Chapter 31. A Spanish Inn...

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_ CHAPTER THIRTY ONE. A SPANISH INN--THE SPANIARDS AROUSED TO ARMS--RONALD HEADS A GUERILLA BAND--EDDA RESCUED BY RONALD

The sun had set some short time when Ronald, with his companions, reached the village where the guide told him he could obtain shelter and refreshment. The village itself was small and mean, and the only house of entertainment it possessed offered but few attractions to the travellers to remain there. However, as their beasts required rest, they were compelled to dismount, and while the guide with the boys of the inn led the animals into the stables, Ronald and the two seamen walked into the common room, which served as dining-hall, kitchen, and apparently the sleeping-place of the family, as well as of a numerous family of fowls. A very unattractive dame, who presided over the culinary department of the establishment, was now engaged in preparing supper for a very mixed and somewhat suspicious-looking company, who were seated at a long table, on benches at one side of the room. None of them rose as the strangers entered, and the few who condescended to pay them any attention scowled at them from under their brows, as if resenting their appearance as an intrusion. Ronald was very little moved by the want of courtesy with which he was received, but, walking up to the presiding genius of the place, he inquired, in the best Spanish he could command, whether he and his followers could have beds and food. The old woman looked up with a sinister expression without speaking, while she continued stirring the pot boiling on the huge wood fire. Her eyes were bleared with the smoke, and her face was wrinkled and dried, with a few white hairs straggling over her brow, while the long yellow tusks which protruded beyond her thin lips gave her a peculiarly hag-like look. Ronald repeated his question.

"Food?--yes, and good enough for any one," she answered in a low croaking voice; "but for beds, the enemy carried them off, and everything in the house. There is space enough and to spare, upstairs, for a taller man than you to stretch his legs. You can go and look when you have a mind; your valise will serve you as a pillow, and a sack with some straw must be your mattress. Many a better man has slept in a worse bed."

"I do not doubt it," answered Ronald, calmly. "My men and I will manage well enough, but we are hungry, and shall be glad of food."

"All in good time," said the old woman, somewhat softening her tone, and pleased at being spoken to in her own language. "You may carry your baggage upstairs, and select any corner you like for your sleeping-place. The girl will be in and give you a light presently. See that there are no holes in the roof above you, in case it should rain. You will find it warmer too if you avoid those in the floor beneath you."

The old woman said this evidently with serious good-will. Ronald thanked her, and directly afterwards a stout buxom girl came from the further end of the hall, with a brass oil lamp in her hand. Taking the advice of the old woman, Ronald went upstairs to select a corner where he and his party might rest a night. The apartment consisted of the entire upper floor, but as the old woman had warned him, it contained not a particle of furniture, though, from its appearance, there was little doubt that there would be a large number of inhabitants. In several places through the roof he could see the stars shining, while the faint rays of light, and odours anything but faint, which came up through the floor, showed the numerous holes and rents which time had made in the boards.

"This is a rum place for our lieutenant to sleep in," observed Bob Doull to Job; "and as to the gentry below there, they are as cut-throat a crew as I ever set eyes on. I'll not let his valise go out of my hands, for it would be whipped up pretty smartly by one of these fellows, and we should never see more of it. Looking at the land from aboard the frigate, I never should have thought it was such an outlandish sort of a country. Should you, Job?"

"Can't say much for their manners. May be they are better than they look," answered the elder seaman; "but if it came to a scrimmage, I can't say but what I wouldn't mind tackling a dozen of them."

These remarks were made while Morton was taking a survey of the unpromising apartment. It had apparently been used as a barrack by the French when, not long ago, they occupied the village, and very little trouble had since been taken to clean it out. Morton asked the girl if his surmise was not correct.

"Yes, the demons! they have been here, and Heaven's curse go with them!" she answered, with startling fierceness. "It was dark when you rode in, or you would have seen the number of houses burnt down, vineyards and orange-groves rooted up for firewood; but that was not all the harm they did. Woe, unutterable woe, they inflicted on thousands. I had a lover, to whom I was betrothed; they slew him, and me they rendered wretched. But I need not tell my own griefs. Thousands have suffered as much as I have. There, senor, that corner you will find the freest from inconvenience. Place your valise and saddle-bags there--they will be safe. We are honest, though our accursed foes have made us poor indeed."

The poor girl's dark eyes flashed fire as she spoke. Ronald felt sure that he might trust her entirely. He ordered Bob and Job, therefore, to deposit his scanty baggage in the corner indicated, and to follow him below.

"What! does the lieutenant think he'll ever see them again if we does?" observed Bob.

"Orders is orders," answered Job; "but just you keep a bright look out on the stair while we're below, and as soon as we've stowed away some grub, we'll take it watch and watch, and go up and sit on 'em. The Dons will find it a hard job to carry them off then, I'll allow."

Satisfied with their arrangements, the two seamen followed their officer. He took his seat at one end of the table, and, as he did so, he fancied the other guests seemed to regard him with more friendly glances than before. Not a minute had elapsed before Maria placed before him a smoking puchero (a dish to be found from one end of Spain to the other, composed of various sorts of meats minced with spices). There was a soup also, of a reddish tinge, from being coloured with saffron, and sausages rather too strong of garlic, and very white bread, and two dishes of vegetables, one of which was of garbanzos, a sort of haricot beans. There was wine also, and brandy; indeed, the inhabitants must have managed cleverly to hide their stores from their invaders to enable them to produce so good a supply. Job and Bob did not conceal their astonishment; the viands suited their taste, and they did ample justice to them.

Though Ronald was in love, and had just cause to be anxious as to its result, and though he had only just parted from his mistress, yet he was a sailor; he had been a midshipman, and he had always a remarkably good appetite; and now, much to his surprise (for when he stopped at the door of the inn he had no thoughts of eating), he felt every inclination to do justice to the feast set before him.

"He'll do," observed Job to Bob, as they sat at a respectful distance from their officer. "At first I could not tell what had come over him as he got on his horse after he'd been talking to that young lady up at the window. Whenever I sees a man able to take his grub, whatever's the matter with him, I knows it's all right."

Ronald had addressed some of the Spaniards near him. They listened respectfully. He spoke to them of the tyranny to which Spain had been so long subject; of the sufferings she had endured; of the only means of freedom--the rising of the whole nation, as a man, to throw off the yoke. "The English will help you, but they can only help, remember. It is you who must do the work," he added.

"True, true! the cabaliero speaks well!" resounded from all parts of the room.

"It is to urge you to rise in arms, to drive the invaders from your country that I have come among you," said Ronald. He warmed on the subject. His hearers grew enthusiastic.

"We have arms! we have arms!" they shouted. "We will bring them forth; we have powder and shot. The enemy are not far off. We will go and meet them. We will drive them before us like sheep."

Ronald was satisfied with the effect of his address. He knew perfectly well that in the morning, after they had cleaned their arms and filled their pouches with powder, they would stop and consider before they advanced to meet the enemy. Altogether, he felt that the evening had not been ill-spent, and at the end of it the very people who had, when he came among them, cast on him such sinister looks, now regarded him with the greatest respect. It was late before he threw himself down on a sack of straw in a corner of the upper room, wrapped up in his cloak. Though the room was occupied by a large portion of the rest of the guests, who kept up a concert of snores all night long, he managed to sleep soundly till daylight.

The next morning after breakfast, having bid farewell to his new friends, he continued his journey. Nothing would induce his horse to go out of a walk, while the mules refused to proceed at a faster rate than their more noble companions, so that their progress was of necessity slow. As they proceeded the sad traces of warfare were everywhere visible. Whole farmsteads burnt to the ground, houses in ruins, churches unroofed, groves of orange and olive trees cut down, fences destroyed, and fields once fertile returning to a state of nature, and overrun with weeds. The guide looked at them as objects to which he was well accustomed, but now and then he ground his teeth and swore vengeance on the heads of the fell invaders of his country.

Job had been remarking where the devastating hand of war had passed, and had counted up the objects destroyed. At length he gave expression to his thoughts.

"Well, to my mind, it's a mortal pity people take to fighting on shore. Why don't they stick to their ships, and always have it out afloat? that's the sensible thing, and then the only harm's done to the ships and the men who has the fun of the thing, and gets the honour and glory, and that's all natural and right."

Bob heartily joined in with Job's notion.

"If I was a king, I wouldn't let 'em," he remarked. "I'd say, just you let the farms, and the gardens, and the women and children, and the churches alone; and if you wants to tight, by all manner of means fight it out, but keep afloat, and don't come here."

The seamen had been conversing for some time in this strain, when the clatter of a horse's hoof was heard behind them, and turning their heads they saw the same Spaniard who had accompanied them on their way the day before. They told Morton, who turned his horse's head to meet him.

"Thank heaven that my steed has carried me so well, and that I have come up to you," exclaimed Don Josef. "There is work for you; your aid is wanted; you will not refuse it, I know? But come, ride back with me as fast as your beast's legs will move, and I will tell you. Give him the spur! spare him not; I may supply you with a better soon. The French are at no great distance from this; secure as they fancy themselves, we have spies among them to inform us of all their movements. After daybreak this morning, one of the spies arrived, and brought me notice that the enemy were advancing, and that they having heard that a British commissioner was in the neighbourhood, had resolved to carry him off. On hearing this, I instantly set out to warn your countryman of the danger to which he was exposed, but on my way I met a person who informed me that he and his party had set forth at a very early hour, and were actually advancing in the very direction where they would encounter the enemy. I, on this, instantly sent forth a person to warn him of his danger, and galloped after you, to entreat you to head a party, of strength sufficient to meet the enemy. I directed all the men in the district to assemble in arms; they want a leader, however, in whom they may have confidence. I have told them that they would find one in you, and they believe me. You will come, will you not?"

"Indeed, I will!" answered Ronald, belabouring his horse, and digging his spurs into his flanks with an energy proportioned to his anxiety. So eager was he, that for some time he could scarcely ask questions. One thought alone occupied his mind: Edda was in danger, and there was a possibility that he might preserve her from it.

The party soon got back to the village, where, in front of the inn, a large number of men with arms in their hands were assembled. They received Morton as he rode up with loud vivas. He had won their regards the previous evening by the way he had addressed them, and Don Josef had been telling them what a gallant fellow he was. They were, therefore, now prepared to place the most implicit confidence in him, and to hail him as a leader in the enterprise Don Josef had projected. The Spaniard had been giving him an exact account of all the information he had received, and of the plans he had formed. Ronald thought them excellent; there was, however, no time to be lost. Messengers with the fiery cross--at least a message of the same import--had been sent round to all the neighbourhood, and armed men were coming in from every direction. When their numbers were counted, Morton found himself at the head of a guerilla band, mustering upwards of three hundred men, cavalry and infantry. They varied more in their arms than in their costume, and though many were somewhat ragged, when massed together and all looking fierce and eager for the fight, they had a very warlike appearance.

The great object was to overtake Colonel Armytage before he could reach the spot where the ambush was supposed to be placed; he travelled with only a small escort of a dozen troopers, merely sufficient for protection against any brigands who might be roving through the country. As to the French, he had fancied that they were at a considerable distance, and had no fear of falling in with them: he ought of course to have been better informed. The truth was, that though formal and dignified, and so far fitted to have intercourse with the Spaniards, his manners were not sufficiently conciliatory to have gained their affections, and they consequently neglected to give him the information on many points which it was most important for him to obtain.

Job and Bob exchanged a few passing remarks as they bumped along in a way to which they were not at all accustomed, and which caused their words to come out like shot from guns irregularly served in action, or the pantings of a broken-down steam-engine; only such an invention was not known in those days.

"I'd sooner be serving my gun aboard the frigate than be on the top of this here brute," observed Bob. "But it's no odds, I suppose; if we catches the Mounseers, and drubs them, we shall ride back on their backs--eh, Job?"

"Not so sure of that; they'll sham lame and refuse to carry us," answered the other seaman. "But I say, Bob, what a hurry our lieutenant's in; to my mind, it's all about that young lady at the window; mark my words, there'll be a splice some day or other, and good luck to him too; a finer-hearted fellow never stepped, for all he's a boatswain's son. There's some men born to be officers, and he's one of 'em."

People seldom dream of the way in which they and their acts are discussed by their inferiors.

Don Josef now told Ronald that they were approaching the spot where he hoped to overtake Colonel Armytage and his party, but no traces of them could be seen. They must have proceeded faster than Don Josef had calculated. "On, on!" was the cry. They met a peasant, a half-witted fellow; he had seen such a party--a carriage with ladies, a waggon and some horsemen--pass an hour before.

"We shall be too late, I fear," exclaimed Don Josef; "but on, my friends; we may still overtake the enemy."

The party redoubled their speed; never had Ronald been worked up to such a pitch of anxiety and eagerness.

The sound of shots was heard; the road wound among low broken cliffs, and trees growing thickly together; it was a likely place for an assault; so frequent were the bends made by the road that seldom was there a direct view of more than a hundred yards. Horse and foot rushed on, till Ronald remembering that their impetuosity might do more harm than good, halted them; and begging Don Josef to remain with them and not to advance till summoned, rode on with the two seamen, and six other men, of the best-equipped and best-mounted of the party. Now again he pushed on as rapidly as he could. How his heart beat! Should he be in time to rescue his friends? If not, how would they be treated? His eagerness prompted him to shout to his men, but he recollected caution was necessary, and restrained himself. Again the rattle of musketry was heard, and dropping shots, and even the shouts of the combatants reached his ears; he was close to them; a carriage was the first object which met his view. The mule which dragged it had drawn it against the side of the cliff, against which it lay half upset. Before it were a party of men drawn up across the pass, and bravely contending against a whole host who appeared beyond. It was evident, however, the small band would be quickly overpowered, for men were seen climbing the cliff with muskets in hand, belonging to the opposite party. By their dress, and the rapidity with which they climbed the cliffs, they seemed to be seamen. Ronald's plans were formed in a moment; he instantly despatched the most trusty of his party to direct Don Josef to send a hundred men up the cliffs, so as to gain a higher level than the French, and to advance with all rapidity with the rest. Putting spurs to his horse, Ronald, with his small body of companions, darted on, shouting in English and Spanish, "To the rescue! to the rescue! Do not give way--a strong force is at hand!"

He had neither been heard nor seen by the commissioner's escort: at that moment they wavered and drew back. Once losing ground, the French dashed in among them; while some of the latter engaged each of them in single combat, a French officer and several others made their way to the carriage; Ronald and his band galloped on. At that moment only were they discovered. A shriek was heard. The Frenchmen were dragging the ladies from their carriage. Ronald repeated the shouts he had already uttered. Among the French were sailors as well as soldiers.

"We'll tackle them," cried Job.

"What business has they to be here?" exclaimed Bob.

The French officer was in naval uniform, and Ronald, even at that distance, recognised Alfonse Gerardin.

Mrs Armytage and her daughter shrieked for help; they fancied they had been attacked by bandits. They had been more alarmed for the safety of Colonel Armytage than for their own; he was nowhere to be seen.

"Fear not, my beloved Edda; you and your mother are in perfect safety," said Alfonse Gerardin, who had thrown himself from his horse. He was now endeavouring to draw her, with as little violence as possible, from the carriage. "I have sought for you through many lands; I have found you at last, and we will never again part."

These expressions frightened Edda far more than any threats would have done. There was a concentrated energy and determination in the way he spoke them that made her feel that he would keep his word.

"Oh, spare me! spare me!" she exclaimed. "You are not a brigand; you do not war with women. Let us go free, and hasten to the assistance of my father. You expressed friendship for him. Prove it now."

"I will, Edda, I swear; but you cannot remain here. Any moment you may be sacrificed. The shot are falling thickly around. It is hopeless to expect help from any one but me."

At that moment Edda saw him change colour, and then she heard the sound of a voice which she knew full well--"To the rescue! to the rescue!" while Bob and Job shouted, "Down with the Mounseers; down with them!"

Edda saw Ronald coming. She struggled to free herself; while Alfonse, having leapt on his horse, was attempting to lift her up on the saddle; but he was not a good horseman, and it seemed doubtful whether he would succeed.

While some of his followers were endeavouring to carry off Mrs Armytage, in obedience to his orders, the others were facing about to defend themselves against the approaching enemy. When the French saw the small body of men led by Morton, those who had faced to meet them boldly advanced. Morton dashed forward. His great object was to reach Alfonse Gerardin. He saw nothing else, he thought of nothing else but Edda Armytage in his power.

"Release her, or you die!" he shouted.

Truefitt and Doull meantime had each singled out a French seaman, and with hearty good-will were attacking them with their cutlasses. So fierce was their onslaught that they drove them back into the midst of the _melee_, where Colonel Armytage's troopers were still holding their own against their foes. The French were, however, pressing them very hard. Alfonse looked round and saw that the way was open to him. In another moment Ronald Morton would be at his side. He stooped down, and throwing his arms round Edda, by a violent effort lifted her off the ground and placed her on his saddle.

"Retreat, men!" he shouted, "Let alone the other lady."

He was galloping off, but Ronald digging his spurs into his horse's flanks, and cutting down a French soldier, who attempted to stop him, was in another instant by the side of the young lieutenant. Gerardin saw him coming with uplifted sword. He raised his own weapon to defend himself, while he still held Edda with his left arm. He knew that Ronald would not dare to fire; he doubted whether he would even venture to strike, for fear of injuring Miss Armytage. Ronald's eye was practised, his nerves were well strung.

"Release her, villain!--madman!" he shouted again. He saw what Alfonse, who had to turn his head to look at him, did not see, Truefitt and Doull springing across the road. Bob seized the horse's head; the animal reared. Gerardin, in attempting to seize the rein, loosened his hold of Edda, and she would have fallen to the ground had not Truefitt caught her. The enemy were gathering thickly around. Bob, seeing what had happened, let go the rein to defend his own head, as well as his shipmate's, from the blows showered on them. Morton, too, was attacked on all sides. He did not seek for revenge. Gerardin's horse sprang forward and saved his rider from the only blow aimed at him by Morton. All these events had passed within a few seconds of time. At that instant the Frenchmen uttered a cry of "Retreat!--retreat! _Sauve qui peut_!" They had good reason for so doing; for the cliffs on either side appeared covered with guerillas, who began firing down upon them, while a strong band was seen advancing at full speed along the road.

"Ronald Morton, I hate you!" exclaimed Gerardin, turning round in his saddle, and shaking his clenched fist at the English lieutenant. "You have foiled me again and again. I know you, and who you are; you stand between me and my birthright; you shall not foil me again. I have before sought your life; the next time we meet we will not separate till one or the other dies."

These last words were uttered as, surrounded by the survivors of his band, he was galloping off. The advantage of having sent the Spaniards to crown the height was now apparent. They drove the French riflemen down to the main body, and the enemy, not being able to ascertain the number opposed to them, gave way before a very inferior and undisciplined force. Ronald did not attempt to follow them till he had placed Edda in safety by the side of her mother, whom he found half fainting in the carriage. Then telling her that he would go in search of Colonel Armytage, he leapt on his horse and joined Don Josef and the surviving troopers who were moving on in pursuit of the enemy. He had not gone far before he fancied that he could distinguish Colonel Armytage mounted on a horse among the French, and drooping as if badly wounded.

The road sloped considerably in front. The French were descending the steep. Calling to his companions to charge, he led the way, attacking the rear-guard of the enemy with irresistible impetuosity. Down they went before the Spanish blades like corn before the sickle. Those in front endeavoured to fly. Some few turned to withstand their opponents, but they, too, gave way, and Ronald and his followers fought on till they reached the prize the French fancied they had secured: the person to capture whom the expedition had apparently been despatched. The colonel, who had been secured to his horse, was almost insensible, and seemed not at all aware by whom he had been rescued. The French, meantime, when they discovered the small number of the guerilla band opposed to them halted, and seemed about to return; but Ronald showed so bold a front that they apparently thought better of it, and on finding that they were not again attacked, formed in order, and continued their retreat.

Ronald observed, as he rode back, that although there were numbers of dead on the road, there was not a wounded man alive among them. _

Read next: Chapter 32. Colonel Armytage Wounded...

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