At the Point of the Sword Part 5

The lanterns showed a group of men in uniform, who crowded around me as I reached the top; but being uncertain how long my strength would last, I cried,--

"A wreck! Search the beach. There may have been others washed ash.o.r.e."

Upon this there was much talking, and then two men carried me away, leaving their companions, as I hoped, to search for any chance survivors.

CHAPTER IV.

THE SILVER KEY.

It would be hard for me to tell just what happened during the next day or two. I did not lose consciousness altogether, but my nerves were so shattered that I mixed up fact and fancy, and could hardly separate my dreams from events which actually took place.

On the third or fourth day my senses became clearer I lay on a bed in a small cell-like apartment. In the opposite corner was a mattress, with a blanket and rug rolled neatly at the head; above it, on the wall, hung a sword and various military articles, as if the room belonged to a soldier.

Presently, as I lay trying to recall things, the door was pushed open, and a man entered. He was young; his face was frank and open, and he had fine dark eyes. He was in undress uniform, and I judged, rightly as it turned out, that he was a Spanish officer. Seeing me looking at him, he crossed to the bed, and exclaimed in the Spanish tongue, "Are you better this morning?"

I nodded and smiled, but could not speak--my throat hurt me so.

"All right!" he cried gaily. "Don't worry; I understand," and at that he went out, coming back presently with the military doctor.

Now I had no cause, then or afterwards, to love the Spaniards; but I hold it fair to give even an enemy his due, and it is only just to say that this young officer, Captain Santiago Mariano, treated me royally.

In a sense I owed my life to him, and I have never forgotten his kindness.

As my strength returned he often sat with me, talking of the wreck, from which I was apparently the only one rescued. Three men, he said, had been washed ash.o.r.e, but they were all dead. Two were ordinary sailors, and from his description I easily recognized the third as Montevo, the skipper.

There was a rumour, the young officer continued, that a man had been picked up by some Indians further along the coast; but no one really knew anything about it, and for his part he looked on it as an idle tale.

There was small comfort in tills; yet, against my better judgment, I began to hope that Jose had somehow escaped from the sea. He was a strong man and a stout swimmer, while for dogged courage I have rarely met his equal.

One morning Santiago came into my room--or rather his--with a troubled expression on his face. I was able to walk by this time, and stood by the little window, watching the soldiers at exercise in the courtyard.

"Crawford," said he abruptly, "have you any reason to be afraid of General Barejo?"

Now, until that moment I had not given a thought to the fact that in escaping one danger I had tumbled headlong into another; but this question made me uneasy. As far as safety went, I might as well have stayed at my mother's side in Lima as have blundered into a far-off fortress garrisoned by Spanish soldiers.

"I ought not to speak of this," continued Santiago, "but the warning may help you. Did you hear the guns last night?"

"Yes," said I, wondering.

"It was the salute to the general, who is inspecting the forts along the coast."

"I have heard my father speak of General Barejo."

"Well, after dinner last evening the commandant happened to speak of your s.h.i.+pwreck, and the general was greatly interested. 'A boy named Crawford?' said he thoughtfully; 'is he in the fort now?' and on hearing you were, told the commandant he would see you in the morning.

This is he crossing the courtyard. He is coming here, I believe."

I had only time to thank Santiago for his kindness when the general entered the room. He was a short, spare man, with closely-cropped gray hair and a grizzled beard. His face was tanned and wrinkled, but he held himself erect as a youth; and his profession was most p.r.o.nounced.

The young captain saluted, and, at a sign from the general, left the room.

Barejo eyed me critically, and with a grim smile exclaimed, "By St.

Philip, there's no need to ask. You're the son of the Englishman Crawford, right enough."

"Who was murdered by Spanish soldiers," said I, for his cool and somewhat contemptuous tone roused me to anger.

He smiled at this outburst, and spread out his hands as if to say, "The boy's crazy;" but when he spoke, it was to ask why I had left Lima.

"Because I had no wish to meet with my father's fate," I answered brusquely; and he laughed again.

"Faith," he muttered, "the young c.o.c.kerel ruffles his feathers early!"

and then, again addressing me, he asked, "And where were you going?"

"On a sea voyage, for the benefit of my health--and to be out of the way."

To this he made no reply, but his brows puckered up as if he were in deep thought. I stood by the window watching him, and wondering what would be the outcome of this visit.

After a short time he said, slowly and deliberately, so that I might lose nothing of his speech, "Listen to me, young sir. Though you are young, there are some things you can understand. Your father tried, and tried hard, to wrest this country from its proper ruler, our honoured master, the King of Spain. He failed; but others have taken his place, and though you are only a boy, they will endeavour to make use of you. We shall crush the rebellion, and the leaders will lose their lives. I am going to save you from their fate."

I thought this display of kindness rather strange, but made no remark.

"In this fortress," he continued, "you will be out of mischief, and here I intend you shall stay till the troubles are at an end."

"That sounds very much as if you mean to keep me a prisoner!" I exclaimed hotly.

"Exactly," said he; then turning on his heel he walked out.

From the window I watched him cross the courtyard and enter the commandant's quarters. Ten minutes afterwards Santiago appeared with a file of soldiers.

"Very sorry, my boy," said the young captain, coming into the room, "but a soldier must obey orders. You are my prisoner."

"I couldn't wish for a better jailer," said I, laughing.

"I'm glad you take it like that, but unfortunately you won't be under my care. Have you all your things? This way, then."

We marched very solemnly side by side along the corridor, the soldiers a few paces in the rear. At the end stood a half-dressed Indian, holding open the door of a cell.

"Oh, come," said I, looking in, "it's not so bad."

The cell was, indeed, almost a counterpart of Santiago's room, only the window was high up and heavily barred. The furniture consisted of bedstead and rugs, a chair, small table, and one or two other articles.

The floor was of earth, but quite dry; and altogether I was fairly satisfied with my new home.

"You'll have decent food and sufficient exercise," said the captain, who had entered with me; "but"--and here he lowered his voice to a whisper--"don't be foolish and try to escape. Barejo's orders are strict, and though it may not appear so, you will be closely guarded."

"Thanks for the hint," said I as he turned away.

The Indian shut the door, the bolts were shot, the footsteps of the soldiers grew fainter, and I was alone.