Mr. Fortescue by William Westall

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In numbers the two sides were pretty equal, the strength of each being
about a thousand men. Their tactics were rather those of Indian braves
than regular troops. The patriots were, however, both better led and
better disciplined than their opponents, and fought with a courage and a
resolution that on their native plains would have made them formidable
foes for the "crackest" of European cavalry.

The encounter took place when we were within a few hundred yards of
Mejia's left flank. It was really a charge in line, albeit a very broken
line, every man riding as hard as he could and fighting for his own land.
All were armed with spears, the longest, as I afterward learned, being
wielded by Colombian _gauchos_. These portentous weapons, fully fourteen
feet long, were held in both hands, the reins being meanwhile placed on
the knees, and the horses guided by voice and spur. The Spaniards seemed
terribly afraid of them, as well they might be, for the Colombian spears
did dire execution. Few missed their mark, and I saw more than one trooper
literally spitted and lifted clean out of his saddle.

Mejia, distinguishable by his tall stature, was in the thick of the fray.
After the first shock he threw away his spear, and drawing a long
two-handed sword, which he carried at his back, laid about like a
_coeur-de-lion_. The combat lasted only a few minutes, and though we were
too late to contribute to the victory we were in time to take part in the
pursuit.

It was a scene of wild confusion and excitement; the Spaniards galloping
off in all directions, singly and in groups, making no attempt to rally,
yet when overtaken, fighting to the last, Mejia's men following them with
lowered lances and wild cries, managing their fiery little horses with
consummate ease, and _making no prisoners_.

"Here is a chance for us; let us charge these fellows!" shouted Carmen, as
eight or nine of the enemy rode past us in full retreat; and without
pausing for a reply he went off at a gallop, followed by Gahra and myself;
for although I had no particular desire to attack men who were flying for
their lives and to whom I knew no quarter would be given, it was
impossible to hold back when my comrades were rushing into danger. Had the
Spaniards been less intent on getting away it would have fared ill with
us. As it was, we were all wounded. Gahra got a thrust through the arm,
Carmen a gash in the thigh; and as I gave one fellow the point in his
throat his spear pierced my hat and cut my head. If some of the patriots
had not come to the rescue our lives would have paid the forfeit of our
rashness.

The incident was witnessed by Mejia himself, who, when he recognized
Carmen, rode forward, greeted us warmly and remarked that we were just in
time.

"To be too late," answered Carmen, discontentedly, as he twisted a
handkerchief round his wounded thigh.

"Not much; and you have done your share. That was a bold charge you made.
And your friends? I don't think I have the pleasure of knowing them."

Carmen introduced us, and told him who I was.

"I am delighted to make your acquaintance, senor," he said, graciously,
"and I will give you of my best; but I can offer you only rough fare and
plenty of fighting. Will that content you?"

I bowed, and answered that I desired nothing better. The guerilla leader
was a man of striking appearance, tall, spare, and long limbed. The
contour of his face was Indian; he had the deep-set eyes, square jaws, and
lank hair of the abonguil race. But his eyes were blue, his hair was
flaxen, and his skin as fair as that of a pure-blooded Teuton. Mejia, as I
subsequently heard, was the son of a German father and a mestizma mother,
and prouder of his Indian than his European ancestry. It was probably for
this reason that he preferred being called Mejia rather than Morgenstern y
Mejia, his original appellation. His hereditary hatred of the Spaniards,
inflamed by a sense of personal wrong, was his ruling passion. He spared
none of the race (being enemies) who fell into his hands. Natives of the
country, especially those with Indian blood in their veins, he treated
more mercifully--when his men would let him, for they liked killing even
more than they liked fighting, and had an unpleasant way of answering a
remonstrance from their officers with a thrust from their spears.

Mejia owed his ascendancy over them quite as much to his good fortune in
war as to his personal prowess and resolute character.

"If I were to lose a battle they would probably take my life, and I should
certainly have to resign my command," he observed, when we were talking
the matter over after the pursuit (which, night being near, was soon
abandoned); "and a _llanero_ leader must lead--no playing the general or
watching operations from the rear--or it will be the worse for him."

"I understand; he must be first or nowhere."

"Yes, first or nowhere; and they will brook no punishment save death. If a
man disobeys me I either let it pass or shoot him out of hand, according
to circumstances. If I were to strike a man or order him under arrest, the
entire force would either mutiny or disband. _Si senor_, my _llaneros_ are
wild fellows."

They looked it. Most of them wore only a ragged shirt over equally ragged
trousers. Their naked feet were thrust into rusty stirrups. Some rode
bare-backed, and there were among them men of every breed which the
country produced; mestizoes, mulattoes, zambos, quadroons, negroes, and
Indios, but all born _gauchos_ and _llaneros_, hardy and in high
condition, and well skilled in the use of lasso and spear. They were
volunteers, too, and if their chief failed to provide them with a
sufficiency of fighting and plunder, they had no hesitation in taking
themselves off without asking for leave of absence.

When Mejia heard that a British force was being raised for service against
the Spaniards, he was greatly delighted, and offered me on the spot a
command in his "army," or, alternatively, the position of his principal
aide-de-camp. I preferred the latter.

"You have decided wisely, and I thank you, _senor coronel_. The advice and
assistance of a soldier who has seen so much of war as you have will be
very valuable and highly esteemed."

I reminded the chief that, in the British army, I had held no higher rank
than that of lieutenant.

"What matters that? I have made myself a general, and I make you a
colonel. Who is there to say me nay?" he demanded, proudly.

Though much amused by this summary fashion of conferring military rank, I
kept a serious countenance, and, after congratulating General Mejia on his
promotion and thanking him for mine, I said that I should do my best to
justify his confidence.

We bivouacked on the banks of a stream some ten miles from the scene of
our encounter with the loyalists. On our way thither, Mejia told us that
he had taken and destroyed Tres Cruces, and was now contemplating an
attack on General Griscelli at San Felipe, as to which he asked my
opinion.

I answered that, as I knew nothing either of the defense of San Felipe or
of the strength and character of the force commanded by General Griscelli,
I could give none. On this, Mejia informed me that the place was a large
village and military post, defended by earthworks and block-houses, and
that the force commanded by Griscelli consisted of about twenty-five
hundred men, of whom about half were regulars, half native auxiliaries.

"Has he any artillery?" I asked.

"About ten pieces of position, but no field-guns."

"And you?"

"I have none whatever."

"Nor any infantry?"

"Not here. But my colleague, General Estero, is at present organizing a
force which I dare say will exceed two thousand men, and he promises to
join me in the course of a week or two."

"That is better, certainly. Nevertheless, I fear that with one thousand
horse and two thousand foot, and without artillery, you will not find it
easy to capture a strong place, armed with ten guns and held by
twenty-five hundred men, of whom half are regulars. If I were you I would
let San Felipe alone."

Mejia frowned. My advice was evidently not to his liking.

"Let me tell you, _senor coronel_" he said, arrogantly, "our patriot
soldiers are equal to any in the world, regular or irregular. And, don't
you see that the very audacity of the enterprise counts in our favor? The
last thing Griscelli expects is an attack. We shall find him unprepared
and take him by surprise. That man has done us a great deal of harm. He
hangs every patriot who falls into his hands, and I have made up my mind
to hang him!"

After this there was nothing more to be said, and I held my peace. I soon
found, moreover, that albeit Mejia often made a show of consulting me he
had no intention of accepting my advice, and that all his officers (except
Carmen) and most of his men regarded me as a _gringo_ (foreign interloper)
and were envious of my promotion, and jealous of my supposed influence
with the general.

We bivouacked in a valley on the verge of the llanos, and the next few
days were spent in raiding cattle and preparing _tasajo_. We had also
another successful encounter with a party of Morale's guerillas. This
raised Mejia's spirits to the highest point, and made him more resolute
than ever to attack San Felipe. But when I saw General Estero's infantry
my misgivings as to the outcome of the adventure were confirmed. His men,
albeit strong and sturdy and full of fight, were badly disciplined and
indifferently armed, their officers extremely ignorant and absurdly
boastful and confident. Estero himself, though like Mejia, a splendid
patriotic leader, was no general, and I felt sure that unless we caught
Griscelli asleep we should find San Felipe an uncommonly hard nut to
crack. I need hardly say, however, that I kept this opinion religiously to
myself. Everybody was so confident and cock-sure, that the mere suggestion
of a doubt would have been regarded as treason and probably exposed me to
danger.

A march of four days partly across the llanos, partly among the wooded
hills by which they were bounded, brought us one morning to a suitable
camping-ground, within a few miles of San Felipe, and Mejia, who had
assumed the supreme command, decided that the attack should take place on
the following night.

"You will surely reconnoitre first, General Mejia," I ventured to say.

"What would be the use? Estero and I know the place. However, if you and
Carmen like to go and have a look you may."

Carmen was nothing loath, and two hours before sunset we saddled our
horses and set out. I could speak more freely to him than to any of the
others, and as we rode on I remarked how carelessly the camp was guarded.
There were no proper outposts, and instead of being kept out of sight in
the _quebrado_, the men were allowed to come and go as they liked. Nothing
would be easier than for a treacherous soldier to desert and give
information to the enemy which might not only ruin the expedition but
bring destruction on the army.

"No, no, Fortescue, I cannot agree to that. There are no traitors among
us," said my companion, warmly.

"I hope not. Yet how can you guarantee that among two or three thousand
men there is not a single rascal! In war, you should leave nothing to
chance. And even though none of the fellows desert it is possible that
some of them may wander too far away and get taken prisoners, which would
be quite as bad."

"You mean it would give Griscelli warning?"

"Exactly, and if he is an enterprising general he would not wait to be
attacked. Instead of letting us surprise him he would surprise us."

"_Caramba!_ So he would. And Griscelli is an enterprising general. We must
mention this to Mejia when we get back, _amigo mio_."

"You may, if you like. I am tired of giving advice which is never heeded,"
I said, rather bitterly.

"I will, certainly, and then whatever befalls I shall have a clear
conscience. Mejia is one of the bravest men I know. It is a pity he is so
self-opinionated."

"Yes, and to make a general a man must have something more than bravery.
He must have brains."

Carmen knew the country we were in thoroughly, and at his suggestion we
went a roundabout way through the woods in order to avoid coming in
contact with any of Griscelli's people. On reaching a hill overlooking San
Felipe we tethered our horses in a grove of trees where they were well
hidden, and completed the ascent on foot. Then, lying down, and using a
field-glass lent us by Mejia, we made a careful survey of the place and
its surroundings.

San Felipe, a picturesque village of white houses with thatched roofs, lay
in a wide well-cultivated valley, looking south, and watered by a shallow
stream which in the rainy season was probably a wide river. At each corner
of the village, well away from the houses, was a large block-house, no
doubt pierced for musketry. From one block-house to another ran an earthen
parapet with a ditch, and on each parapet were mounted three guns.

"Well, what think you of San Felipe, and our chances of taking it?" asked
Carmen, after a while.

"I don't think its defences are very formidable. A single mortar on that
height to the east would make the place untenable in an hour; set it on
fire in a dozen places. It is all wood. But to attempt its capture with a
force of infantry numerically inferior to the garrison will be a very
hazardous enterprise indeed, and barring miraculously good luck on the one
side or miraculously ill luck on the other cannot possibly succeed, I
should say. No, Carmen, I don't think we shall be in San Felipe to-morrow
night, or any night, just yet."

"But how if a part of the garrison be absent? Hist! Did not you hear
something?"

"Only the crackling of a branch. Some wild animal, probably. I wonder
whether there are any jaguars hereabout--"

"Oh, if the garrison be weak and the sentries sleep it is quite possible
we may take the place by a rush. But, on the other hand, it is equally
possible that Griscelli may have got wind of our intention, and--"

"There it is again! Something more than a wild animal this time,
Fortescue," exclaims Carmen, springing to his feet.

I follow his example; but the same instant a dozen men spring from the
bushes, and before we can offer any resistance, or even draw our swords,
we are borne to the ground and despite our struggles, our arms pinioned to
our sides.

CHAPTER XV.

AN OLD ENEMY.

Our captors were Spanish soldiers.

"Be good enough to rise and accompany us to San Felipe, senores," said the
non-commissioned officer in command of the detachment, "and if you attempt
to escape I shall blow your brains out."

"_Dios mio!_ It serves us right for not keeping a better lookout," said
Carmen, with a laugh which I thought sounded rather hollow. "We shall be
in San Felipe sooner than we expected, that is all. Lead on, sergeant; we
have a dozen good reasons for not trying to escape, to say nothing of our
strait waistcoats."

Whereupon we were marched down the hill and taken to San Felipe, two men
following with our horses, from which and other circumstances I inferred
that we had been under observation ever since our arrival in the
neighborhood. The others were doubtless under observation also; and at the
moment I thought less of our own predicament (in view of the hanging
propensities of General Griscelli, a decidedly unpleasant one) than of the
terrible surprise which awaited Mejia and his army, for, as I quickly
perceived, the Spaniards were quite on the alert, and fully prepared for
whatever might befall. The place swarmed with soldiers; sentries were
pacing to and fro on the parapets, gunners furbishing up their pieces, and
squads of native auxiliaries being drilled on a broad savanna outside the
walls.

Many of the houses were mere huts--roofs on stilts; others, "wattle and
dab;" a few, brown-stone. To the most imposing of these we were conducted
by our escort. Above the doorway, on either side of which stood a sentry,
was an inscription: "Headquarters: General Griscelli."

The sergeant asked one of the sentries if the general was in, and
receiving an answer in the affirmative he entered, leaving us outside.
Presently he returned.

"The general will see you," he said; "be good enough to come in."

We went in, and after traversing a wide corridor were ushered into a large
room, where an officer in undress uniform sat writing at a big table.
Several other officers were lounging in easy-chairs, and smoking big
cigars.

"Here are the prisoners, general," announced our conductor.

The man at the table, looking up, glanced first at Carmen, then at me.

"_Caramba!_" he exclaimed, with a stare of surprise, "you and I have met
before, I think."

I returned the stare with interest, for though I recognized him I could
hardly believe my own eyes.

"On the field of Salamanca?"

"Of course. You are the English officer who behaved so insolently and got
me reprimanded." (This in French.)

"I did no more than my duty. It was you that behaved insolently."

"Take care what you say, senor, or _por Dios_--There is no English general
to whom you can appeal for protection now. What are you doing here?"

"Not much good, I fear. Your men brought me: I had not the least desire to
come, I assure you."

"You were caught on the hill yonder, surveying the town through a glass,
and Sergeant Prim overheard part of a conversation which leaves no doubt
that you are officers in Mejia's army. Besides, you were seen coming from
the quarter where he encamped this morning. Is this so?"

Carmen and I exchanged glances. My worst fears were confirmed--we had been
betrayed.

"Is this so? I repeat."

"It is."

"And have you, an English officer who has fought for Spain, actually sunk
so low as to serve with a herd of ruffianly rebels?"

"At any rate, General Griscelli, I never deserted to the enemy."

The taunt stung him to the quick. Livid with rage he sprung from his chair
and placed his hand on his sword.

"Do you know that you are in my power?" he exclaimed. "Had you uttered
this insult in Spanish instead of in French, I would have strung you up
without more ado."

"You insulted me first. If you are a true caballero give me the
satisfaction which I have a right to demand."

"No, senor; I don't meet rebels on the field of honor. If they are common
folk I hang them; if they are gentlemen I behead them."

"Which is in store for us, may I ask?"

"_Por Dios!_ you take it very coolly. Perhaps neither."

"You will let me go, then?"

"Let you go! Let you go! Yes, I _will_ let you go," laughing like a man
who has made a telling joke, or conceived a brilliant idea.

"When?"

"Don't be impatient, senor; I should like to have the pleasure of your
company for a day or two before we part. Perhaps after--What is the
strength of Mejia's army?"

"I decline to say."

"I think I could make you say, though, if it were worth the trouble. As it
happens, I know already. He has about two thousand infantry and one
thousand cavalry. What has he come here for? Does the fool actually
suppose that with a force like that he can capture San Felipe? Such
presumption deserves punishment, and I shall give him a lesson he will not
easily forget--if he lives to remember it. Your name and quality, senor"
(to Carmen).

"Salvador Carmen, _teniente_ in the patriot army."

"I suppose you have heard how I treat patriots?"

"Yes, general, and I should like to treat you in the same way."

"You mean you would like to hang me. In that case you cannot complain if I
hang you. However I won't hang you--to-day. I will either send you to the
next world in the company of your general, or let you go with--"

"Senor Fortescue?"

"Thank you--with Senor Fortescue. That is all, I think. Take him to the
guard-house, sergeant--Stay! If you will give me your parole not to
leave the town without my permission, or make any attempt to escape, you
may remain at large, Senor Fortescue."

"For how long?"

"Two days."

As the escape in the circumstances seemed quite out of the question, I
gave my parole without hesitation, and asked the same favor for my
companion.

"No" (sternly). "I could not believe a rebel Creole on his oath. Take him
away, sergeant, and see that he is well guarded. If you let him escape I
will hang you in his stead."

Despite our bonds Carmen and I contrived to shake hands, or rather, touch
fingers, for it was little more.

"We shall meet again." I whispered. "If I had known that he would not take
your parole I would not have given mine. Let courage be our watchword.
_Hasta manana!_"

"Pray take a seat, Senor Fortescue, and we will have a talk about old
times in Spain. Allow me to offer you a cigar--I beg your pardon, I was
forgetting that my fellows had tied you up. Captain Guzman (to one of the
loungers), will you kindly loose Mr. Fortescue? _Gracias!_ Now you can
take a cigar, and here is a chair for you."

I was by no means sure that this sudden display of urbanity boded me good,
but being a prisoner, and at Griscelli's mercy, I thought it as well to
humor him, so accepted the cigar and seated myself by his side.

After a talk about the late war in Spain, in the course of which Griscelli
told some wonderful stories of the feats he had performed there (for the
man was egregiously vain) he led the conversation to the present war in
South America, and tried to worm out of me where I had been and what I had
done since my arrival in the country. I answered him courteously and
diplomatically, taking good care to tell him nothing that I did not want
to be known.

"I see," he said, "it was a love of adventure that brought you here--you
English are always running after adventures. A caballero like you can have
no sympathy with these rascally rebels."

"I beg your pardon; I do sympathize with the rebels; not, I confess, as
warmly as I did at first, and if I had known as much as I know now, I
think I should have hesitated to join them."

"How so?"

"They kill prisoners in cold blood, and conduct war more like savages than
Christians."

"You are right, they do. Yes, killing prisoners in cold blood is a brutal
practice! I am obliged to be severe sometimes, much to my regret. But
there is only one way of dealing with a rebellion--you must stamp it out;
civil war is not as other wars. Why not join us, Senor Fortescue? I will
give you a command."

"That is quite out of the question, General Griscelli; I am not a mere
soldier of fortune. I have eaten these people's salt, and though I don't
like some of their ways, I wish well to their cause."

"Think better of it, senor. The alternative might not be agreeable."

"Whatever the alternative may be, my decision is irrevocable. And you said
just now you would let me go."

"Oh, yes, I will let you go, since you insist on it" (smiling). "All the
same, I think you will regret your decision--Mejia, of course, means to
attack us. He can have come with no other object--by your advice?"

"Certainly not."

"That means he is acting against your advice. The man is mad. He thought
of taking us by surprise, I suppose. Why, I knew he was on his way hither
two days ago! And if he does not attack us to-night--and we are quite
ready for him--I shall capture him and the whole of his army to-morrow. I
want you to go with us and witness the operation--in the character of a
spectator."

"And a prisoner?"

"If you choose to put it so."

"In that case, there is no more to be said, though for choice, I would
rather not witness the discomfiture of my friends."

Griscelli gave an ironical smile, which I took to mean that it was
precisely for this reason that he asked me to accompany him.

"Will you kindly receive Senor Fortescue, as your guest, Captain Guzman,"
he said, "take him to your quarters, give him his supper, and find him a
bed."

"_Con mucho gusto._ Shall we go now, Senor Fortescue?"

I went, and spent a very pleasant evening with Captain Guzman, and several
of his brother-officers, whom he invited to join us, for though the
Spaniards of that age were frightfully cruel to their enemies, they were
courteous to their guests, and as a guest I was treated. As, moreover,
most of the men I met had served in the Peninsular war, we had quite
enough to talk about without touching on topics whose discussion might
have been incompatible with good fellowship.

When, at a late hour, I turned into the hammock provided for me by Guzman,
it required an effort to realize that I was a prisoner. Why, I asked
myself, had Griscelli, who was never known to spare a prisoner, whose face
was both cruel and false, and who could bear me no good-will--why had this
man treated me so courteously? Did he really mean to let me go, and if so,
why; or was the promise made to the ear merely to be broken to the hope?

"Perhaps to-morrow will show," I thought, as I fell asleep; and I was not
far out, for the day after did. Guzman, whose room I shared, wakened me
long before daylight.

"The bugle has sounded the reveille, and the troops are mustering on the
plaza," he said. "You had better rise and dress. The general has sent word
that you are to go with us, and our horses are in the _patio_."

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