It was absolutely dark now; Jim had stopped cantering and had fallen
into an amble; we got into some lanes under trees, and fireflies were
darting from side to side ahead of us. It was simply grand, and I jolly
well wished old Ginger was there with us; he would have enjoyed it
immensely. I was so annoyed, and despised myself so much for having
quarrelled with him, that it really made me miserable every time I
thought of him. At the top of a ridge we stopped, Gerald wanted to
speak to some native soldiers who silently stole past us in the
darkness, and got me to fill his pipe for him. Off we went again, the
soldiers cheering my brother and the big ship which was coming to knock
the Santa Cruz Navy out of time; down a hill we clattered, splashed
through a ford, trotted uphill, and then suddenly plunged into absolute
darkness.
'We're in the forest, Billums,' Gerald sang out; 'old Zorilla's in the
middle of it. You'll hear bullets before the sunrise.'
I didn't feel quite so enthusiastic about bullets just then--it was too
gloomy under those trees--and it was lucky that the horses could see
where they were going, for we ourselves could not.
We kept on meeting long strings of pack mules on their way back from the
front, and some of them were carrying wounded men. It was jolly
disconcerting at first, because they came upon you so suddenly, and made
so little noise--the men being barefooted and the mules unshod. On
ahead we'd hear our little messenger-groom sing out something, and then
we'd come right on the long string of dark shadows, the mules breathing
heavily under their creaking packs as they shuffled past.
Gerald told me they were clearing the country of food, and were taking
it all into San Fernando.
'How did you learn all this war business?' I asked him, after he had
told me his plans.
'Common sense, Billums, common sense!'
There was no need for me to ask him why he'd left his rubber plantation.
'Getting enough excitement?' I asked.
'Not yet,' he said, stopping for me to fill his pipe again.
'Do you know,' he said presently, 'that, nearly three hundred years ago,
twenty-two Spanish cavaliers rode along this road, as we are riding
to-night, to capture Santa Cruz city. San Fernando was a fortified
Spanish settlement then, and a native ruled in Santa Cruz. He'd
collared the Governor's daughter; she'd been shipwrecked somewhere up
the coast whilst on her way to Spain, and the twenty-two in their
armour--fancy armour in this climate--riding their big Spanish horses,
with a couple of hundred native bowmen in their quilted cotton armour[#]
to help them, actually sacked the town. They stopped there, too, and
built the fort of San Sebastian.'
[#] In those days the natives wore thick quilted coats, stuffed with
cotton fibre, as a defence against sword-cuts.
'Did they rescue the girl?'
'Yes,' Gerald told me. He was full of such stories--the good news about
_La Buena Presidente_ had made him quite talkative--and you can imagine
how the glamour of the past chivalry excited me. I almost imagined to
myself that I was in armour, and should presently have to put lance in
rest and charge through crowded ranks of archers and swordsmen.
At about nine o'clock that night we crossed a small stream, and stopped
at a _Posada_, or wayside inn--very cheerful it looked under the trees,
with a blazing log-fire gleaming through the open windows. People came
hurrying out to take our horses, and Gerald and I had a grand feed.
They cooked a ripping omelette, and their home-made bread was grand.
'Feeling better now?' Gerald asked me, as I stretched myself and asked
for another omelette.
Before we had finished, a lot of officers rode up and came in--all very
courteous--and I looked at them curiously; for they had just come back
from the firing line, and their white cotton or blue-striped uniforms
were covered with mud. When they first came into the room they all
stared at the two of us, not quite knowing, for a moment, which was
which. One of them, who particularly attracted me, was very short and
fat with bandy legs. He had a broad-brimmed, soft felt hat on his head,
the front turned up, his face and neck almost hidden by great bushy
black whiskers, and he was so stout that his sword-belt wouldn't meet,
and was fastened with cord. He had jolly, twinkling eyes, as black as
night, and in the flickering shadows of the wood-fire looked like a
gnome or goblin under that huge hat. He was very proudly handing round
a large revolver for every one to look at, showing grand white teeth as
he smiled, and shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands. Gerald
handed it to me: 'He captured a cavalry officer this morning, and bagged
this.'
The little 'Gnome' drew his stool across and explained its action. It
was a Webley-Foster automatic revolver, and as I had not seen one
before, I was jolly interested. I liked the little chap very much, and
could just imagine him tackling one of those beautifully dressed dandies
of cavalry officers we had seen at Santa Cruz.
These officers had come to tell Gerald how everything was progressing at
the front, and they seemed to be holding a council of war, or rather
listening to what Gerald had to tell them; for my brother was laying
down the law pretty considerably.
At last everything was satisfactorily settled, there was more bowing,
and most of them rode off again into the forest.
'Everything going on all right,' Gerald told me. 'Come along; hope you
aren't getting stiff.'
We left the cheerful fire; the innkeeper refused any money; my brother
sang out, 'Jose! Jose!'; the little groom with the red sash brought our
horses round, and, with the 'Gnome' and three or four other officers, we
were just going to mount when a dozen little _machetos_ came up, leading
some men. As they got into the light I saw that these were regular
troops, and had yellow and green rosettes on their hats, tall, gaunt,
hungry-looking chaps they were, and very much relieved when they saw my
brother. He spoke to them and the excited little chaps guarding them,
and then off we started.
'Deserters,' he told me. 'They all have the same tale; not enough
food.'
Although 'deserter' has a horrid sound to it, I felt sorry for them,
they looked so miserable, and meeting them seemed to make Zorilla's
army, of which I had heard so much, much more real. I watched them
being taken away to San Fernando, till they were lost in the darkness.
A full moon had risen whilst we were having our meal, and where the
trees did not meet across the road there were patches of very comforting
light. However, the moonlight on the road made the forest on either side
of us look blacker and more forbidding than ever, and when two of the
officers turned into it, by a path their horses seemed to know, I felt
jolly glad I wasn't going with them.
'We had a bit of a scrap this afternoon, Billums,' Gerald told me, 'and
lost a few people. Old Zorilla fought his way along to another
clearing, but we captured some more of his cavalry, and he's left a
field-gun behind him. The horses and rifles will be very useful to us.'
'How far off is he now?' I asked excitedly.
'About eight miles: Zorilla has halted for the night and our people are
all round him again. He can't move till daylight. He has only advanced
four miles since yesterday; his men are so played out, and his horses
too. I can't understand him. It seems absolute folly to do what he is
trying to do, especially as his chaps are deserting.'
My supper had made me rather sleepy, but presently, a long way in front
of us, I heard the report of a rifle, and sat up so quickly that I
bumped my back against that wretched saddle.
'That was a rifle! That's the first I've heard fired in war,' I cried
out, and I felt fearfully excited, wondering where the bullet had gone.
You bet that my ears were tingling to hear more, but none came for some
time, only the crackling and rustling of dead branches snapping in the
darkness on either side of us. Then three or four went off, still a
long way ahead, and as each one cracked I could not help thinking: 'I
wonder what that hit.'
Without meaning to do so, I dug my heels into Jim's ribs and made him go
faster, but my brother sang out, 'No hurry, Billums,' and I pulled him
back. I believe the little stallion was getting as excited as I was.
Away to the left there were some more shots, and then suddenly, right in
our faces, a red glare shone through the trees, coming and going so
quickly that I'd only time to say 'Oh!' before it had disappeared, and
almost immediately afterwards there was another brighter glare and a
tearing bursting noise. It didn't seem a hundred yards ahead of us, and
the little stallion, Jim, began jumping about.
'What was that?' I sang out, though I knew perfectly well that it was a
shell, but couldn't help singing out, my nerves were so jumpy. A
scraggy spluttering volley came back from the trees, and then all was
still again.
'Zorilla is firing a field-gun down the road,' my brother said; 'I
wonder what good he thinks he is doing.'