The carriage drove back again, and General Zorilla went in it, little
Jose went as well, sitting up with the driver and looking very
important.
Gerald told me that he'd appointed old Zorilla Commandant of the city,
and that he'd sent him in to get together as many regular troops as he
could find to guard the streets and keep order. Funnily enough, it
never even occurred to me that old Zorilla could not be trusted; nobody
who'd seen the old man could possibly doubt his honour.
'D'you know what the troops will be doing for the next half-hour?'
Gerald smiled.
'No! what?'
'Twisting round the yellow and green badges in their hats till the
stripes are _horizontal_, and blacking out the "yellow" part.'
'What's Jose gone for?' I asked him.
'He says that I left a clean pair of riding breeches and a new helmet at
the Club, and he's going to see if they are still there.'
I must say that old Gerald wanted them badly; we both looked pretty
disreputable. Just then the bells in the cathedral began ringing, and
the great cracked bell banged out with its jarring clang. Bells began
ringing, from one end of the city to the other, till the whole place
seemed nothing but bells, and in half an hour a big black and green flag
was hanging down over the old tower.
'If they don't send food out pretty soon for my chaps, there'll be no
holding them,' Gerald said presently, and looked worried again; but old
Zorilla must have hurried up the townspeople considerably, because very
soon carts came out with bread and fruit and rice cakes, and the fierce
little fellows were soon filling their stomachs.
Jose came back from the city, his eyes glittering with pride; he'd found
Gerald's room at the Club quite undisturbed, and brought him a complete
change of clothes and some shaving tackle. We went into one of the
living rooms in the fort and made ourselves look more respectable, Jose
coming with us and polishing Gerald's boots and gaiters till you could
see your face in them.
All this time the men were round those carts stuffing themselves
contentedly; but don't think that old Zorilla had forgotten us, rather
not, he had sent us out some breakfast, and you may guess we were ready
for it by the time we had cleaned.
'First meal in San Sebastian! I said so!' and I laughed.
'So it is! Well, here's luck to it!' Gerald answered; 'and thanks very
much, Billums, for coming along with me.'
'My dear chap, don't be an ass!' was the only thing I could think to
say.
'I wish I could make my little chaps give up their rifles,' he said,
'but I can't; they're too proud of them.'
'But surely if you disarmed them the regulars might attack them?' I
asked, but Gerald only smiled.
'Of course not! My dear Billums, didn't I tell you that they are busy
blacking out the yellow stripes; they'll obey my orders now as
cheerfully as they'd have shot me an hour ago. Now Canilla has vanished
Zorilla only takes orders from the New President--and that means me.'
'Oh!' I said, and, like the sailor's parrot, thought a good deal.
Then I gave him the mater's last letter, and, after he'd lighted his
pipe, he sat back in a chair and read it, stretching his legs out in
front of him whilst Jose knelt down buttoning up his gaiters and giving
them a final polish. I did wish that the mater could have seen him.
Officers with green and black badges in their caps and helmets came
backwards and forwards from the city for orders, and some of them, I
saw, had done just as Gerald had said, simply turned the badges round
and inked out the yellow stripe. It made me laugh, but he kept a face
as sober as a judge, and sent them flying here, there, and everywhere,
and they clicked their heels, saluted, and rushed off, as if he had
always been their Commanding Officer. I don't expect they would have
dared come among our little chaps without blacking out the yellow
stripe, although now, with their stomachs full, they were quite peaceful
and contented, and went to sleep on the slope below the fort or sat
drying themselves in the sun, and forgot, for a time, about looting the
city.
Mr. Arnstein, the German Minister, came out during the morning to
arrange for the safety of European property, and as he was an old friend
of my brother, was jolly pleasant. Whilst they were yarning together de
Costa's Secretary drove hurriedly across the drawbridge, to say very
excitedly that the New President and the Provisional Government were
coming up the mountain road from Los Angelos, and wanted to see Gerald.
Gerald sent him back again as quickly as he'd come.
'I'm hanged if I'm going down there,' he told me. 'For one thing, I
daren't leave these chaps of mine. I've told him that it's simply
impossible for me to leave San Sebastian, and told him to warn de Costa
to bring along as many regulars as he can get hold of--as soon as
they've shifted their badges.
'We shall have them here as soon as they can come,' he added, smiling.
'They'll be so frightened lest I seize the palace and become Dictator
before they can get hold of it, that they'll come along like "one
o'clock."'
He was right too. An hour later de Costa and the whole of the
Provisional Government came rattling across the drawbridge, and simply
threw themselves on old Gerald; they would have kissed him if he'd only
taken his pipe out of his mouth, but as they'd got hold of both his
hands he couldn't. They shook my hands, too, till they ached, and then
went away to take up their quarters in the palace, feeling more easy in
their minds, I expect, about that Dictatorship.
I wished that they had never come, for one of them had a note for me
from the Commander of the _Hercules_, ordering me back on board as soon
as possible.
I showed it to Gerald. 'Confound the ship, I'll have to go back at
once.'
He got me a horse, and sent the 'Gnome' down with me in case there was
any trouble on the road, shouting out, 'Good-bye! Hope to see you up
again before long,' as we clattered out of San Sebastian. I shouted
'_Buenos! Buenos!_' to the little brown chaps, a great number of them
jumping up and giving me a fine 'send off' as we cantered down to the
city.
Regular troops were at every corner--their badges twisted round and
blackened--and it really was ludicrous to see the attempts the
townspeople had made to show their loyalty to the New President; for at
nearly every window there was some kind of an attempt at a black and
green flag with the stripes horizontal.
A great number of people thought I was Gerald himself, so I came in for
quite a royal reception, but we cantered rapidly through the square,
field batteries at every corner, past the front of the cathedral, with
that huge bell still jarring overhead, and as we passed the Hotel de
l'Europe I looked up at the window from which Bob and I and the poor
little 'Angel' had seen the funeral procession and tried to escape that
beastly little ex-policeman. I wondered what had become of him, and
whether the stumps of his fingers had healed.
It was a long and tedious journey down the road to Los Angelos, because
at many places barricades, thrown up to prevent Gerald's troops
advancing, were being lazily pulled down, and the litter on the road
made it impossible to get along quickly.
However, I did not want to be caught in the dark, so we made our horses
hurry whenever the road made it possible, and we managed to reach Los
Angelos in two hours and a half. One of the boats belonging to the
Santa Cruz flagship happened to be waiting alongside the wharf; the
'Gnome' said something to the coxswain, and off I went in her, in great
style, to the _Hercules_. Good little 'Gnome,' he was pretty well worn
out by the time I wished him good-bye, and he went away with our two
horses.
*CHAPTER XVII*
*The Ex-policeman*
_Written by Sub-Lieutenant William Wilson, R.N._
As you can imagine, I wasn't half pleased to get back to the _Hercules_,
and there I had to wait, not a soul being allowed ashore, for a whole
week. We heard that order was being maintained in Santa Cruz, and as
this was the chief thing Gerald worried about, I was very glad indeed.
I never told you that, directly the English and United States
Governments had recognised the insurgents, Canilla had sent every
foreign Minister, except Mr. Arnstein, and every European merchant, out
of the country. Now, however, they all came back from Princes' Town,
and things seemed to be settling down peaceably, just as peaceably,
indeed, as after a General Election and a change of Government at home.
Canilla and a very small number of officials, who'd made themselves too
obnoxious to stay, simply disappeared, finding their way down to some
village farther along the coast, and taking refuge on board a Colombian
gun-boat which happened to be there. No one seemed to worry about him
or them--not in the least.
Then came a formal invitation for the Captain and Officers of H.M.S.
_Hercules_ to attend the inauguration of the new Government. There was
to be a triumphal entry of the former insurgent army into Santa Cruz, a
full dress ceremony in the old cathedral, and a banquet afterwards at
the palace. What made me so pleased was that they'd sent me a separate
invitation, in recognition of my 'services to the Republic of Santa
Cruz.' Just think of that! I've got the card now with a great spidery
signature--Alvarez de Costa--across the bottom of it.
Captain Roger Hill couldn't possibly refuse to let me go, although I'm
certain he would have done so if he could.
Gerald sent me a note telling me to meet him at the Club, and Mr.
Macdonald, who had turned up again from Princes' Town, drove Ginger and
Cousin Bob and myself up to Santa Cruz, just as he had done before.
We had to go in uniform, 'whites' with swords, and as mine was an
old-fashioned helmet, which came down well over my eyes and the back of
my neck, it hid my hair. The result was that hardly any one noticed me
or mistook me for Gerald, though, wherever we went, there were shouts of
'_Viva los Inglesas!_' from the crowds in the streets and at the
windows. The English were tremendously popular, chiefly on account of
Gerald, so Mr. Macdonald told us. 'Look up there!' he called out, as we
came in sight of San Sebastian, and we saw that the slopes of the
mountains, below and above it, were simply swarming with Gerald's little
brown men in their white shirts.
It was just such another scorching hot day as the first time we'd been
in Santa Cruz, and the whole place was a flutter of green and black,
green and black flags in front of every house, green and black rosettes
in every one's coats, and of course the regular troops were plastered
with green and black badges.
Troops! Why, there were more regular troops than ever, cavalry,
infantry, and artillery, and not a sign of the fierce little brown men
in the streets or big square, except in front of the cathedral steps,
where about two hundred of them formed a guard of honour, their ragged
shirts and cotton drawers washed for the occasion, new cartridge-belts
round their waists, and brown boots on their feet, but not looking
particularly happy in their finery, although there was a great crowd
watching them curiously. There was a funny feeling of tension in the
air, and every one had the same worried expectant look on his face, just
as I had noticed on that first day we drove through the city.
'Aren't there any women in the place?' Ginger asked. 'We never seem to
see any,' and Mr. Macdonald shook his head. 'They know when there's
danger. It's always a bad sign when they stay indoors. They're afraid
of the insurgent troops from the forests down south and the plains away
to the north. There's no knowing what they'll do when they enter the
city. Every one's nervous about them.'
We drove to the Club, and there we found any number of fellows from the
_Hercules_, and most of the European residents too. They had the same
anxious look about them as we'd noticed outside, and one of them,
turning to me, said that practically everything depended on my brother
and his personal influence and popularity with the ragged armed mob who
were going to march into Santa Cruz. He told me that Gerald had just
gone up to his room, so Ginger and Bob and I went up and found him
changing into clean things, Jose, with a huge black and green rosette in
his coat, helping him. I introduced Ginger, and unbuckling our
sword-belts we sat on his bed and yarned to him.
'How are your chaps going to behave?' I asked him.
'So long as I can keep my eye on them they'll be all right,' he said,
'but I don't like the idea of leaving them outside when I have to go
into the cathedral, or to that banquet they talk so much about. I wish
to goodness I hadn't to go through this tomfoolery; I have to ride
immediately behind the President's carriage. (How the dickens can he
expect to be popular if he don't ride a horse?) He won't let me off the
job either, although he's jealous of me, and hates hearing people
singing out my name, but he knows he can't keep my little brown chaps in
hand himself, so he's going to keep me as close to him as possible.'
'But _must_ they come in?' Ginger asked.
'Yes!' he said; 'they must. They must have their triumphal entry. I've
had bother enough keeping them out as long as this, but they won't go
home till they can say that they've marched through Santa Cruz as
victors. Thank goodness, they've hardly got a cartridge among them.'
'How many are there?' Ginger began to ask, when there was a gentle tap
on the door, and one of the Club servants came in, handed Gerald a
visiting card, and went out again.
'I don't know who the chap is,' Gerald said, looking at it; 'I wish
people wouldn't bother me now.'
There was another tap at the door, and in came a man, dressed in a black
frock-coat and grey trousers, holding a tall silk hat with the thumb and
the stumps of the fingers of his right hand. For a second I seemed to
feel frozen with fear, for it was the ex-policeman, the man whose
fingers I'd cut off on the beach at San Fernando, and as I sprang at
him, he drew a revolver from his breast with his left hand, dodged round
me, and fired point-blank at Gerald. I heard Gerald catch his breath,
and I'd caught the revolver, hurled it away, and got the brute by the
neck in a second, Jose, with a scream, rushing across to help me. He
reeled over the foot of Gerald's bed, and whether Jose choked him, or I
broke his back in my rage, I don't know, but he gave a shudder, slipped
out of our hands, and flopped down on the floor--dead. Oh! that I had
killed him that day at San Fernando!
I turned to Gerald, who was standing where he'd been shot, with his hand
over his stomach, Ginger and Bob holding his arms.
'He got me in the stomach, Billums,' he said quietly.
'Don't move a muscle,' I yelled, 'we'll lift you on the bed.'
As we laid him down very carefully, people came rushing up from down
below to know what had happened.
'Get a doctor,' I shouted, and I know that I was blubbing like a child.
Dr. Robson of the _Hercules_ came rushing up, and I shall never forget
how we three watched his face as he pulled down Gerald's riding
breeches, very carefully, to examine the wound.
'When did you have food last?' he said, and when Gerald answered, 'Six
hours ago,' he muttered, 'Thank God!'
'What size bullet was it? Show me the revolver.'
Bob brought it. It was a Mauser automatic pistol.
'Well, what's the verdict?' Gerald asked quite calmly.
'I can't say, must get some one else. Don't move till I come back--not
a muscle,' and Dr. Robson went away.
Ginger went away too, some one dragged the body out of the room, and
only Bob, white and trembling, with tears running down his face, Jose,
crouching dumb with grief on the floor, and myself stayed with him.
Oh! that I'd killed the brute when I'd had that chance at San Fernando!
I saw that Gerald was thinking and worrying about something. Presently
he said: 'Billums, old chap, you've often asked me why I left the rubber
job; I wanted excitement, and I wanted to see how I could run a
revolution. Well, I've run it; I'm the Commander-in-Chief, or whatever
they call it, of the Republic, and this is a great day for Englishmen
out here; we were rather going "under" before the revolution, but now
our chaps are "top of the tree," and an Englishman must be behind de
Costa's carriage to-day. It's up to you now, you must take my place.'
'I can't, Gerald; I can't really--I can't leave you,' I stuttered, half
choking.
He thought a moment, and then went on. 'You must, Billums. You know
the reason. They're afraid of my men. Once they get into the city with
arms in their hands they may get out of hand at the least thing, they
are so wild and excitable. I am the only one who can control them, and
for them to sack Santa Cruz would spoil all I have done. In my rig, you
will be as like me as two peas, and so long as they think I'm there,
giving all the orders, they'll obey their officers. They won't
otherwise.'
Just then there were some firm footsteps outside the door, and General
Zorilla came gently in, in full uniform, covered with medals, his old
war-worn face looking very sad, his thin lips very tightly pressed
together. He smiled at me, and then gripped Gerald's hand, his stern
old face working strangely. They talked together for a minute or two,
and I knew somehow or other that they were not talking of Gerald
himself.
'Yes, Billums! it's up to you now. You must get into my ordinary rig
out. Zorilla wants you to do so, too--says it's the only thing that can
save Santa Cruz.'
'But a great many people will know me!' I cried.
'Many more won't; the people of the city won't, and most of my men will
think you are I. You've only got to ride behind that carriage and
return salutes, and you've done it. You must do it, Billums; my horse
is as quiet as a lamb, he doesn't even mind their atrocious bands or the
guns firing.'
I'd never felt so utterly wretched in my life. 'All right, I'll try,' I
said.
Zorilla bowed to me and went out, though, first of all, looking very
sad, he clicked his heels and saluted poor old Gerald as he lay on the
bed. Jose, with red eyes and trembling fingers, began unbuttoning
Gerald's gaiters, while Bob and I held his legs above the knee to
prevent any shaking. The only clean riding breeches Gerald had were the
ones he was wearing, so he made us take them off. I stripped and got
into them; I could not have felt more miserable if I was going to be
hanged, and to make things more wretched, just below the inner left
braces button was the small hole made by the bullet and a tiny stain of
blood.
I dragged them on, Jose laced them at the knees, then I put on Gerald's
brown boots, and Jose fastened on his gaiters, rubbing off his
tear-marks with his sleeve. He helped me into one of Gerald's white
duck 'Norfolk' jackets and handed me his newest polo helmet.
'You're the very thing,' Gerald said, looking at me, and even Jose
appeared astonished, so I suppose I must have looked very much like my
brother.
Then Dr. Robson came back with the Fleet Surgeon of the _Hercules_ and
the swagger Santa Cruz surgeon, an extraordinarily fat man with fat,
greasy, tobacco-stained fingers covered with rings. They examined the
wound again, and the fat man shrugged his shoulders and I saw him draw
one finger across the other hand and look at Robson very suggestively.