Ellis Edward Sylvester
Up the Forked River: or, Adventures in South America

CHAPTER IX

The little craft was fairly under way, and with favoring wind and current, ought to reach Zalapata in the course of ten or twelve hours. Martella, the new recruit, so to speak, seeing there was nothing just then for him to do, sat down at the bow of the boat and smoked his cigarette, while Captain Guzman kept company with Major Starland at the stern.

“Two years ago, when there was war between Atlamalco and Zalapata,” explained the native officer, “we captured a party of raiders in the mountains and shot them all excepting one. He was Martella, who, being wounded, was saved at my prayer. Since then we have been friends.”

“He ought to be your life friend if there is any such thing as gratitude in his nature.”

“I have been to see him and he comes to see me. Martella is one who speaks the truth.”

“I was not aware that – barring yourself – there was any man in this part of the world who had that virtue.”

“What did President Yozarro tell you?” asked the Captain so bluntly that the American resented it.

“You have no warrant for asking that question.”

“Pardon me, Major; I do not ask to know what he said about the claim of President Bambos, for I already know that.”

“You do! Well, what was it?”

“He said he would pay the amount of the claim and asked you to tell President Bambos he is very sorry.”

“You are right; that is what he said.”

“But he did not pay you the money; and, begging pardon again, Major, you intended to pay it yourself to President Bambos, as if it came from General Yozarro.”

“You would be called a mind reader, Captain, in my country, for you are right in everything you say. It will spoil his game, however, if General Bambos is as keen as you.”

“If he is, he will not let you discover it; he is determined to go to war against General Yozarro, and no matter what you do, you cannot prevent it, unless – ”

“Unless what?”

“You take away the cause of his making war.”

“The cause! You speak in riddles.”

Instead of directly replying, the Captain asked the startling question:

“You inquired of General Yozarro about the Señorita, your sister: what answer did he make to you?”

“You have not forgotten the tugboat we saw pass down the river last night; I heard it returning to Atlamalco.”

“So also did I.”

“On its first voyage, it carried my sister as one of the passengers, she not knowing I had left Zalapata, and she is there awaiting my coming.”

Captain Guzman, sitting at the elbow of the American, gazed off toward the wooded plain as if in reverie. His words did not seem to be addressed to any one, but were as if he communed with himself:

“Five hours after the gunboat went up the river, it passed where we were resting on its way back to Atlamalco. The distance from where we were to Zalapata is eighty miles and to make the trip the boat would need eight or ten hours.”

“What the mischief are you driving at? General Yozarro told me he took the lady thither.”

Captain Guzman withdrew his gaze from the shore, and looking calmly in the face of Major Starland, said:

“General Yozarro lied.”

“How can you know that?”

“Do you not see that the gunboat could not do what he said it did? But Martella here was on the boat and knows all.”

“Call him, that I may question him.”

“No need of that; I have questioned him; I know that your real business with General Yozarro was to meet the Señorita, your sister, and I know all that Martella knows.”

“And what is that?”

“Señoritas Starland and Estacardo were passengers on the boat, but ten miles down the river they went ashore, and, under the escort of two soldiers, set out for the summer home of General Yozarro.”

“Where is that?”

“A mile from the river among the mountains; the air there is cooler than at Atlamalco, and General Yozarro spends much of the hot season at Castillo Descanso, or ‘Castle of Rest.’ Señorita Estacardo is his niece; he is a widower; he loves your sister and he hopes by his kindness and attention to win her for his wife, and to do this, he sees he must keep you and her apart as long as he can.”

“The infernal scoundrel! She shall die before wedding him!”

“He knows how you feel: that is why he strives to keep you apart.”

“He’ll have a good time in doing it! Do you know the path that leads to the summer quarters of this precious dog?”

“Well enough to guide you thither, but Martella knows it better than I.”

“Can he be hired to guide us thither?”

“No, for he will do so without pay.”

“I shall join General Bambos in his war against Yozarro, and we’ll make him pay dear for his deviltry.”

“Do you prefer the friendship of General Bambos to that of General Yozarro?”

“I don’t care a picayune for either, but I will use one against the other.”

“You forget that there is no choice between the good will of the two. When you came up the forked river you first called at Zalapata.”

“What of it?”

“General Bambos was a guest on your yacht.”

“Yes.”

“He met Señorita Starland; he has a wife and several children, but he loves the Señorita as much as does General Yozarro.”

“What a couple of wretches! Do you tell me that that is why he means to go to war with General Yozarro?”

“That is his reason; I could not tell you before; his claim for damages is a pretext; he hopes to defeat General Yozarro and to compel him to give up the Señorita. Neither he nor General Yozarro cares for you, whom they regard as an obstacle; they will be glad to put you out of the way.”

CHAPTER X

All this seemed incredible and yet a little reflection convinced Major Starland that the sagacious native was right. The American had two treacherous enemies to meet in the Dictators who professed to be his friends.

“I will go back to Atlamalco; I will call the dog to account; what will he dare say for himself?”

“I am sure,” observed the soft-voiced Captain, “that Major Starland will not be so unwise as that.”

“Why will it be unwise?”

“General Yozarro will not see you when you return.”

“He dare not refuse! I will bring up my yacht and lay his confounded town under tribute.”

“He has a gunboat.”

“All you folks refer to that tub as a gunboat, when it is only an old tug, which he has painted over and fitted up with a couple of six-pounders. It is not worth taking into consideration: I will force myself into his presence and compel him to undo what he has done and to beg my pardon on his knees.”

The Captain indulged in his expressive shrug and smoked in silence. He was giving the American a few minutes in which to regain his poise. The American did so.

“Why did Martella leave his service?” he abruptly asked.

“General Yozarro caused his brother to be shot, because he ran the gunboat aground the other day. It was upon a mound formed under water one night by the forked river, which no one could see. The boat was not injured, but he shot Martella’s brother, who was the pilot. Martella, therefore, hates him.”

“No more than I do. Had I known what you have told me when talking with him this forenoon, I should have put a bullet through his carcass.”

“There are better ways than that; let us go to the home of General Yozarro in the mountains and bring away the Señorita; Martella will go with us.”

“He will be shot as a deserter if taken prisoner.”

“He won’t be taken prisoner; perhaps, too, he may gain the chance to slay General Yozarro; it will delight his heart if he can do so.”

“No more than it will delight mine; talk with him, Captain; if he will help me through with this business, he will never regret it.”

Captain Guzman made his way past the sail to the bow where the native was sitting, gazing thoughtfully back over the stream they were leaving behind them. He turned his head as his friend approached, and the two talked in low tones, both seemingly calm, though each was stirred by strong emotion. Then the Captain came back to the American, who, with his hand on the tiller, was holding the boat to her course. He ran in quite close to the southern shore and was studying the Rubio Mountains, whose craggy crests were visible in the sky throughout the whole voyage between the capitals of the republics. He was consumed with resentment that anyone had dared to hold the daughter of an American citizen a guest without her consent, – in other words a prisoner, as if she were a criminal. Manifestly there was a “sovereign remedy” for all this. The great United States Government would not permit the outrage, and any wrong done to one of its people would cost the miserable offender dear.

But the leading Republic of the world lay many leagues to the northward. It would take weeks to bring a naval vessel thence, and certainly a number of days before one could come from the nearest port. Meanwhile, the hours were of measureless value. The Major ground his teeth when he thought he had allowed his yacht to pass down the river to San Luis, with the understanding that she need not return for several days. There was no way, however, of getting word to Captain Winton, who could not suspect the urgent necessity for his presence in this part of the land of abominations.

“Martella will be glad to go with us; he says we should go ashore just this side of the point of land ahead.”

“He doesn’t seem to have any weapons with him,” remarked the Major, scrutinizing the fellow, who was looking at him with a curiously intent expression.

“He could not bring his musket, but he has a knife under his coat, and none knows better how to use it.”

“Bring him here.”

Guzman motioned to his friend, who rose to his feet, touching a forefinger to the front of his sombrero, and skilfully picked his course along the careening boat.

“Take the tiller for a few minutes, Captain.”

The moment Martella came within reach, the American extended his hand and addressed him in his native tongue:

“The Captain says you are ready to show us the way to Castillo Descanso, where Señoritas Estacardo and Starland are staying.”

Martella nodded his head several times and said eagerly, “Si, si, si.”

“Are you certain they are there?”

“I am not, but I think so.”

“The deuce! Captain, I thought you said he was certain.”

“So he is, – as certain as one can be; he saw them go ashore last night and start inland under the escort of two soldiers, and heard them say they were going to Castillo Descanso; isn’t that true, Martella?”

“It is true, but perhaps they did not arrive there.”

“Oh, hang it! – that is as near right as one can be. Show the Captain where to direct the boat and we’ll soon set things humming.”

Martella pointed out the spot, and Guzman, who was an expert navigator, turned the prow inward, while the Major lowered the sail, and they rounded to at a place where all were able to leap ashore dry shod. The craft was carefully made fast, and leaving what slight luggage they had behind, they were ready to press inland without loss of time. The leader carried his rifle and belt full of cartridges and his revolver; the Captain his revolver, while the private was armed only with a long frightful knife, which he kept, so far as possible, out of sight under his jacket.

Standing beside one another for a minute or two, the American asked his guide:

“Did General Yozarro start for this point when he left Atlamalco in his tug?”

“I heard him say he intended to take the Señorita to Zalapata to meet her brother, and Señorita Estacardo went along to bear her company.”

“That’s what the villain told me; did he pass beyond this point?”

“He did so for several miles.”

“What cause did he give for turning back?”

“He said war was about to break out between the republics; I heard that much, but I was one of the firemen and could not hear all; he said afterward that he discovered something ahead which caused him to turn back in haste.”

“What was it?”

“Nothing, for there was nothing to see.”

“He planned it from the first to deceive the Señoritas.”

“You speak the truth, but why should he take the pains to do that, when he might have gone overland and made the halt in the mountains?”

It was Captain Guzman who answered:

“Such a journey would have been long and hard for the Señoritas; the voyage is far more pleasant.”

“Why did he start at night?”

“It was easier for him to see the danger which was not there, or for him to make the Señoritas believe he saw it.”

“General Yozarro is devilish sly; let us go.”

CHAPTER XI

Since every one in tropical America called Warrenia Rowland by the surname of Major Jack Starland and the two were accepted as brother and sister we will do the same for the present, and thus avoid possible confusion.

These two had been on the Forked River but a short time, when they awoke to a most unpleasant fact, in addition to that which has already been mentioned. While the climate was wholesome enough to those accustomed to it, it was highly dangerous to visitors. The air was damp, oppressive and miasmatic, probably because of the rank vegetation that grew everywhere. Still further, the insect pests were intolerable at times. Several cases of illness among the crew of the yacht, though fortunately none was fatal, alarmed Aunt Cynthia and caused some uneasiness on the part of Major Starland, as well as of Captain Winton. In the circumstances, the Major felt warranted in urging the plea of business as a legitimate one for haste in leaving the detestable country.

It has been intimated that after Miss Starland had been delivered over to her dearest friend, the yacht dropped down the river to Zalapata, and left Jack there. Captain Winton, who was a cousin of Aunt Cynthia, intended to steam some twenty miles farther eastward to the city of San Luis, where a few needed supplies would be taken aboard. Then the boat would return to Zalapata for its owner, and continue on to Atlamalco, there to receive the young woman for the homeward voyage.

Major Jack Starland was considerate enough to decide to remain most of the time at the capital of General Bambos, knowing the school mates would wish to devote the all too-brief period to each other. Consequently he would only be in the way. The Major gave no specific instructions to Captain Winton, but left much to his discretion. It was intimated to him that he might return to Atlamalco in the course of a few days, – an elastic term which might be halved or doubled without any blame attaching to the skipper.

General Bambos was delighted for the time with the companionship of a man who had received the thorough military training of his visitor. Ignorant as most of the prominent South Americans are, the majority have heard of West Point, and all know something of the courage and achievements of the greatest nation in all the world. The General consulted often with his guest and Major Starland never did, or rather never attempted to do, a more praiseworthy thing than when he strove to impress upon the bulky Dictator the folly and crime of war.

“It was truthfully characterized by our General Sherman as ‘hell’; it has been the curse of the ages and brought misery and death to millions, besides turning back the hands on the dial of progress for centuries. Shun it as you would the pestilence that stalks at noonday.”

Such discourse is thrown away upon the South American leader to whom revolutions are as the breath of his life. General Bambos blandly smiled and cordially agreed with the wise sentiments, but laid the blame eternally on the other fellow. If he would only do that which is just, wars would cease and blessed peace would brood forever over all nations and peoples.

Major Starland took another tack. There had been hostilities between Zalapata and Atlamalco in the past, with no special advantage accruing to either side. On the whole perhaps the latter Republic had been the gainer, since the last treaty ceded to General Yozarro a small strip of territory on which Castillo Descanso stood, the same having been a bone of contention for a long time.

The purchase of a tugboat by General Yozarro had unquestionably tipped the scales in his favor. The American did his best to show Bambos this fact and to warn him that in case of another war between the republics, Zalapata was sure to be the chief sufferer. Bambos could not gainsay this and he was now seeking to balance things, by floating a loan which was to be used in arming his troops with modern weapons. He made a tempting offer to Major Starland to enter his service, agreeing to pay him an enormous salary in gold, though one might well question where he was to obtain a fractional part of it, and to place him in supreme command of the military forces of the Republic.

While the American was illimitably the superior in mentality to the gross Dictator, he failed to perceive an important truth, which did not become clear to him until after his plain talk with Captain Guzman. The great object of the obese nuisance in warring against Yozarro was to place Miss Starland under deep obligations to him, though he was too cunning to intimate anything of that nature. When Jack Starland kindly but firmly declined his offer, he feared that he would become an obstacle to his scheme; and although he hid any such feeling, he would have been glad to have him disappear from the stage of action. What galled Bambos was the fact that the American lady was the guest of his rival, who he knew would do his utmost to woo and win her. To bring to naught anything of that nature, he determined to wage war against Yozarro and shatter the opportunity that fortune had placed in the hands of that detested individual. It cannot be said that the logic of Bambos was of the best, but it must be remembered that the gentle passion plays the mischief with numskulls as well as with men of wisdom.

Such in brief was the situation, when Major Jack Starland yielded to his growing unrest over the visit of his sister to her friend. He had learned that General Yozarro was a widower – though as in the case of Bambos that would have made little difference in his wayward promptings – and he decided that it would be well to shorten the visit of Miss Starland or to bear her company, so long as she stayed in Atlamalco. He would be welcomed by the young women themselves, and, although Yozarro might wish him to the uttermost parts of the earth, he, too, would be gracious. So the sail of the American and Captain Guzman up the forked river becomes clear to the reader.

Never was mortal man more infatuated with woman than was General Yozarro, from the moment he first laid eyes on the “Flower of the North,” as he poetically named her. His passion was too absorbing to be concealed, and in the sanctity of their apartments the niece rallied her friend on the conquest she had made.

“But it is the very one I do not wish to make,” protested the annoyed American; “I like General Yozarro, chiefly because he is your relative, but absolutely my feeling can never go beyond that.”

“I thought your heart had not wandered elsewhere.”

“It has not, and it can never pass to him, my dear Manuela.”

“May I not say that you might go farther and fare worse? He is one of the kindest-hearted of men, is wealthy and would always be your slave.”

“You name the very quality I cannot tolerate in the one whom I love; I care nothing for wealth, for I do not need it; I want no man to be my slave, and I shall never marry any one who is not an American like myself.”

“But many of your young women marry titles abroad.”

“And too often hate themselves afterward for doing so. Misery and wretchedness generally follow, for there is something unnatural in such a union, with nothing of love on either side. Then, too, your uncle is double my age, and it is impossible – utterly impossible for me to return any affection on his part, if it really exists.”

“There can be no doubt of that,” replied the impulsive Atlamalcan, throwing her arms around her friend and affectionately kissing her. “Be assured I shall never urge you to do anything contrary to your own pure nature. More than that, I shall take the first opportunity to impress upon General Yozarro the hopelessness of any love he may feel toward you.”

“That is just like your true self!” exclaimed the American, returning the ardent caresses of her friend; “my stay with you is to be too brief to allow any such cloud to come between us. Much as I hate to cause you distress, Manuela, I shall not stay another day if he persists in forcing his attentions upon me.”

“Have no fear of that. He is too good, too considerate, too honorable to bring pain to any one. He will be grieved when I tell him the truth, as I shall lose no time in doing, and will hasten to repair the injustice. So let us kiss again, and say and think no more about it.”

True to her promise, Señorita Estacardo took the first occasion to explain frankly the situation to her uncle. He listened thoughtfully, admitted his grief that his new-born hope should be crushed, but declared he would accept the facts like an honorable man and take every pains that their visitor should not be annoyed in any way by him.

Nothing could have been more delightful than the few days that followed. General Yozarro took his niece and her friend on several voyages down the Rio Rubio, and far enough westward to give her glimpses of the magnificent fauna and flora of that interesting region. There were times when the exuberance of vegetation and foliage, the sweep of the mighty waters, and the superabundance of animal life filled her with awe and a certain fear, but her wonder never abated. The guns on the craft were fired several times for her entertainment, but the General prudently refrained from pointing out the target until he had made sure where the missile had struck, when he found no difficulty in doing so.

No knight of the Crusades could have been more attentive to her slightest wish. Indeed he was so gracious and thoughtful that she felt at times a certain compunction. She wished she could give her affection to one who possessed so many admirable qualities, but compressing her lips, she shook her head and said again and again: “It can never be.”

Now and then spots showed on the sun. She caught glimpses of the volcano-like nature of the man, when some of the crew or his people displeased him. She was horrified to overhear some words which made known the shooting of the brother of Martella for a trifling fault, and she learned, too, of Yozarro’s ferocious cruelties to others, including some who had been taken prisoners in honorable warfare. Underneath that suave, smiling exterior lurked Satan himself.