Chapter 14

“Yes, it is finished,” I replied, savagely. “I have humored you two long enough. A pest on both your houses. I’m going back to breakfast.”

Poor Von Ritter drew away, deeply hurt and scandalized, but my offence was nothing to the shock he received when young Lowell ran to the carriage and caught up my hand. He looked at me with a smile that would have softened a Spanish duenna.

“See here!” he cried. “Whether you like it or not, you’ve got to shake hands with me. I want to tell you that was one of the finest things I ever saw.” He squeezed my fingers until the bones crunched together. “I’ve heard a lot about you, and now I believe all I’ve heard. To stand up there,” he ran on, breathlessly, “knowing you didn’t mean to fire, and knowing he was a dead shot, and make a canvas target of yourself--that was bully. You were an ass to do it, but it was great. You going back to breakfast?” he demanded, suddenly, with the same winning, eager smile. “So am I. I speak to go with you.”

Before I could reply he had vaulted into the carriage, and was shouting at the driver.

“Cochero, to the Barracks. Full speed ahead. Vamoose. Give way. Allez vite!”

“But my seconds,” I protested.

“They can walk,” he said.

Already the horses were at a gallop, and as we swung around the wall of the graveyard and were hidden from the sight of the others, Lowell sprang into the seat beside me. With the quick fingers of the sailor, he cast off my sword-belt and tore open my blouse.

“I wanted to get you away,” he muttered, “before he found out he had hit you.”

“I’m not hit,” I protested.

“Just as you like,” he said. “Still, it looks rather damp to the left here.”

But, as I knew, the bullet had only grazed me, and the laugh of relief Lowell gave when he raised his head, and said, “Why, it’s only a scratch,” meant as much to me as though he had rendered me some great service. For it seemed to prove a genuine, friendly concern, and no one, except Laguerre, had shown that for me since I had left home. I had taken a fancy to Lowell from the moment he had saluted me like a brother officer in the Plaza, and I had wished he would like me. I liked him better than any other young man I had ever met. I had never had a man for a friend, but before we had finished breakfast I believe we were better friends than many boys who had lived next door to each other from the day they were babies.

As a rule, I do not hit it off with men, so I felt that his liking me was a great piece of good fortune, and a great honor. He was only three years older than myself, but he knew much more about everything than I did, and his views of things were as fine and honorable as they were amusing.

Since then we have grown to be very close friends indeed, and we have ventured together into many queer corners, but I have never ceased to admire him, and I have always found him the same--unconscious of himself and sufficient to himself. I mean that if he were presented to an Empress he would not be impressed, nor if he chatted with a bar-maid would he be familiar. He would just look at each of them with his grave blue eyes and think only of what she was saying, and not at all of what sort of an impression he was making, or what she thought of him. Aiken helped me a lot by making me try not to be like Aiken; Lowell helped me by making me wish to be like Lowell.

We had a very merry breakfast, and the fact that it was seven in the morning did not in the least interfere with our drinking each other’s health in a quart of champagne. Nearly all of our officers came in while we were at breakfast to learn if I were still alive, and Lowell gave them most marvellous accounts of the affair, sometimes representing me as an idiot and sometimes as an heroic martyr.

They all asked him if he thought Fiske had sufficient influence at Washington to cause the Government to give him the use of the Raleigh against us, but he would only laugh and shake his head.

Later, to Laguerre, he talked earnestly on the same subject, and much to the point.

The news of the duel had reached the palace at eight o’clock, and the president at once started for the barracks.

We knew he was coming when we heard the people in the cafes shouting “Viva,” as they always did when he appeared in public, and, though I was badly frightened as to what he would say to me, I ran to the door and turned out the guard to receive him.

He had put on one of the foreign uniforms he was entitled to wear--he did not seem to fancy the one I had designed--and as he rode across the Plaza I thought I had never seen a finer soldier. Lowell said he looked like a field marshal of the Second Empire. I was glad Lowell had come to the door with me, as he could now see for himself that my general was one for whom a man might be proud to fight a dozen duels.

The president gave his reins to an orderly and mounted the steps, touching his chapeau to the salute of guard and the shouting citizens, but his eyes were fixed sternly on me. I saw that he was deeply moved, and I wished fervently, now that it was too late, that I had told him of the street fight at the time, and not allowed him to hear of it from others. I feared the worst. I was prepared for any reproof, any punishment, even the loss of my commission, and I braced myself for his condemnation.

But when he reached the top step where I stood at salute, although I was inwardly quaking, he halted and his lips suddenly twisted, and the tears rushed to his eyes.

He tried to speak, but made only a choking, inarticulate sound, and then, with a quick gesture, before all the soldiers and all the people, he caught me in his arms.

“My boy,” he whispered, “my boy! For you were lost,” he murmured, “and have returned to me.”

I heard Lowell running away, and the door of the guard-room banging behind him, I heard the cheers of the people who, it seems, already knew of the duel and understood the tableau on the barrack steps, but the thought that Laguerre cared for me even as a son made me deaf to everything, and my heart choked with happiness.

It passed in a moment, and in manner he was once more my superior officer, but the door he had opened was never again wholly shut to me.

In the guard-room I presented Lowell to the president, and I was proud to see the respect with which Lowell addressed him. At the first glance they seemed to understand each other, and they talked together as simply as would friends of long acquaintance.

After they had spoken of many things, Laguerre said: “Would it be fair for me to ask you, Mr. Lowell, what instructions the United States has given your commanding officer in regard to our government?”

To this Lowell answered: “All I know, sir, is that when we arrived at Amapala, Captain Miller telegraphed the late president, Doctor Alvarez, that we were here to protect American interests. But you probably know,” he added, “as everyone else does, that we came here because the Isthmian Line demanded protection.”

“Yes, so I supposed,” Laguerre replied. “But I understand Mr. Graham has said that when Mr. Fiske gives the word Captain Miller will land your marines and drive us out of the country.”

Lowell shrugged his shoulders and frowned.

“Mr. Graham--” he began, “is Mr. Graham.” He added: “Captain Miller is not taking orders from civilians, and he depends on his own sources for information. I am here because he sent me to ‘Go, look, see,’ and report. I have been wiring him ever since you started from the coast, and since you became president. Your censor has very kindly allowed me to use our cipher.”

I laughed, and said: “We court investigation.”

“Pardon me, sir,” Lowell answered, earnestly, addressing himself to Laguerre, “but I should think you would. Why,” he exclaimed, “every merchant in the city has told me he considers his interests have never been so secure as since you became president. It is only the Isthmian Line that wants the protection of our ship. The foreign merchants are not afraid. I hate it!” he cried, “I hate to think that a billionaire, with a pull at Washington, can turn our Jackies into Janissaries. Protect American interests!” he exclaimed, indignantly, “protect American sharpers! The Isthmian Line has no more right to the protection of our Navy than have the debtors in Ludlow Street Jail.”

Laguerre sat for a long time without replying, and then rose and bowed to Lowell with great courtesy.

“I must be returning,” he said. “I thank you, sir, for your good opinion. At my earliest convenience I shall pay my respects to your commanding officer. At ten o’clock,” he continued turning to me, “I am to have my talk with Mr. Fiske. I have not the least doubt but that he will see the justice of our claim against his company, and before evening I am sure I shall be able to announce throughout the republic that I have his guaranty for the money. Mr. Fiske is an able, upright business man, as well as a gentleman, and he will not see this country robbed.”

He shook hands with us and we escorted him to his horse.

I always like to remember him as I saw him then, in that gorgeous uniform, riding away under the great palms of the Plaza, with the tropical sunshine touching his white hair, and flashing upon the sabres of the body-guard, and the people running from every side of the square to cheer him.

Two hours later, when I had finished my “paper” work and was setting forth on my daily round, Miller came galloping up to the barracks and flung himself out of the saddle. He nodded to Lowell, and pulled me roughly to one side.

“The talk with Fiske,” he whispered, “ended in the deuce of a row. Fiske behaved like a mule. He told Laguerre that the original charter of the company had been tampered with, and that the one Laguerre submitted to him was a fake copy. And he ended by asking Laguerre to name his price to leave them alone.”

“And Laguerre?”

“Well, what do you suppose,” Miller returned, scornfully. “The General just looked at him, and then picked up a pen, and began to write, and said to the orderly, ‘Show him out.’

“‘What’s that?’ Fiske said. And Laguerre answered: ‘Merely a figure of speech; what I really meant was “Put him out,” or “throw him out!” You are an offensive and foolish old man. I, the President of this country, received you and conferred with you as one gentleman with another, and you tried to insult me. You are either extremely ignorant, or extremely dishonest, and I shall treat with you no longer. Instead, I shall at once seize every piece of property belonging to your company, and hold it until you pay your debts. Now you go, and congratulate yourself that when you tried to insult me, you did so when you were under my roof, at my invitation.’ Then Laguerre wired the commandantes at all the seaports to seize the warehouses and officers of the Isthmian Line, and even its ships, and to occupy the buildings with troops. He means business,” Miller cried, jubilantly. “This time it’s a fight to a finish.”

Lowell had already sent for his horse, and altogether we started at a gallop for the palace. At the office of the Isthmian Line we were halted by a crowd so great that it blocked the street. The doors of the building were barred, and two sentries were standing guard in front of it. A proclamation on the wall announced that, by order of the President, the entire plant of the Isthmian Line had been confiscated, and that unless within two weeks the company paid its debts to the government, the government would sell the property of the company until it had obtained the money due it.

At the entrance to the palace the sergeant in charge of the native guard, who was one of our men, told us that two ships of the Isthmian Line had been caught in port; one at Cortez on her way to Aspinwall, and one at Truxillo, bound north. The passengers had been landed, and were to remain on shore as guests of the government until they could be transferred to another line.

Lowell’s face as he heard this was very grave, and he shook his head.

“A perfectly just reprisal, if you ask me,” he said, “but what one lonely ensign tells you in confidence, and what Fiske will tell the State Department at Washington, is a very different matter. It’s a good thing,” he exclaimed, with a laugh, “that the Raleigh’s on the wrong side of the Isthmus. If we were in the Caribbean, they might order us to make you give back those ships. As it is, we can’t get marines here from the Pacific under three days. So I’d better start them at once,” he added, suddenly. “Good-by, I must wire the Captain.”

“Don’t let the United States Navy do anything reckless,” I said. “I’m not so sure you could take those ships, and I’m not so sure your marines can get here in three days, either, or that they ever could get here.”

Lowell gave a shout of derision.

“What,” he cried, “you’d fight against your country’s flag?”

I told him he must not forget that at West Point they had decided I was not good enough to fight for my country’s flag.

“We’ve three ships of our own now,” I added, with a grin. “How would you like to be Rear Admiral of the naval forces of Honduras?”

Lowell caught up his reins in mock terror.

“What!” he cried. “You’d dare to bribe an American officer? And with such a fat bribe, too?” he exclaimed. “A Rear-Admiral at my age! That’s dangerously near my price. I’m afraid to listen to you. Good-by.” He waved his hand and started down the street. “Good-by, Satan,” he called back to me, and I laughed, and he rode away.

That was the end of the laughter, of the jests, of the play-acting.

After that it was grim, grim, bitter and miserable. We dogs had had our day. We soldiers of either fortune had tasted our cup of triumph, and though it was only a taste, it had flown to our brains like heavy wine, and the headaches and the heartaches followed fast. For some it was more than a heartache; to them it brought the deep, drugged sleep of Nirvana.

The storm broke at the moment I turned from Lowell on the steps of the palace, and it did not cease, for even one brief breathing space, until we were cast forth, and scattered, and beaten.

As Lowell left me, General Laguerre, with Aiken at his side, came hurrying down the hall of the palace. The President was walking with his head bowed, listening to Aiken, who was whispering and gesticulating vehemently. I had never seen him so greatly excited. When he caught sight of me he ran forward.

“Here he is,” he cried. “Have you heard from Heinze?” he demanded. “Has he asked you to send him a native regiment to Pecachua?”

“Yes,” I answered, “he wanted natives to dig trenches. I sent five hundred at eight this morning.”

Aiken clenched his fingers. It was like the quick, desperate clutch of a drowning man.

“I’m right,” he cried. He turned upon Laguerre. “Macklin has sent them. By this time our men are prisoners.”

Laguerre glanced sharply at the native guard drawn up at attention on either side of us. “Hush,” he said. He ran past us down the steps, and halting when he reached the street, turned and looked up at the great bulk of El Pecachua that rose in the fierce sunlight, calm and inscrutable, against the white, glaring masses of the clouds.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“Heinze!” Aiken answered, savagely. “Heinze has sold them Pecachua.”

I cried out, but again Laguerre commanded silence. “You do not know that,” he said; but his voice trembled, and his face was drawn in lines of deep concern.

“I warned you!” Aiken cried, roughly. “I warned you yesterday; I told you to send Macklin to Pecachua.”

He turned on me and held me by the sleeve, but like Laguerre he still continued to look fearfully toward the mountain.

“They came to me last night, Graham came to me,” he whispered. “He offered me ten thousand dollars gold, and I did not take it.” In his wonder at his own integrity, in spite of the excitement which shook him, Aiken’s face for an instant lit with a weak, gratified smile. “I pretended to consider it,” he went on, “and sent another of my men to Pecachua. He came back an hour ago. He tells me Graham offered Heinze twenty thousand dollars to buy off himself and the other officers and the men. But Heinze was afraid of the others, and so he planned to ask Laguerre for a native regiment, to pretend that he wanted them to work on the trenches. And then, when our men were lying about, suspecting nothing, the natives should fall on them and tie them, or shoot them, and then turn the guns on the city. And he _has_ sent for the niggars!” Aiken cried. “And there’s not one of them that wouldn’t sell you out. They’re there now!” he cried, shaking his hand at the mountain. “I warned you! I warned you!”

Incredible as it seemed, difficult as it was to believe such baseness, I felt convinced that Aiken spoke the truth. The thought sickened me, but I stepped over to Laguerre and saluted.

“I can assemble the men in half an hour,” I said. “We can reach the base of the rock an hour later.”

“But if it should not be true,” Laguerre protested. “The insult to Heinze--”

“Heinze!” Aiken shouted, and broke into a volley of curses. But the oaths died in his throat. We heard a whirr of galloping hoofs; a man’s voice shrieking to his horse; the sounds of many people running, and one of my scouts swept into the street, and raced toward us. He fell off at our feet, and the pony rolled upon its head, its flanks heaving horribly and the blood spurting from its nostrils.

“Garcia and Alvarez!” the man panted. “They’re making for the city. They tried to fool us. They left their tents up, and fires burning, and started at night, but I smelt ‘em the moment they struck the trail. We fellows have been on their flanks since sun-up, picking ‘em off at long range, but we can’t hold them. They’ll be here in two hours.”

“Now, will you believe me?” Aiken shouted. “That’s their plot. They’re working together. They mean to trap us on every side. Ah!” he cried. “Look!”

I knew the thing at which he wished me to look. His voice and my dread told me at what his arm was pointing.

I raised my eyes fearfully to El Pecachua. From its green crest a puff of smoke was swelling into a white cloud, the cloud was split with a flash of flame, and the dull echo of the report drifted toward us on the hot, motionless air. At the same instant our flag on the crest of Pecachua, the flag with the five-pointed, blood-red star, came twitching down; and a shell screeched and broke above us.

Now that he knew the worst, the doubt and concern on the face of General Laguerre fell from it like a mask.

“We have no guns that will reach the mountain, have we?” he asked. He spoke as calmly as though we were changing guard.

“No, not one,” I answered. “All our heavy pieces are on Pecachua.”

“Then we must take it by assault,” he said. “We will first drive Garcia back, and then we will storm the hill, or starve them out. Assemble all the men at the palace at once. Trust to no one but yourself. Ride to every outpost and order them here. Send Von Ritter and the gatlings to meet Alvarez. This man will act as his guide.”

He turned to the scout. “You will find my horse in the court-yard of the palace,” he said to him. “Take it, and accompany Captain Macklin. Tell Von Ritter,” he continued, turning to me, “not to expose his men, but to harass the enemy, and hold him until I come.” His tone was easy, confident, and assured. Even as I listened to his command I marvelled at the rapidity with which his mind worked, how he rose to an unexpected situation, and met unforeseen difficulties.

“That is all,” he said. “I will expect the men here in half an hour.”

He turned from me calmly. As he re-entered the palace between the lines of the guard he saluted as punctiliously as though he were on his way to luncheon.

But no one else shared in his calmness. The bursting shells had driven the people from their houses, and they were screaming through the streets, as though an earthquake had shaken the city. Even the palace was in an uproar.

The scout, as he entered it, shouting for the President’s horse, had told the story to our men, and they came running to the great doors, fastening their accoutrements as they ran. Outside, even as Laguerre had been speaking, the people had gathered in a great circle, whispering and gesticulating, pointing at us, at the dying horse, at the shells that swung above us, at the flag of Alvarez which floated from Pecachua. When I spurred my horse forward, with the scout at my side, there was a sullen silence. The smiles, the raised hats, the cheers were missing, and I had but turned my back on them when a voice shouted, “Viva Alvarez!”

I swung in my saddle, and pulled out my sword. I thought it was only the bravado of some impudent fellow who needed a lesson.

But it was a signal, for as I turned I saw the native guard spring like one man upon our sergeant and drive their bayonets into his throat. He went down with a dozen of the dwarf-like negroes stabbing and kicking at him, and the mob ran shrieking upon the door of the palace.

On the instant I forgot everything except Laguerre. I had only one thought, to get to him, to place myself at his side.

I pushed my horse among the people, beating at the little beasts with my sword. But the voice I knew best of all called my name from just above my head, and I looked up and saw Laguerre with Aiken and Webster on the iron balcony of the palace.

Laguerre’s face was white and set.

“Captain Macklin!” he cried. “What does this mean? Obey your orders. You have my orders. Obey my orders.”

“I can’t,” I cried. “This is an attack upon you! They will kill you!”

At the moment I spoke our men fired a scattering volley at the mob, and swung to the great gates. The mob answered their volley with a dozen pistol-shots, and threw itself forward. Still looking up, I saw Laguerre clasp his hands to his throat, and fall back upon Webster’s shoulder, but he again instantly stood upright and motioned me fiercely with his arm. “Go,” he cried. “Bring the gatlings here, and all the men. If you delay we lose the palace. Obey my orders,” he again commanded, with a second fierce gesture.

The movement was all but fatal. The wound in his throat tore apart, his head fell forward and his eyes closed. I saw the blood spreading and dyeing the gold braid. But he straightened himself and leaned forward. His eyes opened, and, holding himself erect with one hand on the railing of the balcony, he stretched the other over me, as though in benediction.

“Go, Royal!” he cried, “and--God bless you!”

VI

I bent my head and drove my spurs into my horse. I did not know where he was carrying me. My eyes were shut with tears, and with the horror of what I had witnessed. I was reckless, mad, for the first time in my life, filled with hate against my fellow-men. I rode a hundred yards before I heard the scout at my side shouting, “To the right, Captain, to the right.”

At the word I pulled on my rein, and we turned into the Plaza.

The scout was McGraw, the Kansas cowboy, who had halted Aiken and myself the day we first met with the filibusters. He was shooting from the saddle as steadily as other men would shoot with a rest, and each time he fired, he laughed. The laugh brought me back to the desperate need of our mission. I tricked myself into believing that Laguerre was not seriously wounded. I persuaded myself that by bringing him aid quickly I was rendering him as good service as I might have given had I remained at his side. I shut out the picture of him, faint and bleeding, and opened my eyes to the work before us.

We were like the lost dogs on a race-course that run between lines of hooting men. On every side we were assailed with cries. Even the voices of women mocked at us. Men sprang at my bridle, and my horse rode them down. They shot at us from the doors of the cafes, from either curbstone. As we passed the barracks even the men of my own native regiment raised their rifles and fired.