CHAPTER XXXV.
THE REVOLT.
The multiplicity of the scenes we have to describe, and the exigenciesof our story, compel us to abandon Dona Rosario and the Linda,and return to Valdivia, where the revolt had assumed the giganticproportions of a revolution. Electrified by the heroic conduct of theKing of Darkness, the patriots fought with the greatest obstinacy.The Dark-Hearts appeared to have the gift of ubiquity; their numbersincreased, they were everywhere at the head of the insurgents, excitingthem by gesture and voice; but, above all, by their example. The citywas completely cut up by barricades, against which the few troops whoremained faithful to General Bustamente struggled in vain. Beaten backby the enemies who on all sides rose up against them to the thousandtimes repeated cries of "Our country!" "Chili Liberty!" the soldiersretreated, step by step, abandoning, one after another, the differentposts of which they had been in possession at the commencement of theaction, and rallied upon the Plaza Mayor, the outlets of which they hadbarricaded in their turn.
The city was in the power of the insurgents; for as the battle from thismoment was concentrated at one point, it was not difficult to foreseewith which party the victory would remain; for the soldiers, discouragedby the ill success of their _coup de main_, and sensible of being thechampions of a lost cause, only fought to obtain honourable conditions.General Bustamente's officers, and the senators whom he had broughtwith him as partizans, trembled when thinking of the fate that awaitedthem if they fell into the hands of their enemies. Success justifieseverything: from the moment they failed to succeed they became traitorsto their country, and, as such, had no right to a capitulation. Theytherefore excited their soldiers to fight valiantly, promising themspeedy assistance, and trying to revive their courage by telling themthat their adversaries were merely citizens, whom they could easilyovercome if they made a bold attempt, or even resisted for an hourlonger.
The general who commanded the garrison, and whom we saw upon the stepsof the cabildo read with so much arrogance the decree which changed theform of government, bit his lips with rage and performed prodigies ofvalour, to give Bustamente time to arrive. As soon as he saw the turnthings had taken, he sent off an express for the General with the utmostpromptitude. This express was Diego, the old soldier who was so devotedto General Bustamente.
"Lieutenant," he said, in conclusion, "you see in what a position weare; you must reach the General at all risks."
"I will reach him, General; be at ease on that head!" Diego replied,intrepidly.
"And I will endeavour to hold out till your return."
Don Diego, before he finished speaking, had ridden desperately atthe ranks of the insurgents, spurring on his horse, and wavinghis sword with menacing rapidity round his head. The Dark-Hearts,astonished by such an attack on the part of a single man, at the firstmoment unconsciously opened their ranks before him as to a canistershot, incapable of resisting the impetuous shock of this apparentlyinvulnerable demon, who mowed down all that came in his way. Diegoskilfully took advantage of the disorder produced on the enemy by hisfurious assault; he kept pushing on, and, after incredible efforts,succeeded in getting out of the city. As soon as he was in safety, theoverexcitement which till that time had sustained him, suddenly sank,and at a few paces from the gates he was forced to stop to take breath,and restore his confused ideas to a little order. The old soldier washedthe sides and nostrils of his horse with a little brandy and water;and as soon as this duty was performed, aware that the fate of hiscompanions depended upon his speed, he sprang into his saddle and setoff with the fleetness of an arrow.
The General did not delay his return to Valdivia a minute, for he feltthat success would be an immense advantage to him; and a check, if hewere beaten, irreparable. As a conqueror, his march to Santiago wouldbe nothing but a triumphant march; the authorities of the cities hepassed through would rival each other in ranging themselves beneath hisstandard; whereas, if he were forced to abandon Valdivia as a fugitive,he would be tracked like a wild beast, and obliged to seek safety ina prompt flight, either in Bolivia or Buenos Aires, and the projectshe had nourished so long, and of which he believed he had beforehandassured the success, would be deferred, or perhaps destroyed for ever.Thus the General was a prey to one of those cold furies, which are somuch more terrible, because they cannot be exhibited outwardly.
The horsemen advanced amidst a cloud of dust raised by their precipitatecourse, rushing along the road like a whirlwind, and with a noise likethunder. Two lances' length in advance of the soldiers, Don Pancho,bending over the neck of his horse, with pale brow and clenched teeth,galloped at full speed, keeping his eyes fixed upon the lofty steeplesof Valdivia, whose dark shadows became more enlarged on the horizonevery minute. Within half a mile of the city he halted his squadron. Thesharp pattering of musketry resounded strongly, mingled at intervalswith the dismal, rolling bass of cannon; the battle, therefore, muststill be going on. The General hastened to make his last preparationsbefore attempting an attack he hoped would prove decisive. The footsoldiers dismounted, and formed in platoons, and firearms of all kindswere loaded.
The troops brought up by the General were not numerous from the Europeanpoint of view, according to which we are accustomed to see great massesin conflict; they, at most, did not exceed eight hundred men. In Europeit is customary to say that victory is most likely to attend largebattalions: in America, where the largest armies are frequently of notmore than three thousand men, this idea becomes naturally modified,and it is generally the most skilful or the most brave man who remainsmaster of the field of battle.
Don Pancho was a rough soldier, accustomed to the struggles of civilwars, which, for the most part, consist of audacious _coups de main_.Endowed with courage bordering on rashness, and devoured by ambition, heprepared, with the greatest coolness, to re-establish his compromisedaffairs by an irresistible attack. The country in the neighbourhood ofValdivia is a real English garden, interspersed with thickets, appleorchards, copses, and slender streams of water rippling away to theriver. It was very easy for the General to conceal his arrival. Twosoldiers were detached as scouts, in order to learn the state of things.At the expiration of a few minutes they returned. The outskirts of thecity were deserted, the insurgents had driven the troops back into thecentre, and, according to the scouts, with the imprudence of citizensmetamorphosed suddenly into soldiers, they had left no reserve, or evenplaced sentinels, to secure their rear against a surprise.
This information, instead of restoring confidence to the General, madehim knit his brows; he thought it must be a manoeuvre, and whilst hisofficers were laughing with all their might at the able tactics ofthe insurgents, he judged it necessary to redouble his precautions.The troops were divided into two bodies, which, in case of need, wereto support each other; and, as they were attacking a city entirelybarricaded, the lancers were ordered to dismount, and reinforce theinfantry. Only one squadron of a hundred horsemen remained in thesaddle, concealed about a quarter of a mile from the place, in order tosupport a retreat, or to put the fugitives to the sword, if the surprisesucceeded. These arrangements made, the General made an earnest addressto his soldiers, to whom he promised, in the event of success, thepillage of the city. He then placed himself at the head of the firstdetachment, and gave the order, "March! Forward!"
The troops advanced in the Indian fashion, taking advantage of everyinequality in the ground, and of every tree to conceal themselves, andarrived thus, without giving alarm, to within pistol shot of the city.The dead silence which continued to prevail around him, contrasted ina dismal manner with the musketry and cannon which became more audibleas they advanced, and greatly increased the General's anxiety. A darkpresentiment warned him that he was threatened by some great danger,which he knew not how to avoid, from being ignorant of what kind itmight be. The least hesitation at this critical minute might bring onirreparable misfortunes. The General grasped the hilt of his swordfirmly in his clenched hand, and turning towards his soldiers, shoutedin a loud, cle
ar voice, "Forward!"
The detachment, which only awaited this order, rushed forward shouting,and, at double-quick time, cleared the space between them and the city.Windows, doors, all were closed; and had it not been for the distantreport of musketry, the city might have been thought deserted. The firstdetachment, finding no obstacles before them, continued their march;and the second detachment also entered. But then, all at once, behind,before, and on the flanks of the troops, a loud cry burst forth; andat every window appeared men with muskets in their hands. Don PanchoBustamente was surrounded, he had allowed himself to be taken--pardon usthe triviality of the comparison--like a rat in a trap. The soldiers,astonished for a second, soon recovered themselves; they faced front andrear, and attacked the double barrier that enclosed them: but thoughthey desperately rushed against it, they could not force it. They thenplainly perceived they were lost, that they could expect no quarter, andprepared to die like brave men.
The General cast fierce and desperate glances around him, looking,but unsuccessfully, for a point of issue from the menacing forest ofbayonets crossed before him, and which enclosed him as in a steelnetwork. Some authors have amused themselves at the expense of thewars and battles of the Americans, in which they say the two armiesalways take care to place themselves out of reach of cannon shot, so asnever to have a single man killed. This pleasantry, which is in verybad taste, has assumed the proportions of a calumny it is but justto refute, for it attacks the honour of the Americans of the South,who, I unhesitatingly assert, are endowed with intrepid courage--acourage that was brilliantly displayed during the wars of independenceagainst the Spaniards. Unhappily, at present this courage is employedin fratricidal struggles, without any understood object. Thrice thesoldiers rushed upon the insurgents, and thrice were they repulsedwith enormous loss. The battle was horrible, without mercy on eitherside; they fought hand to hand, foot to foot, breast to breast, tothe last breath, only falling to die. The troops, decimated by thisfrightful carnage, gradually gave ground; the space they occupiedbecame narrower and narrower, and the moment did not appear distantwhen they would disappear under the popular flood which continued toascend, and threatened to engulf them under its irresistible mass. TheGeneral collected about fifty men resolved to die or open a passage, andhe made a desperate attempt. It was a collision of giants. For a fewminutes, the two masses launched one against the other remained almostmotionless, from the force of the blow with which they met; Don Pancho,flourishing his sword around him, and standing in his stirrups, struckdown all who opposed his passage.
Suddenly a man placed himself before him, like a rock which rises fromthe depths of the sea. At the sight of him the General paused, in spiteof himself, with a stifled cry of surprise and rage. This man was DonTadeo de Leon, his mortal enemy; whom he had once condemned to death,and who had, in a miraculous manner, survived his execution. But, now!God seemed to place him fatally before him, to be the instrument of hisvengeance, and the cause of his ruin and his shame.