Gaspar Ruiz Read online

  XI

  "Now Carreras, under the guise of politics and liberalism, was ascoundrel of the deepest dye, and the unhappy state of Mendoza was theprey of thieves, robbers, traitors and murderers, who formed his party.He was under a noble exterior a man without heart, pity, honour, orconscience. Tie aspired to nothing but tyranny, and though he would havemade use of Gaspar Ruiz for his nefarious designs, yet he soon becameaware that to propitiate the Chilian Government would answer his purposebetter. I blush to say that he made proposals to our Government todeliver up on certain conditions the wife and child of the man who hadtrusted to his honour, and that this offer was accepted.

  "While on her way to Mendoza over the Pequena pass she was betrayed byher escort of Carreras' men, and given up to the officer in command ofa Chilian fort on the upland at the foot of the main Cordillera range.This atrocious transaction might have cost me dear, for as a matter offact I was a prisoner in Gaspar Ruiz' camp when he received the news. Ihad been captured during a reconnaissance, my escort of a few troopersbeing speared by the Indians of his bodyguard. I was saved from the samefate because he recognised my features just in time. No doubt my friendsthought I was dead, and I would not have given much for my life at anytime. But the strong man treated me very well, because, he said, I hadalways believed in his innocence and had tried to serve him when he wasa victim of injustice.

  "'And now,' was his speech to me, 'you shall see that I always speak thetruth. You are safe.'

  "I did not think I was very safe when I was called up to go to him onenight. He paced up and down like a wild beast, exclaiming, 'Betrayed!Betrayed!'

  "He walked up to me clenching his fists. 'I could cut your throat.'

  "'Will that give your wife back to you?' I said as quietly as I could.

  "'And the child!' he yelled out, as if mad. He fell into a chair andlaughed in a frightful, boisterous manner. 'Oh, no, you are safe.'

  "I assured him that his wife's life was safe too; but I did not say whatI was convinced of--that he would never see her again. He wanted war tothe death, and the war could only end with his death.

  "He gave me a strange, inexplicable look, and sat muttering blankly. 'Intheir hands. In their hands.'

  "I kept as still as a mouse before a cat. Suddenly he jumped up. 'Whatam I doing here?' he cried; and opening the door, he yelled out ordersto saddle and mount. 'What is it?' he stammered, coming up to me. 'ThePequena fort; a fort of palisades! Nothing. I would get her back if shewere hidden in the very heart of the mountain.' He amazed me by adding,with an effort: 'I carried her off in my two arms while the earthtrembled. And the child at least is mine. She at least is mine!'

  "Those were bizarre words; but I had no time for wonder.

  "'You shall go with me;' he said violently. 'I may want to parley, andany other messenger from Ruiz, the outlaw, would have his throat cut.'

  "This was true enough. Between him and the rest of incensed mankindthere could be no communication, according to the customs of honour-ablewarfare.

  "In less than half an hour we were in the saddle, flying wildly throughthe night. He had only an escort of twenty men at his quarters, butwould not wait for more. He sent, however, messengers to Peneleo, theIndian chief then ranging in the foothills, directing him to bringhis warriors to the uplands and meet him at the lake called the Eye ofWater, near whose shores the frontier fort of Pequena was built.

  "We crossed the lowlands with that untired rapidity of movement whichhad made Gaspar Ruiz' raids so famous. We followed the lower valleysup to their precipitous heads. The ride was not without its dangers.A cornice road on a perpendicular wall of basalt wound itself around abuttressing rock, and at last we emerged from the gloom of a deep gorgeupon the upland of Peena.

  "It was a plain of green wiry grass and thin flowering bushes; but highabove our heads patches of snow hung in the folds and crevices of thegreat walls of rock. The little lake was as round as a staring eye. Thegarrison of the fort were just driving in their small herd of cattlewhen we appeared. Then the great wooden gates swung to, and thatfour-square enclosure of broad blackened stakes pointed at the topand barely hiding the grass roofs of the huts inside, seemed deserted,empty, without a single soul.

  "But when summoned to surrender, by a man who at Gaspar Ruiz' order rodefearlessly forward, those inside answered by a volley which rolled himand his horse over. I heard Ruiz by my side grind his teeth. 'It doesnot matter,' he said. 'Now you go.'

  "Torn and faded as its rags were, the vestiges of my uniform wererecognised, and I was allowed to approach within speaking distance; andthen I had to wait, because a voice clamouring through a loophole withjoy and astonishment would not allow me to place a word. It was thevoice of Major Pajol, an old friend. He, like my other comrades, hadthought me killed a long time ago.

  "'Put spurs to your horse, man!' he yelled, in the greatest excitement;'we will swing the gate open for you.'

  "I let the reins fall out of my hand and shook my head. 'I am on myhonour,' I cried.

  "'To him!' he shouted, with infinite disgust.'

  "'He promises you your life.'

  "'Our life is our own. And do you, Santierra, advise us to surrender tothat rastrero?'

  "'No!' I shouted. 'But he wants his wife and child, and he can cut youoff from water.'

  "'Then she would be the first to suffer. You may tell him that. Lookhere--this is all nonsense: we shall dash out and capture you.

  "'You shall not catch me alive,' I said firmly.

  "'Imbecile!'

  "'For God's sake,' I continued hastily, 'do not open the gate.' And Ipointed at the multitude of Peneleo's Indians who covered the shores ofthe lake.

  "I had never seen so many of these savages together. Their lancesseemed as numerous as stalks of grass. Their hoarse voices made a vast,inarticulate sound like the murmur of the sea.

  "My friend Pajol was swearing to himself. 'Well, then--go to the devil!'he shouted, exasperated. But as I swung round he repented, for I heardhim say hurriedly, 'Shoot the fool's horse before he gets away.

  "He had good marksmen. Two shots rang out, and in the very actof turning my horse staggered, fell and lay still as if struck bylightning. I had my feet out of the stirrups and rolled clear of him;but I did not attempt to rise. Neither dared they rush out to drag mein.

  "The masses of Indians had begun to move upon the fort. They rode upin squadrons, trailing their long chusos; then dismounted out ofmusket-shot, and, throwing off their fur mantles, advanced naked to theattack, stamping their feet and shouting in cadence. A sheet of flameran three times along the face of the fort without checking their steadymarch. They crowded right up to the very stakes, flourishing their broadknives. But this palisade was not fastened together with hide lashingsin the usual way, but with long iron nails, which they could not cut.Dismayed at the failure of their usual method of forcing an entrance,the heathen, who had marched so steadily against the musketry fire,broke and fled under the volleys of the besieged.

  "Directly they had passed me on their advance I got up and rejoinedGaspar Ruiz on a low ridge which jutted out upon the plain. The musketryof his own men had covered the attack, but now at a sign from him atrumpet sounded the 'Cease fire.' Together we looked in silence at thehopeless rout of the savages.

  "'It must be a siege, then,' he muttered. And I detected him wringinghis hands stealthily.

  "But what sort of siege could it be? Without any need for me to repeatmy friend Pajol's message, he dared not cut the water off from thebesieged. They had plenty of meat. And, indeed, if they had been short,he would have been too anxious to send food into the stockade had hebeen able. But, as a matter of fact, it was we on the plain who werebeginning to feel the pinch of hunger.

  "Peneleo, the Indian chief, sat by our fire folded in his ample mantleof guanaco skins. He was an athletic savage, with an enormous squareshock head of hair resembling a straw beehive in shape and size,and with grave, surly, much-lined features. In his broken Spanish herepeated, growling like
a bad-tempered wild beast, that if an openingever so small were made in the stockade his men would march in and getthe senora--not otherwise.

  "Gaspar Ruiz, sitting opposite him, kept his eyes fixed on the fortnight and day as it were, in awful silence and immobility. Meantime, byrunners from the lowlands that arrived nearly every day, we heard of thedefeat of one of his lieutenants in the Maipu valley. Scouts sent afarbrought news of a column of infantry advancing through distant passes tothe relief of the fort. They were slow, but we could trace their toilfulprogress up the lower valleys. I wondered why Ruiz did not march toattack and destroy this threatening force, in some wild gorge fit for anambuscade, in accordance with his genius for guerrilla warfare. But hisgenius seemed to have abandoned him to his despair.

  "It was obvious to me that he could not tear himself away from the sightof the fort. I protest to you, senores, that I was moved almost topity by the sight of this powerless strong man sitting on the ridge,indifferent to sun, to rain, to cold, to wind; with his handsclasped round his legs and his chin resting on his knees,gazing--gazing--gazing.

  "And the fort he kept his eyes fastened on was as still and silent ashimself. The garrison gave no sign of life. They did not even answer thedesultory fire directed at the loopholes.

  "One night, as I strolled past him, he, without changing his attitude,spoke to me unexpectedly 'I have sent for a gun,' he said. 'I shall havetime to get her back and retreat before your Robles manages to crawl uphere.'

  "He had sent for a gun to the plains.

  "It was long in coming, but at last it came. It was a seven-pounderfield-gun. Dismounted and lashed crosswise to two long poles, it hadbeen carried up the narrow paths between two mules with ease. His wildcry of exultation at daybreak when he saw the gun escort emerge from thevalley rings in my ears now.

  "But, senores, I have no words to depict his amazement, his fury, hisdespair and distraction, when he heard that the animal loaded with thegun-carriage had, during the last night march, somehow or other tumbleddown a precipice. He broke into menaces of death and torture against theescort. I kept out of his way all that day, lying behind some bushes,and wondering what he would do now. Retreat was left for him; but hecould not retreat.

  "I saw below me his artillerist Jorge, an old Spanish soldier, buildingup a sort of structure with heaped-up saddles. The gun, ready-loaded waslifted on to that, but in the act of firing the whole thing collapsedand the shot flew high above the stockade.

  "Nothing more was attempted. One of the ammunition mules had been losttoo, and they had no more than six shots to fire; amply enough to batterdown the gate, providing the gun was well laid. This was impossiblewithout it being properly mounted. There was no time nor means toconstruct a carriage. Already every moment I expected to hear Robles'bugle-calls echo amongst the crags.

  "Peneleo, wandering about uneasily, draped in his skins, sat down for amoment near me growling his usual tale.

  "'Make an entrada--a hole. If make a hole, bueno. If not make a hole,them vamos--we must go away.'

  "After sunset I observed with surprise the Indians making preparationsas if for another assault. Their lines stood ranged in the shadowsmountains. On the plain in front of the fort gate I saw a group of menswaying about in the same place.

  "I walked down the ridge disregarded. The moonlight in the clear air ofthe uplands was as bright as day, but the intense shadows confused mysight, and I could not make out what they were doing. I heard voiceJorge, artillerist, say in a queer, doubtful tone, 'It is loaded,senores.'

  "Then another voice in that group pronounced firmly the words, 'Bringthe riata here.' It was the voice of Gaspar Ruiz.

  "A silence fell, in which the popping shots of the besieged garrisonrang out sharply. They too had observed the group. But the distancewas too great, and in the spatter of spent musket-balls cutting up theground, the group opened, closed, swayed, giving me a glimpse of busystooping figures in its midst. I drew nearer, doubting whether this wasa weird vision, a suggestive and insensate dream.

  "A strangely stifled voice commanded, 'Haul the hitches tighter.'

  "'Si, senor,' several other voices answered in tones of awed alacrity.

  "Then the stifled voice said: 'Like this. I must be free to breathe.'

  "Then there was a concerned noise of many men together. 'Help him up,hombres. Steady! Under the other arm.'

  "That deadened voice, ordered: 'Bueno! Stand away from me, men.'

  "I pushed my way through the recoiling circle, and heard once more thatsame oppressed voice saying earnestly: 'Forget that I am a living man,Jorge. Forget me altogether, and think of what you have to do.'

  "'Be without fear, senor. You are nothing to me but a gun carriage, andI shall not waste a shot.'

  "I heard the spluttering of a port-fire, and smelt the saltpetre of thematch. I saw suddenly before me a nondescript shape on all fours likea beast, but with a man's head drooping below a tubular projection overthe nape of the neck, and the gleam of a rounded mass of bronze on itsback.

  "In front of a silent semicircle of men it squatted alone with Jorgebehind it and a trumpeter motionless, his trumpet in his hand, by itsside.

  "Jorge, bent double, muttered, port-fire in hand: 'An inch to the left,senor. Too much. So. Now, if you let yourself down a little by lettingyour elbows bend, I will...'

  "He leaped aside, lowering his port-fire, and a burst of flame dartedout of the muzzle of the gun lashed on the man's back.

  "Then Gaspar Ruiz lowered himself slowly. 'Good shot?' he asked.

  "'Full on, senor.'

  "'Then load again.'

  "He lay there before me on his breast under the darkly glittering bronzeof his monstrous burden, such as no love or strength of man had everhad to bear in the lamentable history of the world. His arms were spreadout, and he resembled a prostrate penitent on the moonlit ground.

  "Again I saw him raised to his hands and knees, and the men stand awayfrom him, and old Jorge stoop, glancing along the gun.

  "'Left a little. Right an inch. Por Dios, senor, stop this trembling.Where is your strength?'

  "The old gunner's voice was cracked with emotion. He stepped aside, andquick as lightning brought the spark to the touch-hole.

  "'Excellent!' he cried tearfully; but Gaspar Ruiz lay for a long timesilent, flattened on the ground.

  "'I am tired,' he murmured at last. 'Will another shot do it?'

  "'Without doubt,' said Jorge, bending down to his ear.

  "'Then--load,' I heard him utter distinctly. 'Trumpeter!'

  "'I am here, senor, ready for your word.'

  "'Blow a blast at this word that shall be heard from one end of Chile tothe other,' he said, in an extraordinarily strong voice. 'And you othersstand ready to cut this accursed riata, for then will be the time forme to lead you in your rush. Now raise me up, and, you, Jorge--be quickwith your aim.'

  "The rattle of musketry from the fort nearly drowned his voice. Thepalisade was wreathed in smoke and flame.

  "'Exert your force forward against the recoil, mi amo,' said the oldgunner shakily. 'Dig your fingers into the ground. So. Now!'

  "A cry of exultation escaped him after the shot. The trumpeter raisedhis trumpet nearly to his lips, and waited. But no word came from theprostrate man. I fell on one knee, and heard all he had to say then.

  "'Something broken,' he whispered, lifting his head a little, andturning his eyes towards me in his hopelessly crushed attitude.

  "'The gate hangs only by the splinters,' yelled Jorge.

  "Gaspar Ruiz tried to speak, but his voice died out in his throat, and Ihelped to roll the gun off his broken back. He was insensible.

  "I kept my lips shut, of course. The signal for the Indians to attackwas never given. Instead, the bugle-calls of the relieving force, forwhich my ears had thirsted so long, burst out, terrifying like the callof the Last Day to our surprised enemies.

  "A tornado, senores, a real hurricane of stampeded men, wild horses,mounted Indians, swept over
me as I cowered on the ground by the sideof Gaspar Ruiz, still stretched out on his face in the shape of across. Peneleo, galloping for life, jabbed at me with his long chuso inpassing--for the sake of old acquaintance, I suppose. How I escaped theflying lead is more difficult to explain. Venturing to rise on my kneestoo soon, some soldiers of the 17th Taltal regiment, in their hurry toget at something alive, nearly bayonetted me on the spot. They lookedvery disappointed too when some officers galloping up drove them awaywith the flat of their swords.

  "It was General Robles with his staff. He wanted badly to make someprisoners. He, too, seemed disappointed for a moment. 'What? Is it you?'he cried. But he dismounted at once to embrace me, for he was an oldfriend of my family. I pointed to the body at our feet, and said onlythese two words:

  "'Gaspar Ruiz.'

  "He threw his arms up in astonishment.

  "'Aha! Your strong man! Always to the last with your strong man. Nomatter. He saved our lives when the earth trembled enough to make thebravest faint with fear. I was frightened out of my wits. But he--no!Que guape! Where's the hero who got the best of him? Ha! ha! ha! Whatkilled him, chico?'

  "'His own strength general,' I answered."

  XII

  "BUT Gaspar Ruiz breathed yet. I had him carried in his poncho under theshelter of some bushes on the very ridge from which he had been gazingso fixedly at the fort while unseen death was hovering already over hishead.

  "Our troops had bivouacked round the fort. Towards daybreak I was notsurprised to hear that I was designated to command the escort of aprisoner who was to be sent down at once to Santiago. Of course theprisoner was Gaspar Ruiz' wife.

  "'I have named you out of regard for your feelings,' General Roblesremarked. 'Though the woman really ought to be shot for all the harm shehas done to the Republic.'

  "And as I made a movement of shocked protest, he continued:

  "'Now he is as well as dead, she is of no importance. Nobody will knowwhat to do with her. However, the Government wants her.' He shrugged hisshoulders. 'I suppose he must have buried large quantities of his lootin places that she alone knows of.'

  "At dawn I saw her coming up the ridge, guarded by two soldiers, andcarrying her child on her arm.

  "I walked to meet her.

  "'Is he living yet?' she asked, confronting me with that white,impassive face he used to look at in an adoring way.

  "I bent my head, and led her round a clump of bushes without a word. Hiseyes were open. He breathed with difficulty, and uttered her name with agreat effort.

  "'Erminia!'

  "She knelt at his head. The little girl, unconscious of him, and withher big eyes, looking about, began to chatter suddenly, in a joyous,thin voice. She pointed a tiny finger at the rosy glow of sunrisebehind the black shapes of the peaks. And while that child-talk,incomprehensible and sweet to the ear, lasted, those two, the dying manand the kneeling woman, remained silent, looking into each other's eyes,listening to the frail sound. Then the prattle stopped. The child laidits head against its mother's breast and was still.

  "'It was for you,' he began. 'Forgive.' His voice failed him. PresentlyI heard a mutter, and caught the pitiful words: 'Not strong enough.'

  "She looked at him with an extraordinary intensity. He tried to smile,and in a humble tone, 'Forgive me,' he repeated. 'Leaving you...'

  "She bent down, dry-eyed, and in a steady voice: 'On all the earth Ihave loved nothing but you, Gaspar,' she said.

  "His head made a movement. His eyes revived. 'At last! 'he sighed out.Then, anxiously, 'But is this true... is this true?'

  "'As true as that there is no mercy and justice in this world,' sheanswered him passionately. She stooped over his face. He tried to raisehis head, but it fell back, and when she kissed his lips he was alreadydead. His glazed eyes stared at the sky, on which pink clouds floatedvery high. But I noticed the eyelids of the child, pressed to itsmother's breast, droop and close slowly. She had gone to sleep.

  "The widow of Gaspar Ruiz, the strong man, allowed me to lead her awaywithout shedding a tear.

  "For travelling we had arranged for her a side-saddle very much like achair, with a board swung beneath to rest her feet on. And the first dayshe rode without uttering a word, and hardly for one moment turning hereyes away from the little girl, whom she held on her knees. At our firstcamp I saw her during the night walking about, rocking the child inher arms and gazing down at it by the light of the moon. After we hadstarted on our second day's march she asked me how soon we should cometo the first village of the inhabited country.

  "I said we should be there about noon.

  "'And will there be women there?' she inquired.

  "I told her that it was a large village. 'There will be men and womenthere, senora,' I said, 'whose hearts shall be made glad by the newsthat all the unrest and war is over now.'

  "'Yes, it is all over now,' she repeated. Then, after a time: 'senorofficer, what will your Government do with me?'

  "'I do not know, senora,' I said. 'They will treat you well, no doubt.We republicans are not savages, and take no vengeance on women.'

  "She gave me a look at the word 'republicans' which I imagined full ofundying hate. But an hour or so afterwards, as we drew up to let thebaggage mules go first along a narrow path skirting a precipice, shelooked at me with such a white, troubled face that I felt a great pityfor her.

  "'Senor officer,' she said, 'I am weak, I tremble. It is an insensatefear.' And indeed her lips did tremble, while she tried to smileglancing at the beginning of the narrow path which was not so dangerousafter all. 'I am afraid I shall drop the child. Gaspar saved your life,you remember.... Take her from me.'

  "I took the child out of her extended arms. 'Shut your eyes, senora, andtrust to your mule,' I recommended.

  "She did so, and with her pallor and her wasted thin face she lookeddeathlike. At a turn of the path, where a great crag of purple porphyrycloses the view of the lowlands, I saw her open her eyes. I rode justbehind her holding the little girl with my right arm. 'The child is allright,' I cried encouragingly.

  "'Yes,' she answered faintly; and then, to my intense terror, I saw herstand up on the footrest, staring horribly, and throw herself forwardinto the chasm on our right.

  "I cannot describe to you the sudden and abject fear that came over meat that dreadful sight. It was a dread of the abyss, the dread of thecrags which seemed to nod upon me. My head swam. I pressed the child tomy side and sat my horse as still as a statue. I was speechless and coldall over. Her mule staggered, sidling close to the rock, and then wenton. My horse only pricked up his ears with a slight snort. My heartstood still, and from the depths of the precipice the stones rattling inthe bed of the furious stream made me almost insane with their sound.

  "Next moment we were round the turn and on a broad and grassy slope. Andthen I yelled. My men came running back to me in great alarm. It seemsthat at first I did nothing but shout, 'She has given the child into myhands! She has given the child into my hands!' The escort thought I hadgone mad."

  General Santierra ceased and got up from the table. "And that is all,senores," he concluded, with a courteous glance at his rising guests.

  "But what became of the child, General?" we asked.

  "Ah, the child, the child."

  He walked to one of the windows opening on his beautiful garden, therefuge of his old days. Its fame was great in the land. Keeping us backwith a raised arm, he called out, "Erminia, Erminia!" and waited. Thenhis cautioning arm dropped, and we crowded to the windows.

  From a clump of trees a woman had come upon the broad walk borderedwith flowers. We could hear the rustle of her starched petticoats andobserved the ample spread of her old-fashioned black silk skirt. Shelooked up, and seeing all these eyes staring at her, stopped, frowned,smiled, shook her finger at the General, who was laughing boisterously,and drawing the black lace on her head so as to partly conceal herhaughty profile, passed out of our sight, walking with stiff dignity.

  "You have beh
eld the guardian angel of the old man--and her to whomyou owe all that is seemly and comfortable in my hospitality. Somehow,senores, though the flame of love has been kindled early in my breast, Ihave never married. And because of that perhaps the sparks of the sacredfire are not yet extinct here." He struck his broad chest. "Still alive,still alive," he said, with serio-comic emphasis. "But I shall not marrynow. She is General Santierra's adopted daughter and heiress."

  One of our fellow-guests, a young naval officer, described herafterwards as a "short, stout, old girl of forty or thereabouts." We hadall noticed that her hair was turning grey, and that she had very fineblack eyes.

  "And," General Santierra continued, "neither would she ever hear ofmarrying any one. A real calamity! Good, patient, devoted to the oldman. A simple soul. But I would not advise any of you to ask for herhand, for if she took yours into hers it would be only to crush yourbones. Ah! she does not jest on that subject. And she is the owndaughter of her father, the strong man who perished through his ownstrength: the strength of his body, of his simplicity--of his love!"