Part 27

"You told him that, Padre?" said Palafox, raising himself on his elbow.

"I did, of course, and he flew into a passion, and said that with morning light he would come and meet his accuser and give him the lie to his face."

"Send for him now; bring him here instantly. Shall there be treason in our midst? Tio Jorge, do you go and command Don Miguel Priego instantly to my presence."

It was an hour before Tio Jorge returned.

"Proof! Proof of treason!" he cried furiously. "He is gone; he and his man. See what your meddling did, Senor Padre! No sooner was your back turned than the accursed afrancesado fled."

"Fled!" echoed the priest in consternation.

"'Meet his accuser--give him the lie to his face', you said," exclaimed Tio Jorge with bitter mockery, "'with morning light'! He is gone, and even now, I doubt not, is making merry with the French who have hired him. A curse light on him! May he die by a traitor's hand, even as he is a traitor!"

"Write, Don Basilio," said Palafox, "write a proclamation! Proclaim Miguel Priego to all men a traitor, and call upon all true men to seize upon him and bring him before us to suffer the penalty of his crime. My unhappy country! Let me die, let me die!"

He turned his face to the wall. The stern chaplain wrote a proclamation; within an hour printed copies were distributed throughout the town, and the name of Miguel Priego, hitherto lauded to the skies, was now hissed with venomous hate by every loyal citizen of Saragossa.

*CHAPTER XXVII*

*The Eleventh Hour*

Tantaene Irae?--Taking thought--Pepito's Charge--Horrors of the Siege--Beyond the River--A Ring of Steel--Unconquered Still--Patriots All

With morning light the French completed their capture of the Franciscan convent. By a series of desperate charges they cleared the vast ruins of the Spaniards who had held their position during the night, the brave Comte de Fleury and his men were bayoneted on the narrow stairway of the bell-tower, and with one final rush the French pursued the fleeing remnant of the defenders to the very edge of the Coso.

Not long afterwards the French outposts beyond the Aljafferia Castle were surprised to see a strange and motley procession issue from the Portillo Gate. A mob of peasants--for the most part women and children--ragged, famished, fever-stricken, almost mad, rushed pell-mell towards the French lines, preferring to die by the hands of the enemy rather than endure longer the terrors of the beleaguered city. Reaching the outposts, they begged to be allowed to pass through towards their village homes; this being refused, they implored the French to kill them, not to drive them back. But the marshal would not forgo this opportunity of teaching the obstinate defenders a lesson. He ordered the poor creatures to be fed, and then sent back to the city, hoping thereby to impress the Spaniards both with his humanity and with the abundance of his stores.

When news of this incident was brought to Jack, he read it at once as a sign that the inevitable end could not now be long delayed. Heroic as the defence had been, the strain upon poor human nature was too heavy to be borne, and though the priests and the mob-leaders were still vehemently opposed to surrender, it was clear that only surrender would save the city from the most horrible of fates. Not even the most violent fanatic would have the heart to prolong the struggle for more than a few days.

Things being still quiet in his own quarter, Jack determined to see Juanita, and advise her upon her course when the city fell. He left Don Cristobal in charge, and made his tortuous way around the captured part of the town towards the northern end of the city. Pepito accompanied him.

Juanita was looking pale and worn. Her aunt was seriously ill, and the girl had spent sleepless nights in watching her.

"Oh, Jack, Jack," she cried, "surely the end must come now! It is wicked of our Junta to hold out longer. The people are dying like flies. Two were carried out of this very house yesterday. Are we all to die?"

"General Palafox must capitulate soon," said Jack, "and that is what I wanted to see you about. Have you thought of what you will do when the capitulation takes place?"

"Why, you will be with me; you will look after my poor aunt and me."

"No, I shall be a prisoner."

"A prisoner! Oh, but you must escape! It will be easy to escape in the confusion. What shall we do if you are a prisoner, Jack?"

"I can't run away. I have to defend my quarter till the last. And then--well, it's the fortune of war--the French will make sure of all the officers, you may depend on that. But about yourself, Juanita; you won't be in any danger--except from Miguel."

"Why from Miguel? Won't he be a prisoner too?"

Jack laughed grimly.

"Miguel has taken care of that. Last night he disappeared from Saragossa--just in time to escape being gibbeted as an afrancesado, a traitor, and a spy."

Juanita's eyes blazed, her cheeks flamed with the hot Spanish blood.

"Kill him! Kill him, Jack!" she cried. "He was a traitor to my father; he is a traitor to Spain! Oh, if I were a man!"

Jack was amazed at the girl's fury.

"I don't think I'd like to soil my hands with him," he said quietly. "Besides, he will keep out of my way. But don't you see, Juanita, that he will come in with the French, and then--I'm afraid he might bother you, you know."

Juanita drew herself up with a proud air.

"I could borrow a knife!" she said. "A Spanish girl is not afraid to die."

"Don't talk like that. What need is there for you to die? I shall have to give you orders, as I give my men. Senorita Juanita Alvarez, you are to make your way, after the capitulation, to some place of safety, where I will find you--

"You, a prisoner?"

"Oh, I don't mean to remain a prisoner! I shall say good-bye to my captors at the earliest possible moment, and then find you, and we will steal our way to the coast, and find a ship and sail for England. Mother will be glad to see you."

"I have always wanted to see England," said Juanita musingly. "But what about my property--that all this mystery is about?"

"We don't know where it is; but, you remember, a duplicate letter was sent to father in London, and we can find out all about it there. And then, when the war is over, no doubt father will come back with you and put everything straight. And then--"

"Well, Senor?" said Juanita archly.

"Oh, then I suppose you'll marry a Don--of some sort--"

"How dare you, Senor Lumsden!" she cried with flashing eyes.

Jack looked astonished at her sudden anger.

"But never mind that," he went on. "The question is, is there anywhere that you can go to when the city falls?"

"Ay de mi! Our old country house near Morata was shut up months ago; only one old man remains in charge. The garden must now be a waste. But I have friends at Calatayud, some miles farther away, and I could stay with them. It is quite sixty miles distant. Could I get there safely?"

"I think so. After the siege many peasants will be returning to their homes. I will enquire if any are going in that direction, and will let you know if I find some respectable people with whom you might travel. Your old duenna would, of course, go with you. And then I thought of lending you a special friend of my own, who has done me many a good turn; he is outside now--a young gipsy boy who--

"Pepito! Oh, he and I are good friends!"

"You know him, then?"

"Of course I do. He comes to see me every day, and talks about you all the time. Strange to say, he thinks a great deal of you, Jack."

"Poor little chap! I owe him a good deal. Well, he shall go with you, and you will make your way to Calatayud, and I will come to you there in--let me see, under a week. I shall have had enough of the Frenchmen in a week."

"But suppose you can't escape, Jack?"

"Never fear," said Jack with a smile. "That is all arranged, then?"

"Yes, I suppose so," replied Juanita doubtfully. "You will be sure to find me, Jack?"

"Unless you hide away--like your treasure."

Returning to his quarter he found that the French had still made no further attempt upon it. The situation indeed, remained unchanged for several days. They were so fully occupied in pushing the advantage they had gained in the direction of the Coso that they could afford to leave Jack's little block of buildings for the present. They continued to occupy the ruins facing the Casa Vallejo, and Jack discovered, by observations made from the roofs of the Casas Tobar and Alvarez, that a considerable body of troops was held ready in Santa Engracia to reinforce any point that should be threatened by the Spaniards.

Though his own position was thus left unmolested, every few hours brought news of the steady progress the enemy were making elsewhere. One after another the blocks of buildings adjacent to the Franciscan convent fell into their hands. Jack saw that, even if he could hold his own in front, the French were gradually creeping around his flank, and that in the course of a few days he would be attacked from the east as well as the north. On February 12th Don Casimir sent for the gun he had lent. An urgent message had come from Palafox asking for all artillery that could be spared. It was needed for the defence of the Coso. The French had established two batteries among the ruins of the convent, one of which raked the Coso, while the other commanded the street leading to the bridge across the river. Jack had already withdrawn Don Casimir's gun from the direct view of the French, and he trusted that its total disappearance from his defences would remain for some time undiscovered.

But although he was not seriously pressed, he was alarmed to see how his small force had dwindled and was still dwindling in numbers. A few fell by the musket-shots of the French; far more dropped out through sickness, and of these almost none recovered. A form of typhus fever had broken out in the city, attacking especially the guerrilleros from the country and wounded soldiers who had no fixed homes. The Countess Bureta was dead; many of the other ladies who had nobly done their best in nursing the sick and wounded had perished; the stock of medicines was exhausted. Many invalids lay untended on the stone pavements of the courtyards, with nothing but a little straw for their beds. In the intervals of fighting the worn survivors were to be seen sitting on stone benches, shivering in spite of their cloaks, their hands scarcely able to hold their weapons. So weak were they that the slightest wound proved fatal. Jack was sick at heart as he saw his ranks depleted day by day through the loss of some stalwart guerrillero or seasoned tirador who had succumbed to an enemy more terrible than the French.

Once or twice he thought of finding relief in leading a desperate sortie on the enemy's entrenchments. But consideration showed him the futility of any such move. He might inflict some loss on the French, but even if he drove them from their advanced position, he could not hope to retain the ground he might thus win. His efforts must be confined to defensive work; he must hold his own, as he had hitherto succeeded in doing. He had now been for a fortnight in command of the Casa Alvarez district, and during that period the French had not made any real progress. Indeed, they had lost very heavily in men, and had suffered so many disasters from the Spanish mines that they appeared for the present to have suspended all mining operations in Jack's quarter.

As the days passed by without any serious demonstration against his position, Jack inferred that the French, like the Spaniards, were suffering from the long-continued strain. The force under Marshal Lannes' command was evidently not sufficient to maintain a simultaneous attack on all the points at which they had effected an entrance into the city. On the 13th the corps sent out to drive away the army collected by Francisco Palafox returned to the siege; their mere appearance had been sufficient to scatter the relieving army of which the Saragossans had expected so much. It was at once apparent that the interrupted attack on the San Lazaro suburb was to be actively pressed. The French entrenchments were pushed closer to the river; heavy siege-guns were brought into position, and epaulements were constructed across all the roads by which the Spaniards holding the suburb could escape.

On February 18th a vigorous bombardment was commenced. No fewer than fifty-two guns opened fire at daybreak, the main point of attack being the San Lazaro convent, which commanded the bridge across the Ebro, the sole link between the city and the suburb. The effect of the bombardment was stupendous. Roofs crashed in beneath the bursting bombs, the crackle of flames was mingled with the clang of alarm-bells from every belfry, the whole city shook as with an earthquake. The Spanish batteries responded vigorously. The Spaniards fought for every inch of ground in the streets, but they were steadily beaten back. A breach was made in the convent wall; the French rushed in, massacring the monks who dauntlessly opposed them, cutting down without mercy crowds of men, women, and children who had sought a refuge in the church itself. The yells of the combatants were mingled with the screams of the wounded and dying, and not till every one of the occupants of the convent was slain did the hideous clamour cease.

Retreat to the city was now cut off, and scattered bands of Spaniards wandered frantically about, seeking a means of escape and finding none. Three hundred, led by a bold fellow named Fernando Gonzalez, succeeded in running the gauntlet of the French fusillade and forcing their way across the bridge into Saragossa. Many who sought to escape by the river were drowned, and 3000 who tried to make their way along the bank towards the country were headed off by a regiment of French cavalry and compelled to lay down their arms. Palafox himself, though so ill that he could scarcely stand, came at the head of his troops to the succour of the suburb, but his efforts were vain. The French remained masters of the position, and were now able to place their guns so as to command the northern part of the city, which hitherto had been almost untouched.

While this terrible struggle had been in progress, the Spaniards had suffered a serious disaster elsewhere. At three in the afternoon three huge mines, charged with more than two tons of powder, were exploded beneath the University, which was carried with a rush. With it fell several buildings in its neighbourhood, and in the evening the French penetrated to the Coso, where they gained several houses, among them one which had repulsed no fewer than ten previous assaults. The Spaniards lost ground also near the Trinity convent, and the district known as the Tanneries began to suffer severely from the new French works thrown up in the captured suburb of San Lazaro.

That night Jack held a serious consultation with Don Cristobal and several of his more trusty men. The successes won by the French in other parts of the town would no doubt encourage them to make a renewed attack on the only quarter along its outer rim which had yet withstood them.

"I am not going to give it up without a tussle," said Jack resolutely. "If they bring artillery to bear, our barricades must fall; but we still have the houses opposite. The Y mines in Tobar and Vega will do enormous damage if the French get in there. I rather suspect they will fight shy of the houses and try to rush in from the streets. All that we can do with our little force is to man the windows and roofs of the houses and delay them as long as possible."

It was a pathetic sight to see the unquenched eagerness of the haggard crowd. Not one faltered; all were as resolute as though it were the first day of the siege. Jack arranged with them for their respective posts on the morrow, and waited anxiously for daylight.

About twelve o'clock on February 20th Tio Jorge and Jorge Arcos were staying their hunger in the latter's cafe with a mess of boiled rice and half-baked corn-meal. Their begrimed, black-bearded faces wore a look of savage gloom. No one was with them. Outside, in the Coso, not a living person was to be seen.

"By all the saints, I vow I will not surrender!" Tio Jorge was saying.

"Nor I!" replied his friend. "Nor would the general himself, but that he is ill. Had he been well, no one could have persuaded him to beg for terms from the French dog. When I heard it last night I could not believe the news. For two months we have fought; shall we yield now? I for one will not yield; I will die rather!"

"And we could have told the general it would be of no use. We have killed too many of the accursed French for them to let us march away. I could have laughed when Senor Casseillas came back after his journey to the French camp, and said that we must lay down our arms without conditions. And the general is dying! God have his soul! He has given the command to San March. Ay, 'twas San March who lost the Monte Torrero--curse him! But the Junta!--the saints be praised our brave padres are members of the Junta, and will not let the others yield. Traitors, por Dios! I myself will shoot any man, high or low, who counsels surrender. But Don Basilio, and Padre Consolacion, and Padre Santiago Sass--ah, they will never yield! The priests of Spain are men, mi amigo!"

"Yes; they will fight and--"

A shattering explosion from the other side of the Coso interrupted him.

"Where is that?" cried Tio Jorge, starting up. Running to the door he saw, beyond the Franciscan convent, a cascade of dust and stones darkening the air. "'Tis towards the Casa Alvarez," he cried, "where the English Senor still holds out. The dogs are attacking there. Come, Jorge Arcos, we can do nothing elsewhere; come, and let us help the brave Englishman!"

Together they left the cafe. The crash of the explosion had drawn others to the street, and as the two leaders hurried along, past the barricades, up narrow by-ways, pursuing a roundabout course towards the Huerba, they were joined by ones and twos and threes, who came in answer to their hail. At the corner of a lane near the Seminary thirty men who had escaped with Fernando Gonzalez from San Lazaro swelled their numbers.

"To the Casa Alvarez!" shouted Tio Jorge.

A second explosion made him hasten still more eagerly.

"To the Casa Alvarez!" he repeated. "War to the knife!"

*CHAPTER XXVIII*

*The Last Fight in Saragossa*

The Last Muster--The Fougasse--A Forlorn Hope--Spiking the Guns--A Race with Death--A Sally--Solicitude--Jorge Arcos Volunteers--To the Bitter End--A Bolt from the Blue--The Last Sacrifice--The Courage of Despair--Truce

At the Casa Alvarez a stern fight was in progress. On the preceding day what Jack had foreseen had at length come to pass: the French had once more brought guns to bear on his position. Warned by their previous experience, they blinded their batteries in such a way that their gunners were protected from the muskets of the Spaniards on the roofs. They cleared a space at the end of the ruined block of which the Casa Vallejo formed a part, and there placed two guns; another was mounted at the end of the street between that house and the Casa Tobar; a fourth at the end of the street in which the Vega barricade was erected. It was clear to Jack that he could not hope to prevent the enemy from gaining a footing in the houses; all that he could do for the present was to await developments, and act as the need of the moment dictated.

But, to be prepared for emergencies, he rapidly constructed, beneath the floor of the Casa Vallejo, a fougasse--a shallow mine in the form of a truncated cone, with its axis inclined towards the point of attack. Over this he piled some tons of brickwork and stones which, in the explosion, would be hurled many yards to the front and flanks. With this, and the as yet unexploded Y-shaped mines beneath the Casas Tobar and Vega, he hoped to destroy the French who would rush the houses when the bombardment ceased, and thus to enable his men to retake the positions they must lose.

He had only 200 men now with him, and many of these were on their last legs. But when the rumour spread through the quarter that the French were preparing to make a serious attack, some fifty poor wretches, scarcely able to crawl, staggered from their squalid lodgings, and begged to be allowed to take part in the defence. They were a pitiful sight, gaunt and haggard, with ague-stricken limbs and fever-lit eyes. They were incapable of hand-to-hand fighting; many of them were too weak even to lift their muskets to their shoulders; but they could fire muskets rested on window-sills and through loopholes, and Jack, gladly as he would have spared them, was too hard-pressed to reject any aid, however slight. A score of women came forward, offering to load muskets for the men, and thus save time. Among them Jack recognized the lady he had seen as he came with Tio Jorge to take over his command. He remembered her attitude of frenzied grief; he recalled the fierce command she had laid upon her little boy. The child was no longer with her; the little fellow had died of fever a few days before. The poor creature had now lost father, brothers, husband, and son, and had come with the wild fury of a mad woman to wreak vengeance on the enemy.

About ten o'clock in the morning the French opened fire with all their guns upon the Casa Vallejo and the barricades. Jack made what reply he could from the roofs and windows, but the batteries were so well screened that the fire of his men was almost wholly ineffectual. Great gaps were soon made in the wall of the house and in the barricades, and seeing that the attempt to hold the latter in the face of the bombardment would entail a useless loss of life, Jack withdrew his men behind the Casas Vega and Tobar, and held them in readiness to rush into the houses when his mines had exploded. After two hours' bombardment the four guns ceased fire. Immediately afterwards three parties of French dashed forward in headlong charge. The Spaniards, who, on the cessation of the bombardment, had sped back to their posts, met the enemy with dauntless front. The Frenchmen in the streets fell rapidly under a hot fire from the roof and windows of the Casa Tobar and from the advanced barricades, but, seeing the hopelessness of continued resistance to the overwhelming numbers opposed to him, Jack withdrew his forces again, and sent word to the men stationed at the mines to light their matches in readiness for firing the trains. With exultant shouts the enemy, for the most part Poles and voltigeurs, swarmed into the houses. Jack gave the word first at Vallejo. The fougasse exploded with a terrific crash. It was this explosion which had interrupted Tio Jorge's conversation in the cafe. But though not a Frenchman was left alive in the house, the places of the dead were instantly filled by their furious comrades, who were only kept from rushing across the street towards the Casa Alvarez by the concentrated fire of the Spaniards there posted.

A few minutes later the French in Tobar and Vega met with a like fate. Jack had exploded in each case one of the arms of his Y-shaped mines, and for the time both houses were cleared of the enemy.