CHAPTER XXVI.

A RACE TO THE BOAT.

It was dreadfully unfortunate that such a miserable _contretemps_ seemed bound to occur as that the officer of the guard must arrive upon the scene just at this moment.

Roderic, upon hearing the first Spanish word in that thick voice knew discovery was at hand, and the little cherub of good fortune had suddenly taken a back seat.

If anything were done to prevent a general alarm from going forth, it would have to come from him, since Leon was hardly in a position to attempt any aggressive act, having a woman's arms about his neck.

Roderic unfortunately had his back turned in the quarter from whence the men advanced, else he might have detected the glow of light even before they turned the corner of the passage.

There was little use in crying over spilt milk.

What was done could not be undone.

The best he could do was to make some show of holding the enemy, perhaps incarcerating him in the dungeon so lately Leon's abode.

Unfortunately it happened that the rules and regulations of the Spanish army do not allow a captain of the guard to make his rounds alone and unattended.

A non commissioned officer, perhaps a sergeant, stood at his side holding the lantern and presenting a most astonished appearance at witnessing so remarkable a scene.

Roderic, without losing time, made a dive at the two soldiers, having whipped out his revolver.

"Surrender!" he exclaimed, not forgetting to put the emphatic word in Spanish as became the character he represented.

To his disgust the fellow who held the lantern was so overwhelmed by his alarm that his fingers lost their grip, consequently the article of illumination fell from his grasp and as Roderic's little affair had taken a notion to go out, owing to the abrupt movement he made, they found themselves enveloped in darkness that was not excelled by that of Egypt when the plague came.

It was very very unfortunate.

Just when the Yankee had begun to feel confident he could grasp the game, and manipulate it to his liking, it was snatched out of his hands.

He knew the two men were beating a hasty retreat, for they made plenty of noise as they stumbled along the dark passage.

"We must lose no time--Leon, look to your wife--this way Georgia--please Heaven we will yet find safety on Cleo's yacht."

He had thrown a stout arm around her, and together they pushed forward, while the others came close behind.

At last the moon had pity for their misfortunes, for presently the fair mistress of the night shone forth and dissipated some of the shadows that had hung so heavily around them.

If it had been of moment that Roderic should use caution in making his advance toward the dungeon, surely there was now double reason for such exactness, since their case was desperate enough without any further accidents, such as wandering from the beaten track.

Fortunately they were two, and where his knowledge of the right passage was in doubt Georgia came to the rescue with her woman's wit.

Thus they went on without a mistake.

It was useless to hope they could escape from the whole result of this unfortunate discovery, for the captain of the guard and his attendant had kept up a constant bawling as they stumbled and threshed along, so if under the impression that an enemy chased hard upon their heels with naked swords, ready to impale them thereon.

Of course this must ere now have placed every guard along the ramparts on the alert, and the chances of the fugitives getting out of the fortress in safety were scant indeed.

"Faint heart ne'er won fair lady," as Roderic well knew, and he was one of those men who, having sallied forth to accomplish a given object, allow no obstacle to prevent them from attaining that end, so long as a sturdy arm can prevail.

He never magnified evils that cast their ugly shadows before, while at the same time it was not his principle to under estimate a foe.

At length they drew near the breach in the wall, which had offered Roderic such friendly assistance when entering the fortress of San Juan.

He had not forgotten the two sentries to whose interesting remarks he had listened as he crouched there in the dark aperture under their feet.

He could see them plainly standing there in an expectant attitude, as though under the belief that an attack of some sort was coming, for in no other way could they account for the loud shouts borne to their ears.

It was a case necessitating heroic treatment.

Roderic knew that nothing could be gained by delay and that the demoralization of the guards was what would be to their best advantage.

He crawled in advance of the others and deliberately opened fire upon the two men.

It was his intention to wound rather than slay, but he had life and liberty at stake, and could not be blamed if he sent in the shots thick and fast. The way must be cleared and those fellows above held it in their power to prevent an escape, since they controlled the only exit with which he was acquainted.

Nor was the bombardment all one sided.

The first sentry was struck in the leg, and dropping his Mauser rifle he went hobbling away, bellowing as lustily as a calf; but his comrade was made of better stuff, and at once opened fire in the quarter from whence the shots came.

This was serious enough, for one of the steel clad bullets, even while missing Roderic might glance from some stone and do damage beyond.

So the American forgot that he had intended to simply wound, and began firing point blank, in the hope of downing the Spaniard before he could do any damage.

He was rejoiced then to see the man suddenly stagger back, raise his weapon half way to his shoulder, fire a last shot; and then gun and sentry fell on the rampart together.

The way was open!

It had been cleared at heavy cost--just how heavy Roderic did not even suspect at the time.

"Come," he said, huskily, "over the wall and down to safety--it is our only hope!"

And while the roll of the drum called the Spanish garrison to quarters and soldiers hurried to doubly guard the walls, the fugitives scrambled over the debris that half blocked the breach in the old fortress made by the guns of Sampson's war ships.

Over these impediments Roderic assisted Georgia, nor could he fail to notice how strangely she seemed to hesitate, trusting almost entirely in his strong arm, which was so unlike the Georgia he had known of old.

Perhaps the realization of her dream, and the rescue of Leon from his dungeon had brought about this singular result.

At any rate there was no time given in which to consider it.

Prompt action alone could take them through with flying colors.

The martial sounds increased--one could almost imagine the garrison prepared to receive an attack from the whole of General Miles' invading army.

If noise could accomplish it such an assault would be beaten back readily enough, for the tumult already extended beyond the fortress and was penetrating the town.

Roderic would have felt inclined to laugh but for the seriousness of the occasion--it was like a child and a stack of cards pitched on end--a touch of the first sends the whole pack falling; or a spark of fire coming in contact with a train of gunpowder--so the shouting passed from street to street and San Juan was racked with the commotion.

It was a big send off, at any rate, and those responsible for it could possibly find some future satisfaction in knowing that San Juan had not received such a shock since that early May morning when Sampson stirred things up with his war terrors of the sea.

By rare good luck the fugitives managed to get down from the break in the massive wall without any serious accident.

Several times one would stumble as a portion of the _debris_ slipped under foot, or the tangle of the moon-flower vines tripped them up; but these little accidents bore no result.

Once upon _terra firma_ Roderic knew what he had arranged was all very well, but if Cleo had sent Captain Beven to the rescue, his boat might after all be more advantageously located than the one Owen had in mind.

"To the left!" said Georgia, breathing heavily, for the task just finished had been a severe one.

Of course that meant that Beven was waiting near by, and Roderic was fully content to let events drift him from now on.

Hardly had they gone a dozen paces than the bluff English sailor showed up.

Perhaps he was surprised at discovering the presence of Roderic, who made his identity known immediately, but if so no one knew it, for Beven was a matter of fact old fellow, who took things as they came.

The flight was hastily resumed--indeed, it would have been madness to have halted any length of time with such signs of an aroused military power all around them.

Beven had assumed the lead, and as he was supposed to have his bearings, so that the shortest route to the boat could be taken Roderic was only too glad to resign the whole affair into his hands.

It was at this critical juncture, when hope began to rise strongly in their hearts, that a new element was injected into the game.

Jerome and Captain Shackelford had indeed made a strong guess as to the mission of Beven and the disguised Georgia.

When they finally lost them in the neighborhood of the old fortress, Shackelford had suggested that they visit the Spanish barracks not far away, and talk the matter over with the colonel in charge, who was an old friend of the sea captain.

Thus, when the alarm broke out, they surmised that Beven had something to do with it, and accompanied by a file of soldiers, posted in hot haste toward the spot.

It was our friends' misfortune to meet them on the way.

There were no means of hiding--indeed, the hostile squads discovered each other at about the same moment.

What made it the more aggravating was the fact that the soldiers were directly between them and the bay--just a little beyond could be seen the dimpled water, flashing in the glorious light of the moon.

What was to be done?

Retreat had been rendered impossible, for Roderic was so confused by the several turns taken that he would not have known how to reach his boat.

To surrender meant ignominious death.

An Anglo-Saxon could not dream of submitting to such disgrace while one door yet remained open.

That door was a gallant charge.

Beven knew his nation was not at war with Spain, but his sympathies were wholly with those who spoke the same tongue--blood is thicker than water, and with prophetic wisdom he like many of his race, saw signs in the air to indicate that the time was coming when Great Britain and her colonies would stand fast with the great Republic against the rest of the world--_for peace_!

Therefore he was ready to step in, this gallant son of Neptune who had seen many a hot engagement under the flag of St. George.

"We must cut through or all is lost!" cried Roderic, clinching his teeth in anticipation of the hot time that was coming.

"Good. I'm with you!" snapped the sailor, grimly.

Leon had been armed and was eager for the fray--eager to strike a blow because of the suffering and indignities put upon him by these Spanish tories who loved not Porto Rico.

"Forward, then, and God defend the right!"

Roderic had hardly spoken before they were once again in motion, having involuntarily halted at first sight of the foe.

As the Spaniards had also started forward, the two hostile bodies were advancing toward each other with a rapidity that promised to speedily bring them into contact.

Roderic's martial spirit was fully awakened.

He only feared for the devoted girl who clung so closely to him--on her account he was like a lion aroused, and all thought of pity for those against whom they must come in battle array vanished from his heart.

Beven knew the advantage that must accrue from a hot fire delivered before the others thought of opening the engagement.

"Altogether--make it warm for the dagoes!" he said, swinging his right arm on a level.

Then flashes of fire leaped out, and the rattle of revolvers sounded like giant hail stones beating on an enormous kettle.

It was a perfect cyclone of lead that whipped along that narrow street leading to the bay.

Hardly a shot was wasted.

Confusion and consternation seemed to overwhelm the Spaniards.

Brave men they may have been, but there is a limit to endurance, a time when panic sweeps irresistibly through the mind, and each individual feels that he is the only one remaining alive of many.

So it was no doubt here.

The hurricane of missiles had done considerable damage, but the abruptness and violence with which the storm burst upon them was of even more value in completing the utter demoralization of the Spaniards.

Jerome and Shackelford were the only ones left standing in the street when the fusillade ceased, and the captain had but one leg left upon which he could rely.

Wellington had thrown both arms into the air as a token that his teeth were drawn and that he surrendered.

"To the boat!" said Captain Beven, knowing that a thousand Spanish soldiers would be on the spot ere ten minutes had passed.

Although this round had been so gloriously won he knew they still had a hard row to hoe ere success could be assured.

Still, when were brave hearts of the Saxon race dismayed by even overwhelming odds--the record of many a fierce battle fought on European, Asian, African and American fields bears testimony of their dauntless grit.

Jerome's attitude would have been ludicrous at any other time--he seemed desirous of raising his arms to their highest possible level.

"You have won--you deserve success--I have had enough--count me out, and good luck go with the whole of you!" was what he bawled as they passed him by.

The tiger's claws had been trimmed.

Shackelford was not so magnanimous--he had a game leg that would trouble him no doubt for the rest of his life, and his benediction was in the shape of some hot blasphemy that doubtless eased his soul more or less.

It was a strange parting from the villain of the play--but then Jerome was after all only an adventurer whose maxim it was to sip honey from the beautiful flowers, and leave dangerous briars alone.