Chapter 14. A Friend In Need--Our Escape

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_ CHAPTER FOURTEEN. A FRIEND IN NEED--OUR ESCAPE

Pedro and I turned from the window, and sitting down, with our hands before our faces, endeavoured to shut out the dreadful sights we had witnessed. It was satisfactory, however, to believe that Manco had escaped; and I trusted that he would not fall again into the power of his enemies. When Sancho entered with a supply of provisions, he found us so employed.

I do not know whether he suspected that we had some hopes of making our escape, and wished to warn us of the danger. His manner, I remarked, was more cordial than usual; and perhaps he did not expect to see us again. As soon as he had left us, we consulted how we should form a line to let down out of the window, as our sailor friend had advised. We hunted about, but could not find even the smallest piece of rope. At last I suggested that we might tear up one of our shirts, and by twisting the bits and tying them together, we might make a line long enough to reach the ground, and strong enough to haul up a thick rope. We forthwith, therefore, set to work; and having tried each bit as we fastened it on, we were satisfied that our line would answer our purpose.

It was nearly dusk by the time we had finished it; and lest some one should by chance come in and see what we had been about, we hid it away under the mattress. It was fortunate that we took this precaution, for just as we had done so the door opened, and a gaoler, accompanied by our kind friend, Don Eduardo, and another person, entered the room. Don Eduardo bowed to us, and as he took a seat which Sancho offered him, he looked at us rather sternly, as much as to signify that we must not appear on familiar terms.

"I have brought this gentleman to prepare your defence for you, Senores, as I hear that you are to be tried to-morrow," he said, in a kind tone. "I am sorry to tell you that it will go hard with you if you cannot establish your innocence."

"I have to thank you very much, Don Eduardo," I answered; "but all we can do is to protest our innocence--we have no witnesses. The Indians, who might have proved that we were ourselves taken prisoners by their chief, have this morning been shot."

"It is indeed a difficult case," remarked the advocate. "I will do my best, Don Eduardo; and we must hope that something will appear in their favour."

I need not repeat all that took place. The advocate asked us a variety of questions, and made a number of notes; and then rising, followed Don Eduardo, who stiffly bowed to us as before, out of the room. Sancho, who went last, turned his head over his shoulder, and shook his head, with a grave expression on his face, which showed us that he thought our case was desperate. This circumstance made us more anxious than ever to effect our escape; and we waited anxiously for the signal the English sailor had promised us. By degrees the noises inside and outside the prison died away. People, fatigued with the excitement of the morning, had retired earlier than usual to their homes, and the square was totally deserted. It was very dark, for there was no moon, and a thick mist rising from the river, hung over the town; and what was of more use to us, there was a strong wind, which howled and moaned among the buildings, and rattled about the tiles. The time seemed to pass very slowly; and we began to fancy that the seaman might have been prevented from fulfilling his intention.

"Perhaps he was watched speaking to us, and has been taken up by the officers of justice," I remarked.

"Perhaps he was found coming here with a rope in his possession," said Pedro; "or perhaps he was deceiving us."

"No, I will not believe that," I answered indignantly. "I am sure he is honest. He is an Englishman and a sailor, there is no mistaking that; and he did not look or speak like a rogue. Let us hope for the best."

Just as I made this observation, we heard what sounded like the mew of a kitten, just under the window. We instantly jumped up, and I let down our line. I felt it gently tugged.

"Haul up," said a voice; and as we got to the end, we found a rope sufficiently strong to bear a man's weight attached to the end.

"Fasten that to a strong bar; and look out not to make a lubber's knot," added the voice.

We did as we were bid; and soon after a strong tug had been given to the rope, a man's head and shoulders appeared at the window. He looked in to discover who was in the room.

"All friends here?" he asked.

"Yes, to a friend in need," I replied.

"All right then," he said; and, apparently satisfied, he climbed up farther, and sat himself down securely on the window-ledge. "Now my lads, you'd like to get out of this, I suppose," he said, in a careless tone, which showed that he was in no way agitated by the risk he was running. "Well, there isn't a moment to be lost; and so I've brought three files, that we may all work away at the bars together."

Pedro and I took the files he offered us, and waited till he had examined the bars.

"Here are two together, which seem loosened in their sockets," he observed. "Now it seems to me, mates, if we were to file away at the upper part, just below the lowest cross bar, and could wrench out those two bars, as you are not very stout, there would be room for you two to slip through."

"I feel sure that we could easily get through," I answered; "but what are we to do, friend, when we are outside?"

"Never you trouble your head about that, youngster," he replied. "I've planned it all, and it can't fail; so do you just take the file and work away."

Thus admonished, Pedro and I began to file away at one bar, while the sailor attacked the other.

"Don't stop," he whispered; "the noise is much less likely to be noticed if you go on regularly with it, than it breaks off every now and then."

We filed away accordingly with all our might; but I could not help trembling at times with alarm lest we should be heard; for though the wind howled and whistled in a most satisfactory manner, yet there is something so peculiar in the sound of filing, that I was afraid the sharp ears of the gaoler or guards might hear it. Pedro and I had got through more than two-thirds of our bar, and we agreed that we might easily wrench it out of its place, when our arms began to ache, and as we rested for a minute, we heard a footstep approaching the room. In great alarm, we told the sailor.

"Never mind," he answered, quite calmly. "Stow the files away, and lie down on the bed, and pretend to be fast asleep. I've got a lump of pitch in my pocket, and I'll just fill up the grooves we've made in the bars, so that they'll not be observed. There, that will do. Now I'll just wait down below till your visitor has gone."

We threw ourselves on the bed, as he advised, and listened with intense anxiety. The footsteps passed by, and we heard doors opening near us. All was again silent for some time; and we had just sprung up, and were about to call the sailor, when we heard the footsteps returning. We threw ourselves down once more on the bed. Just as we had done so, the door opened, and Sancho, holding a lantern in his hand, put his head into the room. His two assistants appeared behind him. As the light flashed on my eyes, I closed them fast.

"All right here, the lads are fast asleep," he said, turning to the men. "Hillo! Senores, wake up, will you. The governor has received notice that some stranger was seen this morning, wandering about outside the prison; and he has sent us round to see that all our inmates were safe. Just remember, then, that we paid you a visit, that's all. Now go to sleep again, for you won't have many more nights to rest here. Ha! ha! ha!"

The men laughed as he said this, as if they thought it a very good joke; and Pedro and I sat up and rubbed our eyes.

"_Buenos noches_, good night, Senores," he repeated; and to our infinite satisfaction, without approaching the window, he and his assistants retired, and closed the door behind them.

We listened till their footsteps had died away in the distance; and then jumping up, we went to the window, where I gave a low mew, which was answered by the sailor, who quickly climbed back again to his former post. I told him in hurried accents what had occurred.

"Never mind," he answered coolly. "More reason for haste. Another half-hour's work will set you free. Bear a hand about it, then."

His calmness reassured us; and having carefully cleared away the pitch, we went on filing at the bar as fast as we could. My heart certainly did beat more rapidly than it had ever done before; for I expected every moment to be interrupted by the entrance of the gaolers. Fortunately the wind blew, and the tiles rattled more loudly than ever. At last, to our great satisfaction, both the bars were almost filed through. The sailor seized the one he had been working at, and with a powerful wrench, tore it from the stone window-frame.

"There," he said, giving me the piece of bar. "Put it carefully down. We will leave it as a legacy behind us."

Pedro and I grasped the other, and with all our strength tore it away.

"Hurra! all right now, mates," said the the sailor, scarcely refraining from giving a cheer. "Bear a hand, and squeeze through. I'll help you."

"You go first," said Pedro. "I'll follow you."

I could just manage to squeeze my head and shoulders between the bars; and with the assistance of the sailor, who hauled away by my collar, I found myself standing outside them on the window-ledge.

"There won't be room for all of us outside, so do you, mate, just get hold of the rope and slide down to the ground," observed the sailor.

"Where is it?" I asked, for I could neither see nor feel it.

"Get hold of the bars with your hands, and lower yourself till you get your feet round the rope. Don't let go with one hand till you've a firm hold with the other. I'll guide you."

Following his instructions, I lowered my body over the window-sill till I could grasp the rope with my hands, when without much difficulty I slid down to the ground. For an instant my satisfaction at being once more outside the prison walls made me forget the risk we ran of being recaptured, and the difficulties we had still to undergo. I stood anxiously watching for the appearance of my companions; for it was so dark that I could not distinguish them even at the short distance between the ground and the window. In moments such as those, each one appears an age, and I trembled for our safety. At last I saw a figure gliding down the rope. It was Pedro. Scarcely had he reached the ground when the sailor was by my side.

"Now, mates," he whispered, "let's hold on to each other, and put our best legs foremost. I've a canoe ready on the banks of the river, and we may be far away before our flight is discovered."

We lost no time in words, but taking each other's hands that we might not be separated, we ran as fast as we could across the square, guided by the sailor, who had taken the bearings of some lights he told us to steer by. Owing to the stormy weather and the late hour, no one was crossing the square; indeed, even the most callous were probably inclined to avoid the spot where the Indians had been executed in the morning. We must have passed close to it. At last we reached the side of the river, but had not hit the place where the sailor had left the canoe. Here was another difficulty. Could any one have removed it? We groped about for some time in vain.

"Can you both swim?" asked the sailor.

"Yes; but it's a long way across, and there are perhaps crocodiles in the water," I answered.

"Better be drowned or swallowed up by a crocodile, my lads, than retaken by those land-sharks," he observed. "It must come to that if we cannot find the canoe."

Pedro and I agreed to this; and, though we had not our full strength, we prepared to take the swim, trusting to the brave fellow's assistance.

"Well, I see there's some risk, so we'll have another hunt for the canoe first," he observed. "Stay, I think it's lower down the stream."

He was right. Directly afterwards, to our great satisfaction, we stumbled upon the canoe. To launch it was the work of a moment; but though we hunted in every direction, we could only find one paddle.

"One must do," said the sailor. "I can manage. No time to be lost, though."

Saying this, he stepped in first, and seated himself in the stern, with the paddle in his hand. He then turned the head of the canoe to the bank, and told Pedro and me to creep in carefully over the bow. We did so, and placed ourselves by his direction along the bottom. A stroke of his paddle then turned the canoe round, and we floated rapidly down the stream. I listened for any sound to indicate that we were followed, but nothing could be heard above the howling of the wind in the trees. Neither of us uttered a word, not that there was much chance of being heard by any one on shore. The water bubbled and hissed round us, and the wind threw it in sheets of spray over our heads. At times it came rippling over the sides of the canoe, and there seemed a prospect of its being filled; but the seaman held on his course without hesitation. We had shot quickly by the few lights which here and there twinkled from the houses, and were beginning to breathe more freely, thinking that we had altogether got clear of the town, when I fancied I heard the splash of oars behind us. I could not tell if the sailor had heard the sound, but he seemed to ply his paddle with even greater vigour than before. Once or twice he turned his head for an instant, which confirmed me in the idea that we were followed; but even his practised eye could not pierce the darkness which shrouded us. At last I saw that he had relaxed in his efforts, and that he kept his paddle moving sufficiently only to guide the canoe as it dropped down with the current. We had been a couple of hours in the canoe, or perhaps not quite so long, though the anxiety we felt made the time pass slowly.

"Well, I believe it was only a cayman or an alligator, or one of those sort of brutes, after all," he exclaimed, drawing a deep breath, like a man relieved from a heavy care.

"I have not been able yet to thank you, friend, for what you have already done for us; but I should like to know what you propose doing next," said I, as soon as I found we might venture to speak.

"Well, that's just what I was thinking of, mate, myself," he answered. "But you needn't thank me, for to my mind, I haven't done much for you yet. All I have had time for was to get you out of limbo, and afloat on this here river. We must now hold a council of war, to know what's to be done."

As he said this, he made the canoe glide in towards the nearest bank. We quickly found ourselves in a quiet bay, overhung with trees, into which we had by chance entered. The sailor held on by the bough of a tree, which served to keep the canoe from floating out again. The wind had much abated, and the sky had become much clearer, so that there was sufficient light to enable us to steer free of any dangers in the middle of the stream; though where we now were we should have been completely concealed from the sight of persons on board any boat which might have been passing, or even of one sent in search of us.

"Well," said the sailor, "what do you propose, mate?"

"I must first ask you whereabouts we are," I answered. "I promised an Indian who preserved my life, to return to him before I left the country, but I cannot tell where he is now to be found. Our wisest plan would be to try and reach the sea, so as to get on board some English ship. I do not think we shall be safe till then."

"What has your friend, then, to say to the matter?" said the sailor.

"He does not understand English, but I will ask him."

Pedro replied that he thought we should be guided by the sailor, who had already helped us so much.

The sailor seemed pleased with the answer.

"Why, then, I'll try and do my best for you, mates," he said. "You see we are about ten miles away from your prison, and somewhere close upon two hundred miles from the nearest port where we are likely to fall in with any English ship. The Spaniards don't encourage them to come openly into their ports with the high duties they clap on, though there's a good deal of smuggling on the coast; and more than half the British manufactures used in the country are landed without paying a farthing of duty. I would rather stick to the river as long as we could; but then, you see, it's the very place the Spaniards are likely to send to look for us. So I propose that we pull down some five or six miles further, where there are some rapids which we cannot pass, and then we will land on the south bank, and make our way over towards the country they call Chili, though it's hot enough, to my mind, at times. We might manage, to be sure, to get across the mountains, and launch a canoe upon one of the streams which run into the river of the Amazons. It's a long way, to be sure, but others have gone down the river; and I don't see, if we can keep stout hearts in our bodies, why we shouldn't. When one man has done a thing, I always think another may, if he set the right way about it."

"A voyage down the river of the Amazons!" I exclaimed. "The very thing I should be delighted to accomplish. I do not care for the dangers or hardships we shall have to encounter. I say, let us try it by all means. I am sure Pedro will agree. We must first try and find my friend Manco, the Indian chief, if he should have escaped from his enemies."

I then explained to the sailor who Manco was.

"That's the spirit I like to see," he answered. "We shall do, depend upon it. I've no great fancy for being caught by the Spaniards and clapped into prison; and they are certain to be looking for us all along the western coast. We shall have to go rather a roundabout way, but that can't be helped. Now, from what I hear, the Indians have pretty well cleared the country of the white men to the south of this, so we shall have little to fear from the Spaniards; and as you say the Indians are your friends, if we fall in with them, it is to be hoped they will treat us well. We can't expect, you know, to get through the world without running through a little danger now and then."

I told the sailor I agreed with him.

"And now, my friend," I said, "I have some more questions to ask you. I do not know your name, and I cannot guess how you came to find us out."

"What does that matter, mate? I do not know yours; and to say the truth, I never heard of you till a few days ago, when I heard the people talking--for I know something of their lingo--of a young Englishman who was to be shot for siding with the Indians. Now, thinks I to myself, that is a very bad thing for the lad, and if I can lend him a hand, we'll disappoint the Dons. It's my belief, a seaman--as far as that matters, anybody--ought always to help a countryman in distress, or he's not worth his salt."

"Then I ought first to tell you who I am," I replied; and I gave him a short account of myself, and my late adventures, and how I came to meet with Pedro.

"That's very strange," he muttered; "very strange. I'm more than ever glad to be of use to you. Now for my name. It's not a long one. I'm called Ned Gale. I was born at sea and bred at sea; and it isn't often I set foot on shore, so that what good there is in me I picked up afloat."

"Then how comes it, Ned Gale, that you got so far inland as this?" I asked.

"Why, you see the ship I sailed in was seized by the Spanish authorities, in the port of Callao, where we had been driven by stress of weather. It was alleged that we had been smuggling on the coast, which was neither here nor there, as there was no one to prove it. At last the master was advised to appeal to the viceroy, and so he set off to Lima to see him, taking me in his company. When we got to Lima, we found that the viceroy had gone up the country; so away we went after him. We travelled over mountains, and across sandy plains, and rivers and torrents, day after day, but he always kept ahead of us. You see that he had gone out to fight the Indians; and when at last we came up with him, we found him in a very bad humour, for his troops had been beaten in every direction. So he would not listen to a word my captain had to say. The fact was, the bribe Captain Hindson had been advised to offer him was not large enough. My poor captain had before been very ill, and as the ship was, his own property, and all he possessed in the world, his loss ruined him. From the day he got the viceroy's answer, he never again lifted up his head; and in a week he died in my arms. It was of a broken heart, I suppose; for there was nothing the matter with him that I could see. Poor fellow, I have seen many a shipmate struck down by the shot of the enemy, or sinking under the foaming waves, when there was no help at hand; but I never mourned for one as I did for him, for he was a right honest and kind man. The Dons did not show much Christian charity towards him after he was dead either, for they said he was a heretic; so they would not bury him in the churchyard, but carried him away to a field, where they dug a hole and covered him up like a dog. I didn't think that mattered at all, however; so I owed them no grudge for it. I never could see the use of praying for a man after he was dead. He did not mind where he lay, and God will know where to look for him at the last day, when he has to stand his trial like all of us. At first I felt a wish to die too; but I soon got over that, and taking the money and the few things the captain had given me (I've got his note about that matter--his will he called it), I started off for the coast to look out for another ship. As I have been often in the country, I have picked up some of their lingo, so got on well enough among the Dons; but I found I couldn't very well travel alone, and often had to wait till I found some one going my road. It was in this way, while I was looking out for companions, that I happened to fall in with you. And now you know something of my history, are you willing to trust me?"

"Had I known nothing about it, after the essential service you have rendered us, I would confidently have trusted you," I answered.

"Avast now then, mate," exclaimed Ned Gale; "don't give me any soft sawder; I'm not fond of it. I like the cut of your jib, and you like the cut of mine; so we shall sail very well in company. By-and-by we shall know more of each other. And the young Don there, I like his looks too, though I'm not over partial to the natives. Howsomdever, we've had talking enough, and as my arms are rested, and there don't appear to be any enemy abroad looking for us, we may as well get under weigh again."

I agreed with him; and Pedro and I sinking down into our former position, we again glided out into the stream. The river was in places very shallow, and more than once we touched the bottom, and the water began to foam over the stern; but Gale lifted her clear with his paddle, without our being obliged to jump out, and away we went again as rapidly as before. Pedro was very silent--he felt confused and astonished at all that had occurred; neither did Ned Gale nor I exchange many words, for we could not tell at what moment we might come upon any of the villages which are to be found on the banks of the river. Now and then we heard a dog bark, and the crowing of some cocks in the distance gave signs of the approach of morning; but no habitations were visible, and no human voices gave us cause for alarm.

Several of the villages on the south bank, Ned Gale had learned, had been destroyed by the Indians; but they had not attempted to cross to the north side. After about an hour's paddling, we reached a spot similar to the one where we had before taken shelter. We paddled along the shore of the little bay for some way, trying to find a place hard enough to bear our feet, for the bank was generally soft and muddy fringed by a broad belt of reeds, which the alligators must have found convenient for tickling their snouts with.

"Step out," said Gale, "and learn if we are likely to make our way inland from this. I will wait for you and look after the canoe."

Doing as he desired, Pedro and I felt our way along with cautious steps, for under the trees it was so dark that we could scarcely see our hands held up before us. We found that the ground rose a little way beyond, and appeared quite hard. Satisfied with our discovery, after about a quarter of an hour's absence, we commenced our return to the boat. We walked on slowly, every instant expecting to fall into some hole; and at last we agreed that we ought to have reached the canoe. We hunted about to the right and to the left, but we could not even see the river. We called out as loud as we dared, but Gale did not answer.

"There is the river; I see it shining through the trees," said Pedro.

Very soon we got up to it; and Pedro, who was a little in advance, was very nearly falling in. I dragged him back, and we began to hunt for the canoe. It was nowhere to be seen. Again we shouted louder than before, but Ned Gale did not answer. Could he have deserted us? Such a thing seemed impossible, yet we began almost to despair.

"Could an alligator have picked him off?" I asked Pedro, shuddering as I thought of our friend's probable fate.

We had kept along the bank of the river for some way. Just then Gale's voice sounded close to us. We were soon up with him, and had told him of the result of our expedition, and of our alarm.

"It was my fault, I suppose," he answered, laughing. "I found a tree to which I could make the canoe fast, so I thought I might as well take a little sleep while you were away. I heard you call, and dreamed that I answered you. The honest truth is, I spent all last night looking about the prison to find you out, so I haven't closed my eyes for many an hour. You'll pardon me, mates, I hope; nature's nature, and will have its way."

I assured him, now that we had found him, we did not mind the fright; and asked him what he proposed doing next.

"Why, the first thing, you see, is to send the canoe out into the stream, so that our enemies may not discover where we have landed," he answered. "It will float away over the falls; so they may be looking for us miles below them perhaps."

According to Ned Gale's suggestion, we towed the canoe to the end of the point which formed one side of the bay, and he then throwing the paddle into it, we gave it a shove, which sent it out into the middle of the stream, down which we could distinguish it gliding rapidly away, till it was lost to sight.

"We must lose no more time now, mates," said Ned Gale, as we climbed up the bank. "We must get some way inland before daylight, and then stow ourselves away in a wood till we have time to look about us. We must keep clear of all cottages, for the white-brown fellows hereabouts would make no bones of selling us to the Dons, if they thought they could get anything for us. You see I've brought prog enough to last all hands for three days or more, on somewhat short commons; and mayhap we may snare some game to eke it out much longer."

This was good news, for, by taking proper precautions, I thought we might at all events avoid falling into the hands of the Spaniards; and of the Indians I had no fear. The ground over which we were passing, was very rough and uncultivated, and we could discover no beaten path. After some time we came to a mud wall; and on the other side we found a field full of maize, just fit for cutting. This gave us a very welcome supply of food, and we filled our pockets and caps, and a bag Ned Gale had brought with him, for that very purpose.

It was necessary, however, to get away from the farm before daylight; so we skirted along the wall, and once more found ourselves on wild ground. The whole eastern sky was covered with a mass of flame, a sign that the sun himself was about to appear, when we caught sight of a forest spreading out before us. We pushed on much faster than we had been able to do during the darkness, and had just concealed ourselves among the trees, as the sun, rushing from among the mountains, cast a bright glow of light over the plains we had just passed. The first thing Ned Gale did, was to climb up one of the tallest trees on the outskirts of the forest, to take a look round and see what was in sight, as, he observed, a good seaman always does the first thing in the morning. When he came down, he reported that he had observed in the far distance some smoke, which he supposed arose from the farmhouse we had passed in the night; but that he had discovered no other human habitation while as far as the eye could discern there appeared to be only an uncultivated plain. Having eaten nothing since our last meal in the prison, Pedro and I were very glad when Ned Gale opened his wallet, and produced some dried meat and bread and cheese, and what was almost of greater value, a good supply of cocoa. He had a flint and steel with him, and a tin cup for boiling water; so we collected some sticks and lighted a small fire, sufficient to cook our cocoa and to parch some peas. On looking over our provisions, we found that we had already ample to last us a week, so that we might venture to push across the mountains towards Cuzco, where, Manco had told me, he expected about this time the Indians would be collected in great force. We had, however, more than a day's journey before we could reach the foot of the mountains, which were upwards of thirty miles off.

On hunting about, we discovered a spring of bright water bubbling up close to the roots of an enormous tree, which it evidently very much assisted to nourish. We ate a good meal, and then Gale insisted that Pedro and I should lie down and rest, while he watched. As we both of us very much required sleep, we were not sorry to follow his advice; and in about two hours we awoke much refreshed.

I have not yet described Ned Gale. He was about five feet six in height, and very strongly built, with rather a large head, covered with a profusion of light hair. He wore a full bushy beard and large whiskers. His eyes were full and round, and of the brightest blue I have ever seen in those of a man. His month was large, and filled with strong white teeth, and his nose, though rather thick and prominent, was otherwise well cut. Indeed he came up fully to the description of a fine-looking fellow without being handsome. His dress was that of an ordinary seaman of those days. He wore a belt with a brace of pistols stuck in it, which were partly concealed by his loose cloth jacket. His head was covered by a small low-crowned straw hat; and the puzzle seemed to be how he could manage to keep it on. Altogether he presented a figure very seldom seen so far inland as we then were.

"Come, mates," he exclaimed, "it's time to be making headway again."

We jumped up, and having divided our stores into three equal parts, and cut some thick walking-sticks, we shouldered our bundles, and recommenced our journey. _

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