Soldiers of Fortune

by Richard Harding Davis

  IX

  Clay slept for three hours. He had left a note on the floorinstructing MacWilliams and young Langham not to go to the mines, butto waken him at ten o'clock, and by eleven the three men were gallopingoff to the city. As they left the Palms they met Hope returning from amorning ride on the Alameda, and Clay begged her, with much concern,not to ride abroad again. There was a difference in his tone towardher. There was more anxiety in it than the occasion seemed to justify,and he put his request in the form of a favor to himself, while the dayprevious he would simply have told her that she must not go ridingalone.

  "Why?" asked Hope, eagerly. "Is there going to be trouble?"

  "I hope not," Clay said, "but the soldiers are coming in from theprovinces for the review, and the roads are not safe."

  "I'd be safe with you, though," said Hope, smiling persuasively uponthe three men. "Won't you take me with you, please?"

  "Hope," said young Langham in the tone of the elder brother's briefauthority, "you must go home at once."

  Hope smiled wickedly. "I don't want to," she said.

  "I'll bet you a box of cigars I can beat you to the veranda by fiftyyards," said MacWilliams, turning his horse's head.

  Hope clasped her sailor hat in one hand and swung her whip with theother. "I think not," she cried, and disappeared with a flutter ofskirts and a scurry of flying pebbles.

  "At times," said Clay, "MacWilliams shows an unexpected knowledge ofhuman nature."

  "Yes, he did quite right," assented Langham, nodding his headmysteriously. "We've no time for girls at present, have we?"

  "No, indeed," said Clay, hiding any sign of a smile.

  Langham breathed deeply at the thought of the part he was to play inthis coming struggle, and remained respectfully silent as they trottedtoward the city. He did not wish to disturb the plots and counterplotsthat he was confident were forming in Clay's brain, and his devotionwould have been severely tried had he known that his hero's mind wasfilled with a picture of a young girl in a blue shirt-waist and awhipcord riding-skirt.

  Clay sent for Stuart to join them at the restaurant, and MacWilliamsarriving at the same time, the four men seated themselves conspicuouslyin the centre of the cafe and sipped their chocolate as thoughunconscious of any imminent danger, and in apparent freedom from allresponsibilities and care. While MacWilliams and Langham laughed anddisputed over a game of dominoes, the older men exchanged, under coverof their chatter, the few words which they had met to speak.

  The manifestoes, Stuart said, had failed of their purpose. He hadalready called upon the President, and had offered to resign hisposition and leave the country, or to stay and fight his maligners, andtake up arms at once against Mendoza's party. Alvarez had treated himlike a son, and bade him be patient. He held that Caesar's wife wasabove suspicion because she was Caesar's wife, and that no canardsposted at midnight could affect his faith in his wife or in his friend.He refused to believe that any coup d'etat was imminent, save the onewhich he himself meditated when he was ready to proclaim the country ina state of revolution, and to assume a military dictatorship.

  "What nonsense!" exclaimed Clay. "What is a military dictatorshipwithout soldiers? Can't he see that the army is with Mendoza?"

  "No," Stuart replied. "Rojas and I were with him all the morning.Rojas is an old trump, Clay. He's not bright and he's old-fashioned;but he is honest. And the people know it. If I had Rojas for a chiefinstead of Alvarez, I'd arrest Mendoza with my own hand, and I wouldn'tbe afraid to take him to the carcel through the streets. The peoplewouldn't help him. But the President doesn't dare. Not that he hasn'tpluck," added the young lieutenant, loyally, "for he takes his life inhis hands when he goes to the review tomorrow, and he knows it. Thinkof it, will you, out there alone with a field of five thousand menaround him! Rojas thinks he can hold half of them, as many as Mendozacan, and I have my fifty. But you can't tell what any one of them willdo for a drink or a dollar. They're no more soldiers than thesewaiters. They're bandits in uniform, and they'll kill for the man thatpays best."

  "Then why doesn't Alvarez pay them?" Clay growled.

  Stuart looked away and lowered his eyes to the table. "He hasn't themoney, I suppose," he said, evasively. "He--he has transferred everycent of it into drafts on Rothschild. They are at the house now,representing five millions of dollars in gold--and her jewels,too--packed ready for flight."

  "Then he does expect trouble?" said Clay. "You told me--"

  "They're all alike; you know them," said Stuart. "They won't believethey're in danger until the explosion comes, but they always have aspecial train ready, and they keep the funds of the government undertheir pillows. He engaged apartments on the Avenue Kleber six monthsago."

  "Bah!" said Clay. "It's the old story. Why don't you quit him?"

  Stuart raised his eyes and dropped them again, and Clay sighed. "I'msorry," he said.

  MacWilliams interrupted them in an indignant stage-whisper. "Say, howlong have we got to keep up this fake game?" he asked. "I don't knowanything about dominoes, and neither does Ted. Tell us what you'vebeen saying. Is there going to be trouble? If there is, Ted and Iwant to be in it. We are looking for trouble."

  Clay had tipped back his chair, and was surveying the restaurant andthe blazing plaza beyond its open front with an expression of cheerfulunconcern. Two men were reading the morning papers near the door, andtwo others were dragging through a game of dominoes in a far corner.The heat of midday had settled on the place, and the waiters dozed,with their chairs tipped back against the walls. Outside, the awningof the restaurant threw a broad shadow across the marble-topped tableson the sidewalk, and half a dozen fiacre drivers slept peacefully intheir carriages before the door.

  The town was taking its siesta, and the brisk step of a stranger whocrossed the tessellated floor and rapped with his knuckles on the topof the cigar-case was the only sign of life. The newcomer turned withone hand on the glass case and swept the room carelessly with his eyes.They were hard blue eyes under straight eyebrows. Their owner wasdressed unobtrusively in a suit of rough tweed, and this and his blackhat, and the fact that he was smooth-shaven, distinguished him as aforeigner.

  As he faced them the forelegs of Clay's chair descended slowly to thefloor, and he began to smile comprehendingly and to nod his head asthough the coming of the stranger had explained something of which hehad been in doubt. His companions turned and followed the direction ofhis eyes, but saw nothing of interest in the newcomer. He looked asthough he might be a concession hunter from the States, or a Manchesterdrummer, prepared to offer six months' credit on blankets and hardware.

  Clay rose and strode across the room, circling the tables in such a waythat he could keep himself between the stranger and the door. At hisapproach the new-comer turned his back and fumbled with his change onthe counter.

  "Captain Burke, I believe?" said Clay. The stranger bit the cigar hehad just purchased, and shook his head. "I am very glad to see you,"Clay continued. "Sit down, won't you? I want to talk with you."

  "I think you've made a mistake," the stranger answered, quietly. "Myname is--"

  "Colonel, perhaps, then," said Clay. "I might have known it. Icongratulate you, Colonel."

  The man looked at Clay for an instant, with the cigar clenched betweenhis teeth and his blue eyes fixed steadily on the other's face. Claywaved his hand again invitingly toward a table, and the man shruggedhis shoulders and laughed, and, pulling a chair toward him, sat down.

  "Come over here, boys," Clay called. "I want you to meet an old friendof mine, Captain Burke."

  The man called Burke stared at the three men as they crossed the roomand seated themselves at the table, and nodded to them in silence.

  "We have here," said Clay, gayly, but in a low voice, "the key to thesituation. This is the gentleman who supplies Mendoza with the sinewsof war. Captain Burke is a brave soldier and a citizen of my own or ofany country, indeed, which happens to have t
he most sympatheticConsul-General."

  Burke smiled grimly, with a condescending nod, and putting away thecigar, took out a brier pipe and began to fill it from histobacco-pouch. "The Captain is a man of few words and extremely modestabout himself," Clay continued, lightly; "so I must tell you who he ismyself. He is a promoter of revolutions. That is his business,--aprofessional promoter of revolutions, and that is what makes me so gladto see him again. He knows all about the present crisis here, and heis going to tell us all he knows as soon as he fills his pipe. I oughtto warn you, Burke," he added, "that this is Captain Stuart, in chargeof the police and the President's cavalry troop. So, you see, whateveryou say, you will have one man who will listen to you."

  Burke crossed one short fat leg over the other, and crowded the tobaccoin the bowl of his pipe with his thumb.

  "I thought you were in Chili, Clay," he said.

  "No, you didn't think I was in Chili," Clay replied, kindly. "I leftChili two years ago. The Captain and I met there," he explained to theothers, "when Balmaceda was trying to make himself dictator. TheCaptain was on the side of the Congressionalists, and was furnishingarms and dynamite. The Captain is always on the winning side, at leasthe always has been--up to the present. He is not a creature ofsentiment; are you, Burke? The Captain believes with Napoleon that Godis on the side that has the heaviest artillery."

  Burke lighted his pipe and drummed absentmindedly on the table with hismatch-box.

  "I can't afford to be sentimental," he said. "Not in my business."

  "Of course not," Clay assented, cheerfully. He looked at Burke andlaughed, as though the sight of him recalled pleasant memories. "Iwish I could give these boys an idea of how clever you are, Captain,"he said. "The Captain was the first man, for instance, to think ofpacking cartridges in tubs of lard, and of sending rifles inpiano-cases. He represents the Welby revolver people in England, andhalf a dozen firms in the States, and he has his little stores in Tampaand Mobile and Jamaica, ready to ship off at a moment's notice to anyrevolution in Central America. When I first met the Captain," Claycontinued, gleefully, and quite unmindful of the other's continuedsilence, "he was starting off to rescue Arabi Pasha from the island ofCeylon. You may remember, boys, that when Dufferin saved Arabi fromhanging, the British shipped him to Ceylon as a political prisoner.Well, the Captain was sent by Arabi's followers in Egypt to bring himback to lead a second rebellion. Burke had everybody bribed at Ceylon,and a fine schooner fitted out and a lot of ruffians to do thefighting, and then the good, kind British Government pardoned Arabi theday before Burke arrived in port. And you never got a cent for it; didyou, Burke?"

  Burke shook his head and frowned.

  "Six thousand pounds sterling I was to have got for that," he said,with a touch of pardonable pride in his voice, "and they set him freethe day before I got there, just as Mr. Clay tells you."

  "And then you headed Granville Prior's expedition for buried treasureoff the island of Cocos, didn't you?" said Clay. "Go on, tell themabout it. Be sociable. You ought to write a book about your differentbusiness ventures, Burke, indeed you ought; but then," Clay added,smiling, "nobody would believe you." Burke rubbed his chin,thoughtfully, with his fingers, and looked modestly at the ceiling, andthe two younger boys gazed at him with open-mouthed interest.

  "There ain't anything in buried treasure," he said, after a pause,"except the money that's sunk in the fitting out. It sounds good, butit's all foolishness."

  "All foolishness, eh?" said Clay, encouragingly. "And what did you doafter Balmaceda was beaten?--after I last saw you?"

  "Crespo," Burke replied, after a pause, during which he pulled gentlyon his pipe. "'Caroline Brewer'--cleared from Key West for Curacao,with cargo of sewing-machines and ploughs--beached belowMaracaibo--thirty-five thousand rounds and two thousand rifles--attwenty bolivars apiece."

  "Of course," said Clay, in a tone of genuine appreciation. "I mighthave known you'd be in that. He says," he explained, "that he assistedGeneral Crespo in Venezuela during his revolution against GuzmanBlanco's party, and loaded a tramp steamer called the 'Caroline Brewer'at Key West with arms, which he landed safely at a place for which hehad no clearance papers, and he received forty thousand dollars in ourmoney for the job--and very good pay, too, I should think," commentedClay.

  "Well, I don't know," Burke demurred. "You take in the cost of leasingthe boat and provisioning her, and the crew's wages, and the cost ofthe cargo; that cuts into profits. Then I had to stand off shorebetween Trinidad and Curacao for over three weeks before I got thesignal to run in, and after that I was chased by a gun-boat for threedays, and the crazy fool put a shot clean through my engine-room. Costme about twelve hundred dollars in repairs."

  There was a pause, and Clay turned his eyes to the street, and thenasked, abruptly, "What are you doing now?"

  "Trying to get orders for smokeless powder," Burke answered, promptly.He met Clay's look with eyes as undisturbed as his own. "But theywon't touch it down here," he went on. "It doesn't appeal to 'em.It's too expensive, and they'd rather see the smoke. It makes themthink--"

  "How long did you expect to stay here?" Clay interrupted.

  "How long?" repeated Burke, like a man in a witness-box who is tryingto gain time. "Well, I was thinking of leaving by Friday, and taking amule-train over to Bogota instead of waiting for the steamer to Colon."He blew a mouthful of smoke into the air and watched it drifting towardthe door with apparent interest.

  "The 'Santiago' leaves here Saturday for New York. I guess you hadbetter wait over for her," Clay said. "I'll engage your passage, and,in the meantime, Captain Stuart here will see that they treat you wellin the cuartel."

  The men around the table started, and sat motionless looking at Clay,but Burke only took his pipe from his mouth and knocked the ashes outon the heel of his boot. "What am I going to the cuartel for?" heasked.

  "Well, the public good, I suppose," laughed Clay. "I'm sorry, but it'syour own fault. You shouldn't have shown yourself here at all."

  "What have you got to do with it?" asked Burke, calmly, as he began torefill his pipe. He had the air of a man who saw nothing before himbut an afternoon of pleasant discourse and leisurely inactivity.

  "You know what I've got to do with it," Clay replied. "I've got ourconcession to look after."

  "Well, you're not running the town, too, are you?" asked Burke.

  "No, but I'm going to run you out of it," Clay answered. "Now, what areyou going to do,--make it unpleasant for us and force our hand, ordrive down quietly with our friend MacWilliams here? He is the bestone to take you, because he's not so well known."

  Burke turned his head and looked over his shoulder at Stuart.

  "You taking orders from Mr. Clay, to-day, Captain Stuart?" he asked.

  "Yes," Stuart answered, smiling. "I agree with Mr. Clay in whatever hethinks right."

  "Oh, well, in that case," said Burke, rising reluctantly, with aprotesting sigh, "I guess I'd better call on the American minister."

  "You can't. He's in Ecuador on his annual visit," said Clay.

  "Indeed! That's bad for me," muttered Burke, as though in muchconcern. "Well, then, I'll ask you to let me see our consul here."

  "Certainly," Clay assented, with alacrity. "Mr. Langham, this younggentleman's father, got him his appointment, so I've no doubt he'll beonly too glad to do anything for a friend of ours."

  Burke raised his eyes and looked inquiringly at Clay, as though toassure himself that this was true, and Clay smiled back at him.

  "Oh, very well," Burke said. "Then, as I happen to be an Irishman bythe name of Burke, and a British subject, I'll try Her Majesty'srepresentative, and we'll see if he will allow me to be locked upwithout a reason or a warrant."

  "That's no good, either," said Clay, shaking his head. "You fixed yournationality, as far as this continent is concerned, in Rio harbor, whenPeixoto handed you over to the British admiral, and you claimed to bean American citizen,
and were sent on board the 'Detroit.' If there'sany doubt about that we've only got to cable to Rio Janeiro--to eitherlegation. But what's the use? They know me here, and they don't knowyou, and I do. You'll have to go to jail and stay there."

  "Oh, well, if you put it that way, I'll go," said Burke. "But," headded, in a lower voice, "it's too late, Clay."

  The expression of amusement on Clay's face, and his ease of manner,fell from him at the words, and he pulled Burke back into the chairagain. "What do you mean?" he asked, anxiously.

  "I mean just that, it's too late," Burke answered. "I don't mind goingto jail. I won't be there long. My work's all done and paid for. Iwas only staying on to see the fun at the finish, to see you fellowsmade fools of."

  "Oh, you're sure of that, are you?" asked Clay.

  "My dear boy!" exclaimed the American, with a suggestion in his speechof his Irish origin, as his interest rose. "Did you ever know me to gointo anything of this sort for the sentiment of it? Did you ever knowme to back the losing side? No. Well, I tell you that you fellowshave no more show in this than a parcel of Sunday-school children. Ofcourse I can't say when they mean to strike. I don't know, and Iwouldn't tell you if I did. But when they do strike there'll be nostriking back. It'll be all over but the cheering."

  Burke's tone was calm and positive. He held the centre of the stagenow, and he looked from one to the other of the serious faces aroundhim with an expression of pitying amusement.

  "Alvarez may get off, and so may Madame Alvarez," he added, loweringhis voice and turning his face away from Stuart. "But not if she showsherself in the streets, and not if she tries to take those drafts andjewels with her."

  "Oh, you know that, do you?" interrupted Clay.

  "I know nothing," Burke replied. "At least, nothing to what the restof them know. That's only the gossip I pick up at headquarters. Itdoesn't concern me. I've delivered my goods and given my receipt forthe money, and that's all I care about. But if it will make an oldfriend feel any more comfortable to have me in jail, why, I'll go,that's all."

  Clay sat with pursed lips looking at Stuart. The two boys leaned withtheir elbows on the tables and stared at Burke, who was searchingleisurely through his pockets for his match-box. From outside came thelazy cry of a vendor of lottery tickets, and the swift, uneven patterof bare feet, as company after company of dust-covered soldiers passedon their way from the provinces, with their shoes swinging from theirbayonets.

  Clay slapped the table with an exclamation of impatience.

  "After all, this is only a matter of business," he said, "with all ofus. What do you say, Burke, to taking a ride with me to Stuart'srooms, and having a talk there with the President and Mr. Langham?Langham has three millions sunk in these mines, and Alvarez has evenbetter reasons than that for wanting to hold his job. What do you say?That's better than going to jail. Tell us what they mean to do, and whois to do it, and I'll let you name your own figure, and I'll guaranteeyou that they'll meet it. As long as you've no sentiment, you might aswell fight on the side that will pay best."

  Burke opened his lips as though to speak, and then shut them again,closely. If the others thought that he was giving Clay's proposition asecond and more serious thought, he was quick to undeceive them.

  "There ARE men in the business who do that sort of thing," he said."They sell arms to one man, and sell the fact that he's got them to thedeputy-marshals, and sell the story of how smart they've been to thenewspapers. And they never make any more sales after that. I'd lookpretty, wouldn't I, bringing stuff into this country, and getting paidfor it, and then telling you where it was hid, and everything else Iknew? I've no sentiment, as you say, but I've got business instinct,and that's not business. No, I've told you enough, and if you thinkI'm not safe at large, why I'm quite ready to take a ride with youryoung friend here."

  MacWilliams rose with alacrity, and beaming with pleasure at theimportance of the duty thrust upon him.

  Burke smiled. "The young 'un seems to like the job," he said.

  "It's an honor to be associated with Captain Burke in any way," saidMacWilliams, as he followed him into a cab, while Stuart galloped offbefore them in the direction of the cuartel.

  "You wouldn't think so if you knew better," said Burke. "My friendshave been watching us while we have been talking in there for the lasthour. They're watching us now, and if I were to nod my head duringthis ride, they'd throw you out into the street and set me free, ifthey had to break the cab into kindling-wood while they were doing it."

  MacWilliams changed his seat to the one opposite his prisoner, andpeered up and down the street in some anxiety.

  "I suppose you know there's an answer to that, don't you?" he asked."Well, the answer is, that if you nod your head once, you lose the topof it."

  Burke gave an exclamation of disgust, and gazed at his zealous guardianwith an expression of trepidation and unconcealed disapproval. "You'renot armed, are you?" he asked.

  MacWilliams nodded. "Why not?" he said; "these are rather heavyweather times, just at present, thanks to you and your friends. Why,you seem rather afraid of fire-arms," he added, with the intolerance ofyouth.

  The Irish-American touched the young man on the knee, and lifted hishat. "My son," he said, "when your hair is as gray as that, and youhave been through six campaigns, you'll be brave enough to own thatyou're afraid of fire-arms, too."