The G.A. Henty

by G. A. Henty

  The sergeant carried out Jack’s orders. At the flash of the first gun he set off with his men at a gallop; and so quick and sudden was the movement that but few of the bullets touched them, and the rocks for the most part thundered down in their rear. Two or three horses and men were, however, struck down and crushed by the massive rocks; but the rest of the party got through the pass in safety and joined their comrades who had preceded them. They rode on for a short distance further, and then there was a halt, and wounds were examined and bandaged.

  “It is well that we came as we did,” the sergeant said to his corporal; “if we had been all together, with the wagons blocking up the road, not a man Jack of us would have escaped alive. What an escape it has been! the whole hillside seemed coming down on us.”

  “What will Mr. Stilwell do, sergeant?”

  “He said he should ride back into the plain and take some other way round,” the sergeant replied; “but I fear he won’t find it so easy. Fellows who would lay such an ambush as that are pretty sure to have taken steps to cut off the retreat of any who might escape and ride back. I am sure I hope he will get out of it, for he is a good officer, and as pleasant a young fellow as one can want to serve under; besides, there are five of our chaps with him.”

  Jack had halted his men the instant the first shot was fired. “Shall I shoot these fellows, sir?” one of the troopers asked, drawing his pistol and pointing it at the head of one of the peasants leading a yoke of oxen.

  “No,” Jack said; “they are unarmed; besides, they are plucky fellows for risking their lives on such a venture. There! the sergeant’s troop have got through; but there are two or three of them down. Come along, lads, we must ride back, and there is no time to lose. Keep well together, and in readiness to charge if I give the word. It is likely enough our turn may come next.”

  They rode on without interruption at full gallop till they neared the lower end of the valley. Then Jack drew up his horse. Across the road and the ground on each side extended a dozen carts, the oxen being taken out, and the carts placed end to end so as to form a barricade. A number of men were standing behind them.

  “I expected something of this sort,” muttered Jack. He looked at the hills on either side, but they were too steep to ride up on horseback; and as to abandoning the animals and taking to the hills on foot, it was not to be thought of, for the active peasants would easily overtake them.

  “We must ride straight forward,” he said; “there is no other way out of it. There is level ground enough for a horse to pass round the left of the wagons. Ride for that point as hard as you can, and when you are through keep straight forward for a quarter of a mile till we are together again. Now!”

  Giving his horse the spur, Jack dashed off at full speed, followed closely by the troopers. As they approached the line guns flashed out from the wagons, and the bullets sang thickly round them; but they were going too fast to be an easy mark, and the peasants, after firing their guns, seeing the point for which they were making, ran in a body to oppose them, armed with pitch forks and ox goads; few of them had, however, reached the spot when Jack and his troopers dashed up. There was a short sharp struggle, and then, leaving five or six of the peasants dead on the ground, the troopers burst through and rode forward. One man only had been lost in the passage, shot through the head as he approached the gap.

  “So far we are safe,” Jack said, “and as I expect every man in the country round was engaged in that ambush, we need not hurry for the present. The question is, Which way to go?”

  This was indeed a difficult point to settle, for Jack was wholly ignorant of the country. He had made inquiries as to the way to Estrella, but knew nothing of any other roads leading from that village, and indeed, for aught he knew, the road by which he had come might be the only one leading to the south through the range of hills.

  “We will turn west,” he said, after a moment’s thought, “and keep along near the foot of the hills till we come to another road crossing them.”

  So saying, he set forward at an easy trot across the fields of maize and wheat stubble, vineyards, and occasionally orchards. For upward of two hours Jack led the way, but they saw no signs of a road, and he observed with uneasiness that the plain was narrowing fast and the hills on the left trending to meet those on the right and form an apparently unbroken line ahead.

  The horses were showing signs of fatigue, and Jack drew rein on somewhat rising ground and looked anxiously round. If, as it seemed, there was no break in the bills ahead, it would be necessary to retrace their steps, and long ere this the defenders of the ravine would have returned to their homes, and learned from the men at the carts that a small party had escaped. As the women in the fields would be able to point out the way they had taken, the whole population would be out in pursuit of them. Looking round Jack saw among some trees to his right what appeared to be a large mansion, and resolved at once to go there.

  “The horses must have food and a rest,” he said, “before we set out again; and though it’s hardly probable, as the peasants are so hostile, that the owner of this place is friendly, I would even at the worst rather fall into the hands of a gentleman than into those of these peasants, who would certainly murder us in cold blood.”

  Thus saying, he rode toward the mansion, whose owner must, he thought as he approached it, be a man of importance, for it was one of the finest country residences he had seen in Spain. He rode up to the front door and dismounted and rang at the bell. A man opened the door, and looked with surprise and alarm at the English uniforms. He would have shut the door again, but Jack put his shoulder to it and pushed it open.

  “What means this insolence?” he said sternly, drawing his pistol. “Is your master in?”

  “No, senor,” the man stammered, “the count is from home.”

  “Is your mistress in?”

  The man hesitated.

  “I will see,” he said.

  “Look here, sir,” Jack said. “Your mistress is in, and unless you lead me straight to her I will put a bullet through your head.”

  Several other men servants had now come up, but the four troopers had also entered. The Spaniards looked at each other irresolutely.

  “Now, sirrah,” Jack said, raising his pistol, “are you going to obey me?”

  The Spaniard, seeing Jack would execute his threat unless obeyed, turned sullenly and led the way to a door. He opened it and entered.

  “Madam the countess,” he said, “an English officer insists on seeing you.”

  Jack followed him in. A lady had just risen from her seat.

  “I must apologize, madam,” he began, and then stopped in surprise, while at the same moment a cry of astonishment broke from the lady.

  “Senor Stilwell!” she cried. “Oh! how glad I am to see you! but—but—” And she stopped.

  “But how do I come here, countess, you would ask? I come here by accident, and had certainly no idea that I should find you, or that this mansion belonged to your husband. You told me when I saw you last, a fortnight before I left Barcelona, that you were going away to your seat in the country. You told me its name, too, and were good enough to say that you hoped when this war was over that I would come and visit you; but, in truth, as this is not a time for visiting, I had put the matter out of my mind.”

  “And do you belong, then,” the countess asked, “to the party who we heard yesterday had arrived at Estrella? If so—” And she stopped again.

  “If so, how have I escaped, you would ask? By good fortune and the speed of my horse.”

  “What will the count say?” the countess exclaimed. “How will he ever forgive himself? Had he known that our preserver was with that party he would have cut off his right hand before he would have—”

  “Led his tenants to attack us. He could not tell, countess, and now I hope that you will give your retainers orders to treat my men with hospitality. At present my four troopers and your men are glowering at each other in the hall like wolves and d
ogs ready to spring at each other’s throats.”

  The countess at once went out into the hall. The servants had now armed themselves, and, led by the majordomo, were standing in readiness to attack the dragoons on the termination of the colloquy between the officer and their mistress.

  “Lay aside your arms, men,” the countess said imperiously. “These men are the count’s guests. Enrico, do you not recognize this gentleman?”

  The majordomo turned, and, at once dropping his musket, ran across, and, falling on his knees, pressed Jack’s hand to his lips. The servants, who had at first stood in irresolute astonishment at their mistress’ order, no longer hesitated, but placed their arms against the wall.

  “This,” the majordomo said to them, rising to his feet, “is the noble English lord who saved the lives of the count and countess and my young master from the mob at Barcelona, as I have often told you.”

  This explained the mystery. The servants saluted Jack with profound respect, for all were deeply attached to the count and countess, and had often thrilled with fury and excitement over the majordomo’s relation of that terrible scene at Barcelona.

  Jack in a few words explained to the troopers the reason of the change in their position. The dragoons put up their swords, and were soon on the best terms with the retainers in the great kitchen, while Jack and the countess chatted over the events which had happened since they last parted.

  “I shall always tremble when I think of today,” the countess said. “What a feeling mine would have been all my life had our preserver been killed by my servants! I should never have recovered it. It is true it would have been an accident, and yet the possibility should have been foreseen. The count knew you were with the Earl of Peterborough, and the whole English army should have been sacred in his eyes for your sake; but I suppose he never thought of it any more than I did. Of course every one knows that we belong to Philip’s party. It was for that, that the mob at Barcelona would have killed us; but my husband does not talk much, and when he left Barcelona no objection was raised. He did not intend to take part in the war, and he little thought at that time that an enemy would ever come so far from Barcelona; but yesterday, when a message came that a small party of the enemy had entered the valley, and that the peasants had prepared an ambuscade for them on their return, and that they hoped that the count their master would himself come and lead them to annihilate the heretics, the simple man agreed, never thinking that you might be among them. What will his feelings be when, he learns it!”

  Late in the afternoon the count arrived. One of the servants who had been on the lookout informed the countess of his approach.

  “I will go myself to meet him,” she said. “Do you stay here, senor, where you can hear.”

  The count rode up at full speed, and as the door opened ran hastily in.

  “What has happened, Nina?” he exclaimed anxiously. “I have had a great fright. We have been following a small party of the enemy who escaped us from Estrella, and just now a woman returning from work in the fields told us she had seen five strange soldiers ride up here and enter.”

  “They are here,” the countess answered complacently. “They are at present our guests.”

  “Our guests!” the count exclaimed, astonished “What are you saying, Nina? The enemies of our country our guests! In what a position have you placed me! I have two hundred armed men just behind. I left them to ride on when I heard the news, being too anxious to go at their pace, and now you tell me that these men of whom they are in search are our guests! What am I to say or do? You amaze me altogether.”

  “What would you have me do?” the countess said. “Could I refuse hospitality to wearied men who asked it, Juan?” she continued, changing her tone. “You have to thank Providence indeed that those men came to our door instead of falling into the hands of your peasants.”

  “To thank Providence!” the count repeated, astonished.

  “Come with me and you will see why.”

  She led the way into the room, her husband following her. The count gave a cry as his eye fell upon Jack, and every vestige of color left his face.

  “Mary, mother of heaven!” he said in a broken voice, “I thank thee that I have been saved from a crime which would have imbittered all my life. Oh, senor, is it thus we meet, thus, when I have been hunting blindly for the blood of the man to whom I owe so much?”

  “Happily there is no harm done, count,” Jack said, advancing with outstretched hand; “you were doing what you believed to be your duty, attacking the enemy of your country. Had you killed me you would have been no more to blame than I should, did a chance shot of mine slay you when fighting in the ranks of the soldiers of Philip.”

  The count was some time before he could respond to Jack’s greeting, so great was his emotion at the thought of the escape he had had from slaying the preserver of his wife and child. As soon as he recovered himself he hurried out to meet the peasants, whose shouts could be heard as they approached the castle. He soon returned and bade his servants take a cask of wine into the courtyard behind the house, with what bread and meat there might be in the larder.

  “You had no trouble with them, I hope?” Jack asked.

  “None whatever,” the count said. “As soon as I told them the circumstances under which you saved the life of the countess, my boy, and myself, their only wish was to see you and express their gratitude; they are simple fellows, these peasants, and if fairly treated greatly attached to their lords.”

  “It’s a pity their treatment of the prisoners is so savage,” Jack said dryly.

  “They are savage,” the count said, “but you must remember that the history of Spain is one long story of war and bloodshed. They draw knives on each other on the slightest provocation, and in their amusements, as you know, there is nothing that in their eyes can rival a bullfight; it is little wonder, then, that in war they are savage and, as you would say, even bloodthirsty. This is not so in regular warfare. Whatever may have been the conduct of some of our irregulars, none have ever alleged that Spanish troops are less inclined to give quarter to conquered foes than others; but in this rough irregular warfare each peasant fights on his own account as against a personal enemy, and as he would expect and would meet with little mercy if he fell into the enemy’s hands, so he grants no mercy to those who fall into his. Indeed, after the brutal treatment which Marshal Tesse has, I am ashamed to say, dealt out to those who opposed him, you can scarcely blame peasants for acting as they see civilized soldiers do.”

  A short time afterward Jack went out with the count into the courtyard, and was received with the most hearty and cordial greeting by the men who were an hour before thirsting for his blood. Among them was the village mayor.

  “Ah, sir,” he said, “why did you not tell us that you had saved the life of our lord and lady? You should have had all the horses in the district, and as many wagons of wine and grain as we could collect. We are all in despair that we should have attacked our lord’s preserver.”

  “I could not tell you,” Jack said, “because I was in ignorance that the Count de Minas was your lord; had I known it I should have assuredly gone straight to him.”

  “We shall never forgive ourselves,” the man said, “for having killed four of your honor’s soldiers.”

  “I am sorry that it was so,” Jack said, “but I cannot blame you; and I am sorry that we on our part must have killed as many of yours.”

  “Six,” the mayor replied. “Yes, poor fellows, but the count will see to their widows and orphans, he has promised us as much. I drink to your health, senor,” and all present joined in the shout, “Long live the preserver of the count and countess!”

  Jack and the count now returned to the house, and the next morning, after a cordial adieu to the host and hostess, he rode back with his men to Castillon.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Stilwell,” the general said as he entered; “I have been very uneasy about you. Your men returned at noon yesterday and told me of th
e ambush in which they had been beset. Your arrangements were excellent except for your own safety. How did you manage to get out? By the way, I was astonished by the arrival here an hour since of the horses and wagons. The men who brought them could give me no account of it, except that the Mayor of Estrella returned late yesterday evening and ordered them to set out before daybreak. It seemed to me a perfect mystery. I suspected at first that the wine was poisoned, and ordered the men who brought it to drink some at once, but as they did so without hesitation or sign of fear, I concluded that I was mistaken. However, I have kept them captive pending news from you to enlighten me.”

  “I am not surprised you were astonished, sir, but the matter was simple enough;” and then Jack related the circumstances which had befallen them.

  “Bravo!” the earl said; “for once, Mr. Stilwell, a good action has had its reward, which, so far as my experience goes, is an exception.”

  The earl at once called in a sergeant and ordered the release of the men who had brought the horses and wagons, and gave ten gold pieces to be distributed among them. Jack also went out and begged them to give his compliments and thanks to the mayor.

  “I am heartily glad the adventure ended as it did,” the earl said when he returned, “for, putting aside the regret I should have felt at your loss, it would have been a difficult business for me to undertake, with my present force, to chastise the men who attacked you, who must be bold and determined fellows, and capable of realizing the advantages of this mountainous country. If all Spaniards would do as much it would tax the power of the greatest military nation to subdue them; and yet I could hardly have suffered such a check without endeavoring to avenge it; so altogether, Mr. Stilwell, we must congratulate ourselves that the affair ended as it did. In any case you would have been in no way to blame, for your dispositions throughout appear to have been excellent, and marked alike with prudence and boldness.”