Part 12

'Oh, bother! You've never won in this country. The more you win, the more enemies you make--there are plenty of people, on our side, who want me out of it. That is why those chaps wouldn't obey you this morning--they're as jealous as thieves. I run the show, and they don't like it--a good many of them don't--not the men, the officers. They want their siesta in the middle of the day, and eight hours' sleep besides--it's the custom of the country--they don't get it. They've always run revolutions on those lines, and I don't.'

He'd dressed himself now and brushed his yellow hair well back. 'That's better; come along and have some grub.'

Well, I hadn't any appetite, but he had--and ate a jolly good meal in spite of all the orderlies and officers coming and going. He did want to dine on the open verandah, close to the road, but I thought of that little beast creeping up with the revolver, and managed to get him into an inside room, by complaining of the cold. The air was so still that all the time he was eating we could hear firing going on far away in the forest, but that didn't interfere with his appetite in the least. 'Zorilla's not made a move yet,' he said at last. 'Come and have a game of billiards,' and we did actually play on a French table with balls as big as oranges, in a room overlooking the sea, the cool breeze blowing through wide-open windows, and the noise of rifle-shots almost drowned by the lazy noise of the water on the beach. Jose, who seemed to follow Gerald about like a dog, squatted in a corner, a young insurgent officer scored for us, and Gerald, playing stiffly with his bad arm, was as keen on beating me as if we had been in the pater's billiard-room at home. We were half-way through the game, and he was piling up cannon after cannon, sprawling over the table to make his strokes, and I was standing at his side, when I suddenly heard something snap outside, saw the insurgent officer look out--fright on his face--turned my head, and there was that little beast, with a joyful smile on his ugly face, pointing a revolver straight through the window at Gerald.

I don't know how I did it, but I'd pulled Gerald off the table, and he was sprawling on the floor, before the room filled with smoke and noise, and a bullet had cut clean across the green cloth. I saw the insurgent officer whip out a revolver and fire, I sprang out into the dark with mine, and Jose, with a yell, a _machete_ in his hand, dashed past me, down on to the beach. But there wasn't a sign of any one.

People rushed into the room, the lights were knocked out, and then Gerald sang out, asking what was the matter.

'My dear Billums, I wouldn't have had that happen for worlds,' he said, when the lamps had been relighted, and I'd shown him where the bullet had ripped across the table.

'What happen?' I asked.

'Why, you knocking me down, of course.'

He was quite hurt about it, and wanted to finish the game, said the cut across the cloth would make it all the more 'sporting,' but the noise of firing in the forest became more furious, and orderlies came in with news that Zorilla was on the move at last.

Gerald wrote out more orders and shrugged his shoulders. 'He's marching towards El Castellan. I suppose he thinks I shall try and prevent him.'

'But won't you?' I asked.

'My dear Billums, of course not; he can go there as fast as he likes. He thinks I shall try and get in front of him, and then he'll double back to San Fernando. Not much! Come along and we'll have a look round.'

I followed him out of the Casino--it was quite dark, the forest absolutely black--we mounted horses, and, with a lot of officers, trotted down the road. I was so nervous and overwrought in the dark lanes, which we presently rode through, that my heart thumped every time I heard '_Quien Vive!_' or '_Que Gente!_' called out by sentries or pickets we couldn't see, and the murmurs of '_Yuesencia!_' or '_Don Geraldio!_' from hundreds of unseen mouths. Gerald found some officers and seemed satisfied; somehow or other we got back, and the night was so still, except for the distant firing, the rustling trees, and the very faint noise of the sea, and the darkness was so intense, that I was jolly glad to be inside the Casino again.

More orderlies were waiting for Gerald here, and a prisoner was dragged into the light.

'That settles it,' he said decisively, looking at the poor, miserable, frightened, whining brute. 'He's been caught in the El Castellar direction--where they are advancing. He belongs to the 5th Santa Cruz _Cazedores_--the worst fighters in the army. Old Zorilla wouldn't put them there if he was in earnest. I'm going to bring back every man I can get hold of, place them the other side of that stream--down the road there--it runs nearly straight inland for four or five miles, and I wish to goodness the moon would come out.'

Whilst he was speaking, a whole crowd of bare-footed riflemen and _machetos_ went silently past, going back towards San Fernando, the officers, haggard and dirty, stopping to salute Gerald and ask for orders before disappearing after them. It was the noiselessness of them all that was getting on my nerves, and the feeling of hopelessness at not being able to speak to any one except Gerald. All this time, too, I kept looking out for that ex-policeman, expecting him to spring out at any moment.

Every one who came along I half expected to be he, and little Jose, I think, did so too, standing close to Gerald, just like a cat, with a _machete_ in his hand. Gerald saw it once, and made him throw it away, but he picked it up again when Gerald wasn't looking.

The 'Gnome' appeared from somewhere, and I saw that my brother was very glad to see him--he came across to me, and we bowed, and I squeezed his hand. He was sent away along that stream with some men he'd brought. 'Come and finish our game of billiards, Billums,' Gerald sang out. Honestly I don't know whether he was showing off, or was nervous, or whether he did really want to finish it, but we heard a heavy carriage splashing through that stream, and the new President--de Costa himself--appeared. They both went into the Casino and, I was thankful to see, into an upstairs room, where they couldn't be shot at. I went with them and sat down in a chair--their voices seemed to be floating away somewhere--and the next I know was that little Jose was pulling at my sleeve, it was just getting light, very heavy firing was going on close by, yells and shrieks were coming from the forest, and men were running noisily along the road beneath the window. Gerald wasn't there.

I sprang up and followed Jose. The Casino was empty, and, as I dashed out, a window, above me, broke and fell in little pieces at my feet. I heard bullets flying everywhere.

I looked down towards the stream, and people were lying on the road, beyond the ford, firing in our direction. Jose pulled me back behind the Casino, and we ran along the shore, waded through the stream as it flowed over the sands, and got behind our people. Gerald wasn't there either, only the 'Gnome,' in his big hat, waddling backwards and forwards.

'Geraldio? Don Geraldio?' I asked, and he stopped a moment to point away up stream.

He was trying to stop the shooting, because there was nobody in sight, although bullets were flying past all the time, and very heavy firing was going on further inland. He managed to stop it presently, and then I had time to look round.

Just across the stream was the little wall under which the ex-policeman had been sitting last night. It enclosed the garden of a small bungalow, and one side of it ran along the road, and the other along the stream. It was light enough for me to see the road running up to the Casino, about a hundred and fifty yards further on--the black and green flag was still hanging there--and about three hundred yards beyond this it turned away to the left, and we could only see the glimmer of light on the water. As far as I could tell, we had none of our people in front of us, but it was impossible to make out anything in the forest, on the left of the road, and it turned out that we still had a lot of chaps there.

The 'Gnome' was extending his people down the beach, making them scrape up a kind of breastwork in the sand, right down to the edge of the sea. They began digging away like a lot of hungry wolves, and some of them had found fishing nets, and were laying them down on the far side of the stream. I suppose one always thinks the position one happens to be in must be the main point of attack, and I wished to goodness that Gerald would come along, for I didn't like the way the chaps lying in the road kept looking back. I guessed that what Gerald had expected last night had happened, and that Zorilla had turned at last, and thought what a grand old chap he must be, after all his bad luck, to be able to make his disheartened, half-starved troops attack us.

*CHAPTER X*

*The Fight round the Casino*

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

Well, if Zorilla intended to try and cut his way past us into San Fernando, I'd learnt enough about the old man to know that it would be jolly hard work to stop him, and it struck me that the little chaps, on each side of me, were not placed in a very good position to defend the road and the beach, and that the 'Gnome,' however plucky a chap he was, did not seem at all certain what to do.

The good sleep which I had had must have cleared my brain. Whatever was the cause, I seemed to realise, all at once, exactly what ought to be done. Of course I was tremendously excited, but I tried to calm myself by imagining that this was only a sham-fight, and to think what would be the natural thing to do.

It was all very well to make our little chaps lie down behind the ford and behind the stream where it trickled down the beach, but, however deep it was farther inland, it was so shallow here that it hardly covered one's boots and wouldn't stop a cat. To stop where we were, and leave that bungalow garden wall, on the enemy's side, unoccupied, was perfectly silly, and I looked about to see if there was not something we could use to barricade the road itself.

I saw those empty wagons standing in front of the Casino, and knew that if we only pulled them across the road and put some of our chaps behind them, it would be grand.

First of all, for that bungalow wall, I thought, and, almost before I knew what I was doing, I found myself dashing across the stream, and looking over it to see if it would be any use to make the little chaps fire over it. But for the giant palms and ferns, in the garden, I could see right along the road, and fellows behind it could easily sweep the road with rifle-fire. I called Jose, and he came, then the 'Gnome' came, stood on tip-toe, looked over, and knew exactly what I meant. I seized a _machete_, jumped over the wall, and began lopping down the palms, and in a minute he'd sent thirty or forty chaps to help me, and began bringing riflemen over to line the wall--he made some climb on the roof of the bungalow, too, where they could get even a better field of fire.

Now for those wagons, I thought, and began trotting down the road towards the Casino, hoping that the others would come along as well, but only Jose panted after me, singing out 'No, no!'

'_No, Senor, no!_' the Gnome shouted, but I wasn't going back, for another idea came to me. How about the top of the Casino itself?

I got up to the Casino, dashed in, and ran upstairs--I knew that there must be a way to the roof, as there were railings all round it, and it was flat. I found a staircase leading up there, and was on top in a jiffy, Jose following me and pulling me down to my knees, because, directly my head had shown above the railings, there were yells from the edge of the forest, and bullets came splattering against the house. I wriggled myself to the edge and looked down, really only wanting to see whether it commanded the road properly, but--my eye!--beyond that corner, three hundred yards further along, collecting there, as far back as I could see, were hundreds of cavalry, and the woods were thick with infantry.

I beckoned to Jose, and he crawled across and looked too; his face got almost white when he saw what I had seen.

I heard the people at the ford opening fire. '_Senor! Senor!_' Jose cried, and pointed down into the road at our feet, and I saw there, right below us, twenty or thirty regulars streaming across the road from the forest to the front of the Casino--the leading ones were already springing up the steps.

We were down off that roof like redshanks, and as we got down to the first floor we heard them clambering up the main staircase. We raced down the corridor and saw the first of them. They saw us and yelled. I fired my revolver in their faces and dashed into a back bedroom, Jose slamming the door behind us. I knew there was a verandah outside, and we jumped out, swarmed down a supporting pillar--like monkeys--and swung off back along the beach, the soldiers firing at us from the verandah we'd just left. I split one of the knees of my riding breeches, I ran so fast.

I didn't run so fast entirely on account of those bullets, but because I wanted to let the 'Gnome' know what I had seen round that corner. Jose told him, pointing up the road.

They had commenced firing at us now from the Casino; one of our chaps kneeling in the road dropped his rifle and fell backwards, the 'Gnome's' big hat spun round and fell on the ground. He picked it up, put a finger through a bullet-hole, and stuck it on again. He didn't look frightened, but muddled--he didn't seem to know what to do.

My aunt! it was all clear enough to me--now.

All that heavy firing, away on the left, where my brother had gone, was merely Zorilla's bluff, just a piece with his pretending to fall back on El Castellar, in the night, and he meant to make his real attack along the road. As soon as his cavalry were ready he'd launch them along the beach and across the ford, and simply gallop into San Fernando, clearing the way for his infantry.

Oh, why wouldn't Gerald come and tell us what to do!

'_Geraldio! Don Geraldio!_' I shouted to Jose, pushing him to the left, and he understood, and bolted along the edge of the stream in among the trees where our little men were swarming.

We couldn't stay where we were, for the regulars simply rested their rifles on the verandah and the window ledges and fired point-blank at us. Several of our chaps, lying across the road, had been hit already, and although the 'Gnome' brought more men and made them form a double line, with fixed bayonets, ready to spring to their knees directly they were wanted, they were terrified and kept turning to look backwards. Every second I expected to see the cavalry come thundering round that bend in the road, and I knew that we couldn't possibly stop them. Our own chaps behind the low wall were certainly potting at the regulars in the Casino, but they didn't even aim properly, they were too frightened, simply popping up over the wall and firing haphazard.

Three more of our men were hit, the 'Gnome' couldn't make any more fill their places, and I knew that, in a few minutes, those who were there would creep back among the trees. The 'Gnome' stood in the middle of the road, behind them, one hand on his sword-hilt and the other on his revolver holster, as brave as a lion, but I could see that he hadn't an idea what to do.

I knew, I knew well enough, that we couldn't stop the cavalry, but if we could only capture the Casino and occupy that flat roof before they charged, we might possibly check the advance of his infantry till Gerald came back. I couldn't explain all this to the 'Gnome,' who stood there looking stupid, with bullets flicking all round him.

Oh, why wouldn't Gerald come and lead them!--I couldn't.

I heard the sound of a horse galloping towards us--from behind--from San Fernando way. Some one in white was coming along as hard as his horse could go. Gerald at last, I thought, and my heart thumped with joy, but it wasn't, it was Seymour. As he leapt off his horse it fell in the road, dead, and before it had finished shuddering, half-a-dozen chaps were fighting to take cover behind it.

'For God's sake, help!' I said, jumping towards him. 'Zorilla's cavalry is all round that bend--the woods are full of his infantry--they're firing at us from the windows of the Casino, and I can't make a soul understand.'

'Where's your brother?' he said, out of breath.

'Over to the left--there's been very heavy firing there--I've sent to tell him.'

'I've come on to tell him there's a pom-pom coming along the road--Jones and Richardson are bringing it--it will be here in half an hour.'

Half an hour! Good God! In half an hour all would be over.

'We must capture the Casino,' I said, trembling with despair. 'They've only about twenty men there at present. Tell him--tell that chap,' pointing to the 'Gnome', who was kicking and cuffing some of the little men, squirming on their bellies and fighting each other to get behind two dead men who lay in the road.

'Right you are, old chap,' and Seymour shouted to him.

I saw his face clear, he dashed off, and in a couple of minutes had got hold of some men--those who were lining the beach--harangued them, and then we all rushed along the shore to the Casino. We were hidden, a little, by that bungalow and the garden, but I saw several hit before we got into the open, and then a dozen fell. Seymour was in front of me with a _machete_ in his hand, I was a good second, and the 'Gnome' and thirty or forty natives were close behind us. We poured over the verandah into the billiard-room, but not a sign of any one was there, and all the regulars were upstairs. Seymour yelled something, and some of our fellows began firing up through the ceiling, bringing the plaster down in clouds. I and some others dashed for the main staircase, but, at the top, the regulars were gathered, and were firing down.

It was the most appalling din--rifles firing, mirrors and glasses smashing, and wood-work splintering all round us. Our men wouldn't face the stairs.

'There's a back staircase,' I heard Seymour yell, and I went after him. We clattered up and burst on those chaps from the rear. There was a scuffle, Seymour shouted down for our people to stop firing, and in five minutes there wasn't a living regular in the house. Most of them had escaped by sliding down from the verandah, and had run back into the forest again, shooting at any one who went near a window.

'On the roof!' I heard Seymour shouting, and rushed back to find him leaning on the banisters--the excited little brown men, thirsting for more blood, crowding up the stairs, past him. He looked awfully white.

'What's the matter?' I yelled.

'Shot through the stomach--make these chaps line the roof.'

I saw the 'Gnome' dashing from room to room, placing his men at the windows, and I rushed up to the roof, pushing all the chaps in front of me, and made them lie down along the four edges, shoulder to shoulder with their rifles pointing over the concrete ledge--across the beach at the rear of the house, back towards the stream where Seymour's dead horse was lying, across the road in front of the Casino, and, on the fourth side, right along the road and round that bend in it. The cavalry men were still clustered there, and they were so numerous that I couldn't see the end of them among the trees; some were dismounted, so that Zorilla evidently was not ready yet.

'Fire! Fire!' I yelled, pointing towards them, but the little chaps seemed numbed and frightened at the sight of them and wouldn't fire. I suppose they were overawed by the sight of the cavalry, or perhaps they knew there would be no escape from that house if Zorilla's people won, and feared to anger them. Perhaps, too, as no bullets were coming at them they didn't want to draw their fire. Whatever it was I couldn't get them to shoot, so I seized a man's rifle, kicked him out of the way--pulled back the bolt to see if it was loaded--leant it against the edge, aimed right in among the cavalry, and fired. I saw a horse fall down in a heap, and his rider extricate himself, looking this way and that to see where the bullet had come from. I fired again and again--there was a stir among them--the little chaps on either side of me bucked up and began to let off their rifles--the cavalry began fidgeting, crowding and jostling together--more horses fell--there was a sudden turning of the horses' heads, and they all began to retire. My little chaps squealed with delight, the little fellow whose rifle I'd bagged, seized it, imploring me with his black eyes to let him have a turn, and I crawled away, breathing freely again, for the cavalry had all retired behind the next bend in the road, and I knew that they were not yet ready to charge. But we had drawn a tremendous fire from the infantry in the woods, and we could not see any one to aim at.

Then I thought of Seymour, and jumped down the stairs to see what I could do for him. He was still leaning on the banisters--deadly pale. 'The cavalry have retired. We've time for a breather. Show me where you are hit.'

He pointed just below the middle of his stomach, and I knew what was the only thing I could do, for Dr. Clegg had been teaching us 'first aid' ever since we left Gibraltar. I tore a sheet off a bed, tore it in strips, and wound them round his stomach as tightly as I could. 'For God's sake, fetch me a drink,' he gasped, but Dr. Clegg had said: 'If any of you get shot through the stomach, throw your water-bottle and biscuits away and lie down. It's your only chance.'

'No, not a drop!' I said, and wanted him to lie down--he wouldn't. 'I'll go on the roof. I can help there.'

I carried him up, very gently, and laid him down in the middle--with the little men's naked feet and their yellow soles and toes all round him. I got a mattress, too, and made him lie on it.

'I can just see that bend in the road,' he said; 'I can manage all right; get those wagons across the road.'

I had forgotten them. I ran below, slipped on the stairs--they were wet with blood--steadied myself, and got down to the ground floor. The 'Gnome' was there, tying a table-napkin round the arm of a native. He smiled at me.

'Wagons!' I shouted, pointing through the doorway to where they stood. He knew what I meant, dropped the napkin, roared to his men, and they began pouring out from the lower rooms. We ran across the road under a very heavy fire, got hold of the wheels of one, and, shoving for all we were worth, pushed it into the middle of the road. The man next me fell, shrieking, and clutched my feet; I shook him off, and we rushed back for another wagon, and were just getting a 'move' on it when I heard yells of '_Yuesencia! Yuesencia!_' The little chaps on the roof who were lining that side of the Casino began shouting, '_Don Geraldio! Don Geraldio!_' and I saw Gerald galloping up to the ford and the few men who still lined that garden wall. I shouted out 'Hurrah!' we all shouted, and then came a roaring noise from the road, the clatter of horses' hoofs, and round the bend thundered the cavalry. They were coming along the beach too, their lances and pennons lowered--and my fellows on the roof began firing like 'billy loo.'

'One more push--shove altogether!' I yelled. The front wheels were on the road, but the rear ones stuck fast, and the 'Gnome' and his men dashed back to the Casino.