THE ACCUSATION
“Down for your lives,” cried O’Neil, grasping the benumbed lads, and
dragging them to the bottom of the trench.
A heavy fusillade of musketry from behind them, a stamping of many feet
in their rear, then a swarm of humanity had pressed in close to the
almost empty trench and were emptying the contents of their rifles at
the surprised enemy but a rod away.
The lads were filled with joy; the reserves had arrived. Phil peered
out between the loyal rifles around him at the startled, disappointed
enemy; they had been sure of victory until this second and now, their
ranks depleted by hundreds left on the naked field behind them, they
had still opposed to them a formidable force of loyal soldiers, whose
number they did not know. Their confidence had flown; this terrible
hill had been a death trap, while they had been assured of an easy and
bloodless victory. For an instant they hesitated; then they turned and
retreated, a scathing fire from the coveted trenches impelling them
onward in their flight for safety.
The excitement among the government troops was intense. The three
Americans were cheered to the echo by the wildly joyful soldiers.
A group of horsemen galloped up the hill; they approached the trenches
amid welcoming cries from the men.
“Come, Syd, we can do no more here,” Phil cried breathlessly. “Let’s
get away quickly.”
With O’Neil, they pressed their way through the jubilant natives, but
had gone but a short distance when they were stopped by a horseman; he
reined in his foaming steed, swung himself from his saddle and placed
himself smilingly before them.
“Our president desires to meet our American allies,” he cried proudly.
Phil’s countenance fell. He had been hoping to avoid this meeting, yet
he could not refuse; to do so would have the appearance of a slight to
the chief magistrate of the country.
He acknowledged the honor paid them with appropriate words, and then
they followed the officer back toward the group of horsemen now halted
in the rear of the trenches which the boys had just left.
“My good friends,” a familiar voice hailed in Spanish, and the next
minute the lads were embraced by their warm friend, Captain Garcia.
“General Barras,” the latter cried, dragging the bashful Americans
forward, “to these three American officers we owe our success at Rio
Grande.”
The general’s face was wreathed in smiles. He was joyful at snatching
victory from what had seemed to him but a few minutes before utter
defeat. He grasped the hands of both lads and in his native tongue
expressed his heartfelt obligations.
“Señors,” he said, “you have accomplished that which I was powerless to
do. These machine guns I knew were leaving your country for my enemy,
but I was powerless to find out the means by which they were to be
landed; your marvelous work here to-day has saved my government from
being overthrown and the lawless rebels raised to power. Your defense
of this hill with but a company of raw soldiers has won our highest
praise.”
Captain Garcia’s face wore a puzzled look. He knew nothing of the
defense of La Mesa.
“General Barras,” he exclaimed, “these gentlemen have shown themselves
our staunch friends; they have risked their lives many times for our
cause. I have told you but an unimportant part of their work for me on
board the ‘Aquadores,’ and now they have saved the day for us here.
Cannot we suitably reward them for their heroic services?”
“General Barras,” Phil finally managed to explain to the president of
the republic, who had been directing the defense in person, “for my
companions and myself, I thank you for the high compliments you and
Captain Garcia are paying us, but we dare not allow the knowledge of
our work to become common property. I crave your pardon if we appear
ungrateful, but we ask that our services here and at Rio Grande be
kept as secret as is possible.” He stopped, seeing the disappointment
and surprise on the president’s face; then he continued hurriedly:
“These machine guns arrived in La Boca in such a manner that we
felt ourselves in honor bound to see that they did no harm to your
government; the small service we have been able to do for you has
been made possible through our determination to prevent the guns from
falling into the hands of your enemy. We have acted upon the dictates
of our consciences, but we are in the naval service of the United
States and our motives, if the circumstances were known, might be
easily misconstrued to our ruin.”
The president, though disappointed at not being allowed to show his
official appreciation for their invaluable services, readily promised
secrecy, and after bidding them farewell they were allowed to continue
on their way.
“Those are the two finest dagos I have ever seen,” exclaimed O’Neil,
after they had gotten out of ear-shot.
The excitement of the last half hour had been so intense that the lads
had quite forgotten to ask of O’Neil his experiences in the house of
Juarez.
“How did you get into the house?” Phil questioned the sailor, while
they walked rapidly toward the city.
The boatswain’s mate told his experiences, quite ashamed of his conduct.
“I certainly acted like a landlubber,” he complained mournfully. “I
walked right into the spider’s web with both eyes wide open, but seeing
nothing. Think of my deserting you and letting you do all this work
alone.”
Then it was O’Neil’s turn to ask questions, and the lads told him of
their nerve-racking ordeal in the tunnel and of their difficulty in
getting the soldiers to help them.
“I was on the right track then, after all,” cried O’Neil. “It was
Juarez’s house, and he was at home. It wasn’t a very hospitable
reception he gave me,” he added, putting his hand to his swollen head.
“I fired at one of them in the darkness and that’s the last I remember
until the little dago doctor tried to make me swallow some ill-tasting
medicine. Then I broke away from him and ran up the hill just in time
to see Mr. Lazar point his gun at you; his face was not encouraging, so
I thought the gun was safer in its holster.”
“He wouldn’t have dared shoot you, Phil,” Sydney exclaimed, “would he?”
“He might have,” answered the lad thoughtfully; “he saw that we must
defeat his plans if we remained, and in the excitement after the
assault had commenced, it could not have been laid at his door.”
The Americans were now in the city. They walked rapidly through the
crowded streets; excited groups of natives had gathered and were
discussing in loud tones the battle which they had just witnessed from
afar. They had seen the assault and had expected to see their homes
given over to pillage.
“Where are we going?” asked Sydney, as they pressed their way through
the joyful natives.
“To the legation,” Phil explained. “I am going to put the minister on
his guard against the villain who gave him the information which nearly
lost the day for the government. Once the president of the republic,
General Barras, hears of his treachery, his firm will cease to do
business in La Boca.”
“The firm can be no other than La Fitte and Company,” declared Sydney,
“the one that is striving to get the concessions away from the American
syndicate; but this man surely cannot hope to succeed now; the rebels
have lost. With the Colt guns, properly handled, in addition to
artillery and infantry, the city will now be impregnable.”
“Quite true,” agreed Phil, “but it is better to render this man
harmless; he doubtless stands high in the confidence of General Barras.
You heard the minister say that he did not wish his name connected
with the information; that was of course an act of caution in case the
rebels failed; but now I feel sure the minister will divulge his name.”
Reaching the legation they met Marshall, in charge in Lazar’s absence;
his men ready under arms in case of need.
He greeted them in astonishment. The midshipmen for the first time
appreciated what a sorry sight they presented; their white uniforms
stained with mud and sprinkled with blood; while O’Neil’s burly figure
was incased in a suit of khaki many sizes too small.
“Who won?” Marshall questioned anxiously. “We have been hearing the
firing for the last two hours. The bullets have been whistling over us
by the hundreds.”
“It’s all over,” Phil answered. “General Ruiz was repulsed and General
Barras holds his lines strongly.”
Marshall and his men were not at all pleased to hear the news. They had
anticipated interesting work if the city were taken by the rebels and
their longing for adventure had received a keen disappointment.
“All this work for nothing,” Marshal cried dejectedly. “We have been
kept here ready for over two weeks, expecting any moment to have
exciting times, and now there isn’t going to be anything.”
“Where’s the minister?” questioned Phil intent on his mission.
“Inside, in his office,” answered Marshall, leading the way into the
legation.
The diplomat received them immediately, his manner anxious and excited.
“We can see nothing from this house,” he exclaimed, as the midshipmen
entered the office, “and I have as yet heard no news of the battle. Mr.
Lazar went out to the lines to observe, but as yet has not returned,
and the firing has been stopped now for over a half hour.” Then his
restless eyes were attracted to the disheveled uniform of the lads
before him. “You have been in the battle?” he questioned eagerly. “Tell
me quickly, must I send to the admiral to land his men? Are the rebels
advancing into the city?”
“We witnessed the fight,” Phil answered promptly; “your fears are
groundless, sir. General Barras has repulsed the enemy at every point;”
he stopped and looked at the minister, a mischievous smile on his face;
“the main attack was on La Mesa.”
The minister gasped.
“And on Tortuga Hill, what of that?” he exclaimed in alarm.
“The attack there was a well devised feint that came near defeating the
government,” Phil explained, and then he tersely described the battle,
but said nothing of the part they had taken.
“Then I might have brought defeat on the government arms in giving the
information I had received from Señor Mareno,” he cried aghast. “What
does it mean?”
“It means,” returned Phil dramatically, “that Mr. Mareno is in league
with the rebels.”
“Impossible,” exclaimed the minister quickly. “His firm has too much at
stake to cast their fortunes with such scoundrels.”
Phil was surprised that the minister could not see the villainy of
Mareno; it was plain enough to him. Then he realized the minister did
not possess the mass of incriminating evidence that they held against
him. How could he show the true character of this man without betraying
himself and his companions?
“What about the valuable concessions held by the American syndicate?”
he asked, seeing a way to enlighten the minister. “Who has the power to
give and take away this concession right?”
“The president of Verazala only,” replied he perplexedly.
“Very well, sir,” continued Phil; “if Ruiz was president to whom would
he give the concession?”
“To those who offer him the largest price,” the minister answered
readily, “and that has always been this American syndicate.”
“Yes, but suppose he should be heavily in debt financially to the firm
of Señor Mareno, besides being bound down by promises before he became
president. What then?” questioned Phil.
“I remember now that La Fitte and Company have bid for the concession,”
said the minister thoughtfully, “but their price was too small. It’s
but a matter of money, you see.”
“Is Mr. Mareno of that firm?” asked Phil, though he knew he must be.
“Yes,” replied the minister, “he is the head and the largest
stockholder.”
“Then that proves my case,” cried the lad. “La Fitte and Company desire
the Pitch-Lake concession and also the new concession which American
capital is endeavoring to obtain, to open up the rich mining country
in the interior of the republic, which will include the right to build
a railroad over the mountains and thereby open to the sea the large
rubber, coffee and sugar industries now shut in by this impassable
mountain range.”
“Remarkable,” exclaimed the minister, intensely excited. “Why should
I not have thought of that? I believed it was but a meaningless
revolution to change the party in power. I had no thought that such
black intrigue might be bound up in it. What villains these men are to
sacrifice hundreds of lives for the sake of their own pockets.”
“It was by the merest accident that we unearthed the plot,” said Phil
delighted at the success of his argument. “There are many of Ruiz’s
sympathizers within the city who would have welcomed him with delight
if he had been even partially successful to-day. Many of General
Barras’ regiments were ready with but slight encouragement to join the
rebels; all of this was done with Señor Mareno’s gold.”
“What treachery!” the minister cried angrily. “I shall write
immediately to the president and give him the name of my informant.”
Then he looked with admiration at the midshipmen. “You boys are a
marvel to me; how did you ever find this out?”
Well pleased with the impression their disclosure had made on the
minister, they withdrew from his presence without telling him further.
They were glad he hadn’t required proofs; to have given them would have
greatly embarrassed the lads, for they could not tell the minister of
the part they had taken in recapturing the arms; he might not agree
to secrecy and this knowledge in the hands of the State Department in
Washington might cause serious consequences.
O’Neil joined them at the door of the legation; he was now in a sailor
uniform, borrowed from one of the men of the guard.
“Mr. Lazar is here,” he whispered, “with a Spaniard; they just came
through the gate. There they are,” he added as the two men approached
the house by the gravel walk and mounted the steps of the legation.
As Lazar passed them the lads saluted stiffly. He turned a glance full
of hatred on them.
“Mr. Perry, wait here; I wish to see you,” he ordered sharply, then he
and the visitor entered the minister’s office.
Phil stepped inside the house noiselessly and stopped breathlessly to
listen. A sound of voices raised excitedly came from within the room.
Phil quickly rejoined his companions.
“That was Mareno,” he exclaimed, “the owner of the automobile. I can
never forget his voice in the tunnel. He will try to undo our work
with the minister.”
Inside of a minute Señor Mareno appeared; his swarthy face was pale,
showing the mental strain he was enduring.
“You see, I too was deceived,” he was urging the minister, standing on
the threshold of his office.
The latter’s answer was diplomatic:
“You can readily explain that to General Barras,” he answered. “My
letter will show him that I did not misinform him intentionally.”
Señor Mareno thought deeply and was about to speak, but as he glanced
up at the office door the minister had gone within. Then he turned and
regarded the midshipmen blankly; a spark of recognition turned his face
unconsciously a shade paler, then he strode away down the steps without
a word.
A moment afterward Lazar confronted them.
“Mr. Perry,” he said coldly, “you have put your authority above mine. I
order you and your companions to return to the ship immediately. Your
mutinous conduct on La Mesa shall not pass unnoticed.”
Phil’s blood boiled with anger. His hands twitched and he controlled
himself with difficulty. He glanced at his companions, who regarded him
inquiringly; he saw he must obey.
As they left the legation, they pondered deeply over their predicament.
Lazar would report the occurrence on La Mesa. The admiral and Captain
Taylor might in their hearts be glad the lads had acted as they had,
but their high positions in the navy forbade their official countenance.
Lazar might not see fit to report aught but Phil’s disobedience; in
time of urgent danger on foreign soil, he, as their senior officer
ashore, had ordered them to leave La Mesa and Phil had deliberately
refused for himself and companions.
The penalty in the “articles of war” under which naval courts adjudged
their punishments was dismissal from the service.