THE ATTACK ON POBLACIÓN DEL SUR.
Major Bloomfield, who had made up his mind to lose his life, had no
weapons, not even a sword. He halted within hearing distance, and as
he spoke decently the Aucas language, which he had learnt in previous
campaigns, he had no need of an interpreter.
"What do you want, chiefs?" he asked in a loud, firm voice, with a
ceremonious bow.
"Are you the man whom the whites call Don Antonio Valverde, and to whom
they give the title of Governor?" Churlakin asked in his turn.
"No; our laws prohibit a governor leaving his post; but I am second in
command, and he has sent me to you."
The Indians seemed to consult for a moment; then, leaving their long
lances planted in the ground, they advanced towards the old officer,
who did not evince the slightest surprise at this movement. Churlakin
spoke in the name of all.
"My brother is brave," he said, astonished at the major's coolness.
"At my age," the old man replied, "death is a favour."
"My father bears on his forehead the snow of many winters; he must be
one of the wisest chiefs of his nation, and the young men round the
council fire listen to him respectfully."
"Say no more about me," the major said; "why have you asked for this
interview?"
"Will not my father conduct us to the council fire of his nation?"
Churlakin said, in an insinuating tone. "Is it honourable for great
warriors, formidable chiefs, thus to discuss serious affairs on
horseback between two armies?"
"No chief of the enemy can enter an invested town."
"Does my father fear that our force may take his city?" Churlakin
continued with a laugh, though vexed in the highest degree at losing
the hope of coming to an understanding with Pincheira.
"I am not accustomed to fear; I only tell you a rule you are ignorant
of, that is all. If this pretext is sufficient to break off the
interview, you are at liberty to do so, and I will withdraw."
"Oh, Oh! My father is quick for his age. Tell me what brings you here."
The Ulmens exchanged a glance, and a few whispered words. At length
Churlakin continued--
"Has my father seen the great army of the Aucas?" he said.
"Yes," the major replied carelessly.
"And has my father, who is a white man and has great learning, counted
the warriors?"
"Yes."
"Ah! And how many are they, according to his calculation?"
"Their number is but of slight consequence to us."
"Still," the Indian pressed, "does my father know how many they may be?"
"Two hundred thousand at the most."
The chiefs were struck by the negligent way in which the major doubled
the strength of their army.
"My father," Churlakin continued, "is not terrified at the number of
these warriors who obey a single chief."
"Why should I be so?" the major said, whose attention the surprise
of the Ulmens had not escaped, "Has not my nation vanquished more
numerous armies? But we are losing our time in useless words, chief."
"My father must have patience."
"Finish your Indian circumlocutions then."
"The army of the great nations is encamped in front of Carmen, in order
to obtain satisfaction for all the wrongs the palefaces have made us
endure since their invasion of America."
"Explain yourself clearly. Why do you invade our frontiers? Have we
failed in our engagements? Of what do you complain?"
"My father pretends to be ignorant of the just motives for war we have
against the whites. His nation has made a treaty with the white men
who dwell on the other side of the mountains, and who are our enemies;
hence, his nation has no friendship for us."
"Chief, this quarrel is ridiculous. Confess that you desire to plunder
our farms, steal our cattle and horses, and I can understand you; but
if we were at war with Chili, you would act in the same way. The jest
has lasted too long; let us come to facts. What do you want?"
"My father is clever," Churlakin said, with a laugh. "Listen! this is
what the chiefs say--'The Negro Ulmen, against our rights and his own,
sold to my father's ancestors a land which did not belong to him,
without the consent of the other Ulmens of the country.'"
"What next?" said the major.
"The chiefs assembled round the tree of Gualichu have resolved to give
back to the great white chief all the objects from the first to the
last formerly given to the Negro Ulmen, and take back the country which
belongs to them."
"Is that all?"
"All."
"How long do the chiefs give the Governor of Carmen to discuss these
propositions?"
"From sunrise to sunset."
"Very good," the old officer said, ironically; "and supposing that the
governor refuses, what will my sons do?"
"The colony of the white men will be destroyed by fire, their warriors
massacred, and their wives and children carried off into slavery."
"I will transmit your demands to the governor, and tomorrow at sunset,
you will have his answer. You will, however, suspend hostilities till
then?"
"Keep on your guard."
"Thanks for your frankness, chief; I am delighted to meet an Indian who
is not an utter scoundrel. Good-bye till tomorrow."
"Tomorrow!" the chief repeated, courteously, and involuntarily
affected by the old gentleman's noble bearing.
The major withdrew slowly to the barricades, where the colonel, alarmed
by the long interview, had made all preparations to avenge the death of
his old friend.
"Well?" he said, as he pressed his hand.
"They are trying to gain time," the major answered, "in order to play
us one of their demon's tricks."
"What do they demand, though?"
"Impossibilities, colonel, and they are well aware of it, for they
appeared to be laughing at us, when they submitted their absurd demands
to me. The Negro cacique, they say, had no right to sell his territory,
which they also say we must return to them in twenty-four hours, and
then came the bede-roll of their usual threats. Ah! That is not all;
they are ready to repay us all that the Negro cacique received for the
sale of his lands."
"Why," Don Antonio interrupted, "the fellows must be mad."
"No, colonel, they are robbers."
At this moment, tremendous shouts were heard at the barriers, and the
two officers hurried up in all haste.
Four or five thousand horses, apparently free but whose invisible
riders were concealed, according to the Indian fashion, along their
flanks, were coming at a frightful pace against the barricades. Two
rounds of canister produced disorder in their ranks, without checking
their speed, and they fell like lightning on the defenders of Población
del Sur. Then began one of those terrific fights of the Indian
frontier, a cruel and indescribable contest, in which no prisoners were
made, the _bolas perdidas_, the _laquis_, the bayonet, and the lance,
were their sole weapons. The Indians were immediately reinforced, but
the Spaniards did not give way an inch. This desperate struggle lasted
for about two hours; the Patagonians seemed to give ground, and the
Argentines redoubled their efforts to drive them back to their camp,
when, suddenly, the cry was heard behind them--
"Treachery! Treachery!"
The major and the colonel, who were fighting in the front rank of the
soldiers and volunteers, turned round; they were caught between two
fires.
Pincheira, dressed in the uniform of a Chilian officer, was prancing at
the head of a hundred gauchos, more or less intoxicated, who followed
him, yelling--
"Pillage! Pillage!"
The two veteran officers exchanged a long, sad glance, and their
determination was formed in a second.
The colonel hurled among the Indians a barrel of gunpowder, with a
lighted fuse, which swept them off, as the wind sweeps the dust, and
put them to flight. The Argentines, at the major's command, wheeled
round and charged the gauchos, commanded by Pincheira. These bandits,
with their sabres and bolas in their hands, dashed at the Argentines,
who slipped into the open doors of the abandoned houses, in a narrow
street, where the gauchos could not manoeuvre their horses. The
Argentines, who were skilful marksmen, did not throw away a shot; they
fell back on the river bank, and kept up a well-sustained fire on the
gauchos, who had turned back, and on the Aucas, who had again escaladed
the barricades, while the guns of the fort scattered canister and death
among them.
The white men crossed the river without any risk, and their enemies
installed themselves in the Población del Sur, filling the air with
triumphant hurrahs.
The colonel ordered considerable works to be thrown up on the river
bank, and placed in them two batteries, of six guns each whose fire
crossed.
Through the treachery of the gauchos the Indians had seized Población
del Sur, which, however, was not the key of the place; but this
negative success entailed an enormous loss upon them. The colonists,
through this, saw their communications interrupted with the estancias
on the opposite bank, but luckily the farmers had come into Upper
Carmen beforehand with their horses and cattle, and the boats were all
moored under the batteries of the fort which protected them. The suburb
captured by the assailants was, consequently, entirely empty.
On one side, the Argentines congratulated themselves at having no
longer to defend a dangerous and useless post; on the other, the Aucas
asked themselves of what good this dearly acquired suburb would prove
to them.
Three gauchos, during the fight, were dragged from their horses by the
Argentines and made prisoners. One of them was Pincheira, the second
Panchito, and the third a man of the name of Diego. A council of war,
assembled in the open air, sentenced them to the gallows.
"Well, Diego," asked Panchito, "where is Pincheira?"
"The scoundrel has escaped," honest Panchito replied; "deserter from
the army, deserter from the gallows! That is the way in which he
breaks all his engagements. He will come to a very bad end."
"Our affair seems clear enough," Diego said with a sigh.
"Nonsense! A little sooner or a little later, what's the odds?"
"The gallows seems to tickle your fancy, Panchito."
"Not exactly," the other answered; "but for four generations my family
have been hanged, from father to son; we quite expect it. What will the
fiend do with my soul?"
"I do not know."
"Nor do I."
During this edifying conversation two lofty gallows had been erected
a little outside the intrenchments on the river bank, in the sight of
the whole population and of the gauchos, who, grouped in the Población
del Sur, yelled with rage. Panchito and Diego were hung as a warning
example; a _bando_, affixed at the foot of the ladder, threatened every
insurgent gaucho with the same fate.
While this was going on, night set in, illumined by the burning
faubourg conquered by the Indians. The flames tinged the hapless town
with fantastic gleams, and the inhabitants, plunged in a gloomy
stupor, said to themselves that the flames would soon cross the road
and reduce Carmen to ashes. The governor seemed made of iron; he did
not take a moment's rest, he visited the forts, heightened drooping
spirits, and tried to imbue all with hopes which were far from his
heart. As for the Indians, they made two attempts to surprise the town,
and, just before dawn, retired to their camp.
"Major," the colonel said, "it is not possible to deceive ourselves.
Tomorrow, the day after, or in a week, all will be over with us."
"Hum! At the last moment we will blow up the fort."
"We are deprived of even that resource."
"Why so?"
"Old soldiers, such as we are, cannot thus dispose of the lives of
others."
"You are right," the major continued, precisely; "we will blow out our
brains."
"Nor can we do that either, my friend; for we must be the last on the
breach."
"But," the major said, after a short silence, for the undeniable
reasoning of his superior had crushed him, "how is it that we have
received no news yet from Buenos Aires?"
"They have something else to do there than think about us."
"Oh! I cannot believe that."
A slave announced Don Torribio Carvajal.
Don Torribio came in, dressed in the splendid uniform of a colonel in
the Argentine army, with an aide-de-camp's badge on his left arm. The
two officers, on his entrance, felt an inward tremor Don Torribio bowed
to them.
"Is it really you, Don Torribio?" the colonel asked.
"Well, I suppose so," he answered, with a smile.
"And your long journey?"
"I have just arrived."
"And this uniform?"
"Well, gentlemen, as I was tired of being regarded in the colony as a
mysterious being, a sorcerer, a vampire, or something of the sort, I
resolved to become a man, like the rest of you."
"Then you are--?"
"An officer, like yourself, colonel, and, in addition, aide-de-camp to
General Rosas."
"It is prodigious," Don Antonio remarked.
"Why so? nothing is more simple, on the contrary."
A strange suspicion had entered the major's mind at Don Torribio's
unexpected arrival, a suspicion which only disappeared after he made
the following remark:--
"Yes," he continued, "I am a colonel. In addition, the President of the
Republic has intrusted me with a message, which I feel sure will please
you."
And he took from the breast of his uniform a large despatch, sealed
with the Argentine arms. The colonel, with the permission of the two
officers, opened and perused the mission, and unbounded delight was
depicted on his face.
"Oh, oh!" he exclaimed, "two hundred and fifty men! I did not expect
such a reinforcement."
"The president is very anxious about the colony," Don Torribio said,
"and will spare no sacrifice to preserve it."
"_¡Viva Dios!_ Thanks to that succour. Don Torribio, I care no more for
the Indians than a wisp of straw."
"It seems that the troops will not arrive too soon."
"It was only just in time, canario," the governor replied imprudently.
"Where are your men?"
"They will arrive within an hour."
"What are they?"
"Gauchos."
"Hum!" said the colonel, "I should have preferred any other troops.
However, it is of no consequence. With your permission, I will go to
meet them."
"I am at your orders."
"Shall I go with you?" the major asked.
"That would be better still," Torribio observed quickly.
"No, major," said Don Antonio. "Stay here, for who knows what may
happen during my absence. Come, Don Torribio."
The latter smiled; and it would have been difficult to say what the
smile meant. He went out, accompanied by the colonel, and they mounted
their horses. As they left the fort a man passed them, walking at a
quick pace.
"Pedrito!" Don Torribio muttered to himself; "Providing that he has not
recognized me! All is well."