Chatterbox, 1906 Part 27

'Mr. Anstey,' said the General, looking up, 'I have sent for you, as junior officer, as I wish you, immediately on landing, to proceed to the Governor of Buenos Ayres and give him these dispatches, proposing to him the unconditional surrender of the town, as I am anxious to prevent useless shedding of blood. You will take a corporal and two men with you as guard, and of course a flag of truce, and I hope you may be successful in your mission.'

'I will do my best, sir,' said Anstey, quietly. Then the General returned to his map, and the young man left the cabin.

Meanwhile, the preparations for landing were being rapidly proceeded with, and some twenty-four hours later men and guns were all safely landed on the sandy sh.o.r.e, and all eager to march towards the city.

First of all, however, they had to wait for the return of Anstey, and hear whether his terms had been accepted by the Spanish Governor.

Towards sunset the young ensign came back, and great was the excitement among the whole force on hearing that the Governor had refused the terms offered by the British General, and that the march towards Buenos Ayres was to begin at dawn on the following day.

It seemed as if this march would present no great difficulty either to men or guns, as the plain to be traversed was an immense flat, green meadow, which promised an easy road for the cannon. But the 'green meadow,' which proved so satisfactory at first, became softer and looser as they got further inland, and finally it ended in a treacherous bog, which threatened to engulf both men and guns; and to make matters worse, the enemy, entrenched behind some trees at the little village of Reduction, a mile or so away, now opened fire on our troops, as they struggled to get across the mora.s.s.

It was soon evident that progress in that direction was an impossibility, and very reluctantly the General gave the order to retreat. But it was almost as impossible to retreat as to advance, for the ground, trodden by the feet of so many men and horses, was now but pulpy mud, in which the gun-carriages sank to their axles.

A British force, however, is not easily discouraged, and the men of all ranks worked with almost super-human energy, till at last the whole army had once more a footing on firm ground.

The General had been invaluable at this crisis; he was here, there, and everywhere where the difficulties were greatest, and was one of the last men to leave the mora.s.s, having insisted on seeing all the force safely over. He was then riding alongside the rearguard when his horse staggered, recovered itself for a moment, and then sank with the General heavily into the mora.s.s.

'All right! all right!' he called out cheerily to an officer who ran to his a.s.sistance; 'I am not hurt in the least.' The next minute, however, he called out in a very different voice, 'Help! help! I am sinking!'

It was indeed true! He had fallen on to a bad patch of marsh. The mora.s.s seemed now to be rapidly changing into a quicksand, in which the General and his horse who had gone to his a.s.sistance were gradually sinking.

Other men were about to rush in, when they were stopped by the loud tones of Anstey. 'Stop! stop!' he cried energetically. 'You can do no good rus.h.i.+ng in like that, you will only get engulfed yourselves. I know these bogs--I have lived in Ireland.'

As he spoke he had seized one of the ladders which were fortunately carried with the force in case they should be wanted for scaling, and holding this out across the oozy patch, he let the General support himself by it for a moment. Then he laid the ladder flat, and crept along it till he reached the still sinking man: he caught him by the arm at once, and started to haul him out. Anstey's strength was well known in the regiment, and perhaps he was the only man who could have dragged out the General by sheer force of arm, but he did it somehow, and the cheers of the men simply rent the air as they saw their loved commander safe once more.

'Thank you, my lad,' said the General simply, as soon as he was on the ladder; 'you saved me from an ugly death. I shall not forget you.'

Nor did he. Later in the day Buenos Ayres was captured, with but slight loss to the British. Four thousand Spanish cavalry fled away inland, leaving the artillery and all the treasures of the city to be the spoil of the army, and that same evening Anstey was once more summoned before the General, and told that to him would be entrusted the honour of conducting to London the precious stones and jewels and the other treasures found in the city coffers.

On September 20th of the same year a strange procession might have been seen pa.s.sing along Pall Mall to the Bank of England. First of all came eight waggons loaded with gold and precious stones, each waggon being preceded by a Jack Tar carrying a flag with the word 'Treasure' on it.

Then came the field-pieces and the Spanish colours captured at Buenos Ayres, and last of all rode Gerald Anstey--the proud guardian of these valuable trophies.

The jewels, stones, and boxes, containing over a million dollars, were deposited at the Bank of England, and the colours and field-pieces were taken to the Tower of London, where those interested in such matters may still see them.

History, however, compels us to state that the capture of Buenos Ayres was but a short-lived triumph, as it was wrested from us in the following year.

THE GIANT OF THE TREASURE CAVES.

(_Continued from page 75._)

Having secured the turret door to prevent interruption, Alan drew Marjorie to the settle, and began the story of his adventure in the wood: how he had discovered the secret pa.s.sage from the cliff into the great cave; how he had lingered that very morning near the old ruined summer-house, and heard Thomas and the other man talking; and how he had seen Peet leave the ruin.

'Now it comes to this,' he wound up. 'Thomas is up to some fishy thing or other, bribed by a greater villain than himself. The question is, what _is_ he up to? Can you guess?'

'If it was burglary,' said Marjorie, sagely, 'what could they possibly want in the ruined summer-house? I have never been into it, but I can't fancy anything of value can be kept there.'

'Yet those two men were hunting just now for the cellar door that led to it.'

'So they were.'

Marjorie sat silent, thinking the problem out. Alan did not interrupt her, so great was his faith in his sister. She often hit on the right clue when they were puzzled over things, and he felt that, even if she could not do so in the present case, it would be a great comfort to be able to talk over each new discovery with her, and have her help when he needed it.

'One thing struck me,' said Marjorie at last. 'When there was that fuss about the summer-house door being open, do you remember how anxious Thomas was to get in? Did you see what a cross look he had all the time Peet was speaking? It was just as if he hated Peet. I wonder if he wants to do him some injury?'

'Hu-um,' pondered Alan, taking in the new idea slowly; 'no one can like that surly old Peet, but doing him an injury is another thing. I expect you have the right end of the thread, but what is it going to lead to?

Has Peet anything valuable in the ruin? And if he has--and it seems as if he must have--how can I find out what it is, or where it is? I dislike him, in spite of Aunt Betty calling him a rough diamond; but of course I wouldn't see him robbed or cheated.'

'I should think not, nor anybody else either. But what do you think we ought to do? Why not tell Father about it, and ask him to keep the secret till something turns up? He would find out at once what Peet has in the summer-house.'

But Alan, always inclined to be rather selfish and wilful, thought this would spoil the fun of discovering it themselves, and would not listen to the proposal for an instant.

'We will make a thorough examination of the ruin outside first,' he began; 'that is, as soon as this weather will let us. The whole place will be dripping for a day or two, but I don't mind that.'

A sudden outburst of barks and yelps, accompanied by a clamour of voices, came up from below. Running to the window, they caught sight of the cause of the shouts and howls. The dogs were being led back to their kennels, and as they were in a savage mood, the men were persuading or forcing them on. To the amazement of the brother and sister, Thomas was with the party, apparently as completely at home as if he had never fled from the hounds.

'I say!' exclaimed Alan; 'I wonder how he managed that?'

'I know,' said Marjorie; 'he probably told them he was running after the other man, but could not catch him. You see the other one isn't there. I expect it was the only way of preventing the servants and dogs going into the room where they took refuge.'

And this is exactly what had occurred. Alan, much impressed with this version of the affair, sprang up, declaring he must go down and hear how it was that the dogs were loose, and had got upon the man's track.

Off he rushed, leaving Marjorie to go downstairs and see how Estelle was. She found Miss Leigh had been looking for her for a long time, and was not in the best of tempers in consequence. Estelle was better, but the doctor desired she should be kept in bed for the remainder of that day, and not run about much for a day or two. No one could understand the cause of the fainting fit, and Marjorie was called upon to explain what they had been doing. They had been playing in the pa.s.sages, she said, and were on the tower stairs when the dogs burst in. Estelle was frightened, and had rushed into the corridor, and when Marjorie and Alan followed her, she was found lying on the floor. It all sounded very simple. But Marjorie felt very mean and uneasy about the concealment; she felt that it was as bad as telling a lie, and only her promise to Alan, rashly given, kept her from disclosing everything.

'The whole business is most mysterious,' said Colonel De Bohun, in a tone of annoyance. 'How it came about that there was a strange man--a tramp, I suppose--wandering so near the house, I cannot imagine. Thomas saw him, and so did James, most luckily; and Thomas was wise enough to give chase at once, but the rascal seems to have escaped him. He was a nimble sort of a fellow, James says, and it seems that the moment the grooms got wind of it, they let the dogs loose. Lucky none of them were hurt.'

'So this was the way Thomas managed!' thought Marjorie. 'What a sharp fellow he is! Oh, if Father only knew!'

'Has the man gone?' asked Lady c.o.ke, anxiously.

'I should think so. We can't find him, at all events. He knows all the men are on the alert, so I think you are safe, I will remain here if you are nervous.'

It was considered better that he should remain, Lady c.o.ke being old and very frail in spite of her activity and energy of character. Miss Leigh was to take the children home, and explain all that had occurred to Mrs.

De Bohun, who was laid up with a cold.

(_Continued on page 94._)

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Alan began the story of his adventure."]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "The luckless fugitives were dragged forth."]

STORIES FROM AFRICA.

III.--THE STORY OF A CAPTIVE.