Gustave Aimard
The Smuggler Chief: A Novel
CHAPTER XVIII
AFTER THE COMBAT
We left the unhappy relics of the caravan suffering from the impression which the fatal result of their struggle with the Indians produced on them. At the moment when young Don Juan made his appearance in the camp a triple exclamation of joy, interest, and surprise greeted him.
"My son! my Juan!" the general exclaimed, sobs choking his voice.
"My dear colonel," said Don Pedro, "Heaven be praised that you are safe!"
"Ah!" muttered Leon, whom the arrival of the young man aroused from the despondency into which the disappearance of the maidens had plunged him.
The colonel rushed weeping into his father's arms, who showed him the body of his murdered wife.
"You arrive too late, my son! This is the work of the Indians."
"My mother!" the young man said, as he fell on his knees before the corpse.
"Yes, your mother! who died beneath their blows, while your sisters have been torn from me for ever."
"What do you say, father?"
"The truth," Don Pedro remarked. "Your sisters have been carried off, in spite of all the efforts we made to oppose it."
"Oh, father! father!" was all that Don Juan could answer, as he gave the old gentleman a look of painful regret.
The old general's features were frightfully contracted by the crushing grief that oppressed his heart as a husband and father, and yet, overcoming it by the strength of his will, he seized his son's hand:
"Don Juan, thirty years of happiness have passed since the day when the wife whom I lament for the first time laid her hand in mine, and now Heaven has taken her from me again! Two children, whom I love as I love you, Juan, were, with you, the fruits of that union, and Heaven has allowed them to be torn from my side! Still, I bow before His omnipotent will, because I am a Christian, and in the midst of my profound affliction, you are left to me, my son, to punish the cowards who attack women when they have men to face them. Don Juan, will you avenge your mother and sisters?"
The spectacle offered by this scene was very painful. Old Don Juan, bareheaded, was striving to appear calm, but the heavy tears that fell on his grey moustache were a flagrant contradiction of the resignation which he affected. Behind the old man's studied countenance could be discerned an immense grief, which was betrayed by the very violence of the stoicism which he displayed. Choked by sobs, the colonel remained dumb to his father's exhortations.
"Have you understood what I demand of you?" Don Juan again said to his son.
"Yes, father," the latter at length replied. "Oh!" he added, "why was I not here to defend them? but the scoundrels kept me back."
"Who did?" Don Pedro asked; "have you not come from Santiago?"
"No, general; and it was within an ace that I never saw the light of day again."
"What has happened, then?"
"In the environs of Talca, while I was travelling post haste in the hope of joining you on the road, I was made prisoner by an Indian party, whose presence I was far from suspecting. My lancero was put to death after one of their barbarous ceremonies, and I was preparing to undergo the same fate, when this night I was suddenly set at liberty by the order of an Indian chief of the name of Tahi-Mari, whom I did not see."
"Tahi-Mari!" the old general immediately interrupted him. "What! there is still a man bearing that name, and you owe your liberty to him? Oh! he must, in that case, be meditating some treachery, for a Tahi-Mari would have killed you, in order to enjoy the sight of your agony."
"My father, calm yourself," Don Juan remarked.
"General," Leon said at length, who had paid great attention to the young man's words, "whatever may be the motive which caused the man who liberated the colonel to act so, we must take advantage of the help which he is able to give us, in order to escape from the wood."
"My daughters! my daughters!" the old gentleman exclaimed, "must I then give up all hope of seeing them again?"
"Oh!" said Don Pedro, "we must follow up the track of these accursed Indians, or – no, we will hasten to Valdivia, and once arrived there, I will organize an expedition."
"That is not the way to find them again," Leon remarked, anxiously.
"What do you mean?" Don Pedro asked.
"Nothing – except that you will lose your time in sending an army against the Indians: the two Señoras are at this moment secure among some tribe that will sedulously keep them at a distance from the spot where your troops are fighting."
"In that case they are lost!" General Soto-Mayor exclaimed, wildly.
"Perhaps not," Leon answered, struck by a sudden inspiration.
"Oh, sir!" the old gentleman continued, "if you suspect the spot where they are, speak – fix yourself the sum I am to pay you for such a service, and I will pay it. Stay, sir; yesterday I was rich, powerful, and honoured; today I am only a poor old man, whose heart is broken; but I swear to you on my honour as a gentleman, that if you restore me my daughters, I will love you as a son, and will bless you with tears of joy and gratitude."
On seeing the old general so crushed by despair, Leon felt himself moved by a pity and compassion which he did not attempt to check.
"I only ask your esteem, general, if I succeed."
"Speak, then, sir," Don Juan de Soto-Mayor and Don Pedro said together; "do you really think that you can place us on the track of the ravishers?"
A ray of hope had illumined the old man's heart on hearing Leon speak in such a way as to suggest a possibility of finding the maidens again, and he awaited with feverish anxiety the captain's answer, who kept silence, and seemed plunged in deep reflection. Still, as Leon seemed to be reflecting on the weight of the words which he was going to utter, and whose meaning might cause those who listened to him either an immense consolation or a bitter deception, neither of the two gentlemen dared to interrupt him.
The fact was that Leon was asking himself whether he could undertake the liberation of the maidens. He had but one resource, that of going to find Tahi-Mari, and threatening to kill himself in his presence, unless he restored to the father the daughters whom he was bewailing.
Assuredly, after the conversation which had caused the separation between the captain and Diego, it was at least a bold step to think of imploring the Inca's clemency again; but since the latter had voluntarily broken the bonds which held young Don Juan captive, it was but reasonable to assume that Diego was animated by a different purpose. Perhaps he had renounced, if not his vengeance, still that which he had selected in vowing the death of all the Soto-Mayors. And then, again, if he thirsted for victims, had not the general's beloved wife been killed by Indians under his orders?
Leon, while revolving all these arguments, did not doubt but that the maidens were in the power of Tahi-Mari, and either that he considered them sufficient to feel certain of entire success, or more probably that the desire he had of saving Maria made him mentally smooth down all difficulties, and he resolved to attempt the adventure with a firm determination to die if he failed.
"I cannot put you on the track of the Indians who have carried off the Señoras," he at length answered the generals; "but I pledge myself to restore them to you."
"How?" Don Pedro Sallazar asked.
Don Juan contented himself with raising his hand to Heaven, and calling down blessings on the young man.
"By starting alone in search of them," Leon said, "while the few men left me continue to escort you to Valdivia."
"Alone! But why cannot we accompany you?" Don Pedro resumed, in whom the feeling of distrust which he had already displayed to the captain was again aroused.
"That is true," Don Juan said, in his turn. "Guide us to these villains, since you know where to find them, and although I am old, I will follow you with all the ardour of youth, for I feel within me the strength to overcome all dangers for the sake of tearing my poor children from the hands of these cowardly ravishers."
"Do you think, sir," said the young colonel, who had just kissed his mother's icy forehead, "that we would leave to others the duty of avenging us?"
"In that case, sir, it is impossible; your duty calls you, Don Pedro, to Valdivia, and you would not have time to carry out the expedition which I hope to bring to a successful result. You," the young man continued, addressing General Soto-Mayor, "although your heart may bleed at it, must give up all thought of accompanying me, for ere we had reached the spot where I believe the Señoras to be, fatigue would exhaust your strength, and you would find it impossible to follow me."
"But, sir – " the colonel remarked.
"Pray do not insist, sir," said Leon; "for once again I repeat that, if you wish me to succeed, you must let me act as I think proper."
"What do you propose doing, Leon, that you are afraid of letting us be witnesses of it?" Don Pedro observed haughtily.
"The same as I did when the Indians attacked us," the captain answered, who felt anger flush his face on remarking the insolent expression which the speaker's countenance had assumed – "risk my life in the service of those to whom I have promised assistance and succour."
"Sir!"
"Yes," Leon continued; "for the rude task I am about to undertake demands utter self-denial; manhunting on the llanos and Pampas requires more than courage, for cunning and craft are needed, and if I refuse your help in this expedition, it is because your presence would impede my progress. Alone, I am certain of joining Tahi-Mari, but with you we should all be lost."
A feverish excitement had seized on the young man, who seemed most anxious to efface the suspicions of which he was the object.
"I have lived among the Indians who attacked us, and know their strange manners and customs. At this very moment, the forests are full of invisible eyes that watch and spy us; if we advance in a body toward the spot where they are, we may be certain of being all massacred. Believe me, in order to enter their encampment, I must glide like a snake through the lianas that grow in the forest. Such is the reason, gentlemen, why I refuse to let you accompany me, for you are ignorant of their infernal skill. And now I am at your disposal: if you absolutely insist on following me, I am at your orders; but, in that case, I answer for nothing, for we shall have every unfavourable chance against us."
These few words, uttered with an accent of conviction and frankness which could not be suspected, produced on the mind of the three men a favourable impression; no further objection was raised, and Leon was left at liberty to act as he pleased. Once the four gentlemen were agreed on this point, they had to turn their attention to the burial of the dead, and collecting the mules and horses, which the cries of the Indians and the gleam of the flames had terrified and driven from the camp.
All set to work: while Don Pedro gave orders to his lanceros to restore a little order among the bales and other articles, Leon gave a signal to two of his men, who began digging a grave at the foot of a pine tree with their machetes. It was intended to receive the mortal remains of the Señora Soto-Mayor. Another, somewhat larger, was dug a few paces off in which to bury pell-mell the bodies of the Spaniards and Indians killed during the fight. After this melancholy task was completed, Leon went up to the Señora's corpse, and prepared to wrap it in a poncho before laying it in the earth.
"No one must touch that body," old Don Juan exclaimed as he dashed upon it with incredible speed, "for it is mine."
And, thrusting Leon away, he called his son, and both, their faces inundated with tears, commenced the melancholy duty. The old man's chest heaved under the pressure of the sobs which he tried in vain to stifle. Long after the body had disappeared under the woollen poncho that covered it, the general was unable to depart from the spot where lay the remains of her who had been dearest to him in the world.
At length Leon made an effort, and breaking off the affecting scene, he with the help of Don Pedro, raised the corpse, which he placed in the grave in spite of the final convulsions of grief on the part of Don Juan, who clung to the body from which he was unable to separate. Then came the turn of the dead friends and foes who encumbered the ground.
A deep silence had presided over this mournful ceremony; two branches of trees formed into a cross were placed over either tomb, and all was ended. During this time Wilhelm the smuggler, whom we have already introduced to the reader, and who had started with one of his comrades in search of the mustangs and mules, returned to the camp, bringing back the intelligent animals, which had come up of their own accord on his signal.
All was soon ready for a start, but one thing still troubled Leon – the difficulty of transporting the wounded. One of the smugglers had his arm broken by a bullet, and was suffering atrocious pain; a lancero had a contusion on the head, and two peons were wounded in the legs. The fatigue of the journey might prove most injurious to them.
Don Pedro himself, in spite of the firmness he displayed, was suffering severely from the gunshot wound in his chest; and although, thanks to the medical knowledge of Leon, who, accustomed to see blood flow in the frequent fights which he and his men carried on against the custom-house officers, was enabled to dress a wound, each of the men injured by the Indians had received the first necessary attention, they could not venture to travel for any length of time without danger.
Still it was absolutely necessary to get out of the difficulty, and after selecting the horses whose pace was the easiest, a sort of litter made of thongs, skins, and ponchos was laid on their backs, and the wounded were hoisted on them, with exhortations to remain patient till they reached Valdivia, where they would find repose and attention.
Once these arrangements were made, Leon counted the hearty men left of his comrades, and ordered three to escort the two generals and Colonel Don Juan, along with Don Pedro's lanceros; then turning to the other five, he said to them —
"My friends, I shall require you to second me in what I am going to undertake; we are going to rescue from the Indians General Soto-Mayor's two daughters."
"What are we to do?" the smugglers asked; "we are ready."
"Wilhelm," said Leon, addressing one of them, "and you, Harrison, will come with me."
"Very good, captain."
"You others," he continued, pointing to the other men who were awaiting his instructions, "will return at once to Valparaíso; the road is a long one, but you must cover it with the greatest promptitude, and I reckon on your punctuality."
"You can."
"In eight days we shall be at Valparaíso."
"Very good. So soon as you arrive, you will collect the band, and if Crevel has at his disposal twenty resolute fellows, you will enrol them, and I will give you the money for the purpose; but be very careful only to take bold companions like yourselves, and wood rangers accustomed to a life on the Pampas. You understand me?"
"Yes, captain," said Hernandez, a tall fellow, with a hangdog face and of herculean stature, "you can feel perfectly assured."
"And where is the band to go?" his comrade Joaquin asked, as he twisted his black moustache.
"You will return here at full speed."
"Very good, captain," Hernandez again said; "but are you going to encamp here till we come?"
"No. Harrison alone will be here, and lead you to the spot which I shall inform him of."
"All right."
Hernandez, Joaquin, and Enrique took leave of the party, and soon found themselves on the road that led to Valparaíso, while the three men told off to serve as an escort to the generals only awaited an order from the latter to place themselves at their disposal.
All at once General Soto-Mayor addressed Leon, who was watching all that went on.
"We are going," the old gentleman said, as he took a parting glance at his wife's tomb; "and I bear with me the assurance which you have given me that you will start at once in search of my daughters."
"You can reckon on it, general; all that it is humanly possible to do I will do, and I hope to have succeeded within two months."
"May Heaven hear you! For my part, so soon as I arrive at Valdivia, I will obtain, with the help of General Don Pedro, all the information that may serve to discover the spot where they are; for I suspect that the Indians are concentrated in the vicinity of that town, the capture of which would be of such great utility to them."
"I told you, general, that I not only have the means to learn where they are, but also to bring them back."
"But, in that case, and if Heaven permit you to find them, how shall I be informed of it, and whither will you take them?"
"War is declared," Leon answered, "and possibly within a week the communications with Valdivia will be interrupted. It would, therefore, be the height of imprudence to try and join you in that town."
"That is true, great Heavens! But in that case what is to be done?"
"A very simple thing; so soon as I have succeeded in rescuing them from the Indians, I will take them both to the convent of the Purísima Concepción at Valparaíso."
"Yes, you are right; that is the best place for them."
"In two months, then, they will be there, or I shall be dead."
"Thanks," said the old gentleman, as he held out his hand to the young man, who pressed it in his.
A quarter of an hour later, the little party was proceeding toward Valdivia, and the only persons left in camp were Leon, Harrison, Wilhelm, and Giacomo.
CHAPTER XIX
THE MANHUNT
So soon as the party had quite disappeared in the forest, Leon turned to his men, who were carelessly seated round the fire and smoking their cigarettes.
"Comrades," he said, "our expedition is about to change its course. We have no longer to escort travellers, but must go manhunting."
"All the better," remarked Wilhelm, "I prefer that; it is a lazy trade to act as guide to Spaniards."
"It is a trade which is sometimes dangerous, and our brave comrades who sleep there," Leon said, pointing to one of the tombs, "are a proof of it."
"That is true," Giacomo remarked; "but no matter; it is better to die while smuggling a few bottles of aguardiente under the very noses of the officers."
"However that may be," the captain resumed, "they are dead, and they were brave fellows. As for you, listen carefully to this; – While I, Wilhelm, and Giacomo go into the mountains to seek Indian sign, Harrison will remain here, and await the arrival of the band under Joaquin's orders."
"The deuce!" Harrison exclaimed; "I would sooner go about the country with you."
"Yes, but I require that a courageous and resolute man should remain at the meeting place I have fixed, and I could not apply to a better one than yourself."
Leon was acquainted with the character of his comrades, and could always manage, by the clever employment of a bit of flattery, to make himself obeyed not only punctually but enthusiastically. Harrison, on hearing the homage rendered by the captain to his martial virtues, drew up his head proudly, and manifested by a certain movement of the muscles, how flattered he felt at the good opinion Leon had of him.
"And you have done well, captain," he replied, proudly.
"You must not stir from here. As we know not what road we shall have to follow, we will leave you our horses, which you will take care of. Build a hut; hunt; do all that you think proper, but remember that you must not leave the Parumo of San Juan Bautista without my orders."
"That is settled, captain; and you can start when you please. You may remain absent six months, and be certain of finding me here on your return."
Leon rose.
"Very good," he said; "I reckon on you."
Then he whistled to his mustang, which ran up at his call, and laid its intelligent head on its master's shoulder to be petted. It was a noble animal, of considerable height, with a small head, but its eyes sparkled with animation, while its broad chest and fine nervous legs denoted a blood horse.
Leon seized the lasso which hung from the horse's saddle, and knotted it round his body; then, lightly tapping the croup of the animal, he watched it retire. Wilhelm and Giacomo were provided with their weapons and provisions, such as charqui, queso, and dried beans.
"Come let us be off," said Leon, as he laid his long rifle on his shoulder.
"We are ready," the two men said.
"Good luck!" Harrison shouted to them, though unable to prevent a sigh accompanying these words, which proved how vexed he was at not being allowed to join them.
"Thanks!" his comrades replied.
On leaving the clearing they began marching in Indian file, that is to say, one after the other, the second placing his feet exactly in the footsteps of the first, and the third in those of the second. The last one took the additional precaution of effacing as well as he could the traces left by his predecessors. Harrison, after looking after them for some time, sat down again by the fireside.
"No matter," he said, talking to himself. "I shall not have much fun here, but what must be must."
And after this philosophic reflection he lit a cigarette, and began quietly smoking, while eagerly following the wreaths which the smoke produced, and inhaling its fragrance with the methodical phlegm of a true Indian Sagamore.
In America, when a man is travelling through the Indian regions in war time, and does not wish to be tracked by the Araucanos, he must go North if he has business in the South, and vice versa, and behave like a vessel which, when surprised by a contrary wind, is obliged to make constant tacks, which gradually bring it to the desired point.
Leon Delbès was too well acquainted with the intelligence and skill of the Indians not to act in the same way. Assuredly, his adoption by the Araucanos, which the captain had received in the council of the chief of the twelve Molucho tribes, rendered him sacred to the latter; but not knowing what Indian party he might fall in with, he judged it more prudent to avoid any encounter. Moreover, he had fought the men who had attacked the caravan, and it would have been ill grace to claim the benefit of his adoption after the active part which he had taken in the struggle. Hence he had a twofold reason to act on the defensive, and only advance with the most extreme prudence.
Fenimore Cooper, the immortal historian of the Indians of North America, has initiated us in his excellent works into the tricks employed by the Mohicans and Hurons, when they wish to foil the search of their enemies; but without offence to those persons who have so greatly admired the sagacity of young Uncas, that magnificent type of the Delaware nation, of which he was the last hero, the Indians of the North are mere children when compared with the Moluchos, who may be regarded as their masters in every respect.
The reason for this is very simple and easy to understand. The Northern tribes never really existed as a political power; each of them exercise a separate government; the Indians composing them rarely intermarry with their neighbours, and constantly lead a nomadic life. Hence they have never possessed more than the instincts, highly developed we allow, of men who incessantly inhabit the woods, – that is to say, a marvellous agility, a great fineness of hearing, and a miraculous length of sight, qualities, however, which are found to the same extent among the Arabs, and generally with all wandering nations, no matter what corner of the earth they dwell in. As for artfulness and craft, they learned these from the wild beasts, and merely imitated them.
The South American Indians join to these advantages the remains of an advanced civilization – a civilization which, since the conquest, has sought a refuge in inaccessible lurking places, but for all that does not the less exist. The tribes or families regard themselves as parts of the same whole – the nation.
Now the aborigines, continually on terms of hostility with the Spaniards, have felt the necessity of doubling their strength in order to triumph, and their descendants have gradually modified whatever might be injurious in their manners, to appropriate those of their oppressors, and fight them with their own weapons. They have carried these tactics – which, by the way, have saved them from the yoke up to the present day – so far that they are thorough masters in roguery and trickery; their ideas have been enlarged, their intellect is developed, and they have succeeded in surpassing their enemies in astuteness and diplomacy, if we may be allowed to employ that expression.
This is so true, that not only have the Spaniards been unable to subjugate them during the past three hundred years, but have been actually obliged to pay them, with more or less goodwill, an annual tribute. Can we really regard as savages these men who, formerly driven back by their terror of firearms and dogs – animals of whose existence they were ignorant – to the heart of the Cordilleras, have defended their territory inch by inch, and in some regions have reconquered a portion of their native soil?
We know better than anybody that savages exist in America – savages in the full meaning of the term; but these are daily disappearing from the surface of the globe, as they have neither the necessary intellect to understand nor the energy to defend themselves. These are the Indians who, before being subjected to the Spaniards, were so to the Mexicans or Moluchos, owing to their intellectual organization, which scarce raises them above the brute.
These tribes which are but exceptions in the species, must not be confounded, then, with the great Molucho nations of which we are speaking, and whose manners we are describing – manners which are necessarily being modified; for, in spite of the efforts they make to escape from it, the European civilization, which they despise more through hereditary hatred of their conquerors than for any other motive, crushes and invades them on all sides.
Within a hundred years of this time the emancipated Indians, who smile with pity at the paltry struggles carried on by the phantom republics that surround them, will take their place in the world again and carry their heads high. And this will be just, for they are heroic men with richly endowed characters, and capable of undertaking and successfully carrying out great things. We will quote in support of this statement one fact which will speak better than words: – The best history of South America which has been published in Spanish up to this day was written by an Inca. Is not this conclusive?
Let us return to Leon and his two comrades Wilhelm and Giacomo. They were three determined men. Our readers know Leon, so we will say no more of him; but we will sketch in a few outlines the appearance of Wilhelm and his comrade Giacomo. These worthy gentlemen, who were bound together by a hearty friendship, formed the most singular contrast imaginable.
Giacomo, a native of Naples, whence he escaped one morning under the excuse that the house he lived in was too near Vesuvius, but in reality on account of the visits paid him repeatedly by the sbirri, whom he was not particularly anxious to see, was the real type of a lazzarone, careless, slothful, thievish, and yet capable of extraordinary bravery, and bursts of energy and devotion. Well built, with an intelligent and crafty face, and endowed with far from common muscular strength, he seemed to be born for the smuggler's trade.
Wilhelm, on the contrary, was one of those cold and systematic Germans who do nothing save by weights and measures. Only speaking when he was compelled, he seemed ever to be dreaming though he thought of nothing, and concealed, under an apparent simplicity and proverbial phlegm, an excellent disposition, and a certain amount of intelligence. He was tall, smoke-dried, thin, and angular, and his flat face, disfigured by the smallpox, was rendered still uglier by gimlet eyes deep set in their orbits.
His hair, of a flaxen hue, fell in flat curls on his enormous ears, and gave him one of those countenances which provoke hilarity. His magnificent teeth, however, and a mouth which had a remarkably clever expression, formed a happy diversion with the grotesqueness of his features. He had been a member of the Cuadrilla for two years, and had entered it, as he said, in consequence of a violent love disappointment.
On leaving the clearing, the three smugglers took the road to Talca, which they followed the whole day; at nightfall they encamped in the neighbourhood, and then next morning, after a hasty breakfast on a piece of queso saturated with pimento, they went down to the bottom of the quebrada, by clinging with hands and feet to the asperities of the ground. Here they found themselves in a species of canyon, and were obliged to march on the bed of a half-dried torrent, where their footsteps left no imprint.
After two days' journeying which offered no incident worthy of mention, our adventurers reached the beginning of the llanos of the templada region, situated on the other watershed of the Cordilleras, which they had just crossed.
The verdure came back, and the heat began to be felt again. Our men were perfectly revived by this gentle and balmy atmosphere, the azure sky and dazzling sun, which took the place of the grey sullen sky of the Cordilleras, and the narrow horizon covered by mist and fog. On the third day Leon perceived in the distance the green crest of a forest, toward which he had directed his march, and gave vent to a cry of satisfaction.
"Courage, my friends," he said to his comrades, "we shall soon have the shadow and freshness which we want for here."
"In truth, captain, I confess that I should infinitely prefer the slightest tree, provided that its branches afforded us means to rest for a moment in their shadow, to a forced march with this great rogue of a sun who burns our bones."
