'Don Martin was the best captain in the Navy,' Wilson told me; 'chucked
out because he demanded ammunition for his ships. We sent him to
England, and if that telegram is correct, he has managed to get hold of
the big cruiser. In three months de Costa should be President of Santa
Cruz.'
I could not help telling him--not officially, of course--how glad I was;
and as my lazy crew pulled us aboard, the town seemed to be buzzing like
a bee-hive, the bells in the cathedral ringing joyously, and green and
black flags hanging over every building.
'Your brother wants you to ride out to the front with him to-night,' I
told my Sub. 'You can go when you like.'
As usual, the most beautifully cool crisp night followed the terrible
heat of the day, and the town of San Fernando looked extremely
picturesque, a mass of white roofs and clear-cut shadows, bathed in the
light of a full moon. The road leading up the ridge behind the town
stood out a silvery streak, and the mere thought of it, plunging into
the appalling shadows of that grim forest beyond, made me shiver as I
held my breath and listened for sounds of the struggle I knew must still
be going on twenty miles away. Huddled together in some clearing of the
forest, or strung wearily along the road, brave old Zorilla and his
half-fed men were still surrounded by those fierce, silent, little
forest-men with their terrible _machetes_, their bags of cartridges, and
their rusty rifles. I turned in feeling rather creepy, and hoped that
my Sub wouldn't do anything foolhardy.
What he did he will tell you himself.
*CHAPTER VII*
*General Zorilla falls back*
_Written by Sub-Lieutenant William Wilson, R.N._
You may bet that I was glad to see Gerald, and to know that, although he
still kept it in a sling, his arm was practically well again. I had a
long yarn with him in that boat alongside, and told him my suspicions
about the so-called hydraulic machinery we had brought across from
Princes' Town. He knew that two 4.7's on field-carriages, four
field-guns, and two pompoms, with plenty of ammunition, had been waiting
there for weeks, so I pretty well guessed that they weren't very far
away now, and implored him to send lighters off for them as quickly as
he could, before any one else gave the show away. He had to wait for
the Provisional Government, but could not have wasted a moment after he
did land, for hardly had the Skipper and the Fleet Surgeon gone ashore
than lighters came hurrying off, and I had the job of hoisting all those
packing-cases into them, my heart in my mouth all the time lest anything
should happen. Careful! Why, I lowered them down as if they were
new-laid eggs or valuable china.
'What the Moses d'you mean by taking such a confounded time?' the
Commander bellowed, and stood by my side yelling down orders to hurry.
Thank goodness, O'Leary was in charge of the working party, and wouldn't
be hurried for any one, although the Commander kept on shouting that he
was a disgrace to his uniform, and that he'd disrate him to ordinary
seaman.
Didn't I feel relieved when the last little lot had shoved off from the
ship and was on its way ashore, the Santa Cruz cruiser taking no notice
whatever. She didn't seem to suspect anything, got up her anchor, and
steamed down towards El Castellan.
When we received that wireless message from the _Hercules_, nobody had
the slightest idea that _La Buena Presidente_ had actually been collared
by the insurgents, so you can imagine how happy I felt when the Skipper
came off and told me. He was as pleased as I was. 'Fine chap, your
brother! The Provisional Government isn't in the running with him.
He's the boss.'
He told me, too, that Gerald wanted me to ride out to the front with him
that very night, gave me forty-eight hours' leave, and, fearfully
excited, I dashed below. Bigge, Montague, Perkins, the Forlorn Hope and
the Shadow, Dr. Clegg--nearly every one, in fact--came along to have a
word with me, whilst I tumbled into riding breeches, flannel shirt, and
jacket--they would all have given anything to be going too. The Angel
and Bob filled my 'baccy' pouch, and I stuffed some sandwiches into a
haversack; the Angel lent me his panama hat, and then I jumped into the
skiff, and was just shoving off when O'Leary came running down the
ladder.
'The petty officers, sir, are going to ask leave to-morrow, sir. I'm
thinking that that 'ere 'ydraulic machinery kind of wants a little
putting together, sir.'
'What the dickens d'you mean by delaying my skiff? Shove off in that
boat or you can swim ashore,' the Commander bellowed at me, from the top
of the ladder, as a parting shot.
I was so happy that I can hardly describe how I felt when I did get
ashore. It was just getting dark, and the last of those packing-cases
was being carried away by a crowd of men still chanting, '_Viva los
Inglesas! Viva La Buena Presidente!_' and the little messenger who had
brought Gerald's letter to Princes' Town was waiting for me, with a
broad smile on his face. He was dressed very smartly as a groom, with a
clean white shirt and clean white duck riding breeches. He had one of
Gerald's old polo helmets on his head and a brilliant red sash twisted
round his waist, but his feet and legs below the breeches were bare. He
looked very proud of his finery, and guided me quickly to the Club,
along dark narrow streets, and across the square, where hundreds of
natives were lighting camp fires.
Gerald was there.
'Come along, the horses will be round in a minute. You will do all
right,' he said, glancing at my rig-out. He introduced me to several
Englishmen; they all shook hands; we toasted _La Buena Presidente_ and
Captain Pelayo, the _Hector_, 'Old Tin Eye,' and the King. My head was
in a whirl; horses came round; I sprang on one, half-a-dozen chaps were
round me making my stirrup-leathers comfortable; Gerald was helped into
his saddle (his right arm was still in a sling); some one sang out from
the dark Club verandah, 'Three cheers for the two Wilsons,' and off we
cantered, the little groom, with his red sash, on ahead, and
half-a-dozen natives clattering behind us on more horses.
My horse was one of Gerald's own--Jim--a grand little stallion with a
mouth as soft as anything, and he arched his neck, snorted, and danced
about like a kitten. 'I wish you'd given me an English saddle,' I told
Gerald presently, for this one was a huge native thing with a back to it
and a big raised pommel in front. It was impossible to fall out of it,
except sideways, and you could not do that very easily, because the
stirrups were such a queer shape that your feet couldn't slip out of
them. But every other second either the back or the front part thumped
against me.
'Lean well back, Billums, you'll find it all right then--you'll be glad
of it soon--we've got a twenty-mile ride in front of us.'