Mr. Fortescue Part 8

CHAPTER VII.

IN QUEST OF FORTUNE.

When the war came to an end my occupation was gone, for both circ.u.mstances and my own will compelled me to leave the army. My allowance could no longer be continued. At the best, the life of a lieutenant of dragoons in peace time would have been little to my liking; with no other resource than my pay, it would have been intolerable. So I sent in my papers, and resolved to seek my fortune in South America. After the payment of my debts (incurred partly in the purchase of my first commission) and the provision of my outfit, the sum left at my disposal was comparatively trifling. But I possessed a valuable a.s.set in the ring given me by the French lady on the field of Vittoria. It was heavy, of antique make, curiously wrought, and set with a large sapphire of incomparable beauty. A jeweler, to whom I showed it, said he had never seen a finer. I could have sold it for a hundred guineas. But as the gem was property in a portable shape and more convertible than a bill of exchange, I preferred to keep it, taking, however, the precaution to have the sapphire covered with a composition, in order that its value might not be too readily apparent to covetous eyes.

At this time the Spanish colonies of Colombia (including the countries now known as Venezuela, New Granada, and Ecuador, as also the present republic of southern Central America) were in full revolt against the mother country. The war had been going on for several years with varying fortunes; but latterly the Spaniards had been getting decidedly the best of it. Caracas and all the seaport towns were in their possession, and the patriot cause was only maintained by a few bands of irregulars, who were waging a desperate and almost hopeless contest in the forests and on the llanos of the interior.

My sympathies were on the popular side, and I might have joined the volunteer force which was being raised in England for service with the insurgents. But this did not suit my purpose. If I accepted a commission in the Legion I should have to go where I was ordered. I preferred to go where I listed. I had no objection to fighting, but I wanted to do it in my own way and at my own time, and rather in the ranks of the rebels themselves than as officer in a foreign force.

This view of the case I represented to Senor Morena, one of the "patriot"

agents in London, and asked his advice.

"Why not go to Caracas?" he said.

"What would be the use of that? Caracas is in the hands of the Spaniards."

"You could get from Caracas into the interior, and do the cause an important service."

"How?"

Senor Morena explained that the patriots of the capital, being sorely oppressed by the Spaniards, were losing courage, and he wished greatly to send them a message of hope and the a.s.surance that help was at hand. It was also most desirable that the insurgent leaders on the field should be informed of the organization of a British liberating Legion, and of other measures which were being taken to afford them relief and turn the tide of victory in their favor.

But to communicate these tidings to the parties concerned was by no means easy. The post was obviously quite out of the question, and no Spanish creole could land at any port held by the Royalists without the almost certainty of being promptly strangled or shot. "An Englishman, however--especially an Englishman who had fought under Wellington in Spain--might undertake the mission with comparative impunity," said Senor Morena.

"I understand perfectly," I answered. "I have to go in the character of an ordinary travelling Englishman, and act as an emissary of the insurgent junta. But if my true character is detected, what then?"

"That is not at all likely, Mr. Fortescue."

"Yet the unlikely happens sometimes--happens generally, in fact. Suppose it does in the present instance?"

"In that case I am very much afraid that you would be shot."

"I have not a doubt of it. Nevertheless, your proposal pleases me, and I shall do my best to carry out your wishes."

Whereupon Senor Morena expressed his thanks in sonorous Castilian, protested that my courage and devotion would earn me the eternal grat.i.tude of every patriot, and promised to have everything ready for me in the course of the week, a promise which he faithfully kept.

Three days later Morena brought me a packet of letters and a memorandum containing minute instructions for my guidance. Nothing could be more harmless looking than the letters. They contained merely a few items of general news and the recommendation of the bearer to the good offices of the recipient. But this was only a blind; the real letters were written in cipher, with sympathetic ink. They were, moreover, addressed to secret friends of the revolutionary cause, who, as Senor Morena believed and hoped, were, as yet, unsuspected by the Spanish authorities, and at large.

"To give you letters to known patriots would be simply to insure your destruction," said the senor, "even if you were to find them alive and at liberty."

I had also Don Alberto's letter, and as the old gentleman had once been president of the _Audiencia Real_ (Royal Council), Morena thought it would be of great use to me, and serve to ward off suspicion, even though some of the friends to whom he had himself written should have meanwhile got into trouble.

But as if he had not complete confidence in the efficacy of these elaborate precautions, Senor Morena strongly advised me to stay no longer in Caracas than I could possibly help.

"Spies more vigilant than those of the Inquisition are continually on the lookout for victims," he said. "An inadvertent word, a look even, might betray you; the only law is the will of the military and police, and they make very short work of those whom they suspect. Yes, leave Caracas the moment you have delivered your letters; our friends will smuggle you through the Spanish line and lead you to one of the patriot camps."

This was not very encouraging; but I was at an adventurous age and in an enterprising mood, and the creole's warnings had rather the effect of increasing my desire to go forward with the undertaking in which I had engaged than causing me to falter in my resolve. Like Napoleon, I believed in my star, and I had faced death too often on the field of battle to fear the rather remote dangers Morena had foreshadowed, and in whose existence I only half believed.

The die being cast, the next question was how I should reach my destination. The Spaniards of that age kept the trade with their colonies in their own hands, and it was seldom, indeed, that a s.h.i.+p sailed from the Thames for La Guayra or any other port on the Main. I was, however, lucky enough to find a vessel in the river taking in cargo for the island of Curacoa, which had just been ceded by England to the Dutch, from whom it was captured in 1807, and for a reasonable consideration the master agreed to fit me up a cabin and give me a pa.s.sage.

The voyage was rather long--something like fifty days--yet not altogether uneventful; for in the course of it we were chased by an American privateer, overhauled by a Spanish cruiser, nearly caught by a pirate, and almost swamped in a hurricane; but we fortunately escaped these and all other dangers, and eventually reached our haven in safety.

I had brought with me letters of credit on a Dutch merchant at Curacoa, of the name of Van Voorst, from whom I obtained as much coin as I thought would cover my expenses for a few months, and left the balance in his hands on deposit. With the help of this gentleman, moreover, I chartered a _falucha_ for the voyage to La Guayra. Also at his suggestion, moreover, I st.i.tched several gold pieces in the lining of my vest and the waistband of my trousers, as a reserve in case of accident.

We made the run in twenty-four hours, and as the _falucha_ let go in the roadstead I tore up my memorandum of instructions (which I had carefully committed to memory) and threw the fragments into the sea.

A little later we were boarded by two revenue officers, who seemed more surprised than pleased to see me; as, however, my papers were in perfect order, and nothing either compromising or contraband was found in my possession, they allowed me to land, and I thought that my troubles (for the present) were over. But I had not been ash.o.r.e many minutes when I was met by a sergeant and a file of soldiers, who asked me politely, yet firmly, to accompany them to the commandant of the garrison.

I complied, of course, and was conducted to the barracks, where I found the gentleman in question lolling in a _chinchura_ (hammock) and smoking a cigar. He eyed me with great suspicion, and after examining my pa.s.sport, demanded my business, and wanted to know why I had taken it into my head to visit Colombia at a time when the country was being convulsed with civil war.

Thinking it best to answer frankly (with one or two reservations), I said that, having heard much of South America while campaigning in Spain, I had made up my mind to voyage thither on the first opportunity.

"What! you have served in Spain, in the army of Lord Wellington!"

interposed the commandant with great vivacity.

"Yes; I joined shortly before the battle of Salamanca, where I was wounded. I was also at Vittoria, and--"

"So was I. I commanded a regiment in Murillo's _corps d'armee_, and have come out with him to Colombia. We are brothers in arms. We have both bled in the sacred cause of Spanish independence. Let me embrace you."

Whereupon the commandant, springing from his hammock, put his arms round my neck and his head on my shoulders, patted me on the back, and kissed me on both cheeks, a salute which I thought it expedient to return, though his face was not overclean and he smelled abominably of garlic and stale tobacco.

"So you have come to see South America--only to see it!" he said. "But perhaps you are scientific; you have the intention to explore the country and write a book, like the ill.u.s.trious Humboldt?"

The idea was useful. I modestly admitted that I did cultivate a little science, and allowed my "brother-in-arms" to remain in the belief that I proposed to follow in the footsteps of the author of "Cosmos"--at a distance.

"I have an immense respect for science," continued the commandant, "and I doubt not that you will write a book which will make you famous. My only regret is, that in the present state of the country you may find going about rather difficult. But it won't be for long. We have well-nigh got this accursed rebellion under. A few weeks more, and there will not be a rebel left alive between the Andes and the Atlantic. The Captain-General of New Granada reports that he has either shot or hanged every known patriot in the province. We are doing the same here in Venezuela. We give no quarter; it is the only way with rebels. _Guerra a la muerte!_"

After this the commandant asked me to dinner, and insisted on my becoming his guest until the morrow, when he would provide me with mules for myself and my baggage, and give me an escort to Caracas, and letter of introduction to one of his friends there. So great was his kindness, indeed, that only the ferocious sentiments which he had avowed in respect of the rebels reconciled me to the deception which I was compelled to practise. I accepted his hospitality and his offer of mules and an escort, and the next morning I set out on the first stage of my inland journey.

Before parting he expressed a hope--which I deemed it prudent to reciprocate--that we should meet again.

Nothing can be finer than the ride to Caracas by the old Spanish road, or more superb than its position in a magnificent valley, watered by four rivers, surrounded by a rampart of lofty mountains, and enjoying, by reason of its alt.i.tude, a climate of perpetual spring. But the city itself wore an aspect of gloom and desolation. Four years previously the ground on which it stood had been torn and rent by a succession of terrible earthquakes in which hundreds of houses were levelled with the earth, and thousands of its people bereft of their lives. Since that time two sieges, and wholesale proscription and executions, first by one side and then by the other, had well-nigh completed its destruction. Its princ.i.p.al buildings were still in ruins, and half its population had either perished or fled. Nearly every civilian whom I met in the streets was in mourning.

Even the Royalists (who were more numerous than I expected) looked unhappy, for all had suffered either in person or in property, and none knew what further woes the future might bring them.

CHAPTER VIII.

IN THE KING'S NAME.

I put up at the Posado de los Generales (recommended by the commandant), and the day after my arrival I delivered the letters confided to me by Senor Moreno. This done, I felt safe; for (as I thought) there was nothing else in my possession by which I could possibly be compromised. I did not deliver the letters separately. I gave the packet, just as I had received it, to a certain Senor Carera, the secret chief of the patriot party in Caracas. I also gave him a long verbal message from Moreno, and we discussed at length the condition of the country and the prospects of the insurrection. In the interior, he said, there raged a frightful guerilla warfare, and Caracas was under a veritable reign of terror. Of the half-dozen friends for whom I had brought letters, one had been garroted; another was in prison, and would almost certainly meet the same fate. It was only by posing as a loyalist and exercising the utmost circ.u.mspection that he had so far succeeded in keeping a whole skin; and if he were not convinced that he could do more for the cause where he was than elsewhere, he would not remain in the city another hour. As for myself, he was quite of Moreno's opinion, that the sooner I got away the better.

"I consider it my duty to watch over your safety," he said. "I should be sorry indeed were any harm to befall an English caballero who has risked his life to serve us and brought us such good news."