Part 11

'He say no go San Fernando till night,' Navarro explained. 'Too hot.'

Well, as I've told you before, I've got a beastly bad temper: I wasn't going to stand any nonsense, and I was inside that place in a twinkling.

'San Fernando!' I shouted, pointed to the blazing white road, where the mules were lying panting in the glare.

They only smiled.

I pulled my revolver out and roared again, but they only pulled theirs out and shook their heads.

I knew that I was up against something 'tough,' and I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't heard my name called.

Navarro was beckoning to me, and I went out, the officers laughing, and only that one following me.

'Prisoners obey me--give them rifles--I want El Medico--San Fernando--quick,' and he pointed to where the regulars were all lying asleep.

I knew well enough what he meant, and was in such a towering rage that I'd have taken any risk. I held out my hand, he held out his, and we shook.

'Right you are, old chap, I'll trust them.'

He jabbered to the officer who had followed me, and then said, 'Take me to prisoners,' so we picked up the litter and carried him to where they were, the other officers laughing, and not even getting up from their benches to see what was going to happen.

Then he introduced the officer to me. 'Don Pedro de Castilio--Senor William Wilson,' and we bowed to each other. I thought it an awful waste of time when every second mattered, and what we had to do had to be done quickly.

He went among the regulars, waking them, and half-a-dozen glided to a wagon and came back with rifles. Don Pedro took four of them along to the inn, and I saw them pointing their rifles through the windows.

'Don Pedro make them prisoners,' Navarro whispered, with his eyes gleaming.

That was a jolly smart move, and the officers never made a sound. If they'd sung out or fired a shot, we should have had the _machetos_ round us in a second.

As fast as the other two woke their comrades, they stole away and got rifles, some of them bringing back a box of ammunition.

Not a _macheto_ moved, and you bet I kept my eyes skinned lest they should wake, handing out ammunition as fast as the regulars came up for it. By the time I had seventy or eighty armed, I made them climb on top of the four wagons, so that they could defend themselves better in case the little forest-men tried to rush us with their _machetes_; I lifted Navarro on top of one of them too.

One of these wagons was right in front of the inn, so that my five young friends inside it had about twenty rifle-muzzles to look at. Still not a macheto stirred--they seemed dead to the world--so I went across to the inn.

It was they who were up against something 'tough' now, and they knew it, stood up, began unbuckling their sword-belts, and were just going to hand them to me, when I heard cries of '_Senor! Senor!_' heard men running, and, looking over my shoulder, saw the rest of the regulars swarming round the wagon with the rifles in it, making a tremendous noise as they pulled them out. I ran along the road, and, as I ran, I saw the _machetos_, under the trees, all rising to their feet, gripping those horrid _machetes_.

I pointed to the wagons, there was no need for orders, the regulars simply scrambled on top of them like drowning rats on a log, running from wagon to wagon to find room, and crawling underneath them when they couldn't. I jumped across to where Jim, my horse, was standing, got on him, and pulled him into the middle of the road.

The little _machetos_ hadn't quite got the hang of affairs, and looked half-dazed to see the regulars on top of the wagons and the rifles pointing at them.

I roared out, 'San Fernando! San Fernando!' but they were too startled to obey; and Don Pedro and his four men, too frightened to stay where they were any longer, bolted for the nearest wagon, the officers bursting out after them, and plunging into the forest among their own men.

'San Fernando!' I shouted, pointing down the road, and some of the little forest-men seemed to want to obey, but I saw those contemptible officers going in among them and dragging them back.

My aunt! I was in a jolly awkward fix. If they only made a rush, my chaps would simply be eaten up. I dare not get them down from the wagons to stir up the mules, for I felt absolutely certain that that would only be the signal for a massacre. We couldn't move the wagons till the guns went on--the road was not broad enough to pass them--and the leading one was at least a couple of hundred yards away. I saw a lot of the _machetos_ dart across the road ahead of us, and my heart went thump, for I thought they were making ready for a rush, but the little brutes simply unhitched the leading gun's mule teams and led them into the forest.

Well, that was checkmate with a vengeance.

One of the officers now came up to the wagon on which Navarro was sitting and spoke to him. He sang out to me, and I went across.

'He say, "No go San Fernando till night; if soldiers no give up rifles, _machetos_ kill them. Officers tell _machetos_, soldiers take guns to Zorilla."'

He was in a funk himself; the trees on both sides of us were simply swarming with the fierce little men, and I didn't know what to do, my brain seemed all woolly, but I dare not let the regulars throw their rifles down.

'Oh! that I knew Spanish and could talk to the little chaps and explain things,' I was thinking, when there was the sound of a horse galloping along the road, behind us, and the 'Gnome' dashed up. I was glad to see him, if you like.

He looked at the regulars on top of the wagons, timidly pointing their rifles across the road, and at the crowds of _machetos_ in the woods, and didn't know what to think of it. Before he'd caught sight of me, I saw one of the officers running to him. I knew he'd tell him lies, so I cantered up to him too. He looked startled to see me, but quite pleased, and I made him come to the wagon where Navarro sat. 'Tell him--ex-plain,' I sang out. They seemed to know each other very well.

You should have seen him after he and Navarro had talked for a few seconds. He was in a towering rage, and he rode backwards and forwards along the edge of the road, evidently telling the officers exactly what he thought of them, and I knew that things were going right, because Navarro looked so chirpy and the officers so ashamed of themselves. The regulars, too, began to put up their rifles, and those who had crawled under the wagons crawled out again. Then, at last, the little forest-men stuck their _machetes_ back into their belts, and a couple of hundred of them came along, looking like naughty children, and took charge of the mule teams. My aunt! I was so relieved and thankful and tired and hungry and hot all at the same time that I would have done any mortal thing for my fat little 'Gnome.'

He sent the officers and the rest of their men away into the forest--to rejoin Gerald, I suppose--and jolly glad I was to see the last of them. Then we shoved off, rattling down the road, and you may guess that I never wanted to see that inn again. The 'Gnome' stopped with us for about a mile, and then, taking off his hat to me, galloped on ahead, leaving me with no one to question my authority any more.

Still, I didn't feel in the least sure that those other fellows wouldn't come back, so, with help from Navarro and Don Pedro, I got the two hundred regulars into some sort of order, fifty of them well in front of the guns as an advance guard, fifty between the guns and the wagons, fifty as a rear guard, and the remainder riding on the wagons themselves.

I wanted to make the little forest-men, who were leading the mules, give up their _machetes_, and explained that to Navarro, but he smiled, shook his head, and said, '_Machetos_ good men now,' so I had to be satisfied.

We tramped along like this, the mules getting slower and slower, till half-past one, when a violent thunderstorm made it almost as dark as night, and wetted us to the skin. It was jolly refreshing whilst it lasted, cooled the air splendidly, and afterwards we got along much faster. By three o'clock we were out of the forest; I had nothing to fear from the forest-men, and was as happy as a king. We rumbled down to the stream, splashed through the ford, after a lot of trouble with the mules, who would fill themselves with water before they'd come on, breasted the slope again, and got on top of the ridge looking down over San Fernando.

You can jolly well imagine how glad I was to see it, and the old _Hector_ lying offshore. From here it was simply a triumphal procession. The 'Gnome' must have let the people know what had happened, for they met us in hundreds, flocking round me, trying to lead my horse, even to kiss my gaiters, dancing and shouting and clapping their hands, and fighting for the honour of holding on to the gun traces. '_Viva los canones! Viva los Inglesas!_' they shouted, and dragged the guns along, much to the relief of the mules.

The cathedral bells were clanging joyously when we marched into the square, I in front, Navarro on his litter beside me, Zorilla's charger behind us, then the two hundred regulars walking in front of the leading gun. You can guess how jolly important I felt, for the whole population had turned out, huzzahing and throwing their hats in the air, and on the steps and verandah of the Club were a lot of the _Hector_ chaps and the Skipper himself.

As I took off my panama hat to salute him, he sang out, 'Good lad! Good lad!' and Navarro, seeing them, called out, '_El Medico!_'

Clegg, our Surgeon, was leaning over the verandah, so I stopped and had him taken in there. 'Look after him, will you?' I called out to Clegg; 'his leg's badly broken,' and on we went again.

The regulars, in their hated uniforms, were a bit of a puzzle to the crowd, but they thought they had deserted to the insurgents, and soon swarmed round them, shouting, '_Viva los cazedores!_' tearing off their own green and black rosettes and pinning them on the soldiers' sleeves. Many of them had already got rid of their green and yellow badges, and you may bet your life they didn't object to the black and green ones, so long as their skins were safe.

Ever since I had been stabbed by that wretched little ex-policeman, and whenever I got in among a crowd of natives, I found myself looking round to see if I could recognise him. I was doing so now without knowing it, looking from face to face all round me. Perhaps it was because of what Navarro had said, 'He will never cease revenge,' but I had the most extraordinary feeling that he was there, somewhere, and had his cunning little eyes fixed on me. I couldn't see him anywhere, and thought the strange fancy was probably due to my being so sleepy. I pulled myself together, because we were now abreast the cathedral, the front of which had been hung with black and green flags, and, on the steps, the whole of the Provisional Government was waiting for me, bowing and taking off their top-hats. It was all I could do to keep from laughing, although I was so tired and sleepy and hungry that I could hardly sit in my saddle. They made me dismount, and would have kept me there for ages, but I seized hold of Mr. Don Pedro, pushed him forward, took my hat off, bowed, and led my plucky little stallion back to the Club. I knew that he would explain everything, and I always hate being fussed over. The crowd made way for me as if I'd been a blooming emperor; but I felt a touch on my shoulder and jumped, for I was still thinking of the little brute.

'Beg parding, sir,' I heard some one say, and there was O'Leary, his funny old face simply as excited as a child's. 'We'd just like you to see that 'ere bit of 'ydraulic machinery what we brought along with us, sir.'

'Right you are,' I sang out--I know I yawned, I couldn't help it--and he took me through a side street to the water front and a long low building, which ran along the shore, with a tumble-down 'yard' in front of it. Inside the tumble-down gates there were thirty or forty of our petty officers, with their jumpers off, digging out like pepper among a crowd of half-naked natives.

'Look what we've done, sir,' O'Leary grinned, and there I saw the long chases of two 4.7's sticking up from their field carriages.

'Pretty good work that,' I said, yawning again.

'They didn't know nothink about 'em, sir, but for us, sir,' he grinned; they were all grinning with delight, and the armourer's crew, as black as paint, came across from a forge, in a shed beyond, stood by the guns, and grinned too.

'Your brother's done a good day's work, we hear, sir,' Griffiths, the boatswain's mate, said, saluting me; 'these 'ere guns'll be a pleasant sur--prise to him when he gets back.'

Then Bob and the 'Angel,' Barton, the senior mid., Blotchy Smith, half-a-dozen more mids., and Marchant, the 'Inkslinger,' with their coats off, and covered with grease and dirt, came running across.

'What are you up to?' I asked, and they dragged me to another corner of the yard, and I found they'd been 'assembling' the pom-poms.

'We've just been giving the chaps a bit of drill,' Bob squeaked. 'We're having a glorious time. I wish we could stay on shore till the morning. We'd have everything finished by then. Won't Cousin Gerald be pleased?'

Well, I was much too tired to stay any longer, and shoved off, all of them hurrying back to finish their job.

O'Leary followed me out. 'They don't know how they came 'ere, sir. I gave them English gents the "tip," and they were all out of their packin'-cases when I comes along, innercent like, with all these chaps. We just looks in at the gateway, and sees 'em all lying "'iggle de piggledy" like, a-lying on the ground, and, well, I says to 'em, "Mr. Wilson, our Sub, what the Commander bullies, 'as a brother fighting for these 'ere niggers, so one good turn deserves another, so 'wot oh!'" and we just 'as a quiet arternoon's fun, and you sees what we've done, sir.'

'He'll be awfully pleased. Thank you very much indeed,' I said, and tramped back to the Club, more dead than alive, looking from side to side all the time, in case that little brute was lurking about anywhere with his knife. I was so stiff that I could hardly move one leg in front of the other, and my back aches now when I think of it.

Zorilla's black charger was tied up to the Club railings, the groom apparently waiting for me, and I handed over both of the tired horses to one of the Englishmen who was there, stumbled up the steps, and fell back in one of those easy-chairs on the verandah, pretty well played out. Dr. Clegg came along.

'What do you think of my pal?' I asked him.

'He won't be on his legs again for six months,' he told me, 'I'm going to take him on board the _Hector_ for the Fleet Surgeon to see.'

I was absolutely too weary just then to worry about anything, but I know that there were a lot of formalities to go through before he could be taken aboard, and that the Skipper and one of the San Fernando Englishmen bustled about and managed it all right. The Provisional Government would have done anything for us just then. I was jolly glad, because I owed a great deal more to little Navarro than I could repay.

I don't know when I had felt so tired, and though any number of our chaps were crowding round me wanting me to talk, and the townspeople were thronging against the Club railings to see me, I hardly noticed them, and just wanted something to drink and then go to sleep. I really couldn't keep my eyes open.

*CHAPTER IX*

*Zorilla attacks*

_Written by Sub-Lieutenant William Wilson, R.N._

I slept like a top for an hour, and woke up in a fright; I thought that little brute was trying to stab me, but it was only one of the local Englishmen, a man named Seymour, shaking me.

'I'll be more careful next time,' he said, smiling and rubbing his shoulder where I'd caught him 'one' as he bent over me. 'You yelled as if you were being murdered.'

'I thought I was,' I said, waking up.

He had just come back from Gerald, and had a message for me. Gerald wanted me to go out to him again. He was at a place called Marina, about eight miles along the coast-line, half-way to El Castellar, and was making it his headquarters for the night.

'You'll see lots of fun if you go out there,' Seymour told me, 'he has Zorilla's army surrounded just above Alvarez's farm, not two miles from Marina, and expects to collar the whole lot to-night or to-morrow morning. He's done a great day's work and has captured the last gun they have.'

He was sending his own buggy to Marina with Gerald's bag, and offered me a lift.

You may bet I jumped at the offer; there was just time for me to have a wash and some tea; along came the carriage with two jolly smart ponies in it; one of the Club servants brought down Gerald's kit-bag--one of the last presents the mater had given him before he left home--in I jumped, and away those ponies flew, bumping the carriage along at a fine rate.

There was no more going to sleep then--it was as much as I could do to hold on to my seat, and prevent myself being chucked out.

We rattled down to the foreshore and turned along the coast road, bowling along it at a great pace, every now and then meeting wounded men limping wearily towards San Fernando. Some of our own ward-room officers were tramping back to catch the 'dinner' boat off to the ship, and they must have envied me pretty considerably. Thank goodness, the Skipper had given me forty-eight hours' leave, and I hadn't to get aboard till to-morrow at noon. I was so jolly keen to see some more fun, and to tell Gerald how I'd managed to bring those guns back to San Fernando, that I forgot all about being so sleepy.

The road ran along the top of the beach, skirting the shore all the way, and the forest came right up to the side of it, and made it beautifully shady, but it was in such a terrible state of holes and ruts, crumbling down here and there on the beach side, and overgrown with bushes on the forest side, that it looked as if the sea and the forest between them would swallow it up pretty soon.

Four miles out from the town there were two poor chaps lying by the roadside; I expect they had been wounded during the night, and had tried to make their way into San Fernando, but died before they could do so. Horrid-looking crows, something like vultures, were hopping about round them. I hated the brutes--they hardly got out of the way of the wheels.

Just as it was getting dusk we passed some bungalows, and the native driver shouted, '_Marina! El Casino!_' pointing ahead to a large building in front of us standing close to the beach.

'_Don Geraldio!_' he nodded.

Then we splashed through a stream, and it wasn't too dark for me to see a little native chap squatting by the side of a low garden wall there, or to recognise him. It was that ex-policeman--I could see the scar on his forehead--somehow or other I was expecting to see him--and, without thinking, I jumped out of the carriage, stumbled for an instant, and then sprang at him, but he'd seen me too, and fled. I had Don Pedro's revolver with me, and fired as he jumped the low wall and darted among some trees. I was after him in a second--of course I had missed him, I always was a rotten shot with a revolver at any time--and then he fired back, and a bullet sung past my elbow. I caught sight of his white shirt among the trees, and fired at him again, and he bolted out of the garden, across the road, and into the forest.

It was hopeless to follow him there.

The pistol-shots had frightened the ponies, and they were dashing madly along the road, Gerald's kit-bag flying out. I picked it up, and lugged it along to the front of that big building--a gaudy-looking kind of place, nearly all windows, with a flat roof, verandahs and balconies all round it, and '_El Casino_,' in big gilt letters over the door, half-hidden by a huge black and green flag which hung down over the entrance.

Gerald, surrounded by officers, was standing at the top of the steps, and I was only thankful that that little brute had not gone on another hundred yards.

'Hello, Billums!' Gerald sang out. 'Got my bag all right? I thought, when the buggy dashed past a moment ago, that old Zorilla would get it. Come along with me, I'm going to have a shave and get into clean things.'

He took me along with him, and whilst he was shaving himself, and his little groom, Jose, was unpacking his bag, I told him about the ex-policeman.

'For goodness' sake, take care of yourself, Gerald,' I said; 'he'll get you if he dies for it,' but 'Don't worry,' was all I could get out of him, as he scraped his face. I don't mind telling you that I was thoroughly frightened--much more for Gerald than myself, though the more I bothered him to take some precautions, the more angry he got.

'Blow it!' he said; 'you've made me cut myself. Confound these safety razors. My dear Billums, if he's going to get me, he will. I'll keep my eye skinned for the beast, but they're all so much alike that you can't tell t'other from which--scar or no scar. Nobody's life is worth a cent in this country unless you trust to luck.'

'But why don't you have an escort?' I pleaded.

'Have an escort? My dear Billums, if I had an escort, they'd think I was afraid.'

I gave it up, and told him all about bringing those guns and ammunition-wagons back into San Fernando, and all the troubles I'd had with the officers and their men; I didn't forget to tell him about the 'Gnome' coming up in the nick of time.

He was jolly pleased, though he didn't say much. 'That chap you call the 'Gnome' is one of the best people I've got, I don't know what I should do without him.'

All this time orderlies came in and out, and Gerald did not seem to have a moment's peace. Then a man came in with a note.

'It's from Zorilla,' Gerald said. 'He wants to know what's become of Navarro, his fat little A.D.C. You ought to know--that chap with the cigarette case.'

I told him he had been taken on board the _Hector_.

'Jolly glad,' he said, sent for some paper, sat down with the soap lather on his face and a towel round his waist, and wrote a reply. 'Wouldn't be the proper thing not to write it myself.'

'Tell Zorilla we found his horse, and have brought him into San Fernando,' I sang out.

'Good stroke, Billums, good stroke. We'll send him back when he's fit--always make friends of an enemy, especially if he's a good chap like Zorilla,' and he added a postscript.

'Where is he?' I asked, as the messenger darted away.

'About three miles off--in another clearing, for the night.'

'But the horse won't be much good to him,' I said, remembering what the Englishman had told me. 'You've got him surrounded, and he must surrender, mustn't he?'

'Yes, I have,' Gerald smiled, 'three thousand men round about the same number. I don't believe I have more--hundreds have gone off to their homes with loot. I tell you what. Old Zorilla isn't beaten till he's dead, and he may be up to any tricks to-night. It's seven miles to El Castellar and it's eight to San Fernando, and he'll lose his job and his reputation if he falls back on the fort. He's lost his guns, and he'll get 'em back, and San Fernando too, if he dies for it. I know the dear old chap.'

'I thought you'd won,' I said, feeling very worried.