CHAPTER XV
_Good News and Bad_
Though Wilson had listened with interest enough to the plans of thepresent campaign as outlined to him by Danbury, it must be confessedthat he was still a bit hazy about the details. He understood thatthree interests were involved; those of the Revolutionary party, whounder General Otaballo were inspired by purely patriotic motives intheir desire to see the present government overthrown; those ofDanbury, who was governed by more sentimental considerations, and,finally, those of the priest, who was prompted by revenge. GeneralOtaballo was the last of one of those old families of Carlina who hadspent their lives in the service of the family of Montferaldo. Hisgrandfather, to go back no further, had died defending the lastreigning queen, his father had been shot for leading a conspiracy torestore the family, and now the grandson was following in the old way.He was an old man now and had missed death a hundred times by narrowmargins owing to his connection with just such enterprises as this.This was to be his last stand and into it he was throwing his heartand soul and to his standard gathering whatever forces he could win byhook or crook. It was he who had heard of Danbury and it was he whohad prompted him to bargain with the priest. With a record of pastdefeats he himself had lost prestige with the hill people. And yetboth the priest and Danbury turned to him now to manage the campaign.He knew the people, he knew every detail of the Republican army, everyparticular of the forts and other defenses, and every traitor in theirranks.
To take Carlina it was necessary only to capture Bogova, its capital.This city of some 20,000 inhabitants lay about the inner port and someeight miles from the bay where Danbury's yacht now rode at anchor,safely, because of the treachery of the harbor patrol, who to a manwere with the Revolutionists. Danbury had been instructed by Otaballo,through the priest, to make this harbor and remain until receivingfurther instructions. The latter came within three hours in the formof two letters; one from the General, and the other, enclosed, fromthe princess herself. Danbury tore open the letter before glancing atthe official communication. He read it through and then stood with itin his hand looking dreamily out across the blue waters. He whistledto himself. Then handing it to Wilson, he asked,
"What do you think of that?"
Wilson read,
"DEAR DICK:
I hope you have thought over what I said to you and haven't planned to do anything foolish. Because, honestly, it can't do any good. The old people are gone and with them the old cause. But I have heard rumors on all sides until I am nearly frightened to death about what you may have stirred up. When General Otaballo stole in this morning and showed me beneath his coat that old uniform I knew something serious was meant.
And, Dicky, I don't want to be a queen--even to get revenge upon the cads who haven't been nice. I don't want to rule; it's more bother than it's worth; I'm afraid the royal blood has got pretty well thinned out in me, for I don't feel any thrill stirring within at the war-cry,--only trembles. I want to jog along the same old peaceful path and I want you to come and see me like the dear good friend you've always been. And if you've got your pockets full of pistols, and your hands full of swords, throw them away, Dicky, and just jump into a carriage and come up and have supper with me. I've really been lonesome for you,--more, to be honest, than I thought I'd be or than I like to be. It's the woman and not the queen who has been lonesome, too. So be a good boy and don't get either of us into trouble, but bring the general to tea with you. We can fight it all out just as well over the cakes and no one the wiser.
Yours, BEATRICE."
Wilson smiled.
"I should think," he said, "that it might be pleasant to--take supperwith her."
Danbury spoke earnestly.
"But a man can't sit and eat cakes while such as she is insulted onher own streets. A man can't drink tea with her--he must be up anddoing for her. I shall take supper with her when she is a queen in herown kingdom."
"She doesn't seem to want to be queen."
"But she shall," he exclaimed, "by the grace of God, she shall, withintwo days!"
He tore open the missive from General Otaballo, and read aloud theinstructions. But not until the last paragraph did Wilson learnanything of moment. Then, in a second his whole attitude towards thecampaign was changed.
"In addition to your present interest in this movement, I have newsthat ought to spur your men on to added effort; the dogs ofRepublicans have arrested and imprisoned an American young lady, whoreached here on the Columba in company with Dr. Sorez. The latter,though formerly a loyal Republican, has for some reason been thoughtin league with us, though, as far as I know, he is not. But the girlis the victim of the arbitrary and unjust persecution which has alwaysbeen meted out to foreigners."
Wilson was left dumb for a moment. But his mind soon grasped theurgency of the situation. He placed his hand upon Danbury's arm.
"Danbury," he said quietly, "I've got to get to her."
"You don't mean to say that this is----"
"The same one. Evidently Sorez has got her into trouble."
"But this is serious--this imprisonment. The dungeons aren't fit for adog."
"I know," answered Wilson; "but we'll get her out."
"We can't, until we batter down the old prison. _They_ won't let herout--not for us."
"But why should they shut her up? What possible excuse can they have?It's outrageous. If we can reach the authorities----"
"We'll be locked up too. The authorities would be glad to have youcome within reach. No, their suspicions are aroused, and to make amove towards her release would be only to excite them to do worse.You'll have to wait----"
"That's impossible. Wait, with her in the hands of those ruffians!"
"Wait until we get the ruffians in our hands. Otaballo plans theattack for early to-morrow; we ought to be in the city by noon. Oncethe place is ours you can take a force of men and go through the jail;I imagine that it is in the old palace. That is where I was locked upovernight, at any rate; and if it is like that----"
Wilson glanced up swiftly, his face pale.
"It was bad?"
"It was worse than that. But maybe they have a better place for thewomen."
The remainder of the day was a nightmare to Wilson. He paced the decksuntil in weariness he dropped into his bunk. Both Danbury and Stubbskept a watch upon him for fear that he might attempt to go ashore onsome wild project for reaching the city. He scarcely slept an hourthat night and went with the first boat load to leave the ship.
A full moon lighted the beach like a colorless sun. He stood with thesilent group handling their Winchesters. There was not one of them,even though he peered somewhat anxiously into the deep shadows by theroadside, who did not feel more of a man now that he was on shore;this, even with the prospect of danger ahead. They were essentiallylandsmen--a thing which Stubbs had not understood. They looked uponthe ship only as a prison. Now, with their feet on firm ground, theywere a different lot of men. Few of them were actual cowards, andstill fewer of them objected to the prospective fight, even thoughthey had been drawn into it in what they considered an underhandedway. But the real reason for their good humor lay deeper, so deep thatnot one man had dared as yet whisper it to another, although each knewthe other to be of the same mind. This was the prospect of loot.Whichever side won, there would be a fine confusion in a lawless city,with opportunities galore for plunder.
Most of them had vague notions that these South American cities werefabulously rich in gold. Consequently, if they could not be dependedupon afterwards, they could be trusted to do their best to make thecity, and to fight so long as their own security was in jeopardy. Torebel before they got there would only place them between two fires,and they feared Stubbs too well to attempt it even if there was achance. So, take them all in all as they stood there upon dry land,they were about as
fair a fighting lot as mercenaries ever average.
The last thing to be brought from the boat was the ammunition, andthis was not distributed until the only method left of reaching theship was by swimming. Wilson sat upon the boxes with a revolver ineach hand until the last boat left the shore. Then Stubbs broke openthe boxes and made his final speech to the men who in a way he was nowplacing without his authority.
"Afore I gives you these," he began, "I wants to remind yer of thelittle talk we had t' other night. Each man of yer gits fiftycartridges and with them either he makes Bogova er Hell. There ain'tno other stoppin' places. Ye may have thought, some of ye, that onceyer rifles was loaded ye could do 'bout as ye pleased. But t'ain't so.Jus' behin' you there'll march one hundred men from the hills. Theydon't know much, but they obey orders, an' their orders is to shootanybody what ain't goin' our way. Ye've got a chance, marchin'straight on an' takin' the city; ye ain't gut the ghost of a chance,if ye don't take the city er if ye fergits the way and starts backtowards the ship. 'Nother thing; hold tergether. It ain't pleasant fera man caught by hisself in Bogova. Thet's all, gents, an' I hopes itwill be my pleasant duty to hand ye soon a five-dollar gold piece fereveryone of these here things I now hands ye."
Wilson suppressed a shout, and soon there was the confused clicking ofthe locks as they closed over the full chambers of the rifles. It wasmusic to the ears of Danbury, who from the moment his feet had touchedshore was impatient to take the road without further delay. Wilson wasjust as bad, if not worse, which left Stubbs really the only man ofthem all able to think calmly and somewhat rationally.
He formed the men into columns of two, hastily inspected each one ofthem, and finally got them started with Danbury and the guide leading,Wilson, on the right side, and himself on the left and well to therear where he could watch for possible desertions until the hill mentook their place behind them. It was a new world for them all; thestrange tropical foliage silhouetted against the vivid night sky,the piercing perfume of new flowers, and the shadow jungle eitherside made it seem almost unreal. At the junction of this forestpath and the main road the hill men fell in behind like ghosts. Theywere brown, medium-sized men, dressed in cotton trousers and blouses.They were without shoes or hats and were armed with a medley ofweapons, from modern rifles to the big, two-edged sword with whichtheir ancestors fought. Save under the leadership of the priest,they were said not to be good fighters, but with him to spur them onthey became veritable demons, hurling themselves upon the enemywith a recklessness only possible to religious fanatics. Sofiercely had they resisted the attack made upon them in theexpedition of the hills that it was said that not within ten yearswould it be possible to organize again sufficient men with courageto venture to cross the Andes.
The road turned and twisted, wandered up hill and down, beckoning themon through this phantasmal world which but for them would have slepton in aromatic peace. To Wilson this all seemed part of a dream. Itwas one of those strange visions he had seen between the stars thatnight after the crash when he had gazed from his study window. Somehowit did not seem to belong in his life at all. The girl did, butnothing else did. It was meant for him to have her, but in the usualruts of men.
This was some other self which, with holsters and cartridge belt, wasmarching in the dark with this group of uncouth men. The only thingthat made it real was the fact that he was moving towards her. Once hehad found her he would go back again and seek his place in the vastmachine which weaved cloths of more sober fabric. Then he thought ofthe map which he had taken from the chest and put into his pocket.That, too, was a part of this dream. It was fitting that in such anatmosphere as this there should be hidden gold and jewels; fitting,too, that this new self of his should be in search of them. But ifonly he could reach her, if only he could have her fairly within hisarms, he would give this up to others who had more need of it. She hadsaid that if ever she were in need of him, she would call and he wouldcome to her. That seemed like an idle phrase at the time, and yet ithad come true. She had called and he was now on his way to give heraid. He could not imagine her in the dungeon.
At the end of two hours, a rifle shot spat through the dark branchesby the roadside. Then silence--a silence so unbroken that it seemed ina minute as though the noise had never been. Then Otaballo rode up ata gallop and gave a few orders. His men, who led the forces, dividedsilently and disappeared each side of the road into the dark timber.Then for another half hour the remainder of the men marched on asbefore. The sky began to brighten in the east. A grayish pink stolefrom the horizon line and grew ever brighter and brighter as though abreeze were blowing into the embers of an ash-covered fire. The pinkgrew to crimson and with it the shadows sought their deeper haunts. Asthe first real beams of the sun shot above the distant hills theangular jumble of distant roof-tops became silhouetted against theclear, blue sky.
A messenger came galloping down the road with orders for Danbury.
"You are to enter by the East Road. Follow your guide."
The sputtering report of distant rifles came to their ears.
"But, see here," protested Danbury, "the fighting is straight ahead."
"Take your orders," advised Wilson. "There will be enough of that togo around, I guess."
The rattle directly ahead acted like wine upon Danbury. Wilson heardhim shout.
"All right, men. Let's take it at double-quick."
But the men could not stand the pace he cut out and so he was forcedto fall back to stubborn marching. Their path swung to the right, andpast many straggling houses where the good housewives were just upand kindling their fires, with no inkling of what was about. To themnothing was ahead but the meagre routine of another day. Occasionallythey caught a glimpse of the passing men and returned, startled, todrag out their sleepy spouses and all the children. The sun had warmedthe whole of this little world now and trees and houses stood outclean and distinct as though freshly washed. To the left the drycrackle of the rifles still sounded. It was evident that Otaballo hadmet with a good-sized force and one evidently prepared. It was notlong before the road took them into the city proper. Before they hadreached the first paved street Danbury turned to his men.
"Now, come on at a jump. There is a five-hundred-dollar bonus to thefirst man in the palace."
He drew a revolver from his holster and, spurring on the guide,encouraged the men to a double-quick. Wilson kept by his side. Theyran through the silent streets like phantom ghouls in a deserted city.Every window was tight shut and every door double-barred. The rumorhad spread fast and entered the city an hour before them. They made agreat rattling as they ran heavily down the narrow alleys and throughthe silent squares, but they received no more attention than a partyof merry-makers returning in the small hours from some country dance.Then they rounded a corner and--a blinding flash from a red line ofrifles checked their brisk progress. Wilson staggered back a few stepswith his hand over his eyes like a man hit beneath the chin. Thenoise was deafening. Then he turned slowly in a daze and looked to seewhat the men were doing. A half dozen of them had lain down as thoughto sleep, sprawled out in curiously uncomfortable attitudes. Theothers had paused a moment as if in doubt.
Their frightened eyes brought him to himself.
"Come on," he growled. "Shoot low and fast."
A group of the real fighters swept past to the accompaniment of bitingsnaps like the explosion of firecrackers. Then he fought his way tothe front again, elbowing men to one side.
The thing that seemed remarkable to him was that he could face thatspitting red line of rifles and yet keep his feet. They must be poorshots, he thought. He himself began to shoot rather deliberately. Hedid not see the faces of the men at whom he shot, for he always aimedat their breasts. Once, however, he took careful aim at a white facewhich lay against the breech of a rifle leveled at him. He aimed forthe white space between the eyes quite as coolly as though he werefacing a target. Yet he jumped a little in surprise as, following hisreport, he saw a blotch of red appear where he h
ad aimed--saw it forjust a second before the man reeled forward heavily and sunk as thoughhe had no backbone.
The powder smoke choked him, but he loved it. He liked the smell of itand the taste of it, because it led to her. He lost all sense ofpersonalities. The forms before him were not men. He forgot all abouthis comrades; forgot even what it was all about, except that he washewing a path to her. It was just a noisy medley in which he had butone part to play,--shoot and press on to the dungeon which confinedher.
The Web of the Golden Spider Page 16