"Whereabouts are we likely to find the Patriots, as we wish to join them
without delay, and possibly can give them the information you are going
to obtain?"
I remarked that he said nothing about Juan, or that our object was to
bring him assistance. Captain Lopez, however, inquired where Juan's
troop had gone, observing that it was supposed he had joined Bolivar.
Whether he really knew the true state of the case, I could not tell.
Captain Laffan was as reticent as at first. "Now, Captain Lopez, we
must not delay; we possess all the information you wish to gain, and I
would advise you to turn back with us, or you may chance to fall into
the hands of the enemy."
In answer to this remark Captain Lopez made several excuses, and at last
said, "I'll ride on for a short distance, and then follow you back.
Farewell, senors, for a short time;" and he continued his course in the
direction he was before going.
"The scoundrel!" exclaimed Captain Laffan as we galloped on; "I am very
sure that he is on no good errand. We should have served the cause by
shooting him."
We had very little time to make remarks, as we had generally to ride one
before the other, but our suspicions of the object Captain Lopez had in
view made it more important than ever that we should reach the Patriots
without delay, and hurry them on to the succour of Don Juan and his hard
pressed garrison.
Another night arrived, and we were still unable to ascertain how far off
the Patriots were encamped. Had our horses been able to move, we
should, in spite of the dangers of the road, have pushed on in the dark.
There was just light enough for us to discover a deserted hut. At the
back was a garden overgrown with grass, into which we turned our horses.
A well in one corner supplied them with water, and we were sure that
they would not wish to stray; while the thick hedge and trees which
surrounded the garden concealed them from the view of any one passing.
We ourselves were not likely to be discovered unless by a person
entering the hut. The food with which our good hostess Margarida had
supplied us afforded a tolerable supper, with something over for
breakfast. We could not doubt but that early the next day we should
fall in with the Patriots.
Scarcely yet persuaded that Captain Lopez was acting treacherously, as
Captain Laffan supposed, I half expected to see him return.
"If he does, it will be with a party of the enemy," said my companion,
"and we shall be made prisoners, unless we get due notice and can gallop
off."
This idea made us more wakeful than we should otherwise have been, for
Lion doing duty as sentry was sufficient protection. The morning,
however, came, and no enemy appeared. I shared my portion of the
remaining stock of food with Lion, who had been for some time on short
commons, as vegetable diet did not suit his constitution.
We had gone some distance when, as we were stopping to water our horses
at a stream, my ear caught the tramp of feet.
"There is a large body of infantry coming along the road," I exclaimed;
"I trust that they may be friends, or we shall have to cut across the
country to avoid them."
Captain Laffan listened, and was satisfied that I was right.
"We must approach cautiously," he said, "and be prepared to turn to the
right-about if they should prove to be enemies."
We instantly mounted and rode on, and before long came in sight of the
troops.
"They are Patriots, I am sure, from their dress, and the flags they
carry," said Captain Laffan.
He was right. As we got nearer a mounted officer rode forward. To my
infinite satisfaction I saw that he was Uncle Richard; while Antonio
came close behind him, dressed as an officer.
"Hurrah! rejoiced to see you, Duncan; and you too, Captain Laffan,"
exclaimed Uncle Richard as he recognised us. "Where do you come from?
Tell me all about it as we ride along; you will accompany me, for we
shall soon halt to let the men dine, and you can then get what food you
require."
We briefly told him the object of our journey.
"I knew that Don Juan was ordered to hold the fort, but I little
supposed that he was so hard pressed. However, I hope we shall be in
time to relieve him. You see these fine fellows?" and he pointed to the
men. "I have been busy for some months, while you were away, raising
and drilling them; and though I cannot say much for the uniformity of
their appearance, I am pretty sure that, if well led--as I flatter
myself they will be--they will do good service when we meet the enemy.
I have had some difficulty in getting efficient officers, but I chose
the best men I could find, independent of all other considerations. I
have a Black, and two pure-blooded Indians, while the rest are Creoles.
I found your former servant Antonio so intelligent and brave a fellow,
that I gave him a company."
"I am delighted to hear it," I answered. "In a noble cause like ours
there should be but one consideration,--to find the best men for every
post; and if they have once been slaves, they are more likely to fight
for freedom."
Our great object now was to march forward and attack the Spaniards
before they could capture the fort. That we should come up with the
enemy in time, I could not help thinking, was very uncertain. Our men,
however, were well able to advance as rapidly as any troops could move.
Except their muskets and powder, they were unencumbered with any
accoutrements, or indeed with any superfluous clothing. They required
but little food, and that of the coarsest description. Accustomed to
the use of firearms from their boyhood, they had quickly been turned
into efficient soldiers. We had intelligent guides, also, who knew the
country, and were able to point out the best paths for our advance.
A short time only was allowed for the men to take their dinner, after
which we marched on again until nightfall. At first it seemed somewhat
strange to find myself seated round our camp-fire with Antonio, and to
hear him addressed as "Captain;" but I did not allude to our former
relative positions. In a short time, however, as he bore his honours
well, and behaved in a thoroughly officer-like way, this feeling wore
off, and it seemed quite natural to speak to him as an equal. He was
only one of many who at that period rose from the ranks. One of the
bravest generals in the Patriot army had been a slave. Indeed, General
Paez had been a herd-boy, and Arismendez a fisherman. Bolivar was one
of the few Patriot leaders of high family, for the Spaniards had put to
death the larger number of the men of influence and Liberal principles,
before the struggle for liberty began.
The next morning we recommenced the march two hours before daylight,
when the men appeared fresh and in good spirits. We had again advanced
some distance after our noonday halt when we came to a rapid river,
running between high cliffs, over which, we had learned from our guides,
a strong wooden bridge had been thrown. Had it not been for this bridge
the passage of the river would have cost us great delay, as we should
have had to descend by narrow pathways to the bottom of the cliffs, then
to throw a pontoon across, and ascend on the other side. In the face of
an enemy this would have been impossible.
I had ridden forward, curious to examine the structure of the bridge of
which our guides had spoken. I found that strong timbers had been fixed
on the ledges in the cliffs projecting over the stream, serving to
support a platform; from this platform others were pushed forward on
either side, the inner ends lashed to the first platform, while a centre
one joined the two. Railings ran along on either side of this ingenious
structure, which had a roof supported on poles--the object apparently
being to prevent the wood-work from rotting with the wet.
I had got a short distance along the bridge, when I caught sight of a
body of men coming over the ridge of a hill scarcely a mile off.
Another look convinced me that they were Spanish troops; while the
advance-guard of our force was nearly as far off on the other side. I
waited for a moment longer, to judge whether, by the movements of the
Spaniards, the latter had been seen; but I judged that they were
concealed by the trees and rocks which lay between thorn, while they on
their part had not discovered the enemy. The possession of the bridge
was of the greatest importance, and I knew that the Spaniards, so soon
as they should discover the Patriots, would make a rush down the hill to
gain it. Partly hid as I was by the roof and railings of the bridge, I
hoped that I had not been seen. To avoid the risk of being discovered,
therefore, I slipped off my horse, and turning its head led it back
until I got under shelter of some trees; when, mounting, I galloped as
hard as I could until I met Uncle Richard, who instantly gave the word
to advance at the double.
The Spaniards, who were already descending the hill, rushed down with
headlong speed on discovering us, hoping to gain the bridge before our
party had secured it. We at once dashed across to hold it against the
Spanish advance-guard, which had nearly reached it. As the enemy saw us
crossing they opened a hot fire, but, the distance being considerable,
their bullets did no damage, and we were soon across without a casualty.
Directly afterwards the head of our column appeared, and impetuously
charged along the bridge. They came not a bit too soon, for already we
were engaged with those of the Spaniards who had advanced ahead of their
companions, whose numbers were every moment increasing, and who pressed
us fearfully hard. In the meantime the Spanish troops, as they
descended the hill, opened fire on our men,--those who were waiting to
cross replying to it from the other side.
As I looked up the hill I feared, from the numbers descending, that we
should be shot down before a sufficient number of the Patriots could
cross to hold their own until our main body had got over. Our men,
however, pressed forward and formed rapidly. In another minute we had
secured our ground, and driven back the enemy a dozen yards or more,
affording sufficient space for the main body to form up as they crossed.
Several had been shot, and had fallen over into the torrent, which was
already dyed with blood.
The order was now given to charge. The Spaniards, in their eagerness to
reach the bridge, had been thrown into disorder as they descended the
hill. Our left wheeled, turned their flank, and drove them down towards
the river; while our right stood its ground. The contest was short, but
sharp. In the course of a few minutes, it seemed, the larger number of
the Spaniards were hurled over the cliffs; while the rest, in utter
confusion, attempted to retreat up the hill, but were followed by our
nimble-footed men, and cut down or bayoneted.
No victory could have been more complete. Not a Spaniard who was taken
was allowed to live. Of the whole force, numbering some five or six
hundred men, those only escaped who contrived to hide themselves in
ditches or behind bushes or rocks, or whose activity enabled them to
keep ahead of their pursuers. Our chief casualties had occurred while
our men were crossing the bridge, but, in all, we had lost comparatively
few.
The summit of the hill gained, we halted to reform our troops, and then
once more advanced. Whether or not the Spaniards we had defeated were
those who had attacked the fort, we could not tell, as not a prisoner
had been saved. In vain did Uncle Richard call to his followers to
spare the lives of those who yielded; his orders were not listened to.
The men only followed the custom of that savage warfare, and the example
of the Spaniards, upon whom they thus fearfully retaliated.
Once more we advanced. Another day passed; and it was late on the next
before we reached the neighbourhood of the fort. I looked out eagerly
to ascertain whether the besiegers were still before it, but as yet not
a sign could I discover of the enemy. The hamlet occupied by the
Spaniards appeared to be deserted. I now felt convinced that the body
we had defeated was part of the force which had been besieging the fort,
while the remainder had probably marched in an opposite direction. We
had seen nothing of Captain Lopez, however, and he certainly was not
with those Spaniards whom we had encountered.
Now came the question, What was the fate of the garrison? Had they been
able to hold out until the Spaniards, growing weary of the attempt, had
given it up? or had the fort been successfully assaulted, and its
defenders cut to pieces? If so, the Spaniards must now have possession,
and it would be our turn to attack them, and to attempt its recapture.
This would not be so difficult a task to us as it had proved to the
Spaniards, as Captain Laffan and I knew every point about it, and every
spot from whence it was assailable.
The first thing to be done, however, was to make a reconnaissance; and
Captain Laffan and I rode on for this purpose. With our glasses we saw
from a distance that no flag was flying; and as we got nearer we
discovered that the flagstaff itself was broken short off, and that the
tower was fearfully shattered, while parts of the stockades were thrown
down, and the whole fort seemed in the most dilapidated condition.
"A bad omen, that," observed my companion; "but, at the same time, it
may have been shot through, and a puff of wind have blown it down."
My heart began to sink, as, still further lessening our distance, we
could see no one moving in the fort. It appeared to be deserted. As
this, however, might not be the case--for the garrison might possibly be
keeping concealed--we advanced cautiously, halting again just out of
musket-shot. We waited for some time, but not a moving object could we
discern. By this time we had been joined by several men on foot.
Captain Laffan ordered them to creep forward and fire, thinking that the
salute might elicit a reply should an enemy be holding the fort. As the
report went echoing among the rocks, a whole flight of galenachas winged
their flight to the summit of the neighbouring cliffs, whence they could
watch an opportunity of again descending to finish their horrible
banquet. We knew now, to a certainty, that no living beings occupied
the fort. What had been the fate of our friends?
Eager to ascertain the worst, we rode forward, and, fording the stream,
made our way over a mass of ruins which filled the ditch, into the
interior. The scene which presented itself told a sad tale. There lay,
round the tower, the bodies of friends and foes in equal numbers, with
limbs torn, clothing burnt, and countenances blackened. With a
sickening heart I searched for one form, if it could be distinguished
from the other disfigured remains of humanity. It was not long before I
recognised the uniform my brave friend had worn. He was lying directly
under the wall, while one hand still grasped the jewelled sword I had
seen Dona Dolores gird to his side. Yes, it was he, my gallant friend!
I knew him by his features, though scorched and blackened and fearfully
changed, and by a ring he had worn, as well as by the watch in his
pocket.
Captain Laffan found me kneeling by the side of my dead friend, unable
to restrain my grief.
"It is the fortune of war, Duncan. A more gallant fellow never
breathed; and he died a noble death--in discharge of his duty," said my
late dominie. "Don't give way, my boy; he did not die in vain."
"But Dona Dolores!" I exclaimed; "her heart will break when she hears
of it."
"It's of sterner stuff than that, I've a notion. But come, we must see
at once about giving him a soldier's grave while there is yet time, for
we may soon have other work to do."
Taking my dead friend's sword, and his ring and watch, that I might give
them to Dona Dolores, I rose from the ground.
In a short time Captain Antonio came up with the advance-guard. On
counting the slain, we found that they numbered more than half the
garrison. The rest might possibly have cut their way out; if not, they
must have been taken prisoners, and, to a certainty, afterwards shot. A
still greater number of Spaniards had been destroyed. All that we could
suppose was, that Juan, when he found that successful resistance was
impossible, had blown up the tower, and perished with such of the
assailants as had made good their entrance.
A grave was dug for Juan beneath a wide-spreading tree, some little way
up the valley. We there laid him to rest; and a volley having been
fired over his remains, a heap of unhewn rocks was piled up above them
to serve as the young Patriot's tomb.
"When our cause is triumphant, and peace returns, I will erect a marble
monument to his memory," I said. And I kept my word.
Our men, in order to save themselves trouble, cast the remainder of the
bodies into the river,--caring very little for thus horribly polluting
the pure water. I had before thought war a terrible thing, but the
scenes I had lately witnessed impressed me still more forcibly with a
horror of its fearful results. What hundreds--what thousands, I might
say--of human beings had perished miserably within the last few months!
How many more, too, were doomed to die! Then I thought of the towns and
villages committed to the flames; the corn-fields, the orchards, and
gardens destroyed; and, more than all, of the widows and orphans who,
while bewailing the loss of those they loved, their protectors and
bread-winners, were doomed to struggle on in poverty; and the numberless
families, formerly in affluence, now reduced to absolute beggary. Such
was the state of my native land. And yet no one complained--all were
ready to struggle on in the cause of Liberty; blaming, not those who had
risen to fight for freedom, but the tyranny of their oppressors as the
cause of all they endured.
While we were encamped at a neighbouring hamlet, which afforded
sufficient means for defence, and enabled us to watch the fort, a
despatch arrived for Juan, ordering him to evacuate it. Alas! had it
come sooner, he and his companions might have preserved their lives, as
I believe he would have succeeded, had he made the attempt, in cutting
his way through the enemy; but, influenced by a stern sense of duty, he
had held it after all hope of successfully defending it had gone. This
added greatly to my grief at his loss.
General Bolivar had heard of the corps Uncle Richard had raised, and now
sent forward requesting him to join his army without delay. By forced
marches across the mountains, in which both officers and men suffered
not a little, we reached the general's camp, and I had the honour of
being introduced to him. I little expected to see so young a man. In
person he was small, but well-made and muscular, and able to go through
astonishing exertion--frequently marching on foot over mountains and
plains without exhibiting the slightest fatigue. His eyes were dark,
large, and full of fire and penetration, denoting wonderful energy of
mind and greatness of soul. His nose was aquiline and well-formed, his
face rather long, and his complexion somewhat sallow. As Uncle Richard
and I had the honour of being invited to his table, I had an opportunity
of seeing him in his social moments. He was lively in his manner, full
of anecdote and conversation; and it was said that, like Buonaparte, he
possessed the power of reading at once a man's character, and placing
him in a position where his talents and abilities would prove useful to
his country. He was also thoroughly disinterested, and so little regard
did he pay to himself under the most severe privations, that he was
always ready to share what he possessed with his companions-in-arms, to
his last cigar or his last shirt. He was always cool, and invariably
displayed the most undaunted courage. He was, to be sure, hasty in his
temper, and often made use of intemperate expressions, abusing in no
measured manner those who had annoyed him; but, at the same time, he was
ever ready to make atonement to the person whose feelings might have
been undeservedly wounded. In his bosom revenge was never harboured,
and it was owing entirely to the atrocities committed by the Spaniards
on the Patriots that he was induced to carry on against them that
fearful war of extermination which so long raged throughout the country.
Bolivar might not have been a hero to his own valet, but by those who
truly understand heroic qualities he should be deservedly placed on a
high niche in the temple of Fame. I may add that he was temperate in
his diet, drank but a very moderate quantity of wine, never touched
spirits, and that he seldom smoked. Generally he was the last to retire
to rest, and the first to rise.
Soon after joining the army, to my surprise I met Lopez, now raised to
the rank of colonel. He appeared to be intimate with many of the
officers, but kept aloof from Captain Laffan and me, as well as from
Uncle Richard, whom I should properly designate as Colonel Duffield.
We had marched forward until we heard that Murillo, with a large force,
was in the neighbourhood.
One night Captain Laffan and I had been invited to dine with several
English officers, and our host told us that he expected Colonel Lopez.
However, when the dinner-hour arrived Colonel Lopez did not appear. A
message was despatched to his quarters, but he was nowhere to be found.
"It's my belief," exclaimed Captain Laffan, "that the fellow has
deserted! You will see that I am right; he was intending to do so when
we met him."
Dinner over, we again retired to our quarters, and all was stillness in
the camp. As I wished to take a few turns to enjoy the cool night air,
I accompanied one of Bolivar's aides-de-camp who was about to visit the
outposts, when we met a small body of troops marching towards
headquarters. The officer in command gave the countersign, and they
were allowed to proceed. Just then, who should we meet but Colonel
Lopez, who informed my companion that he had some news of importance to
communicate to General Bolivar respecting an intended movement of the
enemy which he had just obtained from a deserter, and requested that he
might be conducted to the general's tent.
"If you will remain here, I will immediately acquaint the general with
what you say, and beg that you may be admitted," was the answer.
I returned with the aide-de-camp, but left him near Bolivar's tent to
deliver the message. I had not got many yards off, however, when I
heard a volley of musketry fired close to me, and directly, as it
seemed, at the tent. An instant afterwards I saw a party of men, who
must have followed close upon us, disappearing in the darkness.
"To arms!--to arms! the enemy are upon us!" was the cry, and soon
general confusion ensued. The troops got under arms, and some fired in
the direction taken by the fugitives, but in the darkness it was
impossible to see whether any were hit. The fear was that the general
must have been killed, and every one was in dismay until he himself rode
round, quieting the alarm of the men. He had fortunately quitted his
tent a few minutes previously, and was not many yards off when the
firing took place. On examining his cot, it was found that three or
four bullets had passed right through it, so that he must have been
killed, or severely wounded, had he not providentially left his tent.
Few in the camp slept that night. A treacherous attempt had evidently
been made to assassinate our general. When morning came we looked out
in the direction of the enemy's camp. On the ground lay two bodies, and
a party was sent out to bring them in. One of them was that of Colonel
Lopez; and on his person was discovered a paper proposing a plan to
Murillo for penetrating the camp with a party of Spaniards disguised as
Patriots, and putting Bolivar to death. It was countersigned as
approved of by the Spanish general. Such, then, was the fate of the
rejected suitor of Dona Dolores.
I have not space to describe the several engagements which followed, but
Colonel Duffield and Captain Laffan, who soon became a major, gained the
credit they deserved for their gallantry on numerous occasions, and I
had the satisfaction of being praised by Bolivar himself. However, the
severe life we led at length affected both Major Laffan and me, and
Colonel Duffield, in whose corps we served, insisted that we should
return home to obtain the quiet and rest we required. The road was now
open to Popayan, and we were able to travel with a small escort of
invalids and wounded men, who, like ourselves, were unfit for service,
and were anxious to return home.
With feelings of considerable anxiety we rode up to my father's house,
for what might not have happened during our absence we could not tell.
Great, therefore, was my joy when we were greeted at the entrance by my
mother, Dona Maria, Rosa, and jolly little Hugh, who all threw their
arms about my neck at once, and then bestowed a similar affectionate
greeting on the major--who declared, as tears streamed down his cheeks,
that it gave him as much joy to see them all well, as it had to beat the
Spaniards in the last battle we had fought; while Lion, who had followed
at my heels, was next saluted in nearly the same fashion, while he
barked, yelped, and leaped about, evidently delighted to get home. Dona
Maria looked very pale, and was evidently anxious about Uncle Richard,
but we were able to give a very favourable account of him. Like many
other wives, she had learned to endure her anxiety.
My father was out, but he soon returned, and expressed his satisfaction
at the high encomiums which had been bestowed upon me by Colonel
Duffield, and even by Bolivar himself.
"I have just come from visiting Dona Dolores," he said. "She has heard
the report of Don Juan's death, but will not believe it; and I am afraid
that it must be your painful task, Duncan, to convince her."
As soon as I could unpack the sword and the other articles which I had
carefully preserved, I returned with my father to the house of the
friend with whom she was staying. On hearing that I had come, she
desired to see me alone. I felt more nervous than I had ever done in my
life before, supposing that she would give way to her sorrow, and that
it would be incumbent on me to endeavour to console her, impossible as
that might be. What to say, indeed, I knew not.
I found her dressed in mourning for her father, and looking very pale.
She was seated, but she rose when I entered, and advancing towards me,
took my hand. Her eye fell on the sword, then on the ring on my finger.
"I know what you have to tell me, Duncan," she said in a deep-toned
voice, but without a falter; "he died as I would have had him,--fighting
bravely for the freedom of his country--for the same cause to which I
dedicated my life. Give me that weapon: I would present it to you, but
I must use it myself; not to avenge his death, but to take his place and
wield it against the foes of Freedom. That ring--give it me; he sends
it as a farewell token." She placed it on her finger. "Now, tell me
the particulars."
I endeavoured to describe the circumstances of Juan's death, and how he
had held the fort until all hope had gone.
She had remained standing during the time of our interview.
"Farewell, Duncan," she said at last. "I must prepare for a sterner
life than I have hitherto led. As yet it has been one suited to a
delicate creature like Dona Paula Salabariata--a mere scribe,
endeavouring to incite others to do the task I should undertake myself."
I took my leave of Dona Dolores; and the next morning we heard that,
attended by two servants, she had set out, habited in half-military
costume, for the army. Some time passed before we heard of her again.
She had joined a regiment, and taken part in every action. She seemed
to bear a charmed life, too, for, although always in the thickest of the
fight, the bullets passed her harmlessly by.
Years have rolled on since then, and the cause of Liberty has triumphed.
When peace was obtained, I married my so-called cousin, the fair-haired
Rosa; and my dear little sister became the wife of a gallant English
officer who settled in the country.
I have described these scenes of warfare, not for the sake of
encouraging a love of fighting, but for a very contrary object; and from
the horrors I witnessed during that period, I am convinced that War is
the greatest curse that can afflict a country, and I earnestly pray that
the reign of Peace may soon commence on earth.