Where Strongest Tide Winds Blew Part 8

A heavy fog was clearing from the sea, when from out of the mist rose the black hull and conning tower of the Cochrane. The senior officers of the flags.h.i.+p stood grouped on the starboard rail. The wind changed suddenly to the west, and, as it changed, it rolled up patches of the fog and revealed the black hull and conning tower of the Enlado. A heavy cloud of smoke poured from their funnels; decks cleared for action when they should put into practice the desperate objects of their existence.

A boat was lowered from the flags.h.i.+p and rowed to the wharf of Mollendo by st.u.r.dy Chileans, while an officer bore a message to the Prefecto for all noncombatants to leave the city, as bombardment would begin in an hour.

As the boat was leaving, it was fired upon. Then the ear-splitting reports which followed showed how the flags.h.i.+p took this breach of the rules of war. There was the rus.h.i.+ng swis.h.i.+ng sound, the terrifying screech of projectiles pa.s.sing through the air, followed by terrific explosions and the crash of falling buildings.

In the city, pandemonium reigned. Men and women with blanched faces, were fleeing to the hills. Others threw themselves upon the ground, too terror-stricken to move. I heard a voice at my elbow calling in English. It was the voice of a woman, young and fair. "This way," said I, and we hurried toward the ma.s.sive rock from whose summit I had watched the battle of the Huascar and Amythist two years before.

"We are safe now," I said, as we stood behind the thousands of tons of granite, "safe as if we were behind the rock of Gibraltar."

"Oh, mother, sister and Mr. Robinson--heaven help them at this hour!"

she exclaimed. A sh.e.l.l struck a stone building and exploded by impact; fragments screamed like a panther in the air.

The young woman's face was blanched to a death-like pallor, but she was calm, and, kneeling by my side, she asked G.o.d to help us. Aloud she prayed, a beautiful, impressive prayer, one that must have gone straight to the throne of heaven and received its answer, for soon the wind s.h.i.+fted and those belching volcanoes of the sea were curtained by the fog; the firing ceased.

We hurried to her home amid scenes of desolation and confusion. Her family was safe and, to my surprise, the Mr. Robinson she had spoken of was an employe of our railway, who had but lately arrived from the United States and to whom I had been introduced a few days before.

The bombardment was now over, but the human wolves began to sack the city. Fire was raging in some quarters and burned far into the night.

It lit the streets with a lurid glare; its red light fell upon motionless figures in the dust, and scurrying forms, bent beneath their weight of plunder.

Mr. Robinson was anxious to send his family to Arequipa, and I lent them all possible a.s.sistance, receiving their heartfelt thanks. They were in a strange land, not even knowing the language of the country.

Hattie, the young woman I had met, was the sister-in-law of Mr.

Robinson. Mrs. Robinson and her mother, an aged woman, were disappointed with Peru and were glad to get away from the theatre of war.

I met the Indian soldiers the next day, and the officer commanding was very indignant at his superior for not allowing him to go to the rocks at Mollendo and pick off the gunners from the battle s.h.i.+ps, with flint lock rifles.

I was a frequent visitor at the home of the Robinson family in Arequipa, with whom I had now become well acquainted. It was strange to my ears to hear them all talk English, for seldom had I heard my own language spoken by women. The old lady was one of those quiet, sweet, motherly women. Once introduced to her, it seemed one had always known her. The whole family was the happiest and most cheerful I had ever met. Hattie Judson became school teacher to the English and American children in Arequipa, and her gentle ways soon won the hearts of all. I enjoyed taking her to the theatre and other places of amus.e.m.e.nt, because of her bright conversation and high ideals. From her I began to catch a glimpse of the n.o.bler things of life, things that to me, being but poorly educated and in a foreign land, had been denied. She was a sweet singer and an excellent performer on the piano, and somehow when she sang I was able to understand the soul-reaching depths of the melody.

There was company at the house one night, when I heard her sing for the first time "Coming Thro' the Rye." My soul floated back to Bonnie Scotland, as when a boy I saw the waving fields of grain, the cows in the barnyard, and the la.s.sies coming down the path from school; my mother with the willow basket, bringing in the clothes from the line, and father smoking his pipe by the well--scenes that nevermore would return.

In our walks in the shaded dells of the mountains, she often told me of the United States, the habits and customs of the people--how ambitions and aspirations were rewarded when accompanied by virtue and industry. Of the history of Peru she knew far more than I. It was interesting to hear from her lips the strange stories of the conquering Pizzaro hosts, whose mailed heels had once trod the ground we walked, and clanked the knell of a fallen empire.

My school had been the school of adversity. I had grown up with men who knew or cared little for the finer sensibilities. I felt that her standards of life were superior to mine. Her loyalty to G.o.d and holy charity toward the humblest soul, bent my spirit to profound respect.

She was one who could see all there was of good in mankind and could measure the product of one's powers and give them impulse and direction. In my soul I bowed to the fair graces of her character.

Each day we met I found in her some new wealth of n.o.ble thoughts that created higher ideals in my own untutored mind.

As time went on, fiercer rose the maddening cries of war. I felt the hot blood surge in my veins and I longed to be at the front, amid the roar of cannon and the clash of arms.

We were walking in a grove beneath the swift glimmer of the tropical twilight, when I told her that I felt it my duty to fight for the land that had been the home of my youth for so many years, and showed her a letter in which I was offered an officer's commission on the Huascar.

She laid her hand on my arm and said, "There are n.o.bler things in life than the shedding of the blood of fellow men. The youth of the world goes out to fight for the empty glory of another's crown. It is not on the field of carnage that greatest honors are won, but in the n.o.bler, more peaceful pursuits of life, doing good and becoming leaders of men and preventing war, that one wins the royal diadem of him who said, 'peace on earth, good will to men.'"

As she spoke in earnest eloquence, I could have knelt and wors.h.i.+pped her. Her delicate cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were filled with tears.

No words of love had yet been spoken, but the Barbarian knew and felt that he had met his Ingomar.

XVIII.

ON SUNNY SEAS BOUND NORTH.

I met Mr. Robinson on the street one day, bleeding from a wound on his face. He said that Mr. Wood, superintendent of our railway, had struck him. Two of Mr. Wood's children were attending Miss Judson's school, and on account of the official position of their father, behaved in an ugly manner. Miss Judson made complaint to the school board, which exasperated Mr. Wood and he demanded her resignation. This the board would not permit. He called Mr. Robinson to his office and dismissed him from the service of the company. Being requested by Mr. Robinson to give his reasons for his dismissal, he struck him.

I was angry to think a young man would so brutally use a man of Mr.

Robinson's age, and, too, in a strange country. Before I could restrain myself I demanded his reason for striking Mr. Robinson. Mr.

Wood replied in a haughty manner that he was not accustomed to account for his acts. I replied: "Perhaps not, but when one of your position and age so far forgets himself as to strike an old man, any respect you may be ent.i.tled to is dispelled by your cowardly act."

For a moment it looked serious. He raised his hand as if to strike me.

I said: "Mr. Wood, if you attempt to go any farther I will certainly be a far different antagonist than Mr. Robinson, and teach you that some of your acts, at least, will be rewarded in a manner not to your liking." He knew he had gone too far, and said in a quieter tone, that he did not consider the affair any of my business.

"Mr. Robinson is an American; let his countrymen investigate this matter. I will deal with them."

"Mr. Wood," I replied, "I hope the time will never come when a Briton will so far forget his duty as not to go to the a.s.sistance of any family, irrespective of nationality."

At this moment some other shop men came in, loud in their denunciation of Mr. Wood. There is something that binds a Britisher and an American when they are away from their respective countries, and among strangers. On many occasions I have seen the Britisher and American argue and even quarrel over the merits of their countries but when serious trouble arose, all jealousies would be cast aside, and each one would endeavor to outdo the other in kindness.

That night an indignation meeting was held in a large building formerly used as a storeroom. The employes all knew the reason of Mr.

Wood's attack on Mr. Robinson. Although the majority of them were working under Mr. Wood, they felt the indignity inflicted on Mr.

Robinson was an insult to them all, most of them having children attending the school.

From the beginning of the school, Mr. Wood had tried to dominate it.

This was another reason for the employes' grievances and, chief of all, they were now being paid in the depreciated currency of the country. The meeting was conducted in a quiet business manner. The sentiment was to strike until Mr. Wood was removed from office.

I told the men that that would be an injustice, as the general manager was in Lima and we had no one to appeal to. Therefore we should continue to work until we could communicate with him. This appeal had the desired effect, as all could see the injury our strike would inflict on the railway.

I was then selected as the representative of the employes to go to Lima and lay the matter before the general manager. I was about to start when I was handed a note from the superintendent, saying that my services were no longer required. I replied that I would receive my orders from his superior and proceeded on my journey.

At Lima I succeeded in reinstating Mr. Robinson, and shortly after my return to Arequipa, Mrs. Robinson died. Grief at the injury inflicted upon her husband and a feeling of friendlessness in a foreign land, had hastened her end. Another indignation meeting was held and Mr.

Wood was dismissed from the service of the company. Mr. Robinson became despondent and after a few months decided to leave the country.

The war with Chile was still on. The Peruvian army suffered defeat after defeat. Her navy had made some show of success at first, but not after the terrible fight between the Huascar, and two Chile ironclads, in which the Peruvians lost. The currency of the country became practically worthless. My acc.u.mulation of years was almost swept away.

Mr. Robinson decided to return to their home in San Louis Obispo, California, and about this time I received an offer from the Peruvian government to bring a torpedo boat from Panama to Mollendo. The Robinson family were going north on the steamer which would carry me to Panama. On leaving, our friends gave us a splendid banquet and a.s.sembled at the station to bid us farewell. Poor Chico, I can see him yet, waving his old red handkerchief with his right hand, his left covering his eyes.

When the s.h.i.+p moved out of the port, I stood on the deck with Hattie.

Mr. Robinson and the aged mother stood near us looking upon the scene amid a flood of tears. The memory of their dead they were leaving behind, was no doubt uppermost in their minds.

I looked upon the mountains we were just leaving until they were a mere speck. I intended to perform one last service for Peru, for, however much I had suffered, it was my boyhood's home, the only home I had had since leaving my native sh.o.r.es.

We were a week making the voyage from Mollendo to Panama. The weather was fine and the sea was smooth. I was in company with Hattie much of the time. In her gentle way, she sought to dissuade me from the perilous undertaking with the torpedo boat. But when I reminded her of my duty to Peru she said no more. I could see, however, she was pained at the thought.

The north bound steamer had gone when we arrived at Panama and the Robinsons would have to wait ten days, which compelled them to stay at the hotel in that sultry city.

After visiting the Peruvian consul, who had been notified of my mission by his government, I learned that a Chilean cruiser was watching the torpedo boat and it was decided to await a dark night when we could escape from Panama harbor. Meantime I stopped at the same hotel with the Robinsons. I made several trips around the bay to test the speed of the boat and was satisfied we could outrun the cruiser, but somehow I began to dread the venture. The full force of this feeling dawned on me when I realized I was in love with Hattie.

The day was drawing near for their departure, when Hattie and I were seated on the veranda of the hotel, looking out over the Pacific. The afternoon wore away, the sun began to set in the dense blue haze of the tropic ocean, the great cathedral bells pealed out the hour of eight, the night birds screeched from out the palms, and still we sat in the glow of the twilight, talking of our past and future.

The streets became silent and even some stars had faded from the skies and the ceaseless roar of the surf beating upon the sands was music, when she promised to be my wife.