The Smuggler Chief: A Novel

CHAPTER XXX

THE CONFESSION

General Soto-Mayor had been hurriedly raised by the volunteers, whom the report of the two pistol shots had attracted to his room, a surgeon attached to the reinforcing column was summoned, and hastened to dress the old gentleman's frightful wounds. The terrible pain which the scalping caused him, and the immense quantity of blood he had lost, had plunged him into a profound fainting fit, from which it seemed impossible for him to recover. Upwards of three hours passed before he gave any signs of life. At length a faint sigh issued from his oppressed chest: he made a slight movement, his eyes opened slightly, and he muttered in a low and broken voice —

"Something to drink."

A servant brought him a bowl filled with a potion prepared by the doctor.

"Oh!" he said, a moment after, "my head is burning; what frightful pain!"

The surgeon begged him to be silent, administered a second potion, and a few minutes after the patient's eyes closed. He had fallen asleep.

"That is what I wanted," the surgeon said, as he felt his pulse and looked at him attentively.

"Well, doctor," an officer asked, "what do you think of the general's state?"

"I cannot say anything about it yet, gentlemen," he answered, addressing the persons who surrounded the old gentleman's bed; "his wounds are very serious, and yet I do not believe them mortal. We have numerous examples of scalped persons who have been perfectly cured. Hence it is not the wound on the head that alarms me the most, although it is the most painful. Tomorrow, as soon as I have removed the bandages, I shall be able to tell you what we have to fear or hope. Now, be kind enough to withdraw; thanks to the potion, the general is enjoying a calm sleep, but the slightest noise might disturb him. I will instal myself at his bedside, and not stir till he is either dead or saved."

Upon this the doctor dismissed all the persons who filled the room, drew an armchair up to the bed, sat down in it in the most comfortable posture, took a book from his pocket, and prepared to spend the night as well as he could in reading. The peons accompanying the general, on seeing their master in so pitiable a state, unloaded the baggage and carried it into the casa. Then each resumed possession of his lodging, while congratulating himself in his heart at being no longer compelled to expose himself to the dangers of war.

After the misfortune which occurred to the general, the officer who took the command of the volunteers in his place sent out heavy patrols in all directions in pursuit of the Indians; but their search had no result, and they returned one after the other without discovering the slightest sign which could put them on the track of the assassins. They were, therefore, obliged to give up for the present all thoughts of taking vengeance for the odious attack which had been committed on the person of General Soto-Mayor.

Still this affair exerted a salutary influence over the mind of the volunteers. At the sight of so terrible a fact as the one which had just occurred, they understood how necessary prudence was when engaged with enemies so invisible and formidable as the Indians. They, therefore, began subjecting themselves to the claims of discipline. In consequence, they ceased their cries and songs, and fulfilled their military duties much more seriously than they had hitherto done.

The rest of the night passed away calmly and peaceably, and with the exception of two or three false alarms which the sentries in their inexperience gave, nothing happened to disturb the tranquillity of the volunteers encamped under the walls of the Casa de Campos. At sunrise, when the country illumined by the hot beams had lost the sinister and gloomy aspect which darkness imparted to it, the Chilians, who, without confessing it, had been in a state of real terror, gradually regained courage and recommenced their gasconade, though it was moderated by the recollections of the night.

At about eight in the morning the general woke up, and though he was very low and his weakness was extreme, the long sleep which he had enjoyed seemed to have greatly relieved his sufferings. The doctor, after carefully counting his pulse, began removing the bandages which he had placed. The appearance of the wounds was excellent; the flesh offered no extraordinary signs of inflammation – in a word, the patient was going on as well as could be expected. The wounds were washed, fresh bandages put on, and another potion made the general fall back almost immediately into the lethargic sleep from which he had roused himself.

When midday came, the suppurating fever set in with great intensity. The old man uttered inarticulate cries, made fearful efforts to leap out of bed, and talked with extraordinary vivacity, making unconnected remarks, whose meaning it was impossible to understand. The names of Diego, of Tahi-Mari, and of the different members of his family incessantly returned. The general was evidently suffering from some horrible delirium aroused by the terrible scene of which he had been the victim on the previous evening. Four powerful men were scarce sufficient to keep him down in his bed.

From three to four o'clock in the afternoon an improvement took place; the fever relaxed, the sick man's eyes lost that frightful stare and expression of wildness which terrified his attendants. He recognised his domestics, the doctor waiting on him, and even the officers who surrounded him. Everything led to the hope that the general would be saved; such at least was the opinion of the surgeon, who expressed it loudly.

At about six o'clock, the officers whom the general had dispatched to Santiago, returned to the country house, bearing the instructions of the President of the Republic. The officer who commanded the expedition in the general's place, opened and read them. They were formal.

The president gave orders to General Soto-Mayor to proceed by forced marches on the capital, which was in the greatest peril: he added that he could send him no officers, in spite of his urgent request, and concluded by requesting the general to read the despatch to the soldiers, in order to make them understand how much he reckoned on their patriotism in answering the appeal of the menaced country.

The officer intrusted with the interim command obeyed the orders which he received. He assembled the troops, read to them in a loud voice the contents of the despatch, and made them a short speech, in which, while exalting the powerful help which they might afford to the inhabitants of Santiago, he asked whether he could really reckon on them. A universal and enthusiastic outburst was the response to the general's speech, and immediate preparations were made for the departure.

The commandant – who did not wish to abandon General Soto-Mayor defencelessly in his house, which was open to all comers, and might at any moment be invaded by the Indians – chose from among his volunteers fifty men, to whom he entrusted the defence of the casa, after exhorting them to behave properly, and placing them under the command of an alférez. Then, this duty fulfilled, he took leave of the surgeon, after recommending him to neglect nothing in restoring the general's health, and took the road to Santiago at the head of his volunteers.

The night passed without any incidents worthy of record. The men left in charge of the house had closed the gates and had entrenched themselves in the interior. Toward morning they heard the sound of a horse galloping at full speed. They had scarce time to notice the rider, who departed rapidly, after halting for an instant before the house. Some inarticulate sounds reached the ears of the sentries, but before the latter could think of challenging, horse and rider were a long distance off. It was Diego returning to Santiago with his victim.

The general's state was satisfactory; the fever had considerably decreased, the wounds continued to offer the most favourable aspect, and with the exception of the atrocious sufferings he felt in his head, the old gentleman had regained a little calmness. Suddenly a loud sound of horses was heard on the road, and a servant hastened into the sick man's chamber, announcing that Captain Leon Delbès had just arrived, and had important news to communicate to the general. The surgeon tried to oppose the interview which Leon requested, alleging that his patient needed absolute repose; but, on the repeated entreaties of the latter, he was obliged to consent, though resolved to put a stop to it whenever he thought it advisable.

The captain, as we know, had left Valparaíso in the company of Maria, with the intention of proceeding under the escort of his band to Santiago, where he expected to find the general. But, while passing in front of the country house, he was astonished at seeing; the gates open, and a picket of lanceros in the courtyard. Not knowing to what to attribute the warlike appearance which this peaceful mansion had assumed, he halted his band and went up to the gate for the purpose of enquiring. The old manservant, who had been left as guardian, and had admitted his master two days previously, was at this very moment occupied in front of the house, and Leon questioned him.

The worthy man then told him in the fullest details the assassination attempted on the person of his master, and the hopeless efforts which had been made to discover the perpetrators. On listening to the narrative, the captain trembled and guessed at once that Diego must have passed that way. In truth he was the only man he knew capable of committing a similar crime and surrounding it with such mystery. Moreover, the project of vengeance which Diego nourished against the Soto-Mayor family, sufficiently indicated him to Leon for the latter to entertain no doubt as to his guilt.

Locking up in his bosom the feeling of horror which the half-breed's deed inspired him with, the captain returned to Maria to announce to her that her father, rather seriously wounded, was at the moment at the Casa de Campos, and hence it was unnecessary to go farther, and if she saw no inconvenience, he would at once place her in his hands. The young lady who, in following Leon, had no other object but to join her father and place herself under his protection, begged to be at once led to him. But, on Leon remarking that her unexpected presence might be fatal to the general, by causing him too lively an emotion, she consented that Leon should warn him first.

The captain led his band into the courtyard, and then sent a footman to the old gentleman to request an interview. When he entered the general's bedroom, and found him lying on a bed of pain, with his head wrapped up and his face more livid than that of a dying man, he felt affected by the deepest compassion. It was in fact a melancholy sight to see this old man, who had but a few days previously been so strong and robust, now broken by suffering and lying there horribly mutilated.

"Señor Don Juan, it is I, Leon Delbès," he said, addressing the wounded man.

The general offered him his left hand, and a smile played round his bloodless lips.

"Have you any new misfortune to announce to me, captain?" the old man said, in an almost unintelligible voice. "Speak – speak."

Leon started at the sound of this faint voice, and held his tongue, not daring to tell an unhappy man who was on the brink of the grave of the new misfortune which had fallen on him without his knowledge. The general noticed the young man's agitation, and felt that he had guessed aright.

"It concerns my daughters, does it not?"

"Yes, general," Leon replied, hanging his head sadly.

"Are they dead?" the old man asked, with a tremor in his voice.

The surgeon read in his face the nature of the feelings he was undergoing, and seemed to fear the captain's answer, but the latter hastened to speak.

"No, general, they are alive, and one of them accompanies me."

"But the other?"

"Is no longer in Valparaíso."

"What has happened, then, at the Convent of the Conception? – speak."

"It has been attacked, general."

"I understand," the old man said, "one of my daughters has fallen again into the hands of the Indians – the name of her who is left me?"

"Doña Maria, general!"

"And it is again you who restore her to me, my friend. Thank you, and Heaven grant that I may soon be able to reward you in the way you deserve."

Leon gave a gesture of refusal.

"Oh! I know how a noble heart like yours should be rewarded."

Leon bowed and made no answer.

"But, for mercy's sake, tell me what you know with reference to Inez, and do not be afraid of grieving me, for I am resigned to undergo all the misfortunes which God may send me as an expiation for my sins."

The young man then told him of the rape of Maria's sister, while carefully holding his tongue as to the circumstances under which he had recovered the other young lady. Then he told him of his intention of going to Santiago to find Diego, in whose power Inez was. On hearing that it was Tahi-Mari, who had robbed him of his child, the general, in spite of his courage, felt tears of grief bedew his eyes.

"O God!" he exclaimed, "punish me if I have offended you, and I will bow my head beneath the punishment but will you allow this man, this villain, to heap up crime upon crime, to strip me of what I hold the dearest?"

There was a moment's silence, which the old gentleman was the first to interrupt.

"My friend," he said to Leon, "you told me that Maria had been saved by you, and yet I do not see her."

"She awaits your permission to present herself to you, general."

"Let her come – let her come!"

A peon was ordered to go and fetch Maria, who was kneeling in her mother's room, and soon after, the maiden was standing before her father; but on seeing the condition in which the murderer had left him, she could only sob. The old man made a sign that he wished to embrace her.

"My daughter," he said, after pressing his lips on the novice's virgin forehead, "since the walls of a convent have not protected you from the fury of my enemies, and I know not whether I shall ever see my other children again, you will henceforth remain with me, if," he added, "Heaven grant me the strength to live."

"Oh, thanks, father – thanks! for the convent is death, and I wish to live to love and cherish you."

"What do you say?"

"Forgive me, father, but I suffered so deeply at being separated from those whom I love."

"This is strange! and yet your sister Inez asked three days ago to speak to me in private, and asked my permission to take the veil in the Convent of the Conception, as she was determined not to marry Don Sallazar, who loves her. I believed that it was you, child, who had persuaded her to this."

"Oh, no!" Maria murmured.

The doctor, who had hitherto contented himself with displaying the dissatisfaction which he felt on seeing the general fatigue himself with talking, thought it prudent not to allow the interview to go on, and made an observation to that effect.

"Thanks, doctor," said the general, "for the interest you take in my cure."

"General," said Leon, "the doctor is right; my presence is no longer necessary here. I will hasten to Santiago, and ere long I hope you shall hear from me. Señora Doña Maria does not require my services further, and so I will retire."

"Oh, father!" Maria could not refrain from saying, "if you only knew how brave and generous he is!"

The general made no reply, and seemed to be reflecting.

"Doctor," he said, suddenly addressing the surgeon, "you must arrange some plan for transporting me to Santiago."

"What are you thinking of, general?" the other exclaimed, falling back a couple of steps, so great was his surprise; "it is impossible."

"And yet it must be," the old man remarked calmly. "If my son is still alive, he is at Santiago with General Don Sallazar; I wish to see them."

"What?" said Leon.

"Once again, it is impossible," remarked the doctor, who was grieved to see the obstinacy with which his patient supported his resolve.

"You, Captain Leon," Don Juan continued, "will go on ahead, since you still offer me your assistance, which has been so precious to me; we shall meet at my cousin's, Senator Don Henriquez de Castago."

"But, general?"

"But, doctor, you will do whatever you like; have a litter made, or invent any mode of transport that you please, for I intend to go to Santiago with my daughter Maria, even if I die on arriving."

"At least, wait a week."

"It is your opinion that I cannot be removed today?"

"Most certainly."

"Well, I will wait till the day after tomorrow; between this and then prepare all that you want, and do not trouble yourself about the rest. If an accident happens to me, the blame will rest on myself alone."

"General!"

"I have spoken, and I warn you that, if you do not consent, I shall blow out my brains, or rather tear off my bandages, and die here."

And the old gentleman prepared to suit the action to the word.

"Stay!" exclaimed the surgeon, who found himself compelled to yield, "I will act in accordance with your wishes."

"Very good," the general replied; "and now I will try to take some rest, for my strength is exhausted, I feel."

Leon prepared to bid farewell to the general, and leave the country house.

"Good-bye, my friend," the patient murmured; "in two days we shall meet again, or, if not, it is to you – you alone – I confine the care of guarding Maria. Go, and may Heaven aid you to find Inez."

Leon bent his knee before the old man.

"Sir," he said to him, with profound emotion, "my life and heart belong to you; take one and break the other if you like, for I can no longer conceal from you the secret that devours me – I love your daughter, Doña Maria."

"Father, father!" Maria also exclaimed, as she fell on her knees by the side of the general's bed; "forgive me, for I love him in return."

As his sole answer, Don Juan de Soto-Mayor held out his hand to the young people, who covered it with kisses and burning tears. A glance of ineffable happiness was exchanged between the smuggler and the novice.

"Now I am strong," Leon exclaimed, as he rose. "You shall be avenged, Don Juan."

And he rushed out of the house. In a second, all his men were ready to start.

"Companions!" he shouted, as he leaped on the back of his mustang, "to Santiago at full gallop!"

A whirlwind of dust rose, enveloping men and horses, who disappeared on the horizon. Two days later, a young lady on horseback was riding by the side of a litter carried by two mules, in which lay an old man, and a military surgeon and fifty lanceros escorted them. They were Maria de Soto-Mayor, the general her father, and the doctor, who were proceeding to Santiago.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE CAMP OF THE MOLUCHOS

When Tahi-Mari reached the council lodge, the great Molucho chiefs were already assembled. A compact crowd of Indian warriors silently surrounded the approaches of the lodge, and pressed forward to hear the resolutions which were going to be formed by the Ulmens.

On perceiving the formidable toqui of the Moluchos, the warriors respectfully fell back to let him pass, and Tahi-Mari entered the hut. His face was haughty and frowning, and everything about him indicated pride and resolution. He sat down on the trunk of a tree reserved for him, and which enabled him to survey the assembly. After looking round him for a moment, he began to speak —

"For what purpose have my brothers, the Ulmens of the twelve nations, assembled?" he asked.

"The pale-faces," Huachacuyac replied, "have sent two great chiefs to discuss peace with us."

"The Spaniards," Tahi-Mari continued, "have two tongues and two faces. My brothers must be on their guard, for they wish to deceive them by false promises, while they are preparing the means to destroy them."

"Matai," said the Ulmens, "our brother is learned: he is a great warrior; he will judge."

"What is the opinion of my brothers? We cannot refuse to receive the messengers of peace," Huachacuyac remarked.

"My brothers speak wisely: let the Spanish chiefs be brought in, and we will hear them."

A movement took place among the Indians; Shounon-Kouiretzi went in for a moment, and returned almost immediately, conducting General Don Pedro Sallazar and Colonel Don Juan de Soto-Mayor. They were unarmed, but their bold bearing and haughty brow showed that they did not experience the slightest fear at finding themselves at the mercy of their barbarous enemies.

A dozen lanceros, unarmed like them, halted at the lodge-door. Shounon-Kouiretzi motioned the two officers to sit down on trunks of trees not so high as the one employed by the chief, then after lighting a calumet, he handed it to Tahi-Mari, who smoked it for an instant and restored it to him. The latter then presented it to Don Pedro Sallazar, who passed it to Don Juan. The calumet soon went the round of the assembly and returned to Tahi-Mari, who finished it. After this the toqui threw the ashes towards the strangers, saying, in a loud voice —

"These chiefs and the soldiers who accompany them are the guests of the Ulmens of the twelve Molucho nations: the warriors will respect them till sunset."

This ceremony performed, there was a profound silence.

"What do the Spanish warriors desire?" Tahi-Mari at length said; "the white chiefs can speak, for the ears of my brothers the Ulmens are open."

Don Pedro Sallazar rose and said in Indian, a language which he spoke with considerable facility —