BRITISH MYSTERIES - Fergus Hume Collection: 21 Thriller Novels in One Volume. Fergus Hume

“I think, Señor, it can be looked on as certain that all three can depart.”

      After this a babel of talk ensued concerning the chances of surprising The Pizarro. Some proposed one place, some another, and amid all the excitement, Jack, growing weary of the arguing, slipped out of the saloon, and went ashore, so as to have as much time as possible with Dolores before departure.

      He strolled along the sea-shore, and met Cocom just outside the sea-gate. The old man saluted him gravely—

      “Señor,” he said, mysteriously approaching Jack; “beware of Ixtlilxochitli.”

      “What do you mean, Cocom?” asked Duval, rather startled.

      “The Indians, Señor, are now on the war-path—to the south,” added Cocom, significantly.

      “Great Heaven!” ejaculated the young man, horror-struck. “They intend to surprise the reinforcements.”

      “That is so, Señor. But I, Cocom, have sent runners after them to warn the Señors.”

      “Bueno! Cocom, you are the safeguard of Cholacaca!”

      “Not I, Señor; but the Chalchuih Tlatonac!”

      “Oh, I haven’t much belief in that.”

      “Don Juan!” said Cocom, significantly; “the Indians obeyed the stone implicitly—it is sacred. What it speaks they do. Red is burned and war was proclaimed. But, Señor, if it flamed blue, then would the Indians be at peace.”

      Before Jack could say a word, Cocom mysteriously slipped away, leaving the young man sorely puzzled as to his meaning.

      “That confounded opal,” he said, as he resumed his way towards the Casa Maraquando, “it meets one at every turn. They say opals are unlucky, and certainly the Chalchuih Tlatonac has not brought much luck to us as yet.”

      Chapter XII.

       A Naval Engagement—new Style

       Table of Contents

      “Wot! fightin’?” said the sailor man to me

       (He was wooden-legged and close on eighty-three).

       “Why, bless ‘ee, sir, who knows what fightin’ are,

       When iron pots is classed as men-of-war,

       And kittles sail the sea without a spar?

       Such wessels were not seen at Trafalgar.”

      “Old Nelson!” said the sailor man to me

       (He was lying like a hatter, I could see).

       “I was with him when the Frenchies’ line we broke,

       With our wooden ships and sailors’ hearts of oak,

       And the great three-decker’s cannon’s voice awoke,

       Every minute as they thundered thro’ the smoke.”

      “Oh, blow it!” said the sailor man to me

       (His language, I admit, was rather free),

       “Now you sends a black torpedo, and it seeks

       To hit a wessel sideways—then she leaks,

       And sinks while every sailor prays and shrieks,

       Wot fightin’—why, it’s murder! yah! the sneaks.”

      On leaving Cocom, Jack at once went to Don Miguel and informed him of the Indian rising. Maraquando thought but little of the affair, as it was unlikely unarmed savages would dare to attack a force of one thousand soldiers. Besides, the journey to Janjalla was through a civilised and cultivated country, and an Indian raid was improbable. Nevertheless, at Jack’s urgent request, he spoke to President Gomez about the matter, and though his Excellency took the same view as did Maraquando, yet he sent on messengers to overtake the reinforcements and inform them of their possible danger.

      The next day at three o’clock the vessels were to leave for Janjalla, but when the hour came it was found that the torpederas were far from ready. It is true The Iturbide was in a state of efficiency, and could have left Tlatonac at the appointed time, but the complicated engines of The Montezuma and The Zuloaga were somewhat out of gear. Though the engineers worked day and night to get everything in order, yet it was not until three days had elapsed that the squadron was ready to start. This delay made Rafael feel very uneasy lest the consorts of The Pizarro should return south before they could sink her by the torpedoes. He reckoned out the matter with Jack.

      “Dios, mi amigo! Three days have gone since The Cortes and The Columbus passed Tlatonac with the transports to the north. It is three hundred miles to Acauhtzin, and those boats steam at the rate of twelve knots an hour——”

      “True,” interrupted Jack, significantly; “but the transports do not.”

      “That is so, Juan. Let us reckon accordingly. Steaming at the rate of twelve knots, the war-ships would probably reach Acauhtzin in twenty-five hours. Allowing for the slowness of the transports say thirty hours. In twenty-four hours they will be able to take in troops, provisions, horses and guns. That makes fifty-four hours. Steaming south to Tlatonac thirty hours. Eighty-four hours. To Janjalla from here it is a hundred miles—say twelve hours. In all ninety-six hours. Divide by twenty-four, that is exactly four days.”

      “At that rate, the rebel ships cannot possibly reach Janjalla before to-morrow midnight. When do we leave here?”

      “About three o’clock,” said Rafael, glancing at his watch. “The torpederas can knock out eighteen knots, but the full speed of The Iturbide is fifteen. We will reckon at that, so by leaving here at three can reach Janjalla long before midnight.”

      “Bueno! We shall have a clear twenty-four hours in which to sink The Pizarro.”

      “Twelve,” contradicted Rafael, captiously, “we must attack in the darkness. The less risk the better.”

      “I don’t see that it makes much difference,” retorted Jack, grimly, “if The Pizarro can fight two torpedo boats and an armed cruiser she is a mighty clever ship. I look upon The Pizarro as lost.”

      “So do I, Juan,” replied Rafael, with a sad expression flitting across his face, “she was my ship, you know. I am sorry that it falls to my lot to sink her.”

      “Perhaps she will surrender.”

      “Not while she is commanded by De Galvez. He was my first lieutenant, and is as obstinate as the devil. Dios! There is noon. We have not much time in which to make our adieux. Go up and see Dolores, mi amigo, but return by two o’clock.”

      Jack gladly took advantage of the permission and had a long interview with Dolores, who wept bitterly at the idea of parting with him again. She was already low-spirited, through having comforted Eulalia, and now that her own lover was going away broke down entirely.

      “Promise me you will take the greatest care of yourself, querido.”

      “My dearest, I will ask Rafael to wrap me in cotton wool. But, indeed, cara, you need not fear. I will be as safe on board The Montezuma as in Tlatonac.”

      “But you will be gone many days.”

      “A week at the most. If we succeed in sinking The Pizarro we will steam north to meet the other war-ships, and try our luck with them.”

      “I will pray for you, Juanito, and I will look after the beetles of Don Pedro.”

      Jack burst out laughing at the incongruity of such coupling.

      “Has Don Pedro asked you to look after that rubbish!”

      “Yes, Juanito! I am to take the very greatest care. They are precious.”