Gustave Aimard
The Adventurers
CHAPTER XV
THE DEPARTURE
Sergeant Diego, when left by General Bustamente a few paces from the Quinta Verde, was very uneasy regarding the fate of his leader, and entertained dismal presentiments. He was an old soldier, and well acquainted with all the machinations and treacheries practised in this country between inveterate enemies. He had been far from approving of the General's undertaking, for he knew better than anyone how little confidence ought to be placed in spies. Constrained, ostensibly, to obey the order he had received, he had resolved, in petto, not to leave his leader without help in the wasps' nest into which he had cast himself headlong. Diego entertained for General Bustamente, under whose orders he had served ten years, a profound regard, which entitled him to certain freedoms, and his entire confidence. He immediately placed himself in relation with two other officers of the detachment, ordered, like himself, to watch the mysterious house whose dark outline cut gloomily across the cloudy sky, and around which there was a close blockade. He was walking about, biting his moustache, and swearing to himself, determined, if the General did not come out within half an hour, to obtain an entrance by force, if necessary, when a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder. He turned sharply round, stopping short in an oath that was passing his lips, and saw a man standing before him: it was Don Pedro.
"Is that you?" he asked, as soon as he recognised him.
"Myself," the spy replied.
"But where the devil do you come from?"
"No matter; do you wish to save the General?"
"Is he in danger?"
"In danger of death."
"Demonios!" the sergeant shouted; "he must be saved!"
"For that purpose I am here; but don't speak so loud."
"I will speak as you like, provided you will tell me."
"Nothing!" Don Pedro replied, "for there is not a minute to be lost."
"What is to be done?"
"Listen! A detachment must feign an attack upon the gate by which the General entered; another will watch the environs, for the Dark-Hearts have roads known only to themselves; you, with a third detachment, will follow me; I will undertake to introduce you into the house – is that agreed upon?"
"Perfectly."
"Make haste, then, to inform your colleagues; time presses."
"Instantly; where shall I find you again?"
"Here."
"Very well; I only ask five minutes," and he strode away in haste.
"Hem!" thought Don Pedro, as soon as he was alone; "we should be prudent when we wish affairs to be profitable; from what I heard, they will condemn the General, and they must not be allowed to go as far as that, for my interests would suffer too seriously; I have manoeuvred so as to be safe from all suspicion; if I succeed, I shall be more in favour with the General than ever, without losing the confidence of the conspirators."
"Well!" he said, as he saw Diego coming towards him.
"Everything is done," replied the sergeant, out of breath. "I am ready."
"Come on, then, and God grant it may not be too late!"
"Amen!" said the soldier.
Everything was done as had been arranged; whilst one detachment vigorously attacked the gate of the Quinta Verde, Don Pedro led the troops commanded by Diego to the opposite side of the house, where a low window was open; this window was grated, but several bars had been removed beforehand, which left the entrance easy. Pedro commanded the soldiers to be silent, and they entered the house one by one. Guided by the spy, they advanced stealthily, without meeting with obstacles of any kind. At the end of a few minutes they came to a closed door.
"This is it!" said Pedro, in a low voice.
At a sign from the sergeant, the door was beaten in with the butt end of their muskets, and the soldiers rushed into the room. It was nearly empty, its only occupant being a man stretched motionless upon the floor. The sergeant sprang towards him, but recoiled with a cry of horror – he had recognised his leader – General Bustamente lay with a dagger sticking upright in his breast. To the hilt of the dagger was tied a long black strip, upon which were written these words in red ink:
"The Justice of the Dark-Hearts!"
"Oh!" cried Diego; "Vengeance! Vengeance!"
"Vengeance!" the soldiers repeated, with rage, mingled with terror.
The sergeant turned round towards Pedro, whom he believed to be still by his side; but the spy, who alone could guide them in their researches, had thought it prudent to steal away. As soon as he saw that what he dreaded had happened, he had disappeared without anybody observing his departure.
"No matter!" said Diego. "If I demolish this den of assassins, from bottom to top, and don't leave stone upon stone, I swear I will find these demons, if they are buried in the centre of the earth."
The old soldier began searching in all directions, whilst a surgeon who had followed the detachment paid attention to the wounded man, whom he endeavoured to restore to his senses.
The Dark-Hearts, as the spy had truly said, had paths known only to themselves, by which they had quietly departed, after having accomplished their terrible vengeance, or executed their severe justice, according to the point of view in which an act of this nature and importance is viewed. They were already far off in the country, safe from all danger, while the soldiers were still ferociously searching for them in and about the house.
Don Tadeo and Don Gregorio returned together to the chacra, and were astonished, on their arrival, to find Valentine, whom they supposed to be in bed and asleep long before, waiting for them at that late hour, to request a few minutes' conversation. In spite of the very natural surprise which the demand at such a singular hour excited, the two gentlemen, who supposed the Frenchman had serious reasons for acting thus, granted his request, without making the least observation. The conversation was long – so long, that we think it useless to repeat it here in detail, but will satisfy ourselves with giving our readers the end of it, which sums it up perfectly.
"I will not insist," said Don Tadeo, "although you will not tell us your motives. I believe you to be too considerate a man, Don Valentine, not to be convinced that the reasons which force you to leave us are serious."
"Of the greatest seriousness," the young man replied.
"Very well. But on leaving this place, in which direction do you intend to bend your steps?"
"Faith! I own frankly – besides, you know already that I and my friend are in search of fortune – that all directions are the same to us, since we must, above everything, depend upon chance."
"I am of your opinion," replied Don Tadeo, smiling. "Listen to me, then. I possess large estates in the province of Valdivia, which it is my intention to visit shortly. What prevents you going that way in preference to any other?"
"Nothing, that I know of."
"I, at this moment, stand in need of a man whom I can depend upon, to undertake an important mission into Araucania, to one of the principal chiefs of the people of that country. If you are going to the province of Valdivia, you will be obliged to traverse Araucania in its whole length. Are you willing to undertake this commission? Will that inconvenience you?"
"Why should I not?" said Valentine. "I have never come face to face with savages; I should like to see what sort of people they are."
"Very well; now is your opportunity. That is agreed upon then. You wish to start tomorrow, do you not?"
"Tomorrow! Today, if you please – in a few hours, for it will not be long before the sun will be up."
"That is true. Very well, then; at the moment of your departure, my major-domo shall place, on my part, written instructions in your hands."
"Caramba!" said Valentine, laughing; "here am I transformed into an ambassador!"
"Do not joke, my friend," said Don Tadeo, seriously. "The mission I confide to you is delicate – dangerous, even; I do not conceal that from you. If the papers of which you will be the bearer are found upon you, you will be exposed to great dangers. Are you still willing to be my emissary?"
"Pardieu! Wherever there is danger there is pleasure. And what is the name of the person to whom I am to remit these despatches?"
"They are of two descriptions. The latter only concerns yourself; during the course of your journey you can make yourself acquainted with them; they will instruct you in certain matters you should know in order to secure the success of your mission."
"I understand – and the others?"
"The others are for Antinahuel, that is, the Tiger Sun, and must be delivered into his own hands."
"A queer name that!" Valentine replied, with a laugh. "And where am I to find the gentleman rejoicing in such a formidable title?"
"By my faith, my friend," replied Don Tadeo, "I know no more than you do."
"The Araucano Indians," interrupted Don Gregorio, "are a rather wandering race, and it is sometimes difficult to find the one you are in search of."
"Bah! I shall find him, be assured of that."
"We do entirely rely upon you."
"In a few hours, as I have told you, I shall myself set out to place in a convent in Valdivia the young lady whom you so fortunately saved; it will, therefore, be in Valdivia I shall await your answer."
"I beg your pardon, but I have not the least idea where Valdivia is," observed Valentine.
"Don't be uneasy on that account; any child in this country can direct you the way thither," Don Gregorio replied.
"Thanks."
"And now, if you change your mind when we meet again, and consent to remain among us, remember we are brothers, and do not hesitate to inform me of your new determination."
"I can neither, reply yes or no, sir; if it depended upon me, we should continue to see each other frequently."
After exchanging a few more friendly expressions, the three men separated. At sunrise, Louis and Valentine, mounted on magnificent horses, which Don Tadeo had forced them to accept, rode away from the chacra, followed by Cæsar. Valentine had received his despatches from the hands of the major-domo. As they were quitting the farm Louis turned round instinctively, as if to salute with a last look a spot he abandoned for ever, and which contained all that was dear to him. A window was gently opened, and the face of the fair girl appeared through the small interval, bathed in tears. The two young men bowed respectfully towards the necks of their horses, and with a deep sigh from Louis, they moved on as the window closed.
"Adieu! oh, adieu for ever!" murmured Louis, choking with emotion.
"Ah, perhaps!" said Valentine; and, to rouse his friend from his grief, he put his horse into a gallop, and they soon lost sight of the chacra in the windings of the road.
Within four hours from their departure Don Tadeo and Don Gregorio likewise set out on their journey to Valdivia, for the purpose of placing Doña Rosario in the convent. But the enemy of whom they thought they had relieved themselves at the Quinta Verde, was not dead; the dagger of the King of Darkness had not proved more sure than the bullets of the General. The two enemies were destined soon to meet again. Notwithstanding the seriousness of the wound he had received, thanks to the intelligent cares lavished upon him, but more particularly, thanks to his excellent constitution, General Bustamente was soon in a convalescent state. Don Pancho and the Linda, from that time united by the strongest of ties – a common personal hatred – prepared to take their revenge upon Don Tadeo, and that of the bitterest nature. The General signalized his restoration to health by cruelties of the most flagrant kind towards every man suspected of liberalism, and by inaugurating throughout the republic a pitiless system of terror. Don Tadeo was pronounced outlawed; his friends were cast into dungeons, and their property was confiscated; and then, when the General thought that all these vexations must bring his enemy to bay, and he had nothing to dread from him or his partizans, under the pretence of visiting the provinces of the Republic, he set out for Valdivia, accompanied by his mistress.
CHAPTER XVI
THE MEETING
As the principal incidents of this history are now about to take place in Araucania, we think it necessary to give our readers some account of this people, who alone of all the nations the Spaniards encountered in America, succeeded in resisting them, and had, up to the time we treat of, preserved intact their liberty and almost all their territory. The Araucanos or Moluchos inhabit the beautiful country situated between the rivers Biobio and Valdivia, having on one side the sea, and on the other the great Cordilleras of the Andes. They are thus completely enclosed within the Chilian republic, and yet, as we have said, have always remained independent. It would be a great error to suppose these Indians savages. The Araucanos have adopted as much of European civilization as suited their character and their mode of living, and have rejected the rest. From the most remote times these peoples had formed a national body, strong and compact, governed by wise laws rigorously executed. The first Spanish conquerors were quite astonished to find in this remote corner of America, a powerful aristocratic republic, and a feudalism organized almost upon the same plan as that which prevailed in Europe in the thirteenth century. We will here enter into a few details of the government of the Araucanos, who proudly style themselves Aucas– free men. These details concerning a people too little known, up to this day, cannot fail to interest the reader.
The principal chiefs of the Araucanos are the Toquis,3 the Apo-Ulmens, and the Ulmens. There are four Toquis, one for each territorial division; they have under their orders the Apo-Ulmens, who, in their turn, command the Ulmens. The Toquis are independent of each other, but confederated for the public good. Titles are hereditary, and pass from males to males. The vassals or Mosotones are free; in time of war alone they are subject to military service; but, in this country, and it is this which constitutes its strength, every man in a condition to bear arms is a soldier. It may easily be understood what the chiefs are when we state that the people consider them only as the first among their equals, and that their authority is consequently rather precarious; and if, now and then, certain Toquis have endeavoured to extend their authority, the people, jealous of their privileges, have always found means to keep them within the bounds prescribed by their ancient usages.
A society whose manners are so simple, and interests so little complicated, which is governed by wise laws, and all the members of which have an ardent love of liberty, is invincible, as the Spaniards have many times found to their cost. After having, in several attempts, endeavoured to subdue this little corner of land, isolated amidst their own territory; they have ended by acknowledging the futility of their efforts, and have tacitly admitted their defeat by renouncing for ever their projects of obtaining dominion over the Araucanos, with whom they have contracted alliances, and across whose territory they now peacefully pass on their road from Santiago to Valdivia.
The Carampangue – in the Araucano idiom, refuge of lions – is a charming stream, half torrent, half river, which comes bounding down from the inaccessible summits of the Andes, and, after many capricious windings, loses itself in the sea two leagues to the north of Arauco. Nothing can be more beautiful than the banks of the Carampangue, bordered by smiling valleys, covered with woods, with apple trees loaded with fruit, rich pastures in which animals of all kinds range and feed at liberty, and high mountains, from the verdant sides of which hang, in the most picturesque positions, clusters of cabins, whose whitewashed walls shine in the sun, and give life to this enchanting landscape.
On the day when we resume our narrative, that is, on a beautiful morning in July – called by the Indians the month of the sun – two horsemen, followed by a magnificent black and white Newfoundland dog, were ascending, at a sharp trot, the course of the river, following what is called a wild beast's track, scarcely marked in the high grass. These men, dressed in the Chilian costume, surging up suddenly amidst this wild natural scene, formed, by their manners and their vestments, a contrast with everything which surrounded them; a contrast of which they probably had no idea, for they rode as carelessly through this barbarous country, abounding in perils and ambushes without number, as they would have done along the road from Paris to Saint-Cloud. These two men, whom the reader has, no doubt, recognized, were the Count Louis de Prébois-Crancé and Valentine Guillois, his foster brother. They had passed in turn through Maulé, Talca, and Concepción; and on the day we meet them again, in the middle of Araucania, they had been full two months on the road, travelling philosophically along with their dog Cæsar upon the banks of the Carampangue. This was the 14th of July, 1837, at eleven o'clock in the morning.
The young men had passed the night in an abandoned rancho which they had fallen in with on their way, and at sunrise resumed their journey; so that they now began to be sensible of the calls of hunger. Upon taking a survey of the spot where they found themselves, they perceived a clump of apple trees, which intercepted the rays of the sun, and offered them a shelter for their repast and a little rest. They dismounted and sat down at the foot of a large apple tree, leaving their horses to browse upon the young branches so abundant around them. Valentine knocked down a few apples with a stick, opened his alforjas– large cloth pockets placed behind the saddle – drew out some sea biscuit, a piece of bacon, and a goat's milk cheese, and the two young men began eating gaily, sharing their provisions with Cæsar in a brotherly way, whilst he, seated gravely in front of them, followed with his eyes every morsel they put into their mouths.
"Caramba!" said Valentine, with a satisfied smile; "it is comfortable to have a little rest, after having been on horseback from four o'clock in the morning."
"Well, to tell the truth, I must own I am a little fatigued," Louis confessed.
"My poor friend, you are not, as I am, accustomed to long journeys. It was stupid of me not to remember that."
"Bah! on the contrary, I am getting accustomed to them very well; and besides," he added, with a sigh, "physical fatigue makes me forget – "
"Ah! that's true," Valentine interrupted; "come! I am happy to hear you speak thus – I see you are becoming a man!"
Louis shook his head sorrowfully.
"No," he said, "you are mistaken. As the malady which undermines me is without remedy, I endeavour to play a manly part."
"Yes, hope is one of the supreme illusions of love; when it can no longer exist, love dies."
"Or he who experiences it," said the young man, with a melancholy smile.
This was followed by a silence, which Valentine at length broke.
"What a charming country!" he cried, with feigned enthusiasm, for the purpose of giving the conversation another direction, as he swallowed, with delectation, an enormous piece of bacon.
"Yes, but the roads are very bad."
"Who knows?" said Valentine, with a smile: "they say the roads to Paradise are of that kind; this may be the way thither." Then addressing the dog, "And you, Cæsar, what do you think of our journey, old boy?"
The dog wagged his tail, fixing his eyes, sparkling with intelligence, upon the speaker's face, whilst he eagerly devoured all that was given to him. But he stopped suddenly in his masticating operations, pricked up his ears, turned his head sharply round, and balked furiously.
"Silence, Cæsar!" said Valentine; "what do you bark in that manner for? You know right well we are in a desert, and that in a desert there is nobody but the devil!"
But Cæsar continued to bark without heeding his master.
"Hum!" said Louis, "I do not agree with you; I think that the deserts of America are thickly peopled."
"Well, perhaps you are right."
"The dog's barking is not usual; we ought to take precautions."
"I will see," said Valentine; and addressing the Newfoundland, "Come! come! hold your tongue, Cæsar! You are tiresome! What's the matter with you? What teases you? Do you scent a stag? Caramba! That would be a glorious godsend for us."
Here he rose, and cast an inquiring glance around, but he immediately stopped, and seized his rifle, making a sign to Louis to do the same, in order to be prepared for whatever might happen.
"Diable!" he said, "Cæsar was right, and I must confess myself a stupid fellow. Look yonder, Louis!"
The other turned his eyes as directed.
"Oh! oh!" he said; "what is this?"
"Hum! I believe we shall soon discover."
"With God's help!" Louis replied, cocking his rifle.
Ten Indians in war costume, and mounted on magnificent horses, were drawn up within twenty paces of the travellers, though the latter were quite unable to comprehend how they had succeeded in approaching so near to them without being discovered. Notwithstanding Valentine's efforts, Cæsar continued to bark furiously, and endeavoured to rush upon the Indians. The American warriors, motionless and impassible, made neither gesture nor movement, but they surveyed the Frenchmen so closely and persistently, that Valentine, not very patient in his nature, began to find himself excessively annoyed.
