At the Point of the Sword Part 35

What came of them we shall shortly see.

CHAPTER XVIII.

DARK DAYS.

"I have decided to leave you in Lima, Crawford, to help Videla with the second battalion. I have good reasons for doing so," continued the colonel, observing my disappointed look; "and, anyhow, you are well out of this expedition. I don't expect much from it."

The expedition of which Colonel Miller spoke had been planned on a large scale for the purpose of crus.h.i.+ng the enemy in the south, and the first battalion of the Peruvian Legion formed part of it. Naturally I had quite looked forward to sailing with it, and was not at all pleased, therefore, to be left behind. I had many friends, some of them not much older than myself, among the officers of the first battalion, and on the morning of the embarkation I went over to Callao to see them off. They were delighted at the thought of active service, and of course chaffed me unmercifully.

"Take care of the town, Juan," said one; "we shall want it when we come back."

"Some day, when you are a man, we will take you with us," laughed Ensign Alzura, a merry, round-faced youngster of sixteen; "but we must have seasoned men for this trip, dear boy."

"Should the Spaniards arrive while we're away, ask them to wait till our return," remarked another.

"I don't wonder you are so excited," said I coolly; "I felt the same before I knew what a battle is really like."

"Bravo, Crawford!" cried the colonel, who had joined us unperceived; "that's a round shot for them. They haven't heard the whistle of the bullets yet, eh? Well, good-bye; it's time you were getting ash.o.r.e.

You'll hear news of us from time to time."

"Good news too, I hope, colonel.--Good-bye, Zuviria, Alzura, and all of you. I hope you've s.h.i.+pped a schoolmaster," and with that parting shot I ran down to the quay.

The Peruvians were on board the _O'Higgins_; but there were several other vessels, and presently they all stood out of the bay amidst a regular salvo of cheering from the spectators.

I returned to Lima feeling rather gloomy, but Lieutenant-Colonel Videla, who commanded our second battalion, gave me little time for brooding. Fresh recruits were coming in every day, and the work of attending to them kept me employed for weeks. There was still a Patriot army encamped outside Lima, but it did nothing, though who was to blame I could not say.

About the end of the year, vague yet disquieting rumours began to circulate in the city. It was said that our troops in the south had met with defeat, had been cut to pieces and practically swept out of existence. The victorious Spaniards, uniting all their forces, were making ready for a swoop on Lima. Everything was lost!

Don Felipe brought us the news, and it was easy to see, in spite of his talk, that it did not displease him.

"We shall have to call in Bolivar now," said he, "or make peace with the viceroy. Of course you and I will suffer. Our estates will be confiscated; we shall probably be thrown into prison; but we are good patriots, and will not shrink from our duty."

"If the others agree with me," replied my father, "we shall neither call in Bolivar nor make peace. There is still an army left!"

"Just so, but we cannot trust it. The troops are almost in open rebellion, and this news will not quiet them."

"We do not yet know that it is true."

"I am sure of it," said our neighbour hastily. "I have--that is to say, there can be no doubt of it."

A week or two later--January 20, 1823, to be precise--there walked into the quarters of the second battalion a young officer. His face was white and drawn, his eyes were sunken; he looked so pitifully weak and ill that at first I failed to recognize him.

"Well, Crawford," he exclaimed, "am I as changed as all that? Don't you know your old chum Alzura when you see him?"

"Alzura?" I echoed, aghast.

"All that is left of him."

"Where is the first battalion?"

Spreading his hands out dramatically, he said, "Haven't you heard?

Don't you know what has happened at Torata and Moquegua?"

"I have heard nothing but some very dark rumours," I replied uneasily.

"They cannot be darker than the truth. The army has been destroyed, and the battalion with it."

"And the colonel?"

"Oh, he was in another district with the light company. But I'll tell you all about it. We had a wretched voyage, and arrived at Arica half dead. After that we sat down for three weeks doing nothing, when Alvarado, who was in chief command, sent the colonel north with the light company. A lucky thing for them, too!"

"Go on!" said I impatiently.

"Well, at last we moved, and marched as far as Torata. Do you know the place at all?"

"Oh yes; it's a few miles from Moquegua, isn't it?"

"That's it. Well, the Spaniards were at Torata, and we tried to turn them out, but failed. Then they attacked, and we were beaten. It was simply awful. The legion fought like a battalion of heroes. Every one praised us; but praise won't bring the dead to life. We broke two cavalry charges, and stood our ground till there wasn't a cartridge left."

"Then you retreated?"

"Some of us did, not many! We left fifteen of our officers there and three-fourths of the battalion, all dead or dangerously wounded.

Alvarado took us back to Moquegua; but the Spaniards caught us again.

The second defeat was worse than the first, and when the battle was over there was no army left. As to the battalion--! O Juan, isn't it awful? La Rosa, Tarramona, Escobar, Rivero--all gone! I should think," he added, with a bitter laugh, "I must have been senior officer."

It was, indeed, a terrible story. I could hardly realize that of all my high-spirited young friends who had sailed from Callao this was the only one to return.

"How did you get back?" I asked, after a time.

"With General Martinez. We embarked at Ilo, while General Alvarado went on to Iquiqui. The game's up in that part of the country, Juan!"

"Oh, nonsense!" I replied brusquely. "We aren't going to lose heart over a couple of defeats."

Of course the news soon spread, and the people, especially the soldiers, were wild with anger. They said it was the fault of the government, and called for fresh rulers. Some advised sending for Bolivar, while a few prominent citizens even talked of coming to terms with the enemy.

One morning, toward the end of February, Videla called a council of the officers belonging to his battalion. He looked pale, but firm and determined, as if he had resolved on some particular course.

When we had taken our seats, he rose and said, "Senors, I have called you together to discuss an important proposal. Affairs, as you know, are in a bad state; the country is in disorder, and the enemy are triumphing everywhere. Under these circ.u.mstances, the chiefs of the army have decided to force the hands of the government. To-morrow the troops will march to Lima and demand that a president shall be appointed with full powers. Now, I will have no part or lot in this matter. I call it treason. If the government choose to resign, well and good; if they resist, my sword, at least, is at their service."

A round of cheering greeted his remarks, and one after another the officers sprang up, pledging themselves to support him.

"Thank you," said he quietly; "I knew you would not fail me. Nothing will be done until the morning. Then, when the order to march is issued, I shall command you to stand still."

"Suppose they use force, colonel?" I suggested.