LA RIO DE MUERTE.
Dark-visaged and black-bearded, with long sable hair hanging over
their collars from under their battered sombreros, or gathered up in
net-work cauls, the robbers presented every picturesque variety of
Spanish costume. Some wore jackets of black or olive-coloured
velvet, richly covered with needlework on the breast and seams; their
waists were girt by bright-coloured sashes, and their legs encased in
velvet small-clothes and leathern gaiters; while others were sans
shirts and sans shoes; scantily attired in rough zamarras of
sheepskin, with tattered breeches--their brawny legs and muscular
chests being bare. All were well armed with muskets, Albacete
knives, and pistols, and all were ferocious, resolute, and reckless
alike in spirit and in aspect. A glance showed me all this, as we
were dragged by them through an olive thicket, where, upon the
prostrate column of some old Roman temple, we found their leader
seated.
The moon had now risen brightly above the mountains, and in the
sashed and armed figure before me, with a jacket glittering with
embroidery, his carbine resting in the hollow of his right arm, I
recognised our former acquaintance whom we had met by the wayside
between Castellar and Estrelo, and with whom we were hobbing and
nobbing over a cigar and bota, when poor sister St. Veronica came to
ask alms of us.
The cruelties of which, on that occasion, he had so freely avowed
himself guilty, and those other traits of character, such as the
affair of the camphine lamp and the neckcloth so pleasantly padded
with guncotton, occurred to us; and I must own, that when we found
ourselves bound as prisoners and confronting the cold, stern and
impassible visage of this celebrated Spanish outlaw, a restless
anxiety made our hearts throb with new and undefined emotions. In
all things his bearing and disposition were similar to those of his
friend* whom he betrayed in 1853, and whose atrocities have been
published, like his own, at length in the columns of the "Heraldo de
Madrid." Neither Slingsby nor I had ever been in such a desperate
predicament before, as the reader may easily conceive; thus we could
scarcely realise it, and, naturally enough, indignation was uppermost
in our minds.
* Francisco Manuel de Cordova.
The intellectual part of Fabrique's face, though exceedingly
handsome, was immovable as that of a statue, his two black eyes
remained fixedly regarding us, and even when his bearded mouth
relaxed into a grim smile, one-half of his face remained unmoved. He
seemed calm and pale in the white moon-light--but the cicatrised
wound which traversed his cheek was of a deep and dusky red.
"Well, señor," said I, briskly, "are you fully prepared to answer for
the attack you have made upon us?"
"Answer," he reiterated, with something between a frown and
disdainful smile; "to whom?"
"The captain general of Andalusia."
"I have so many things to answer for already to that illustrious
Caballero of Seville, that he will be very apt to forget your little
affair among others."
"But the Governor of Her Brittanic Majesty's garrison at Gibraltar
will refresh both his memory and yours, rascal!" said poor Slingsby,
whose face was streaming with blood.
"Stuff, señores. Our Lady Donna Isabella II. alone is Queen of
Gibraltar, whatever you may believe to the contrary."
"Then there is our ambassador at Madrid," said I, swelling with
passion.
"Let the Señor Embajador come hither to seek you, if he chooses,"
replied Fabrique, with a scowl, while his band made the wooded hollow
ring with their laughter.
"For what reason, and with what purpose, is this outrage committed
upon us?" asked Jack, more calmly.
"The reason is here," said Fabrique, throwing up a heavy purse.
"From the noble Don Joaquim, Major in the service of the young king
Don Pedro V., I have received one thousand duros to intercept you----"
"And the purpose?"
"To avenge his brother's death."
"In what manner?"
"By taking your lives, that is all; blood for blood, you know; an eye
for an eye, a limb for a limb, and a life for a life, are law and
justice all the world over. If my friend the blind abagado of Jaen
were here, he could not explain the law better."
Zumalacarregui, when giving a light from his own cigar to the Carlist
prisoners he was just about to shoot, could not have spoken more
coolly.
"And so, fellow, you have received a thousand duros to murder us?"
said Jack, abruptly.
"One thousand, señor," was the quiet reply.
"Conduct us to the harbour of San Lucar, and I will give you my word
of honour that two thousand shall be sent to you."
"You would not break your plighted word?"
"I would rather die!"
"Then bear in mind that I have pledged mine; and that I also would
rather die than break it. No, señores; all the gold in Madrid would
not save you."
After a pause,--
"How came you to discover us so readily on this road?" I asked.
"Easily. I had spies planted at every gate of Seville. A Franciscan
begged alms of you at the Puerto of the San Lucar road."
"To whom I gave a peseta."
"'T was I."
"You! I wish that I had recognised you then."
"Muchos gratias, señor--my own mother would not have known me. I
took care of that, and now I shall take care of you."
"It is incredible that a companion so jovial as the Major de Lucena
could contemplate this intended atrocity," exclaimed Slingsby.
"Have you not his sister's letter here?" asked Fabrique, displaying
that little document, of which his searchers had deprived me; "you
Inglesos would doubt the holy face of Jaen, even if it were placed
before you! I received a thousand dollars to shoot you down like
dogs or wild pigs, and here we are chattering away like so many
magpies. Vamos alla--to the mountains--cammarados, basta!"
"We are not, then, to be shot?" I asked, as a gleam of hope
brightened before me.
"No," said he, with an icy smile, as his dark fierce face came close
to mine, like that of a handsome spectre in the moonlight and as the
whole band began to move; "we will give you to drink of the Rio de
Muerte."
The River of Death!--our blood ran cold at these words; but no time
was left us for expostulation, as we were hurried up the hills, over
wild and furzy banks, where the laurel, the vine, and the fair yellow
paunch of the gourd grew together in luxuriance; and among rocks,
where the nimble goat browsed, and the untamed porker flew before us,
squeaking from his lair, among the aromatic plants, the long reedy
grass, the giant fern, and the broad-leaved dock. Up, up we went,
alternately clambering, or being pushed and dragged, until we gained
the brow of a steep hill, from which we saw beneath us in the broad,
clear, liquid moonlight, the waters of the Guadalquiver winding away
between groves of the orange and the olive, to San Lucar, and in the
middle distance, but far down below us, the white houses of Trohniona
clustered round their little church.