The guest of honour at the Jefe's banquet that evening was not the
station-master of Santa Marta, who, it is to be feared, was left out in
the cold, but William Pentelow. His health was drunk (in very bad
wine), and he had to listen, as comfortably as he could, to some very
high-flown speeches, in which he was hailed as the true Liberator of
Venezuela. Will, who was a modest fellow, took all this for what it was
worth, which, he was inclined to think, was very little.
The truth is that he was not in the mood for junketing. Before the
banquet the Jefe had granted him a private audience, and he related full
particulars of what had happened at railhead. He ended by asking the
Jefe to use his influence and authority to procure the liberation of Mr.
Jackson and his subordinates. The Jefe was very sympathetic, but
confessed frankly that he saw no present means of helping the
Englishmen.
"It is most distressing, senor," he said, "but you see my unfortunate
position. I am not strong enough to follow up the defeated rebels. I
cannot leave the city totally unguarded, and my whole force is inferior
in numbers to those of General Carabano and Colonel Orellana. I can
expect no help from Caracas at present, and, as you are doubtless aware,
there are no garrisons in the smaller towns touched by the railway.
Besides, I have no doubt that General Carabano has entrained his men,
and returned to the place from which he started, and since the culvert
is broken, it is impossible to follow him up by train. As soon as the
revolt in Valencia is suppressed, the President will certainly take
strong measures against General Carabano, who until then must, I fear,
be left unmolested. A mere remonstrance with him on the treatment of
your colleagues, unbacked by force, would be futile. I will certainly
telegraph to Caracas, giving the particulars I have learnt from you, and
asking for instructions; but I do not expect that anything practical
will come of it immediately. At present I can only hold this city for
the Government. If I may counsel you, I say, remain here for the
present. I do not anticipate that your friends will suffer personal
harm; General Carabano will certainly have a wholesome respect for the
far-reaching arm of your great country. I shall not fail to represent
your distinguished services in the highest quarters, and without doubt
the President will know how to recognize them adequately. In the
meantime I shall be honoured by your presence at the banquet I am giving
to-night in celebration of our victory."
This was very cold comfort; but Will was not unreasonable, and on
reflection he acknowledged that the Jefe could not very well take any
active steps on behalf of his friends. He decided at any rate to wait
until an answer had been received from Caracas, which might be expected
during the following day.
Scouts who had been sent out to watch the retreating columns reported
that the retirement was definitive. Colonel Orellana had marched
southward round the swamps, while General Carabano had entrained his men
beyond the culvert and started down the line, presumably to return to
his camp at De Mello's hacienda.
Next morning the Jefe decided to send a portion of his troops by steamer
to the junction, to capture the station staff, who had clearly espoused
the rebels' cause. When Colonel Blanco returned in the evening, he
reported that he had found the station deserted. Since the destruction
of the culvert six miles west of Bolivar had rendered the line useless
at present for Government troops, the Colonel had thought it wise to
prevent General Carabano from attempting another dash on the city.
Accordingly he had torn up a hundred yards of the track on this side of
the junction. This left the rebels in possession of the branch line,
which would, however, be of little use to them. The Colonel had not
broken the telegraph wires. The traitor Pereira in Bolivar had been
flung into jail, so that there was no danger of further mischief
concerted between him and his friend Machado.
Meanwhile Will had spent an unhappy day. Some of the younger officers
seemed disposed to continue indefinitely the revellings of the previous
night, and he had great difficulty in excusing himself from
participation in them without appearing discourteous. He took the
opportunity of paying a visit to the offices of the Company. The agent,
an Englishman, was greatly distressed at what had occurred, and cabled
information to the head offices in London, leaving it to the directors
to make representations to the Foreign Office. He advanced a quarter's
salary to Will, who bought a revolver and a supply of petrol, together
with a considerable quantity of food which he stored in the hydroplane.
An hour before Colonel Blanco's return from the junction, the Jefe sent
for Will.
"I have disagreeable news for you, senor," he said. "This afternoon I
received a telegram from General Carabano saying that your superior,
having taken arms against the Liberator, is now held to ransom. He
threatens that unless he receives within three days 60,000 pesos for
Senor Jackson and 12,000 for each of his subordinates they will be
shot."
Will gasped. He knew without telling that to raise so large a sum as
L7,000 would be impossible.
"I telegraphed this demand to Caracas, having already informed the
President of what you told me yesterday," continued the Jefe. "I have
his reply here. He says that he deeply regrets the outrage to which
your friends have been subjected, but the permanent interests of your
Company will be better served by strengthening my position here than by
attempting a rescue with a totally inadequate force. He adds that the
payment of a ransom is out of the question. It would merely strengthen
General Carabano's position, and his demand must be resisted on public
grounds ay in the highest degree dangerous."
"Surely he will not allow three inoffensive Englishmen to be shot,"
exclaimed Will, indignantly.
"It is deplorable," replied the Jefe, "but what can be done? General
Carabano will hesitate before taking so extreme a step, which would
utterly ruin any chance he may have of usurping authority, even if he
could overcome us by force of arms."
"I am not so sure of that," said Will bitterly. "From what I have seen
and heard of the General I believe him to be utterly unscrupulous and
capable of any atrocity, to satisfy his spite if for no other reason,
for you remember, Excellency, that it was my Chief's firmness that
prevented him from vastly increasing his resources."
"Senor Jackson indeed merits the thanks of the Republic, senor, and I am
greatly concerned at his unfortunate position. But, as you see, I am
helpless, and I can only hope that General Carabano will be restrained
by considerations of prudence from committing what would undoubtedly be
a most heinous crime."
Will saw that, had he been in the Governor's place, he could hardly have
done otherwise. But though official action was impossible, he felt that
he could not himself remain securely in Bolivar while his friends were
in dire peril. He was at a loss to think of any effectual means of
helping them, but he could at least return to the hacienda on the
chance, small though it must be, of intervening in their behalf. It
flashed upon him--and the thought was a ray of hope--that the General
had possibly been bluffing, and that the Englishmen were no longer his
prisoners. He could not have left a large guard over them; they might
have escaped. At any rate, Will decided that he must return at once and
see for himself how matters stood.
Twenty minutes after his interview with the Jefe he was again on board
the hydroplane with Jose and Azito. A few miles up the river he met
Colonel Blanco's steamer returning, and learnt what had been done at the
junction. Then he set off again, hoping to reach the neighbourhood of
the hacienda soon after dark. But reflecting that his supply of petrol
was limited, and he would have no chance of replenishing it, he
contented himself with an average speed of some twenty knots, and it was
dark before he reached the junction. Just at this time it happened that
something went wrong with the engine, and since he did not care to risk
an absolute breakdown, and could not discover the defect in the
darkness, he felt it necessary to lie up until morning. Accordingly he
ran the vessel into a small secluded creek, well sheltered by trees, and
made his way with Jose and the Indian to the deserted station, where
they ate a meal and fixed their quarters for the night, each taking a
turn to watch.
As soon as it was light they returned to the hydroplane. To repair the
defect was the work of half-an-hour. They were eating their breakfast
on board the vessel when Azito declared that he heard a train
approaching. The creek was so well screened by the foliage that there
was no fear of their being seen from the railway line; but it was
possible to observe through the leaves what happened when the train drew
level. It consisted of three trucks filled with men, and Will felt sure
he saw the burly form of Captain Espejo standing beside the
engine-driver on his cab. He wondered whether they had got wind of the
coming of the hydroplane, and had come to intercept it. This seemed
very unlikely, for the news would not have reached them by telegraph now
that Pereira had been removed and the staff at the junction had
decamped. True, the hydroplane had been seen as it passed river-side
villages, and it had met and overtaken several craft on the way--barges,
skiffs, and Indian canoes. But it had outstripped all vessels going in
the same direction, and it must have been impossible for any of their
occupants to have given information to the rebels. A more reasonable
explanation was that they had heard of the visit of Colonel Blanco, and
Captain Espejo had come to discover what had happened at the junction,
and whether any movement was being made from Bolivar. General Carabano
was probably unaware of the exact strength of the reinforcements to
which he owed his defeat, and would naturally be somewhat nervous lest
he should be followed up.
The train came to a standstill where the line had been torn up. Captain
Espejo descended from the engine and some of his men from the trucks,
and they walked along the track and into the station. Will had already
decided that it would be inadvisable to continue his journey until the
approach of evening. He chafed at the delay, but there would be too
great a risk of being seen, or of the throbbing of the engine being
heard, to venture further in the daylight, especially as the line was
being used. After the train had returned, therefore--the engine running
backwards, the siding at the station having been destroyed--he settled
himself in the boat to make up for the broken sleep of the night.
When he awoke, he thought over what was before him. It was impossible
to prepare a definite plan of operations. His first object must be to
discover whether the three Englishmen were still in the camp, and still
imprisoned in the stables. This seemed to him unlikely. His own escape
would probably have led to a change of quarters, unless indeed the
General had adopted the precaution of patrolling all sides of the
stables to prevent a repetition of Will's exploit. He thought with
compunction of the additional rigours the prisoners might have had to
suffer through him. What he should do when he had discovered their
whereabouts must be left to circumstances. He would only have a little
more than one clear day to effect their release before the period named
by General Carabano expired, and he fretted a good deal as he thought of
the possibility that all his efforts might fail.
After a tedious and anxious day, he ventured to set off a little before
dusk. It was dark when he came into the stream running past the
hacienda. Finding that the wind was blowing strongly from the direction
of the hacienda, he continued to use the engine for a time, not, of
course, planing, but contenting himself with a bare two or three knots.
When this was no longer safe, he stopped the engine and with Azito's
assistance began to pole the vessel up-stream. It was slow and
fatiguing work. But there was no help for it. The hydroplane was too
valuable an accessory to be left where it might be discovered. The first
necessity was to lay it up in security. Then they might go ashore
feeling confident that, however protracted their absence might be, the
vessel would be safe and always available.
As it passed within sight of the hacienda and the camp Will saw lights,
and suspected from their position that the camp had been shifted. He
would have liked to land and steal up to the stables; Azito offered to
do so: but Will, after a little hesitation, stuck to his resolution to
risk nothing until the hydroplane was in safety. It was fully four
hours before he reached the hollow in the bank. Once or twice in the
darkness the vessel ran aground, and the fear of lurking caymans made
them careful how they moved to get her off. When, shortly after one
o'clock, she was at last moored in the recess, Will was tired out. He
was five miles from the hacienda: by the time he could reach it there
would only be two or three hours of darkness before day broke. It would
be difficult enough to make any discovery at all in the darkness: how
much more difficult when time was limited! In spite of the further
delay involved, Will thought it wise to rest for the remainder of the
night, and to start fresh next morning on whatever course then offered
itself.
Will had never before spent a night in the hydroplane. Owing perhaps to
his fatigue and his anxieties he felt a little reluctant to do so now,
for though the water in the recess was very shallow, there was a
possibility that a cayman might wander in from the stream, a prospect
not to be thought of without shuddering. Azito and the negro refused
point-blank to sleep in the vessel. The wood had its perils, but they
preferred to rest in a tree. To guard against any danger for himself
Will hit on the plan of tying a string across the entrance of the recess
about a foot above the surface of the water. An empty petrol can was
attached to one end of this, and so carefully balanced that the least
touch on the string would cause it to fall against the bank. The sound
would, he hoped, not only give him warning, but scare away any unwelcome
visitor. However, the night passed without disturbance, and Will, when
he awoke, was ready for anything the day might bring forth.
It was the third day, the last, of the time allowed by General Carabano
for the ransom of his prisoners. Anything that could be done for them
must be done at once.
"You and I will go to the hacienda," said Will to the Indian, "and see
if we can find out where the senores are."
"I go alone, senor," replied Azito. "I can move as quietly as a snake.
No one will hear me. Was it not I that made the hole in the wall? Let
the senor stay here until I bring him word."
Anxious and impatient though he was, Will had to confess to himself that
Azito's suggestion was reasonable. The Indian was accustomed to the
woods: he might evade observation by a hundred artifices of which Will
was ignorant. In any case one would go more safely than two.
"Very well," said Will. "Be as quick as you can."
The Indian slipped noiselessly away. Will spent the first part of the
morning in cleaning the engine. When this was done he moved restlessly
about among the trees, worried because he could do nothing, nor even
form any plans until he had more information. He watched the
bright-coloured birds flitting among the foliage, caught a tree frog,
and examined it with a naturalist's curiosity, followed a cayman as it
hunted for food along the bank; but all this palled upon him after a
time, and as hour after hour passed, and Azito did not return, he became
more and more uneasy. What had happened to the man? Had he fallen into
the clutches of his old master? At the best he would be unmercifully
thrashed; and if by any chance Captain Espejo had learnt of his
association with the Englishmen, as he might do from one of the railway
peons who had been impressed, Will trembled for the poor Indian's fate.
As the sun rose higher, it became oppressively hot in the moist
atmosphere of the wood. At noon Will and Jose ate a simple dinner; then
the former lay down in the hydroplane to snatch a nap. But the air of
the recess was so stuffy, and insects bit him so ferociously, that at
last he could endure his inactivity no longer. Jose had been several
times to the edge of the wood to watch for Azito's return. When he came
back after one of these excursions, and reported that there was still no
sign of him, Will sprang up.
"I am going after him, Jose," he said. "You stay here and watch the
boat. Do not leave it until I come."
He climbed up the bank and set off through the wood. If he went
straight through it, he would emerge almost within bowshot of the
hacienda. It occurred to him that he would run less risk if he came
down on the camp from the opposite side rather than from the river
front. Accordingly he struck off to the right, and presently reached
the margin of the wood near the deserted railway camp. Looking around
to make sure that no one was in sight, he ran across the open space,
still littered with the debris of the camp, and crawled over the
embankment. A few hundred yards on the other side of this was a long
stretch of forest. He entered this, and then turning to the left,
hurried on as fast as he could through the clinging tangled undergrowth.
Here and there the trees thinned and he bent low so that his form should
not show above the vegetation. Sometimes too he came to an expanse of
bare rising ground, and had to go a long way round to avoid it. But the
embankment always served as a screen, and about three o'clock he arrived
at a point where he could hear the distant sounds of the camp and knew
that he was coming within reach of danger.
Leaving the wood, he climbed the embankment, and lay down at the top to
view the camp. He saw that, as he had guessed when passing it on the
stream, it had been removed, and was now established nearly half-a-mile
away in the grounds of the hacienda, which the tents practically
encircled. He surmised that his escape from the stables had made
General Carabano anxious about his own safety. If a man could get out,
a man could get in, and the General had many enemies. Difficult as
access had been before, it was now immeasurably more difficult, and Will
felt with a sinking heart that his friends' plight was even more serious
than he had believed.
He was still lying on the embankment, wondering what had become of
Azito, and how he was to do anything for the prisoners, when he suddenly
became aware that he was not alone. He had heard no sound except the
distant hum from the camp. Turning quickly and whipping out his
revolver, but still having the prudence not to rise to his feet, he was
confronted by Azito himself, who had crawled up to his side. He was
conscious now that his heart was thumping wildly against his ribs.
"I am here, senor," whispered the Indian, unnecessarily.
The two quickly slid down the embankment and entered the wood.
"I had given you up," said Will breathlessly. "What have you done?"
The Indian's story was a very simple and natural one, and Will saw that
his anxiety had been quite baseless. Azito had approached to within a
quarter-mile of the hacienda, and then found himself checked. The camp
was astir; sentries were placed at several points of its circuit; it was
impossible to get in undetected. There was no alternative but to wait.
Will could imagine Azito sitting with the stolid patience of the Indian,
clasping his knees, indifferent to the passage of time. His opportunity
came at noon, when, after the midday meal, everybody but the sentries
retired for a siesta, and even they were drowsy. Slipping round the
camp, he wormed his way through the undergrowth to the back of the
stables. The hole in the wall had not been filled up. There was no
sound from within. Wriggling through the hole, he found that the
stables were deserted. The door was open. All was quiet before the
hacienda. He peeped round to the right. No sentry was posted at the
new stables. Evidently the prisoners had not been transferred to them.
It was impossible to search for them through the camp. Stealthily he
made his way back as he had come, and going a long way round, crossed
the embankment and drew near to the camp again, to view it from the
other side. There was nothing to indicate the whereabouts of the
prisoners.
"Did you see any one you knew?" asked Will.
"Senor Machado, senor. I saw him go in and out of the house. Once he
came out with General Carabano."
"Are there any special guards set in the camp itself?"
"None, senor, except the sentry at the door. He was asleep against the
wall when I looked out from the stables."
The absence of special guards in the camp or at the house seemed to
indicate that the prisoners had been removed elsewhere. A horrible fear
that they had already been shot seized upon Will. For a moment he
shuddered in a cold sweat of doubt and dread. But then he remembered
that the period of grace had not yet expired. Furthermore, the
prisoners would be more valuable alive than dead. While they still
lived there was a chance of their being ransomed. General Carabano
would surely, as the Jefe had suggested, hesitate to involve himself in
serious complications with the British Government. A revolutionary
leader can hardly play the remorseless tyrant until success has placed
him beyond criticism.
But if the prisoners, then, were still alive, as seemed probable, where
were they? So far as Will knew, there was no place in the immediate
neighbourhood to which they could have been taken. He was at a loss how
to make any discovery on this matter without revealing his presence to
the enemy. The camp was astir. To enter it now was impossible. It
seemed that the only thing to do was to return to the recess, and remain
there until night, trying meanwhile to think out some course of action.
Before he left, however, he determined to climb the embankment once more
for a final look round. Choosing for his ascent a spot a little nearer
to the camp, on gaining the top he caught sight of the small wooden
cabin which had been erected for the telegraphic apparatus. Before, it
was concealed from him by a row of bushes. For a moment he wondered
whether the prisoners had been locked up there, but the notion was
negatived immediately by the absence of a sentry. And then he laughed
inwardly at the idea of the prisoners being within reach of Machado.
The telegraphist would hardly feel safe to perform his duties, if they
were still required of him, with O'Connor near at hand, even though he
was bound.
There was nothing to be gained by remaining longer, so Will, very
despondent, made his way back with Azito through the wood to the recess
in the bank. Jose reported that nothing had happened during their
absence. They all had a meal; then Will went up the bank and strolled
along where the vegetation did not impede walking, gloomily pondering
his apparent helplessness.
Suddenly he heard a slight warning sound from Azito. He stepped hastily
back among the trees, and looked up-stream, the direction in which the
Indian was pointing. Coming round a bend some distance away was an
object that looked like a cage or a basket. There was a man in it,
standing in the middle, steering the strange vessel with a short pole as
it drifted down the stream. Azito declared that he was a white man.
Will gazed at him searchingly; then almost shouted for joy. The
newcomer was Joe Ruggles.