Loe raamatut: «Across the Salt Seas», lehekülg 8

"Sir," said, "I am a soldier with many unknown dangers before me. This boy can add nothing to their number. Yet, sir, for your gracious consideration for me I am deeply grateful."

Still he regarded me, saying nothing for a moment or so, then spoke again:

"Dangers!" he said-"the dangers every honest soldier or sailor encounters in his calling are nothing; they are our portion; must be avoided, if may be; if not, must be accepted. And he who falls in the battle has naught to repine at-at least he falls honourably, leaves a clean memory behind."

"Sir!"

"But there are other dangers that are worse than shot, or steel-or death! Many a brave soldier and sailor has gone under from other causes than these. Mr. Crespin, I say no more-have, perhaps, said too much, were it not that you have strangely interested me." Then, abruptly, he went on, and as though with the intention of forbidding any more remarks on that subject: "Captain Hardy shall be instructed to send you both ashore on the morning after we go out. Here are some papers from the duke and myself to the Earl of Marlborough. Be careful of them; they relate to you alone. I-we-hope they will assist you to go far."

I bowed and murmured my thanks, for which he observed there was no necessity whatever, then gave me his hand and said:

"Farewell, Mr. Crespin; we may not meet again. I wish you all you can desire for yourself. Farewell."

But he uttered no further word of warning of any kind, and so let me go away from him wondering blindly what it was he knew of this young man; wondering above all what it was against which he covertly put me on my guard.

Later on-though not for some time to come-I knew and understood.

* * * * * * * * *

I found Juan-after the sails of the boat from the Pembroke had faded into little white specks upon the surface of the water, until they looked no bigger than the flash made by seagull's wing-found him outside the one and only inn of this small town, lolling against the doorpost-made dirty and greasy with the shoulders of countless Algarvian peasants-and amusing himself by trying to make a group of ragged children understand the pure Spanish he was speaking to them.

Then, as he saw me crossing the filthy street, he came over to meet me-never heeding the splashing of mud administered to the handsome long boots which he had now upon his legs, though he was dainty, too, in his ways-and began telling me of what arrangements he had already made for our journey.

"First, mío amigo," he said, joyously, "about the horses. Two are already in command. One, a big bony creature which is for you, Mervan, because you also are big and stalwart, and require something grand to carry you-while for me there is a jennet with, oh! such a fiery eye and a way of biting at everything near it. But have no fear! Once I am on its back, and por Diôs! it will do as I want, not as it wants."

I laughed, then asked if these animals were to be our own.

"Oh, yes, our own," he said. "Our very own. I have bought them-they are ours. And, if they break down-yours, I think, must surely do so-why, we will turn them loose into the nearest wood, and-buy some more."

"At this rate we shall spend some money ere we strike Flanders," I said.

"Ho! Ho! Money-who cares for money! I have plenty, enough for you and me, too. We will travel comfortably, mon ami; have the best of everything. Plenty of money, and-and, Mervan, do you know, if it was not for one of the most accursed villains who ever trod the face of the earth, I should be so rich that-that-oh! it is impossible to say. Mervan," catching at my arm with that boyish impetuosity of his which ever fascinated me; "you are English, therefore you know all the English, I suppose. In Jamaica and Hispaniola and all the other islands we know everybody. Mervan, who is, or where is, James Eaton?"

"James Eaton!" I exclaimed, with a laugh at his innocent supposition that we were all acquainted with each other in England as they are in the Indies; yet 'tis true that he could not know that our capital city alone had so vast and incredible a population as half a million souls! "James Eaton! Who and what is he? An officer? If so, I might, perhaps, know, or get to know, something of him."

"An officer? Oh! yes, por Diôs! he is an officer-has been once. But not such as you or those brave ones we have just parted from. An officer. Corpo di Bacco! A villain, vagamundo, Mervan-a filibustier-what the English call in the islands a damned pirate."

"Humph!" I said. "A friend of yours? Eh, Juan?"

"A friend of mine? Ho! Yes. Mon Dieu! He is a friend. Wait-when we are in England you shall see how much I love my friend. Oh, yes! You shall see. When I take him by his beard and thrust this through his black heart," and he touched the quillon of the sword by his side as he spoke.

"And is he the villain who has stolen your wealth?" I asked, as we entered now the door of the inn, I nearly falling backward from the horrible odours which greeted my nostrils when we did so.

"He is the villain. Oh! 'tis a story. Such a story. You shall hear. But not now-not now. Now we will eat and drink and be gay."

"But," I said, my curiosity much aroused, "if he has stolen your wealth how comes it you are rich, as you say? Have you two fortunes-two sources of wealth?"

"Yes," he replied, with his bright, sweet smile. "Two fortunes-the one he stole, the other-but no matter for fortunes now. I have enough and plenty for myself-and, Mervan, for you if you want it. Plenty."

"I, too, have enough for present wants," I said. "Quite enough."

"Bueno. Bueno," he said. "Then all is well. And now to eat, drink and be gay until to-morrow. Then away, away, away to Flanders-anywhere, so long as we are together. Joy to-day, work and travel to-morrow. But, Mervan," and once more he placed his hand supplicatingly on my arm. "Forgive. Forgive me. I-I have brought the viol d'amore."

CHAPTER XIV.
"IT IS WAR TIME! IF IT MUST BE, IT MUST."

We were English gentlemen furnished with passports to enable us to travel through Spain-which might not be difficult, since there were likely to be as many English troops in that country as there were French, while one-half of the inhabitants wavered in their espousals of either us and Austria or Louis and Philip.

That, at least, was what we meant to give out if anyone in Portugal-and in Viana especially-should make it their business to ask us any questions, which, however, was not very likely to be the case; for, in this miserable hole-and miserable it was beyond all thought-there were none who could have any possible right to so ask us of our affairs, there being no consul of any country whatever in the place-and, for the rest, we were English. That was enough; we were English, come ashore from that great fleet whose deeds of the last few weeks had spread consternation for leagues around and on either side of Vigo, and whose topmasts were now very plainly visible a mile or so out from the shore; topsails, too, which would be conspicuous enough to all in Viana for another day or so, until the scouts returned with their news; and before this fleet had disappeared we should be gone, too-on our road to Spain, to France, to Flanders.

That road was already decided on-we were poring over the chart now upstairs in the sleeping room Juan had secured for me, he having another one for himself on the opposite side of the corridor-poring over it by the light of an oil lamp and the flames cast by a bright cork-wood fire which we had caused to be lit, since 'twas already very cold, it being now November.

We had resolved, however, that the great high road to France would not be the very best, perhaps, for our purpose-the road which, passing through Portugal into Spain at Miranda and Tuy, runs through Valladolid and Burgos up to Bayonne and France, for these towns were in the kingdoms of Leon and Castile, and here all were, we learnt, for Philip and France; but we knew also that with other parts of Spain it was no so. Away on the eastern shores, Catalonia and Valencia had declared for Charles of Austria and the allies. Nearer to where we were, namely, in Galicia, above Portugal, they wavered. Yet 'twas said now that they inclined toward us, perhaps because Vigo is in Galicia and, therefore, they had had a taste of how we could be either good friend or fateful foe. Certainly we had shown we could well be the latter!

"Yes," I said to Juan, my finger on the chart; "this way will be our road. Across the frontier where the Minho divides the two countries, then up its banks to Lugo, and so through the Asturias to Biscay and Bayonne. That is our way, and, after all, 'tis not much farther than t'other. And safer, too. If Galicia leans to us, so may the Asturians. If not, we shall be no worse off than if we traversed Leon, Castile and Navarre."

"Vogue la galère!" cried the boy, who generally varied his exclamations from Spanish to French and French to English-whichever came uppermost-"I care nothing. We shall be together, mio amigo; that's enough for me."

"Together for a time," I put in; "for a time. Remember, once we reach Flanders-if we ever do-which is more than doubtful-my service claims me. 'Tis war there, hard knocks and buffets for me-for you the first sloop or vessel of any sort that will run you over to the English coast."

"Oh, la, la!" said Juan, "'tis not come yet. We have a month, at least, together, and perhaps even then we will not part. This great soldier, this fierce captain you speak of, this English lord who contends with France-perhaps he will let me fight too. Give me-what is it you call it? – a pair of colours. Then we could fight side by side, Mervan, could we not?"

I nodded and muttered: "Perhaps," though in truth I thought nothing was more unlikely. In some way I had come to have none too great an opinion of the youth's courage or capacity for fighting, remembering how he had paled, nay, almost shuddered, at the sight of those poor dead ones floating in Vigo harbour; while for the "pair of colours" – well, there was plenty of interest being made on all sides by those of influence in England to obtain such things for their own kith and kin. There would be mighty little chance for this young stripling to be received into any regiment. Therefore I went on with our plans, saying, as I still glanced at the chart:

"That must be the road. And from Lugo across the mountains to Baos, then to Elcampo, and so to Bilbao up to Bayonne. That is the way."

"To Lugo," he repeated, meditatively. "To Lugo. Humph! To Lugo. That is the way they went, you know-Chateaurenault and his captains-when they fled from you."

Now I started when he said this, for I had, indeed, forgotten the slight rumour I had heard to that effect-forgotten it amidst all the excitement of the stirring times that had followed the battle and the taking of the galleons. Yet now the fact was recalled to my mind, I did not let it alter my determination, and after a moment's reflection, I said:

"Still it matters not. They will not have gone that way for the same reason that we shall go it. On their road to France! Chateaurenault will not stay there, but rather push on to Paris to give an account of his defeat-make the best excuses he can to his master. Nor will he come back-an he does, he will find nothing here. His ships are sunk or being carried to England, and 'tis so with the galleons that are not themselves at the bottom of the ocean. 'Tis very well. To-morrow we set out for Lugo, take the first step on our road."

And on the morrow we did set out-amidst, perhaps, as disagreeable circumstances as could be the case.

For when we rose early the snow was falling in thick flakes; also 'twas driven into our faces by a stiff northeasterly wind which brought it down from the Cantabrian mountains, and soon our breasts were covered with a layer of it which we had much ado to prevent from freezing on them, and could only accomplish by frequent buffets. Yet we were not cold, neither, since our horses were still able to trot beneath it-for as yet it lay not upon the roads, and we could thus keep ourselves warm. Yet, withal, we made some ten leagues that day-the animals under us proving far better than might with reason have been expected, judging by their lean and sorry appearance-and arrived ere nightfall at a small village-yet walled and fortified, because it lies close on to the Spanish frontier-called Valenza. And here we rested for the night, finding, however, at first great difficulty in being permitted to get into it, and, next, an equal trouble in obtaining lodgings in the one inn of the place.

Also we learnt that it behooved us to be very careful when we set out next day, or we might find it impossible to enter Spain, which now lay close at hand, and separated only by the Minho from this place; or, being in, might find it hard to go forward.

"For," said the host, a filthy, unkempt creature who looked as though he were more accustomed to attending to cattle in their sheds than to human beings, but who by great good fortune was able to speak broken French, "at Tuy, where you must pass into Spain, they are rigourous now as to papers, letting none enter who are not properly provided. Basto! 'tis not a week ago that one went forward who was passed through with difficulty. And a Spaniard, too, though from the Indies."

"From the Indies!" exclaimed Juan, with impetuosity. "From the Indies! Why, so am I and-and this señor," looking at me, "both from the Indies. Therefore, we can pass also, I should suppose."

"Oh, for that," answered the man, "I know not. Yet this old man went through, somehow. He had come up from the south-from Cadiz, as I think, or Cartagena, or the Sierras-in a great coach and four, travelled as a prince, had good provisions with him, and ho! – he gave me to taste of it! – some strong waters that made me feel like a prince, too, though the good God knows I am none!" and he cast his eyes round the filthy room into which we had been shown. "Also, he had his papers all regular; also," and here he gave a glance at us of unspeakable cunning, "he was generous and open-handed. That spared him much trouble."

"Perhaps 'twill spare us, too!" again exclaimed Juan. "We can also be generous and open-handed."

"It will do much. Yet the papers! The papers! Have you the papers?"

Now, we had no papers whatsoever that would stand us in such stead; therefore, when we were alone together in the room which was to be ours, and in which there were two miserable, dirty-looking beds, side by side, covered with sheepskins for coverlets-and perhaps for blankets, too! – we fell to discussing what must be done; for it was at once plain and easy to see that at Tuy we should never get through. I had no papers nor passports whatever, while Juan bore about him only those which proved that he was a subject of England.

"Yet," said he, "they knew not that on board La Sacra Familia, and, because I could speak Spanish as well as they, deemed me a Spaniard. I wonder if I could get through that way."

"You might, possibly," I replied. "I am sure I never should. The Spanish which I know is scarce good enough for that."

"'Tis true," he said, reflectively-"true enough. Yet, you have the French. See, Mervan, here is an idea. I am a Spaniard and you are a Frenchman, for the moment. Both countries are sworn friends now as regards their government, if not their people. Why should not we be travelling together as natives of those lands?"

"An we were," I answered, "we should not be without passports. Remember, we come to them from Portugal; therefore, to have gotten into Portugal as either Spanish man or Frenchman, we should have wanted papers; and we have none. Consequently, the first question asked us will be, How got we into Portugal? Then what reply shall we make? That we came from the English fleet, which has just destroyed their galleons? That will scarce do, Juan, for our purpose, I think."

Acknowledging such to be the case, Juan sat himself down on the dirty bed and began to ponder.

"At least we will not be whipped," he muttered, "and at the outset, too. Mervan, we must find another road somehow, or, better still-there must be some part of the frontier which runs the northern length of this miserable land, and which is unguarded. Can we not get across without any road? Up one side of a mountain and down another, and so-into Spain!"

"'Tis that I have thought of. Yet there are the horses-also a river to cross. And, as luck will have it, the mountains hereabouts are none too high nor dense with woods, nor do they run from east to west, but rather south and north. Such as there are, you can see from this window," and I pointed in the swift, on-coming darkness of the November evening to where they could be seen across the river, their summits low, and over them a rusty rime-blurred moon rising.

Then I went on:

"Juan, we must tempt the landlord with some of that largesse which the old man who came in the coach seems to have distributed so lavishly-only, he has bestowed it on the Spanish side-ours must begin here. Come, let us go and see what can be done with him."

"But what to do?" the boy said, looking at me with his strange eyes full of intelligence and perhaps anxiety.

"This: there must be some way of traversing the river when there is no town on either side-if the worst came to the worst we could swim it on our horses at night."

"On such a night as this!" exclaimed Juan, shuddering and glancing out through the uncurtained window at the flakes of snow which still fell. "It would be death," he whispered, shuddering again.

"You are easily appalled," I said, speaking coldly to him for the first time since our acquaintance. "Yet, remember, I warned you of what you might expect in such an expedition as this. You would have done better to accept the admiral's offer. A cabin in the Pembroke would have been a lady's withdrawing room in contrast to what we may have to encounter."

"Forgive me. Forgive," he hastened to say pleadingly. "Indeed, indeed, Mervan, I am bold and no coward-but, remember, I am of the tropic south, and 'tis the cold of the river that appalls me-not fear for my life. Like many of our clime, I can sooner face death than discomfort."

"There will be enough facing of both ere we have done-that is, if we ever get farther than here," I said, almost contemptuously.

"So be it," he exclaimed, springing to his feet and evidently bitterly hurt by my tone. Indeed, 'twas very evident he was, since the tears stood in his eyes. "So be it. We face it! Now," and he rapped the table between us as though to emphasise his words, "continue your plans, make your suggestions, bid me swim rivers, cross mountains, plunge into icy streams or burning houses, and see if I flinch or draw back again. Only-only," and his voice sank to its usual soft tones, "do not be angry with me."

That it was impossible to be angry with him long I felt, nor, for some unexplained reason, could I despise him for his evident objection to discomfort-the discomfort which would arise from so trifling a thing-to me, a cuirassier-as swimming one's horse across a river on a winter night. And, as my contempt, such as it was, vanished at once at his plea to me not to be angry with him, I exclaimed:

"At worst it shall be made as light for you as may be, since you are only a boy after all! And if that worst comes," I continued, in a good natured, bantering way, which caused the tears to disappear and the smiles to return, which brought back to my mind a song my good old father used to sing about "Sunshine after Rain" – "if that worst comes, why, I will swim the river with you on my back, and your jennet shall swim by my horse's side. Now, for the landlord!"

We found that unclean personage a-sitting over a fair good fire, which roared cheerfully up a vast open chimney from the stone floor upon which the logs were, with, by his side, a woman who was blind, as we saw very quickly when she turned eyes on us which were naught but white balls with no pupils to them. And, because we at once perceived that there was no power of sight in those dreadful orbs, I made no more to do, but, slipping of my finger into my waistcoat pocket, pulled out two great gold doubloons-worth more than our guineas-and held them up before him. Then I said in French, and speaking low, because I knew not whether that stricken one might understand or not:

"See, this will pay our addition and more. Now listen. You may equally as well have them as the guarda frontéra at Tuy. Will you?"

He nodded, grasping the pieces-I noticed that he kept them from clinking against each other, perhaps because he wanted not his wife to know that he had gotten them-then put each into a different pocket, and said: "She understands not the French. Speak."

"We have no papers. Listen; we are English! We must cross into Spain, Tell us some other road; put us in the way, and-see-to-morrow morning, these are for you also."

And I took forth two more of the golden coins.

He looked at us a moment, then said: "You-hate-Spain?" Again I nodded.

"So all of us here at Valenza," he went on. "A fierce, cruel neighbor, would trample on us because we are weak. Will seize us yet an England helps not. Crush them-and France-the world's plague! Listen!"

Then, as we bent our heads, he went on: "From here there is a bye-road leads to the river bank; it crosses by a wooden bridge into Spain, a league this side of Melagasso. I will put you in the way in the morning. Once over that bridge, there is a road cut from the rock that mounts two hundred paces. There at the summit is the guarda frontéra. Two men are there, an old and a young one. Kill them, and you are through, leaving no trace behind. Afterward, there is no sign of life for three leagues."

"Kill them!" I exclaimed. "Must that be done?"

"Ay-or silence them. But-killing is best. And-and-the cliff is high, the river runs deep beneath. Cast them in, and you are safe."

"They may see us passing the bridge-kill us ere we can mount the road."

"Do it in the night," the fellow whispered. "In the night, when all is dark. And 'twill be almost nightfall ere you are there. Do it then."

"There is no other way, no other entrance to Spain?"

"None-without papers."

"Good. It is war time! If it must be, it must."