XV.
IN DESPERATE STRUGGLE FOR LIFE.
Don Rodrigo and his soldiers were surprised. I dealt the one nearest me a terrific blow in the face. Don Rodrigo raised his hand to fire. I knocked his gun from his hand. The other soldier thrust at me with his bayonet, inflicting a severe scalp wound, which along with another thrust at me with his bayonet in my left arm, gave him time to recover. I struck the soldier in the face, and knocked him to the floor. The other was coming at me, when Manuel, armed with a shovel, brought it down with terrific force on his head.
By this time the engine was going at lightning speed, having reached a down grade of 160 feet to the mile. The throttle was wide open. I knew we would soon reach some sharp curves and if the speed was not checked, the engine would jump the track. I called to Manuel to shut off the steam, and apply the brakes. At this time I was struggling with Don Rodrigo for life or death. We had clinched one another. I spoke once.
"Recuerdo Felicita," I hissed in his ear.
He did not speak. He was never a physical match for me, but at this moment he seemed endowed with superhuman strength. His face took on the awful look of desperation, that comes to men when death seems near at hand. His lithe body struggled to be free of my grasp. He tried to trip me and just then the engine rounded a sharp curve causing him to stagger. The side door of the coach was open. For a moment he vainly tried to catch hold of something, and then, with a shriek upon his lips, fell from the speeding coach.
The struggle had lasted but a short time, but it had seemed to me hours. Manuel bandaged my head and arm. The two soldiers remained perfectly pa.s.sive, suffering from severe blows. The one felled by Manuel was still unconscious.
We were within three miles of Pucacancha, rounding a sharp curve, when I looked back and exclaimed: "My G.o.d, Manuel, the troop train is coming!" My blood almost froze, but realizing that this was no time for fright, I determined to master the situation.
I knew the two soldiers would not attempt to molest us. They had learned a lesson. I looked at my watch. In five minutes the pa.s.senger, if on time, would be at Pucacancha. The troop train could not reach there for fifteen minutes, because at all obscure places it would have to go slow for fear of meeting obstructions on the track.
I reached Pucacancha, stopping far enough back to allow the pa.s.senger to pull up and back on the side track. The siding had only one switch, chiefly used for ballast for the road bed. I looked anxiously for the pa.s.senger. Seconds dragged like hours. Would she never come? There was a curve not far from the station, and the pa.s.senger could not be seen until it almost reached it. I listened. I could hear the low tremulous noise of the rails, a puff of black smoke went up from behind the curve--at last it was in view, engine No. 8. On seeing me the engineer came to a sudden stop. I hurriedly told him what to do.
He was to back onto the siding and let me pa.s.s, then pull out and follow me back to Pampa de Avieras, where I told him the government troops would surely be. Our plans were quickly executed. I determined that should the troop train come before I could get by the pa.s.senger, Manuel and I would desert the Arequipena, start her back with a full head of steam, and cause a collision. No doubt there would have been loss of life, but it would have given an opportunity to escape by going on the pa.s.senger train.
Dobbie, the engineer, succeeded well in backing into the clear. Not seeing the troop train, I ran with a hammer and spike when he left the switch with the Arequipena ahead of him and spiked the track. Just then the troop train came in sight. I hurriedly boarded the Arequipena and started, Dobbie backing up at fast as he could.
There were several officers on the engine of the troop train, and when they saw us they compelled the engineer to increase his speed, with the result he could not check his train in time to stop it from running into the switch. His engine jumped the track half burying itself in the ground.
We arrived at Pampa de Avieras and the government troops came thirty minutes later. I was beginning to get weak from loss of blood. My left arm seemed to be a dead weight, and the muscles were painful and swollen. The people from the pa.s.senger train crowded about me and did everything in their power to relieve my suffering. The soldier who had been struck with the shovel came out of his stupor.
I was lying in the coach of the Arequipena, when the commanding officer of the government troops came to see me. After detailing the story to him, I turned over fourteen rifles, ten revolvers, and seven swords, all the cartridges and barrels of powder, together with the three soldiers whom I pleaded for, stating that compulsion was the cause of their joining the insurgents. I insisted on their hurrying to Sumbay bridge, although I told him they did not have anything now with which to destroy the bridge. However, they could post their troops should they arrive first and be in position to command the approaches.
After leaving me, he ordered his troops forward.
I was getting weaker and weaker. At last orders came to go to Arequipa with the Arequipena. The station master telegraphed to have a doctor ready for me on my arrival. It was nearly forty miles from Pampa de Avieras to Arequipa, mostly down grade. I had to give the engine up to Manuel, as the pain in my arm became so intense I had to lie down. The station at Arequipa was crowded back to the street, the news having been telegraphed by the officer in command of the government troops. I could hear cries of "Viva Juancita!" that being my name in Spanish.
The people in Arequipa were loyal to the existing government. The general manager met me with the doctor. His eyes were full of tears when he saw me. I presented a horrible and b.l.o.o.d.y appearance, the wound in my head still bleeding, my left arm in a sling and my clothes almost in rags.
I was carried from the coach by four of my friends to my room where the faithful Chico had everything prepared. Cries of "Viva Juancita!"
rent the air from the time I left the coach until the doctor requested silence. Manuel was taken home by his friends. The poor people, ignorant of the revolution, but knowing by the demonstration that something unusual had happened, realized that he had done something deserving recognition.
My friends grouped about with tear-dimmed eyes, and warmly pressed my hand. Chico, looking at me with a most sympathetic expression on his Indian features, did not restrain his tears. For days I tossed in pain and delirium.
One day when the general manager came, he told me that another engineer who had taken out the Arequipena to repair the telegraph, came up with a body of the insurgents who were going to surrender, but they intended to kill him first thinking he was I. Only the timely interposition of one who knew him, saved his life. The insurgents had got their engine back on the track after much time and labor, but it was damaged and as they were out of water, they gave up hope of winning their cause.
The train bearing the government troops stopped when within a few miles of Vincocaya, where they picked up the body of Don Rodrigo Garcia and buried it near the track. He would have exulted over my death, but I cannot say that I felt any satisfaction because he was dead. It only brought sad memories of the past.
XVI.
THE SCREAMING WINDS OF NIGHT.
I sat on the broad balcony of the British consulate at Mollendo, looking out over the blue waters of the Pacific. The soft breeze from the south seas imparted the glow of health. How proud I felt with the knowledge that no one dared insult me beneath the blue and crimson folds that waved above. Safe from the a.s.sa.s.sin"s knife at the hands of some of Pierola"s men, of whom I had been warned, I felt a certain refuge beneath the ensign of my country.
"Don Juan, does that make me a Britisher, too?" asked Manuel, pointing to the flag above.
"Yes, it protects you too. Pierola"s men do not dare to harm us here."
"Praised be the Virgin," replied Manuel, crossing himself.
The great bells of the cathedral tolled out a funeral knell as a solemn procession marched to a transport ship. They were dust covered, haggard men, with a hunted look, chained in pairs. On either side marched a file of soldiers with fixed bayonets. Pierola"s men were being taken to Lima.
I arose from the balcony and went inside. They had to pa.s.s under the balcony of the British consulate to reach the wharf. I did not care to witness their misery and so remained indoors until their departure.
The revolution over, there was nothing now to fear; Manuel packed my belongings and we returned to Arequipa.
The general manager requested me to take care of the shops of Vincocaya. It would enable me to be quiet and recover from my wounds, as there was nothing to do but to see that the work was kept going.
Meanwhile the excitement of the revolution would die out.
Vincocaya is situated high in the Andes, above timber line, a desolate and dreary waste of rock and crag, where wild winds scream among the cliffs in the blackness of the night, as though a thousand imprisoned Joshuas were reaching upward for that sun which will stand still no more over the plains of Ajalon. Leaden clouds drift like winding sheets among the peaks and hover like a pall over canon and deep ravine. The grave of Don Rodrigo was but a few miles distant, but I never visited it. There have been times when I regretted not stretching forth my hand to save him, but at the time, with a most violent hatred of the man and the many injuries I had received from him, and the attempt to save the bridge foremost in my mind, I found excuse for lack of the finer feelings. And, too, what would it benefit had he been saved? His life was spent in debauchery, the gambling table and plots to overthrow any government where a leader in opposition to the ruling power would promise him a political office.
Deep down in my heart I felt the weight of the past; those shrieking winds of the night were the responsive echoes of my soul for the loved and lost. Was it upon this planet or upon some distant sphere that we two had met and loved and builded hopes as high as the lofty peaks that now entombed me--hope and love that may have been breathed in the morning of the world when the spirit of G.o.d dwelt within us--hope that existed before the wrathful change that shattered all and turned an Eden into blackness and despair?
Days, weeks and months pa.s.sed. Often I would spend hours in the wild solitudes hunting the vicuna and alpaca, or in some gloomy canon communing with myself. Within my spirit I could hear an undertone, "Why cast thyself on waters wild, believing that G.o.d is gone, that love is dead and Nature spurns her child?" So, from my grief, I arose at length to feel new life returning. New hopes and ambitions sprang forth in my soul that had so keenly felt G.o.d"s chastening rod.
A year had pa.s.sed. I was in Arequipa. Chico had my room ready and my friends gave me a splendid banquet in one of the largest restaurants in the city. In all ages the world has had two ways of doing honor to a man. One is by parade, the other by setting him down to a banquet table and making speeches about him until they overcrowd his emotions and leave him limp and speechless. I had to pa.s.s through this ordeal.
The Prefectos of Arequipa and Puno, the Commanding General of the Government troops, the manager and officials of the railway and a host of friends of lesser note, but none the less loyal hearts, crowded the banquet room. They feasted, drank wine, sang songs and made speeches to me and about me that were enough to have satisfied the vanity of a survivor of Thermopylae. At the close, the Prefecto of Puno arose, and after saying things that were loudly applauded, presented me with ten thousand dollars not as a gift, but as something I had justly earned.
He was followed by the general manager of the railroad, who said his company desired to show their appreciation of my conduct in the Sumbay bridge affair, and on their behalf he presented me with two thousand dollars. Manuel, too, came in for his share of honors and praise. He was presented with five hundred dollars by the Prefecto of Puno and two hundred dollars by the company--more money than he had ever seen in his life, or ever hoped to possess. Deserving fellow, his eyes streamed with tears of joy and grat.i.tude when he received the money which would now enable him to own a comfortable home. His pleasure was even greater the next day, when I gave him one thousand dollars.
[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HOME VOYAGE OF THE AVEN WAS FRAUGHT WITH ALL THE DANGERS OF THE SEA. (Page 26)]
A month later, and Arequipa was wild with excitement. War had been declared by Chile against allied Peru and Bolivia. It was a sad blow, as Peru had been extremely prosperous and was rapidly forging ahead in the commerce of the world. I had concluded to leave the country and seek some other field, when a call was made to the railroad men to a.s.sist the government to convey troops from the interior to the coast.
I responded and was sent to Santa Rosa on the proposed railway to Cusco, the ancient capital of Peru. Here a great number of Indians were huddled together to be sent to Arequipa, and drilled and sent to the coast. They were abject and disconsolate. The priests were calling on them to be brave and return victorious. These people had never seen the ocean and had never lived in an alt.i.tude of less than two miles.
There was much suffering in store for them under the tropic sun of the coast. I asked an officer if he thought these men would make good soldiers. He replied with an air of great importance, and looking quite serious, that he had received word that the Chilean navy was coming to bombard Mollendo, and it was his intention to instruct the Indians in the use of the rifle. When the ships came near enough, he would station his men among the rocks and shoot the sailors off the decks. This, too, with flint lock rifles--a sample of the calibre of the Peruvian officer of the interior and his unfortunate Indian soldiers.
After getting to the head of the Tambo valley, I proceeded to Mollendo and found a terrible state of affairs. Everyone was expecting the Chilean fleet; men and women were carrying their household goods to the mountains. At sight of every ship on the horizon, whether sailing vessel or steamer, a cry would go forth--"They come--they come!" The greatest confusion prevailed. There was no organization, no discipline; everybody for himself, and all running at the cry of--"They come!"
One morning about ten o"clock the hostile fleet did come.
XVII.
THE BARBARIAN MEETS HIS INGOMAR.