chucuito suburb. They were, in fact, the most pretentious
structures in this little place, and because of the prominence in
diplomatic and business life of the tenants, they were known by
foreigners all up and down the West Coast. Back of the houses was a high
fence, which completed the circle, and which enclosed a large court.
Within the enclosure were the stables and other outbuildings, arranged
so that the whole somewhat resembled an English country residence;
indeed, it was said to have been patterned from an estate near London.
Flights of stairs connected the court with the different houses, and it
was down one of these that the boys ran. At the bottom they met Mr.
Dartmoor, Señor Cisneros, and Captain Saunders.
“We had a little brush with them,” said Louis’s father.
“With whom, sir?” the lads asked, and they saw that the iron merchant
was holding a handkerchief to the side of his head and that the Peruvian
was limping as if his leg pained him.
“With a rascally band of soldiers,” replied Mr. Dartmoor. “But they were
not half so bad as their leader. Louis, who do you think he was?”
“But, father, are you hurt?”
“Nothing to speak of. Tell me, who do you think led the soldiers into
the court?”
“Alfred?”
“Yes, Alfred.”
“The scoundrel!”
Mr. Dartmoor spoke of a young Englishman to whom they had given
employment about the place. He had deserted from an English man-of-war,
and, believing his story to be true, that harsh treatment had caused him
to run away from the ship, the iron merchant had found work for him. But
he soon learned that the young man was addicted to the use of strong
liquors, and after repeated warnings he was compelled to discharge him.
The notification that he was no longer needed had brought bitter words
from the former sailor boy, who had denounced Mr. Dartmoor and had
threatened to “get even.”
“What did he try to do, father?” asked Harvey.
“Try to do! He has done it. He and his band have taken all the horses!”
“The horses?”
“Yes, every one that was in the stables. Yours and Louis’s, mine, and
two that belonged to Mr. Dartnell. I heard the noise and ran down the
stairs. There were fully twenty of them, and I could do nothing, so
called Captain Saunders and the señor, but they got away.”
While this conversation was taking place they had walked from the centre
of the court to the stairs, which they soon commenced to mount. At the
top they were met by Mrs. Dartmoor, who asked:—
“Did Rosita go into the court with you, boys?”
“Rosita? No,” said Harvey. “Is she not in the house with Bella Caceras?”
“No. I have called her several times.”
“Why, that is strange. They came back with us from Mar Bravo. That is,
they followed close behind.”
The boy ran into the house and called “Rosita! Rosita! Rosita!”
No answer came.
Louis and Carl hurried after him. “They are hiding downstairs,” said the
latter. “They are playing a joke on us because we ran away from them.”
“They shouldn’t do that,” said Harvey. “They must have heard mother
call. A joke is a joke, but they ought not to worry her.”
The boys ran down the steps and out in front. The girls were not in
sight. They looked in the doorways of the neighboring houses. No one
could be seen.
“Rosita! Rosita!” called Harvey and Louis. “Don’t try to hide any
longer. We know where you are.”
There was no answer.
“Where do you suppose they are?” asked Harvey, and his voice trembled.
“I think we should tell father,” said Louis, and running to the foot of
the stairs he called to Mr. Dartmoor.
“What is it, Louis?” asked the iron merchant.
“We can’t find Rosita and Bella Caceras.”
“Can’t find Rosita! Why, what do you mean? Rosita!” he called.
No reply came.
“Where were they, boys, when you saw them last?”
“Following us from Mar Bravo. We all started on a foot race, and the
girls were with us. They couldn’t have been more than a dozen steps in
the rear.”
“Perhaps they are hiding behind the stones. Run over to the beach and
see if they are not.”
The boys did as they were bid and returned in five minutes. No sign of
the girls had been seen. All called again. There was no answer. Mrs.
Dartmoor came downstairs and added her cries to those of the men and the
boys. Not a voice was heard in reply.
Rosita Dartmoor and Bella Caceras had disappeared.