Kitobni o'qish: «The Harlequin Opal: A Romance. Volume 2 of 3»

PROEM

 
The stone had its birth in the nurturing earth.
Its home in the heart of the main,
From the coraline caves it was tossed by the waves
On the breast of an aureate plain;
And the spirits who dwell in the nethermost hell
Stored fire in its bosom of white;
The sylphs of the air made it gracious and fair
With the blue of the firmament's height.
 
 
The dull gnomes I ween, gave it glittering sheen.
Till yellow as gold it became:
The nymphs of the sea made the opal to be
A beacon of emerald flame.
 
 
The many tints glow, they come and they go
At bidding of spirits abhorr'd,
When one ray is bright, in the bosom of white,
Its hue tells the fate of its lord.
For yellow hints wealth, and blue meaneth health,
While green forbodes passing of gloom,
But beware of the red, 'tis an omen of dread,
Portending disaster and doom.
 

CHAPTER I
AWAY TO THE NORTH

 
Oh, leave the south, the languid south,
Its cloudless skies, its weary calms;
The land of heat, and glare, and drouth,
Where aloes bloom, and spring the palms.
There water is the best of alms,
To cool the ever-parched mouth;
Oh, with the breezes bearing balms,
Fly northward from the languid south.
 
 
Oh, seek the bitter northern skies,
Where falls the snow, and blows the sleet;
'Mid which the stormy sea-bird cries,
And circles on its pinions fleet.
On rocky shores the surges beat,
And icebergs crystalline arise,
Life thrills our veins with tropic heat,
Beneath the bitter northern skies.
 

Once more The Bohemian was breasting the warm waves of the Pacific, and seemed to rejoice in her freedom like a sentient thing, as she plunged north-ward to Acauhtzin. The smoke poured black from her wide-mouthed funnel, the blades of her propeller, lashing the waters to foam, left behind her a long trail of white, and her sharp nose dipped and fell in the salt brine with every pulsation of the pistons. Beneath the folds of the Union Jack, streaming in the wind, were gathered the Englishmen and the Cholacacans, all light-hearted and hopeful, despite the undoubted peril of their mission. It was no light task to beard Xuarez in his stronghold, to assert the authority of the Republic in the teeth of his army. The mission was a valiant one, but foolhardy, and Tim, if no one else, looked for anything but a peaceful termination to the voyage.

The distance to Acauhtzin was something over three hundred miles, and as The Bohemian was swirling along at the rate of seventeen knots an hour, it was hoped she would reach her destination in fifteen hours or thereabouts. Owing to one thing and another, the yacht had not left Tlatonac till close on four o'clock in the afternoon; so, making all allowance for possible accidents and stoppages, at the rate she was going, Philip calculated that he would fetch the northern capital about dawn. He did not wish to venture too near the port in the darkness, as the war-ships were protecting the town, and not seeing the English ensign, might open fire on his yacht, under the impression that she was an enemy. With this idea the engines were slowed down during the voyage, and The Bohemian was timed to enter the port some time before noon of the next day.

Owing to the number of people on board (twenty-six souls, in addition to the crew), it was somewhat difficult to provide all with accommodation. Fortunately, however, the nights were warm and rainless, so the soldiers made themselves comfortable on deck, and slept soundly enough, wrapped in their military cloaks. The sailing-master of The Bohemian, a tough old salt, by name Simon Benker, growled a good deal at the way in which his spotless decks were being spoiled, but Philip managed to smooth him down by representing the seriousness of the situation. Benker submitted with but ill grace. The yacht was the pride of his life, the darling of his heart, and he had no great love for the inhabitants of Cholacaca. However, Sir Philip was master, and gave the soldiers permission to camp out on deck, so Benker was forced to acquiesce in the arrangement.

The ambassadors, in company with the three Englishmen, took up their quarters in the state-room and cabins. As there were not enough bunks, some of them had to sleep in the saloon, so the younger members of the party gave up the sleeping-berths to the elders, and did their best to make shift in a rough-and-ready fashion. As they sat up late, however, and got up early, this inconvenienced them but little, and the utmost good humour prevailed above and below during the voyage. The crew, with the exception of Benker, fraternised with the soldiers, and their masters entertained the Spanish hidalgos; so, despite all inconveniences, things went off capitally. Even Jack plucked up his spirits now that he was on his way to rescue Dolores, and Philip's excellent brand of champagne had a wonderful effect of keeping the temperament of all up to what Tim called, "concert pitch."

Don Alonzo Cebrian was a pompous old man, whose every second word was, "I, the Intendante." He was as proud as Lucifer, and never alluded to the rebels save by the opprobrious names of canalla, ladrons, demonios, all of which terms were echoed regularly by Captain Velez. This young gentleman, a good-looking spendthrift, with a rather scampish reputation, played the part of echo to please the Intendante, whose daughter he wished to marry for her dowry. The lady was plain, but her father was rich; so Captain Velez was quite willing to sacrifice his good looks and bachelor freedom on the altar of matrimony, provided he was well paid for doing so. Don Rafael was in the highest of spirits at the prospect of seeing Doña carmencita, and kept things going by the liveliness of his sallies, while Colonel Garibay smoked endless cigarettes and spoke but little.

After an excellent dinner, which was done full justice to by the hungry Spaniards, they all went on deck, and sat down to smoke and talk. First and foremost, they all paid Sir Philip handsome compliments about the beauty and speed of The Bohemian, and then drifted gradually into the one subject of the hour – the war with Xuarez – the embassy to Xuarez – the certainty of punishing Xuarez.

"Begad! Philip," whispered Tim, who was smoking a villainous black clay pipe, "it's all Xuarez and nothing else. Is he the only man the Opposidores have?"

"So it appears," replied Philip, leaning back in his chair; "the whole row seems to hinge on Xuarez. Is that not your opinion, Don Rafael?"

"What is that, mi amigo? I do not understand English."

"That Xuarez is the only capable man on the side of the Opposidores?"

"Ladrons!" interrupted Don Alonzo, with stately spite. "I, the Intendante, think otherwise. Xuarez is clever; but, Señores, no one is so clever as Tejada! Canalla!"

"Canalla!" echoed Velez, removing his cigarette, "no one is so clever as Tejada!"

"Don José is being deceived by Xuarez," said Rafael, ruffled at this allusion to his proposed father-in-law; "he is a pompous old fool, and, if he is wise, will leave Acauhtzin with his family, and place himself under the protection of the Republic."

"He won't do that," replied Garibay, decisively; "he is of too much service to Xuarez. The Opposidores have but little wealth, and Tejada is a rich man."

"Well, no matter, Señores. I, the Intendante, will arrest them both, and carry them in chains to the Junta."

"I am afraid that will be more difficult than you imagine, Señor," said Rafael, dryly. "Xuarez is adored by the townspeople of Acauhtzin. He has a passably good army, the friendship of the Indians, who are being urged on to war by that prophetic opal, and a capital fleet. With all these at his command, he would be a fool to yield at the mere reading of a decree. No. This war will be a long one – a difficult one – and it is doubtful if, in the end, Don Hypolito will not conquer."

Garibay frowned, and looked sternly at the young man.

"Are your sympathies with the Opposidores, Señor?"

"By no means. I see in Xuarez a possible tyrant, an unscrupulous scoundrel; but I am not so blinded as to overlook his talents. Already he has scored heavily against us. The securing of the fleet, the gaining of Acauhtzin to his interest, and all without a blow. Believe me, Colonel, I speak truly when I say Xuarez is a foe to be dreaded."

"He will not dare to defy the decree of the Republic," said the Intendante, pompously. "When I read this," added Don Alonzo, tapping his breast pocket, where lay the official paper, "he will yield."

"Certainly!" echoed Velez, parrot-like, "he will yield. Carambo! He dare not defy Don Alonzo!"

"Do you think Xuarez is a second Montezuma, to yield in the presence of his army, Señores," cried Rafael, vehemently. "I tell you no! Were he alone, he would resist arrest. How much more so, then, when supported by the devotion of hundreds. I am a true subject of the Republic; I hate, dread, and scorn Don Hypolito. But I do not despise him. He will be the Napoleon of Cholacaca. Let the Republic beware!"

"Ah! bah!" said Colonel Garibay, while Don Alonzo snorted with indignation. "Xuarez may be a clever man; but he is no general. Why, he does not even make the first move!"

"No; he bides his time. When he does move, Tlatonac will hear of it."

"You mean, he will bombard the city?"

"Yes, and no! I will explain. Excuse me one moment, Señores. I go for a map of the country."

Don Rafael ran down to the cabin; and during his absence the Intendante and Captain Velez scoffed at the idea that Xuarez would be a dangerous enemy. They had a duet in a braggadocio vein.

"He will yield, Señores, when I read this decree."

"The troops of Tlatonac alone can crush him," added Velez, confidently.

"We will swallow these rebels at a mouthful. I, the Intendante, say so."

"The war will be a mere military promenade!" said his echo.

"So said the French at the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian war," interjected Philip, grimly, "but they made a mistake. What is your opinion, Colonel?"

"I agree with Don Rafael," replied Garibay, slowly "I am by no means inclined to undervalue our opponent. Xuarez is as cunning as Satan, and as ambitious. His first moves in this war have resulted to his own advantage; therefore I am not so confident of a speedy termination to this campaign as are these gentlemen. Fire-crackers, such as reading a decree will not frighten a man like Xuarez!"

"Then you think this journey useless?" asked Jack, who was of much the same opinion himself.

"Absolutely, Señors. I believe we are on the eve of a terrible struggle, and to whom will result the advantage I know not."

"If all the Junta were as faint-hearted as yourself and Don Rafael, we would yield without a blow," said the Intendante, bitterly.

"Without a blow," from Velez, in the same tone! "Carambo!"

"You are wrong, Señor," cried the Colonel, with fiery earnestness, "I am not faint-hearted. I will fight against Xuarez to the last. But is it wise to scoff at this man as you are doing? I tell you he is a master-spirit, such as rises once in a century, and, as such, is all-powerful, even against the great power of the Republic. He is one of those men who change the destinies of nations. A Napoleon, a Garibaldi, a Washington. From my soul, Señores, I trust we shall win, and save the Republic; but it is as well to look on both sides of the question. Blind security is not wise. Por todos Santos, Señores," cried Garibay, rising to his feet in his excitement, "see how this man has already succeeded. Acauhtzin, the most important town next to the capital, is in his hands, our fleet has gone over entirely to his side; and have you forgotten the treachery of Marina and Pepe. A full plan of the fortifications of Tlatonac is before him. If he can do this much, he can do more. Till the end, I shall support the Republic, and resist a possible Dictator; but do not sneer at Xuarez! I tell you he is a great man!"

This was an unexampled outburst for the ordinarily calm Colonel, and he sank back in his chair with a look of agitation on his usually impassive face. The Intendante and Velez were for the moment impressed; yet, soon recovering their obstinate belief in the invulnerability of the Republic, would have replied, but that at this moment Don Rafael made his appearance with a small map.

"Your pardon, Señores, that I have been so long!" apologised Rafael, sitting down promptly, and spreading out the map on his own and Philip's knees. "Look, now, mis amigos, and I will tell you how this campaign will be conducted!"

"How do you know, Señor? Are you in the confidence of Xuarez?"

"I am a gentleman, no traitor!" replied Rafael, haughtily, to the insulting question of the Intendante. "I know something of Don Hypolito's plans, because he spoke of them to Don José de Tejada. Before the revolt of the fleet, I was a visitor at the house of that gentleman, and so learned much. Had Don José known that I would remain true to the Republic, he would have been more cautious. As it was, he spoke sufficiently clearly to let me understand the broad outlines of the campaign as designed by Xuarez."

"Bueno!" said the Intendante, politely, "I ask your pardon, Don Rafael. And this plan."

"Behold!" said Rafael, tracing with his finger the various points; "here is Acauhtzin – there Tlatonac! – and at the extreme south you see Janjalla! This last town will be attacked first."

"And the reason?"

"Carrai! can you not see, Señor Garibay? Between Tlatonac and Acauhtzin are nothing but mountains – no roads, no open spaces. All giant hills, terrible precipices, a few paths made by Indians, and inhospitable deserts, where the land happens to be flat for a few miles. How then can Xuarez convey his army to the capital in that direction?"

"True, true! And most of his soldiers are dragoons."

"Certainly, he could attack Tlatonac with Indians who are used to their rugged country; but savages, as Xuarez well knows, can do little or nothing against trained troops. In conjunction with his own army, they can do something; but, alone, they are almost useless. Bueno! You see he, will not attack from the north."

"But why attack Janjalla instead of Tlatonac?" asked Tim, who was anxiously following this discussion, pencil and note-book in hand.

"Look to the south," replied Don Rafael, promptly. "No mountains between Janjalla and Tlatonac – nothing but rich plains – broad spaces on which armies can manœuvre. Now, if Xuarez conveys his troops by the war-ships south to Janjalla, he can bombard and perhaps take that city."

"I, the Intendante, deny that!"

"Impossible to take Janjalla," echoed Velez, nodding his head wisely.

Rafael shrugged his shoulders. It was next to impossible to argue with these obstinate people who would only look at one side of the question.

"We will grant that Janjalla falls into the power of Xuarez," said Garibay, impatiently; "and afterwards?"

"Afterwards," resumed the young man, "Xuarez will garrison the town, and concentrate all his troops there."

"Thus leaving Acauhtzin open to attack," said Jack, satirically.

"By no means. The war-ships will prevent our troops getting to that town. We cannot get to it by land, and the sea will be blockaded by the rebel fleet."

"Unless the torpederas – "

"True! unless the torpederas arrive," replied Rafael significantly; "but it is doubtful as to whether the Junta or Xuarez will get them. However, I am only supposing all these things being in favour of the Opposidores."

"Bueno! We will look at the matter from Don Hypolito's point of view," said Philip, quietly. "His troops are concentrated at Janjalla. Between that town and Tlatonac are open plains – and," added Philip, dryly, "the armies of the Republic!"

"Certainly. But let us presume, for the sake of argument, that Xuarez makes three simultaneous attacks. With his regular army on the plains, with the Indians from the north on Tlatonac – and from the sea by a bombardment from the war-ships."

"Dios!" muttered Garibay, biting his fingers; "that man is a general."

"The troops of the Republic will conquer everywhere," said Don Alonzo, gravely.

"Everywhere!" repeated his umbra.

"It is to be hoped so, Señores," said Tim, significantly, "the Republic will need all the help she can get to defend herself in three places at once."

"In my opinion," observed Rafael, calmly, "there is only one way to end the war."

"And that is?"

"By a naval victory. The Junta must secure the torpederas. We must have more war-ships, and cripple Don Hypolito's power on the sea. Then he will be unable to convey his troops to Janjalla – unable to bombard Tlatonac, and remain shut up in Acauhtzin, where we can crush him at our leisure."

Garibay disagreed with this view of the matter, and accused Rafael of looking solely at the matter from a naval point of view. A hot discussion ensued, in which every possible attack, repulse, strategy, and battle, was talked over far into the night. Philip and Jack grew weary of this incessant argument, and slipped down to the saloon, where they chatted about Dolores. Overhead they heard the hot-tempered Spaniards arguing fiercely, and several times thought they would come to blows so warm grew the discussion.

"Egad, Jack! I'm glad this voyage ends to-morrow," said Philip, as they turned in, "or they will certainly murder one another."

A grunt was Jack's unsatisfactory reply. He was, almost asleep, and already dreaming of rescuing Dolores from the clutches of Don Hypolito.

After a time, those on deck grew tired of such unprofitable talk, and one by one came down to snatch a few hours' sleep. In the space of fifteen minutes everyone was snoring, and the yacht flew northward with her cargo of sleeping men. Benker was in charge of the wheel, and as he had been in these waters years before, knew every inch of the coast. Keeping the boat about a mile from the shore, he headed her straight for Acauhtzin, which was many miles away, in the curve of the land where it stretched eastward into the Carribean Sea.

It was a perfectly calm night. Stars and moon, a placid sea, and the yacht swirling through the liquid plain with a slight roll. To the right, the infinite expanse of the waters heaving against the horizon; to the left, the long, low line of the coast, with its dim masses of foliage, and here and there a snow-clad mountain peak. Benker twirled the wheel, chewed his quid, and looked every now and then in disgust at the sleeping forms of the soldiers encumbering the white decks of the yacht. Moonlight and starlight, the throb of the screw, the singing of the wind through the rigging, and the hiss of the waves seething past; it was wonderfully beautiful. The boat sped onward like a shadow amid a world of shadows, and the most prosaic soul would have been touched by the profound beauty of this watery world. Not so Simon Benker. He was used to it all, and regarded nothing but his work and the soldiers.

Then the east began to palpitate with the coming dawn. Lines of dim light low down on the horizon – yellow bands which melted to pale green, and flushed to delicate rose colours. Higher and higher the coming day dyed the sky in opaline hues, the stars fled westward, the wan moon paling before this fierce splendour, hid her face behind a bank of clouds. The dark world of waters became tinged with rainbow hues, then one thick yellow shaft of light smote the zenith with heavy brilliance. Ray after ray shot out like the spokes of a wheel, and suddenly the intolerable glory of the sun leaped from the nether world.

"Yonder," said Jack to Philip, who had come on deck to see the sunrise, "yonder, my boy, is the Harlequin Opal!"

"If it is as brilliant and as many-tinted as that," replied the baronet, staring at the gorgeous sky and sea, "it must, indeed, be a wonderful gem. Benker, how is she going?"

"You have no soul," said Duval, turning away. "I am going down to have a tub."

He thereupon vanished again, was shortly followed by Philip, after he had satisfied himself that The Bohemian had done good work during the hours of darkness. Afterwards they awoke their sleeping companions, and had breakfast, when the Spaniards were introduced to several English dishes, of which they approved greatly.

The heavens were now a pale turquoise blue, the sun mounting towards the zenith was already beginning to burn hotly, and all were assembled on deck impatiently waiting to catch sight of their destination. Here and there on the green shore, amid the forests they could see Indian settlements, and at times light canoes skimmed the surface of the waves. Towards eleven o'clock a white spot appeared on the land straight ahead. Don Rafael, who was standing by Philip, touched the young man's arm.

"Acauhtzin!" he said, cheerfully; "we will be there in the hour." Philip looked at his watch.

"We left Tlatonac at four yesterday. We will reach Acauhtzin at twelve to-day. Three hundred miles in twenty hours. That is not bad for slow steaming. Had I kept her at full speed, she would have done it in fifteen!"

Tim, who had his glass up, gave an exclamation of surprise.

"What is it, Tim?"

"Three war-ships are lying in the harbour."

"I thought as much," replied Philip, calmly; "we will have to run the blockade."

Tim pointed upward to the Union Jack.

"If they fire on that," he said slowly, "Xuarez is not the clever man I take him to be. What do you say, Jack?"

"Say!" repeated Jack, who was looking ahead with clenched fists, "that one of those three ships is The Pizarro, and that Dolores is on board."