Where Strongest Tide Winds Blew

by Robert McReynolds

  XVII.

  THE BARBARIAN MEETS HIS INGOMAR.

  A heavy fog was clearing from the sea, when from out of the mist rosethe black hull and conning tower of the Cochrane. The senior officersof the flagship stood grouped on the starboard rail. The wind changedsuddenly to the west, and, as it changed, it rolled up patches of thefog and revealed the black hull and conning tower of the Enlado. Aheavy cloud of smoke poured from their funnels; decks cleared foraction when they should put into practice the desperate objects oftheir existence.

  A boat was lowered from the flagship and rowed to the wharf ofMollendo by sturdy Chileans, while an officer bore a message to thePrefecto for all noncombatants to leave the city, as bombardment wouldbegin in an hour.

  As the boat was leaving, it was fired upon. Then the ear-splittingreports which followed showed how the flagship took this breach of therules of war. There was the rushing swishing sound, the terrifyingscreech of projectiles passing through the air, followed by terrificexplosions and the crash of falling buildings.

  In the city, pandemonium reigned. Men and women with blanched faces,were fleeing to the hills. Others threw themselves upon the ground,too terror-stricken to move. I heard a voice at my elbow calling inEnglish. It was the voice of a woman, young and fair. "This way," saidI, and we hurried toward the massive rock from whose summit I hadwatched the battle of the Huascar and Amythist two years before.

  "We are safe now," I said, as we stood behind the thousands of tons ofgranite, "safe as if we were behind the rock of Gibraltar."

  "Oh, mother, sister and Mr. Robinson--heaven help them at this hour!"she exclaimed. A shell struck a stone building and exploded byimpact; fragments screamed like a panther in the air.

  The young woman's face was blanched to a death-like pallor, but shewas calm, and, kneeling by my side, she asked God to help us. Aloudshe prayed, a beautiful, impressive prayer, one that must have gonestraight to the throne of heaven and received its answer, for soon thewind shifted and those belching volcanoes of the sea were curtained bythe fog; the firing ceased.

  We hurried to her home amid scenes of desolation and confusion. Herfamily was safe and, to my surprise, the Mr. Robinson she had spokenof was an employe of our railway, who had but lately arrived from theUnited States and to whom I had been introduced a few days before.

  The bombardment was now over, but the human wolves began to sack thecity. Fire was raging in some quarters and burned far into the night.It lit the streets with a lurid glare; its red light fell uponmotionless figures in the dust, and scurrying forms, bent beneaththeir weight of plunder.

  Mr. Robinson was anxious to send his family to Arequipa, and I lentthem all possible assistance, receiving their heartfelt thanks. Theywere in a strange land, not even knowing the language of the country.Hattie, the young woman I had met, was the sister-in-law of Mr.Robinson. Mrs. Robinson and her mother, an aged woman, weredisappointed with Peru and were glad to get away from the theatre ofwar.

  I met the Indian soldiers the next day, and the officer commanding wasvery indignant at his superior for not allowing him to go to the rocksat Mollendo and pick off the gunners from the battle ships, with flintlock rifles.

  I was a frequent visitor at the home of the Robinson family inArequipa, with whom I had now become well acquainted. It was strangeto my ears to hear them all talk English, for seldom had I heard myown language spoken by women. The old lady was one of those quiet,sweet, motherly women. Once introduced to her, it seemed one hadalways known her. The whole family was the happiest and most cheerfulI had ever met. Hattie Judson became school teacher to the English andAmerican children in Arequipa, and her gentle ways soon won the heartsof all. I enjoyed taking her to the theatre and other places ofamusement, because of her bright conversation and high ideals. Fromher I began to catch a glimpse of the nobler things of life, thingsthat to me, being but poorly educated and in a foreign land, had beendenied. She was a sweet singer and an excellent performer on thepiano, and somehow when she sang I was able to understand thesoul-reaching depths of the melody.

  There was company at the house one night, when I heard her sing forthe first time "Coming Thro' the Rye." My soul floated back to BonnieScotland, as when a boy I saw the waving fields of grain, the cows inthe barnyard, and the lassies coming down the path from school; mymother with the willow basket, bringing in the clothes from the line,and father smoking his pipe by the well--scenes that nevermore wouldreturn.

  In our walks in the shaded dells of the mountains, she often told meof the United States, the habits and customs of the people--howambitions and aspirations were rewarded when accompanied by virtue andindustry. Of the history of Peru she knew far more than I. It wasinteresting to hear from her lips the strange stories of theconquering Pizzaro hosts, whose mailed heels had once trod the groundwe walked, and clanked the knell of a fallen empire.

  My school had been the school of adversity. I had grown up with menwho knew or cared little for the finer sensibilities. I felt that herstandards of life were superior to mine. Her loyalty to God and holycharity toward the humblest soul, bent my spirit to profound respect.She was one who could see all there was of good in mankind and couldmeasure the product of one's powers and give them impulse anddirection. In my soul I bowed to the fair graces of her character.Each day we met I found in her some new wealth of noble thoughts thatcreated higher ideals in my own untutored mind.

  As time went on, fiercer rose the maddening cries of war. I felt thehot blood surge in my veins and I longed to be at the front, amid theroar of cannon and the clash of arms.

  We were walking in a grove beneath the swift glimmer of the tropicaltwilight, when I told her that I felt it my duty to fight for the landthat had been the home of my youth for so many years, and showed her aletter in which I was offered an officer's commission on the Huascar.She laid her hand on my arm and said, "There are nobler things in lifethan the shedding of the blood of fellow men. The youth of the worldgoes out to fight for the empty glory of another's crown. It is not onthe field of carnage that greatest honors are won, but in the nobler,more peaceful pursuits of life, doing good and becoming leaders ofmen and preventing war, that one wins the royal diadem of him whosaid, 'peace on earth, good will to men.'"

  As she spoke in earnest eloquence, I could have knelt and worshippedher. Her delicate cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were filled withtears.

  No words of love had yet been spoken, but the Barbarian knew and feltthat he had met his Ingomar.