Part 25

He had noticed that the dead man's hand clasped a knife. Stooping, he removed it from his grasp; the steel was bright and clear, as though it had never been used for any but innocent purposes. Jack, as he held the weapon, reflected. The man had drawn his knife. It must have been for attack or for self-defence against an enemy in front of him; therefore the blow from behind that killed him must have been dealt by a second person. Antonio was scarcely likely to have brought another man into his personal quarrel; Jack was inclined to believe that he was guiltless, as he said. He looked around the room; there were few signs of a scuffle. It was useless to institute an enquiry among the other people in the house, and the sound of musketry and cannon-shots without already called him to his duties.

"Bury the poor wretch," he said, "and then come to me."

"The Senor believes I did not do it?"

"Yes, yes; we have no time for enquiries. There is work for us who are left alive."

He hurried away. There had been something sinister about the guerrillero, something that Jack could not fathom; perhaps it was resentment at a stranger being brought in and placed above him; but Jack could not help feeling a passing pity for the Spaniard who had met his death by the hands presumably of one of his own countrymen, instead of in heroic combat with the enemy.

He returned to his post. The situation as it had been left on the previous evening had now been complicated. The cannon-shots he had heard in the attic had been fired from two pieces mounted by the French at the angle of the street. An epaulement of sand-bags and gabions had been thrown across between the ruined blocks, and from that point of vantage the French gunners were pointing their cannon so that their shots fell plump upon the walls of the Casas Vega and Tobar. These, it was clear, would before long be a heap of ruins. Jack sent men to the end of his subterranean galleries to listen whether mining operations had been resumed by the French. When they returned, reporting that no sound could be heard, he concluded that the signal failure of their last mines had been enough for the enemy, and that in future they would probably trust entirely to cannonade, followed by attacks in force. He could not reply to their artillery; all that lay in his power was to hold his men in readiness to repel a charge, and to fire his long Y-shaped mines when the French attack was being pressed home.

Some two hours later he was consulting with Don Cristobal on the possibilities of capturing the French guns in a night attack, when Pepito came up, looking even more than usually mysterious. He stood before Jack with his hands behind him, waiting until his master, now deeply engrossed in conversation, should notice him.

"I should dearly like to make the attempt," Jack was saying, "but your arguments are, I am afraid, conclusive. We can't afford to lose any of our men unless we can be sure of success, and after their recent warnings I don't think we shall catch the French napping. We must give up the idea, I suppose, but you will see that our men keep a keen watch on the epaulement, Senor-- Well, what is it, Pepito?"

Pepito came forward carelessly.

"I found these, Senor," he said, handing two papers to Jack, who took them carelessly. Without unfolding them, he asked:

"Where did you get these?"

"In the tall house, Senor."

"Which tall house?"

"Where the Senor went just now."

"Where the man was murdered?"

"Si, Senor. The big Antonio took him away. I was there. In a minute, two men came in. 'Now we get a bed,' they say. They pull the dirty quilt off the bed. One man carries it; the other pulls off the mattress. There, on the boards, I see two papers. I snatch them, and say: 'I take these to the Senor Capitan'. The man laughs; and here they are, Senor."

Jack unfolded the papers and glanced at them curiously. Suddenly he started, and keenly scrutinized one of them.

"It is explained now, Senor," he said to Don Cristobal, at the same time laying the papers before him. "Quintanar was a spy."

"An afrancesado!" ejaculated the Spaniard.

"Unhappily. One of the papers, you see, is a pass through the French lines; the other a rough plan of our defences. See, the miserable fellow had begun to dot in our mines under the houses opposite. Someone must have discovered his treachery, and killed him without remorse."

"So perish all traitors!" said Don Cristobal.

At this moment a man rushed in with the news that a small breach had been made in the wall of the Casa Tobar.

"We must do something to check them," said Jack, rising. "A few good marksmen on the top of this house might pick off their gunners; let us go and see."

They went up the staircase towards the roof, Pepito, left alone, put his hand into his pocket, and drew out a small silver buckle, such as Spanish burghers and officers wore on their shoes.

"Senor has the papers," he muttered. "Ca! I have the buckle. The buckle is better than the papers."

He swung it round his forefinger, humming under his breath, and was still toying with it when Jack came downstairs again. Then he hurriedly thrust it into his pocket, and stood unconcernedly as though waiting for orders.

A moment's glance had shown Jack that his plan of placing marksmen on the roof would be useless. The Casas Vega and Tobar, though much lower than the Casa Alvarez, were not low enough to allow an effective fire over them. But what could not be done from the Casa Alvarez might be done from the lower roofs nearer the guns. Jack lost no time in making his way to the flat roof of the Casa Tobar. Carefully crawling along and peeping over, he saw that the angle of depression was just sharp enough to allow a good marksman to take aim at the gunners' heads. It would be dangerous work, for the French would instantly perceive the source of the shots, and would bring a concentrated fire to bear in return. There was no parapet to the roof, but a parapet could perhaps be extemporized with sand-bags, between which the Spaniards' muskets might be placed.

Returning to the ground, Jack explained what he had in his mind, and Antonio at once volunteered to make the attempt. With some of his men he climbed to the roof, where they pushed sand-bags along until they came to the edge. Then one of the men tried a shot. He missed. But Antonio took more deliberate aim, through the interstice between two sand-bags, and hit one of the French gunners in the arm.

Three Frenchmen had been hit before the enemy discovered whence came these disconcerting shots. Then bullets began to patter on the walls and roof. But the Spaniards were too well protected by their extemporized parapet to be in much fear, and continued their firing without suffering serious loss. Before the day was out the French found it the part of discretion to withdraw their gunners, and for the time being the cannon were useless.

Jack was not surprised next morning to learn that the French mining work had been renewed. This time the sounds were heard in the Casa Vallejo. The French had evidently seen that their only chance of carrying the position was by reverting to the slow burrowing which had been successful in earlier days. Jack went himself to the attacked house. The sounds through the wall were very faint, but there could be no doubt that the enemy were engaged in repairing the gallery destroyed in the sortie, though they were as yet thirty or forty feet away. It was probable that they had resumed, or would soon resume, operations in the Casas Vega and Tobar also, and dispositions must be made to meet them.

It was Jack's practice every morning to call the roll of the men under his charge. Every day the force dwindled, and the physical weakness of the survivors had patently increased. Wishing to spare them as much as possible, he had been indisposed to set them to the arduous work of mining until he felt sure that he was seriously threatened. The fact that the French had resumed their tunnelling showed that there was now no time to be lost, and the morning was but little advanced when men were busily engaged in clearing out the galleries, in Vega and Tobar, that had been tamped and fired, so that they might be recharged. But while the sounds of mining grew clearer in front of Vallejo, hours passed without the Spaniards detecting any signs of activity towards the other two houses. Leaving men to keep watch there, and report if any change took place, Jack returned to Vallejo, where it seemed evident that the only present danger was to be apprehended.

He stood with Don Cristobal near the end of the short gallery beneath Vallejo and the ruined house beyond. About eleven o'clock he was struck by a difference in the sounds, which up to the present had been fitfully interrupted.

"Listen, Senor!" he said to Don Cristobal. "I fancy the French are making several tunnels this time. Don't you think so? There is no break in the sound now, as there would be if they were driving only one or two; and yet there is a slight difference in the quality of the sound at successive moments. Do you hear? There; that was a deeper sound than the one before it."

"You are right, Senor," returned the Spaniard. "We can do little on our side, I fear."

"No. You see what a piece of arrant folly that rush of Santiago Sass was. Several of our best miners were killed; and what with the necessity of defending the barricades, and maintaining constant garrisons in the houses, we simply can't hope to match the French underground. All we can do is to wait till the right moment comes, and then explode our little mine first. If we let the French anticipate us, the explosion of several mines at once will blow ours up or make it useless, and all our work will be thrown away."

"How many galleries do you think the enemy are cutting?"

"If we listen carefully we can tell."

They were silent, and after about a quarter of an hour Jack declared that he had counted four separate operations. He sent for one of the more experienced miners, and asked him to count independently. The man confirmed his opinion, adding that he thought there would be no danger of explosions from the French side for a day or two.

The rest of that day passed quietly. But early next morning the necessity of maintaining adequate guards at the exposed points of his position was brought home to Jack. During the night a large number of French had been silently posted in the ruined house at the end of the lane to the north of the Casa Vega. Issuing from these ruins, almost as soon as day dawned, they rushed towards the barricade, bearing fascines and scaling-ladders. But Don Cristobal, who was in command at this point, proved equal to the occasion. He sent off a messenger to Jack in the Casa Alvarez as soon as he saw signs of the French movement, and with the thirty resolute men of his command he held the enemy off, showing much coolness in awaiting their onset and ordering his men to fire at the right moment. When Jack came up at the head of a considerable reinforcement, the French were decisively driven off, leaving more than a score of dead behind them. They retired in confusion, some going into the ruins from which the attack had been made, others retreating down the street until they found protection from the Spaniards' musketry at the sharp bend in the roadway.

Hastening then to the Casa Vallejo, Jack found that the sounds of miners at work had been steadily growing more distinct. It was clearly time to prepare his own mine. The gallery extended some six feet beneath the floor of the ruined house adjoining. A heavy charge was laid in it; then the mine was tamped as quickly as possible. All was now in readiness. Through that day Jack scarcely left the place for a moment. It was of the utmost importance that the time for exploding the mine should be well chosen. He dared not run the risk of allowing the French to drive the heads of their tunnels past his own, for indeed they might not pass it, but come clean upon it, in which case they would either explode it themselves, or more probably withdraw the charge. His object was to allow them to approach as near as seemed safe, and then to fire the train. After an anxious day he retired to rest, convinced that a sharp conflict could no longer be much delayed.

At ten o'clock next morning, the 8th of February, he judged that the French miners could only be a few feet distant. Withdrawing all his men from the Casa Vallejo to the Casa Hontanon, next door, he waited tensely for a few minutes, then himself fired the train. There was a thunderous explosion, the walls of the room in which he was seemed to rock, then came the crash of falling beams, followed by a death-like silence. The mine had done its terrible work effectually; for the rest of the day there was no further sound of the French.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Ebro the French were gradually preparing for a grand assault. The part of the city along the river bank had been hitherto little damaged, for it was protected by the transpontine suburb of San Lazaro, and to some extent by a few gun-boats moored near the bridge. The key to the position was the Jesus Convent, a building of bricks, with a ditch on the French side of it. The French batteries had made large breaches in its masonry, but in order to carry it by storm it was first necessary for the enemy to trench their way towards it by slow degrees, every step having to be taken under fire from the walls. Their work was delayed for a time by a sudden rise of the river inundating their trenches and driving them back for several hundred yards--a flood hailed with joy by the defenders, who regarded it as another miraculous interposition on the part of Our Lady of the Pillar.

Their condition was becoming pitiful in the extreme. All fresh meat and vegetables were exhausted; they had nothing now to subsist on but fish and salt meat. The few chickens that could be got each sold for a sum equivalent to an English pound. The French had seized all the water-mills along the banks of the river, so that the corn, of which the Spaniards yet possessed large stores, could not be ground, and they were forced to make a rough unwholesome bread of grain merely crushed or bruised. Fever, bred in the damp vaults in which most of the people lived, was carrying off hundreds every day; yet the emaciated survivors scarcely murmured, and the faintest suggestion of surrender was still sufficient to carry a man to the gibbet. Cheered by their brave untiring priests, they hoped against hope that relief would come.

But the floods subsided, and there was no sign of the long-expected succour. On the morning of February 8th, twenty-two French guns opened fire on the convent. Within a few hours the outer walls were battered down; then Marshal Lannes in person ordered the place to be carried by assault. Five hundred men instantly sprang from the trenches. The Spaniards in the convent, mingled regulars and monks, made what resistance they could, but they were unnerved by the preceding cannonade, and before the furious rush of the French grenadiers they fled and left the convent to its fate. Within the walls the French found hundreds of wounded and sick, and in the courtyard there were some two hundred corpses, men, women, and children, piled up awaiting burial. Even the French were sick at heart when they saw on these pale cold faces the terrible signs of fasting and disease. They themselves had suffered in their trenches. Among them too men fell fast; and even in their ranks there were heard murmurs against the long waiting of this cruel siege.

But though they had gained possession of the convent, their capture of the whole suburb was to be delayed for yet a few days. News was brought in to the French marshal, from his outlying positions, that a Spanish army was marching towards the city. The captain-general's brother, Francisco Palafox, had succeeded in raising a small force of 4000 men, and was now but twenty miles away. The attack could not be pressed in this quarter until the exact strength of the new enemy was ascertained. Marshal Lannes himself, therefore, drew off with 12,000 men, and once more the hopes of the dwindling garrison within the walls flickered up into the semblance of a flame.

Meanwhile Jack, in his little district, had become convinced that the defence could not be maintained for many more days. But he was determined to hold his own to the very end. After his explosion beyond the Casa Vallejo there had been a prolonged silence on the French side, but in the evening renewed sounds of mining in two quarters showed that though two of the four French galleries had been injured, the other two were still workable. It was only a matter of hours before the wall must fall. All that Jack could do was to ensure that the house should be held as long as possible after the explosion of the French mines, and that this should cause his men the minimum of loss. During the night of the 8th he built a fresh barricade between Vallejo and Tobar, some yards in the rear of the first one, leaving a means of ingress into the threatened house. On the roof of Tobar he stationed men, just before dawn, to give notice of any French movements in the ruins at the farther end of the block. Meanwhile the garrison of Vallejo were withdrawn behind the barricade, with orders to rush in and reoccupy the house as soon as the explosion had taken place.

At seven o'clock on the morning of the 9th a deep rumbling noise, as of a miniature earthquake, shook the quarter. Volumes of pungent smoke rolled along the lanes, and the crashing sounds proclaimed that the party-wall of Vallejo had fallen in.

"Into the house!" shouted Jack.

The men burst into the building. Taking advantage of the cover afforded by heaps of shattered masonry, woodwork, and furniture, they stood firm to meet the attack of the French, who, as soon as the dust and smoke began to clear, charged furiously up to the ruined wall. Their front ranks were mowed down by the withering fire of the Spaniards, but the gaps were instantly filled, and the undaunted enemy pressed on again. The volumes of smoke and the heaped wreckage of the house made it difficult sometimes for the combatants to see one another. For the moment the advantage was with the Spaniards. Nothing could dislodge them from behind their barricades of brickwork, furniture, even piles of books. But the French were swarming in at the other end of the block of buildings, and some, mounting on heaps of debris, were able to fire over the heads of the men in front of them into the Spanish position. Jack saw that with the fall of the party-wall of Vallejo the remains of the roof and front wall of the house beyond had also come down. Profiting by this circumstance, he sent a number of men on to the roof of Tobar, whence they were able to enfilade the French marksmen. They were assisted by a strong fire from the front barricade, where Antonio, now the leader of the guerrilleros, was doing yeoman service. Finding that after repeated charges no impression had been made on the Spanish defences, the French drew back disheartened, and, unwilling to face the risk of meeting again such heavy losses, made no further serious attempt during the morning to carry the position. The action degenerated into a fitful exchange of musket-shots, whenever a Frenchman or a Spaniard incautiously exposed himself.

"Well done, hombres!" said Jack, who had gone from point to point cheering them on, reinforcing weak spots, narrowly escaping the enemy's bullets as he moved at times across the line of fire. He had been quick to mark instances of special bravery or skill, and the few words of praise he spoke nerved the ardent Spaniards to still more strenuous exertions.

In the afternoon, as he was resting in the Casa Alvarez, news was brought that the French had been seen clearing away parts of the debris in the ruins at the farther end of the Vallejo block.

"What does that mean?" he exclaimed, starting up. "They will only expose themselves to direct fire from the roofs and the barricade."

Hastening with Don Cristobal to the roof of the Casa Tobar, he sought for an explanation of the new movement. Suddenly it occurred to him: the French were about to bring the gun, which had been driven away from the angle of the street, to a position whence it would bear upon Vallejo, and the work they were doing was for the purpose of clearing away anything that might intercept its fire.

"We can't hold Vallejo against a bombardment," he remarked. "Stay! Perhaps Don Casimir would lend us a gun from his ramparts. Things have been pretty quiet with him lately. Antonio, run off with twenty men and ask Don Casimir to let you have an eight-pounder, with grape and round-shot. If we can get a gun to bear, Senor, the work the French are doing will assist us as much as themselves."

"Can we mount the gun?" asked Don Cristobal, descending with Jack.

"We can but try. 'Where there's a will there's a way', as we say in England."

Twenty minutes later Antonio returned with his men, hauling the eight-pounder briskly along towards the barricade. It was easily taken into the patio of the Casa Vallejo, but to move it thence into a position facing the French would necessitate the breaking of the wall of one of the ground-floor rooms.

It was approaching nightfall when, from his post of observation on the roof of Tobar, Jack saw that the French had completed their work. He could just perceive the muzzle of their gun, carefully blinded with beams, protruding from a sort of screen in the ruins of the second house from Vallejo. He was confident that they would not begin their bombardment until the following morning, and he hoped to use the hours of darkness to place his own gun. Before darkness fell, with Don Cristobal's help he took, from several points, careful observations of the position of the French gun, and on the stone floor of the room opening on to the patio in Vallejo he drew chalk lines indicating what appeared to be a suitable position for his eight-pounder.

As soon as it was dark he set two men to break a way with picks through the wall of the patio, at a spot where there was a window. The work was carried out with the aid of dark lanterns, large pieces of cloth being hung over every gap to conceal any glimmer of light from the French. The gun was then hauled through the hole and laid by the chalk lines; it was screened with bags of earth, and then, after it had been loaded with ball, a horse-blanket was hung over the muzzle, which alone was in sight of the enemy.

"Now we can get some sleep, Senor," said Jack. "We've had a hard day's work. I confess I'm longing for the morning, to see whether we can once more get in first. You have arranged the sentries for the night?"

"Yes. Nothing has been neglected."

"A special guard for the gun?"

"Antonio and two of his guerrilleros will take turns through the night."

"We haven't any better men. I can hardly keep my eyes open. Come along."

There was but a faint glimmer of light beyond the Ebro when Jack again took his place beside the gun.

"I'm not a gunner," he remarked to Don Cristobal, "but I fancy I can manage to lay and fire it myself; it's point-blank range, you see; I can hardly miss. Now, hombres," he said, turning to the eight men with him, "everything depends on our shooting first, so keep as mum as door-mats."