CHAPTER TEN.
RECOUNTS SOME TERRIBLE AND SOME VIGOROUS DEEDS.
How long our hero lay in this state he could not tell, but on recoveringhis faculties he became conscious of the fact that he was in totaldarkness, lying on his back, with a tremendous weight pressing on hischest. For a few moments he remained still, quite unable to recollectwhat had occurred, or where he was.
Suddenly memory resumed its office--the earthquake! the fall of thehotel!--and, with a gush of horror, he realised the terrible truth thathe was buried alive.
The reader must have been in the position we describe to understandfully the feelings of the poor youth at that moment. His first impulsewas to make a violent effort to shake off the intolerable weight thatalmost suffocated him; but his efforts, strong though he was, proved invain. It felt as if a mountain held him down. Then the thought ofManuela rushed in upon him, and he uttered a loud cry. The sound of hisvoice in the confined space was terrible. It seemed to rush in upon hisbrain with awful din. In his agony, a feeling of frantic despair cameover him, and, with the strength of a giant, he struggled to be free,but still without success. Exhausted as much by his horror as by hisefforts, he lay for some minutes quite still, his brain keenly alive andthirsting, as it were, for some sound that might convey hope. No soundwas to be heard, save the intense beating of his own pulsations whichseemed to throb into his ears, and down into his very extremities.
As he lay listening, it came strangely into his thoughts, with somethinglike a feeling of regret, that it would be very hard for him to die! Somuch strong life as he possessed must, he thought, take long to destroy!But again, the memory of poor Manuela, perhaps in a similar condition,and certainly not far from him, banished the thoughts of self, and helistened once more intently.
All was still as the grave. The effort at self-control, however, calmedhim a little, and, in a gentler mood, he tried to move his arms. Theleft arm was fixed as in a vice, and gave him so much pain, that hefeared it had been broken. The right arm was also fast, but he feltthat he could move his hand.
It was a feeble straw for the buried man to clutch at, yet it was strongenough to buoy up Hope in a stout heart. His courage returned, and withcalm, resolute patience he set to work, uttering the fervent prayer,"Help me, O God!"
Where there was space for a hand to move freely, he knew there must bespace to remove rubbish, though it might be ever so little. In a fewminutes some handful of earth were thrust aside. Then, by drawing hisarm upwards and pushing it downwards, he loosened the rubbish around it,and by slow degrees set it partially free. If he had been entombed insolid earth, this, he was well aware, could not have been possible; but,rightly judging that in a mass of mingled bricks, mortar, and beamsthere must be spaces more or less open, he worked away, with patienceand in hope. The result was that he was able at last to touch with hisright hand the object which lay so crushingly on his chest. It was anenormous beam. The utter impossibility of even moving it filled him fora moment with despair, but again he cried to God for help. The cry wasanswered, truly and effectively, yet without a miracle, for the very actof trust in the Almighty calmed his mind and set it free to considerintelligently.
He could not hope to lift the beam. It was far too heavy. Being soheavy, he knew it would have killed him outright if it had not beenchecked in its descent, and partially supported somehow. Might he not,then, scrape away the rubbish on which he lay until he should, as itwere, sink away from the beam? He tried at once, and managed to get hisright hand slightly under him. He could reach his haunch. It was aterribly slow process, but by degrees the busy hand reached the waist,drawing the rubbish out by small portions at a time. It seemed to himas if hours were spent in these painful efforts. Still no appreciabledifference was made in his position, and he had by that time pushed hishand as far up under his back towards his neck as it was possible toturn it. Finding that he could scrape away no more in that direction,he now sought to deepen the hollows already made. In doing so he gothold of a brick, which he wrenched out with a desperate effort. Theresult was instantaneous relief, for he seemed to subside, not much,indeed, but sufficiently to permit of his breathing freely.
With a fervent exclamation of thankfulness he turned slightly round, anddrew his left arm out from the rubbish. He felt it anxiously. It wasbruised a good deal, but not broken.
Although so greatly relieved that he felt for a few moments almost as ifhe had been delivered from death, the poor youth was still in a terriblecase. The space in which he was confined did not admit of his sittingup, much less standing. What seemed to be a solid mass of the fallenwall was above him, prevented from crushing him by the beam beforementioned, while around him were masses of brick and mortar denselypacked.
Again exerting his lungs, the youth shouted with all his might, and thenpaused to listen; but there was no reply. Then he shouted the name ofManuela, in the hope that she might hear, and answer, if still alive.But no answering voice replied.
Believing now that nothing could save him but a fixed purpose and aprolonged desperate effort on an intelligent plan, he prayed again forhelp, and then proceeded to enlarge his tomb by scraping the rubbishback under the beam, from beneath which he had drawn himself, andpacking it tightly down. This enlarged the space, enabling him to getupon his knees. To work upward through the fallen wall would, he knew,be an impossibility. He therefore worked horizontally for some time,throwing the rubbish between his legs behind him, as, we presume, themoles are accustomed to do. Then he passed his hand along over hishead, and found that the solid wall was no longer above him,--onlydisjointed bricks and beams.
With renewed hope and redoubled effort he now worked his way upwards,although well-nigh suffocated by dust, as well as by smoke arising fromfires which had broken out in many places all over the ruined town.Suddenly, while thus engaged, he heard voices faintly. He shouted withall his might, and listened. Yes, he was not mistaken; he heard voicesdistinctly, and they appeared to be speaking in Spanish. With somethinglike a bounding of the heart he repeated his shout, and renewed hislabours.
If he had known the character of the persons who had thus encouragedhim, his hopes would not have been so strong.
We have said that the entire town had been levelled by one tremendousconvulsion, and that in many places fires had broken out among theruins. These fires sent up dense volumes of smoke, which naturallyattracted people from all quarters of the surrounding country. Amongthem came bands of desperate and lawless characters, who fastened on theruins as vultures seize on carrion. They resembled the unclean birds inmore respects than one, for they went about as long as there wasanything of value to be seized, long after other people had been forcedto quit the place owing to the horrible stench of the hundreds ofcorpses decaying, and in many cases burning, among the ruins. (See note1.)
It was the voices of some of these lawless ruffians that Lawrence hadheard. He soon became aware of their character by the terrible oathswhich they used, and the fiendish laughter in which they indulgedwhenever he called for help. Knowing that he had nothing to hope fromsuch miscreants, he ceased to call out, but toiled none the lessvigorously to effect his deliverance. At last he managed to scrapethrough to the upper world; and a feeling of inexpressible relief filledhis breast as a bright ray of sunshine shot into his prison.
That it was daylight did not surprise him, for the many hours which hehad spent under ground seemed to him like weeks. But he soon found thathe was not yet free. The hole which he had scraped was much too smallto admit of the passage of even a little boy. In trying to enlarge it,he found, to his dismay, that on one side of it was an enormous beam, onthe other a mass of solid masonry, which could not be moved without aid.Looking out, he saw nothing but confused heaps of smoking ruins, savein one direction, where, in the far distance, (for the hotel had stoodon a mound), he could see a group of men engaged as if searching forsomething.
To these he shouted again, but did not attract their a
ttention. Eitherthey did not hear him, or did not care. Turning then to the beam, hetried with all his might to raise it, but failed, though it movedslightly. Encouraged by hope, and afterwards influenced by despair, hetried again and again, until his strength broke down.
At this juncture he heard footsteps, and saw a man passing near.
"Senhor! senhor!" he cried, in the best Spanish he could muster, "aid meto get out, for the love of God!"
A coarse insult was the only reply as the man passed on. A group ofother men who passed soon after behaved as badly, for they only laughedat his entreaties.
It is difficult to say whether rage or indignation was more powerful inLawrence's heart, but both passions were equally unavailing in thecircumstances. He felt this, and soon calmed down; so that when, halfan hour later, another man passed that way, he addressed him in tones ofrespect and earnest entreaty.
The bandit, for such he was, seemed to be utterly unaffected; foralthough he must certainly have heard the appeal, he, like the others,passed on without taking the slightest notice.
"Senhor! senhor!" cried Lawrence, "I have a gold watch and chain, towhich you--"
The man stopped, for the bait took at once. Turning, and walkingtowards the place from which the sound came, he soon found the holethrough which our hero looked.
"Hand out the watch, senhor," he said.
"No, no," answered Lawrence; "aid me first to lift the beam."
Whether the man understood the bad Spanish or not we cannot say, butinstead of helping to lift the beam, he drew a pistol from his belt, andsaid--
"Hand out the watch, or I shoot!"
"Shoot away, then," cried Lawrence, savagely, as he drew quickly backinto his hole.
The report of the pistol followed the words, and the ball caused a cloudof dust and rubbish to mingle with the smoke.
A wild laugh of defiance from within told that our Englishman was nothurt.
"Ha--ha! Shoot again," he cried, fiercely.
"No, senhor, no. You are brave. I will help you," replied themiscreant.
Lawrence doubted the honesty of the man's assurance, but of coursethanked him, and expressed readiness to avail himself of his assistance.He kept carefully at the extreme end of the hole, however, while hismurderous deliverer removed some of the rubbish from the beam, and somade it possible to raise it. Remaining quite still, Lawrence waitedtill he saw that the beam had been so far moved as to enlarge the spacesufficiently for him to get through. Then, with a sudden spring _a la_Jack-in-the-box, he leaped out, and stood before the astonished bandit.
Lawrence, whose sense of honour taught him to hold his promise as sacredto a thief as to an honest man, had fully intended to give up his watchand chain to the man if he should remain peaceably disposed; but thebandit was not so disposed. Recovering from his surprise, he drew asecond pistol from his belt and levelled it at Lawrence.
Thought is quick; quicker even than triggers. His length of limbhappily flashed into the youth's mind. Up went his foot with a suddenkick, and away went the pistol into the air, where it exploded after themanner of a sky-rocket! The bandit did not wait for more. He turnedand fled, much to the satisfaction of the victor, who, overcome byprolonged exhaustive toil and excitement, sank down on a heap ofrubbish, and lay there in a semi-conscious state. It seemed as if bothmind and body had resolved to find rest at all hazards, for he layperfectly motionless for nearly an hour,--not exactly asleep, butwithout being fully conscious of connected thought.
From this state of repose, if it may be so called, he was partiallyaroused by the voices of men near him, talking in coarse, violentlanguage. Raising his head languidly, he observed a band of about eightor ten villainous-looking fellows busy round a hole, out of which theyappeared to be drawing some sort of booty.
"A prize!" exclaimed one of the men; "be gentle; she's worth takingalive."
A loud laugh from the others roused Lawrence again, but a feeling ofunwonted exhaustion oppressed him, so that he scarce knew what it was heheard.
Suddenly there arose a female voice, in a cry of pain. Lawrence startedup on one elbow, and beheld Manuela struggling in the grasp of one ofthe band.
If electric fire had taken the place of blood in his veins, he could nothave bounded up more quickly. The shock seemed to renew and double hiswonted strength. Like the English bull-dog, with terrible purpose, butin absolute silence, he rushed over the rubbish towards the man who heldthe struggling girl. The man seemed to be a leader, being the only oneof the band who carried a cavalry sabre. The others were armed, somewith short swords, some with carbines and pistols.
Swift though Lawrence was, the chief saw him coming. He let go thegirl, and made a wild cut at him with the sabre.
Lawrence received the cut on his left arm. At the same moment he struckthe villain such a blow with his clenched fist, that it seemed to crushin his skull, and sent him headlong into the hole out of which they hadjust dragged the Indian girl. Fortunately he dropped his sabre as hefell. With a shout of defiance our hero caught it up, just in time toarrest the descent of a carbine butt on his head. Next moment the manwho aimed the blow was cleft to the chin, and a united rush of therobbers was for the moment arrested.
Manuela, helpless and horror-struck, had stood motionless on the spotwhere the chief had released her. Lawrence caught her in his left arm,swung her into an angle of the broken wall, placed himself in front, andfaced his foes.
The villains, though taken by surprise, were no cravens. Apparentlythey had already discharged their fire-arms, for only one fired at ourhero with a pistol, and missed his aim. Flinging the weapon at hisadversary with a yell of disappointment, he missed his aim a secondtime. At the same moment another of the band--one of the tallest andmost ferocious-looking--sprang upon the youth with terrible fury. Heknew well, apparently, how to use his weapon; and Lawrence felt that hisexperience at school now stood him in good stead. As the weapons ofthese giants flew around with rapid whirl and clash, the others stoodaside to see the end. Doubtless they would have taken unfair advantageof their foe if they could, but Lawrence, turning his back to the wall,where Manuela crouched, prevented that. At last one dastardly wretch,seeing that his comrade was getting the worst of it, bethought him ofhis carbine, and began hurriedly to load. Our hero noted the act, andunderstood its fatal significance. With a bound like that of a tiger hesprang at the man, and cut him down with a back-handed blow, turning,even in the act, just in time to guard a sweeping cut dealt at his head.With a straight point he thrust his sword through teeth, gullet, andskull of his tall adversary, until it stood six inches out behind hishead. Then, without a moment's pause, he leaped upon the nearest of theother bandits.
Awe-stricken, they all gave back, and it seemed as if the youth wouldyet win the day single-handed against them all, when a shout was heard,and half a dozen men of the same stamp, if not the same band, camerunning to the rescue.
Lawrence drew hastily back to his protecting wall.
"Pray, Manuela, pray," he gasped; "we are in God's hands."
At that moment two shots were heard away on their right, and two of theadvancing bandits fell. An instant later, and Quashy bounded upon thescene with a high trumpet-shriek like a wild elephant. Pedro followed,brandishing the rifle which he had just discharged with such fataleffect. Lawrence joined them with a genuine British cheer, but theiradversaries did not await the onset. They turned, fled, and speedilyscattered themselves among the ruins.
"T'ank God, massa, we's in time," said Quashy, wiping with his sleevethe perspiration that streamed from his face, as they returned quicklyto Manuela.
"We must not wait a moment here," said Pedro, hurriedly. "There may bemore of the villains about. But you are wounded, Senhor Armstrong."
"Not badly," said Lawrence. "It might have been worse, but the fellowwas in such a hurry that the edge of his sabre turned, and I got only ablow with the side of it. If I had only had my good cudgel--by the way,it must be in the hole.
It was in my hand when--Stay, I'll return in afew seconds."
He ran back to his late tomb, and quickly returned in triumph with hisfavourite weapon.
"Come, we must get away from this at once," said Pedro, turning toManuela. "No time for explanations. Are you hurt?"
"No; thank God. Let us go," replied the girl, who was pale and haggard,as she staggered towards them.
"Take my arm," said Lawrence, presenting his wounded limb.
The girl pointed with trembling hand to the blood.
"It is nothing--a mere scratch," said Lawrence.
In his anxiety he forgot to speak in Spanish. Manuela appeared as ifabout to sink with fear. He caught her, lifted her in his arms as ifshe had been a little child, and, following Pedro's lead, left the placewhich had been the scene of so many terrible events.
In the outskirts of the town there was a large low building of mud orsun-dried bricks, which had not been overthrown by the earthquake. Tothis Pedro conducted his companions. They found room in the place,though it was nearly full of survivors in all conditions of injury,--from those who had got mere scratches and bruises, to those who had beenso crushed and mangled that life was gradually ebbing away. Thereseemed to be about fifty people in the room, and every minute more werebeing brought in.
Here Lawrence set down his burden, who had by that time quite recovered,and turned quickly to the guide.
"Come, Pedro," he said, "I can be of use here; but we must have my ownwound dressed first. You can do it, I doubt not."
Pedro professed to be not only able but willing. Before he did it,however, he whispered in a low tone, yet with much emphasis, toManuela--
"Don't forget yourself! Remember!"
As he whispered pretty loud, and in Spanish, Lawrence overheard andunderstood him, and puzzled himself, not only that day, but for manydays and nights after, as to how it was possible that Manuela _could_forget herself, and what it was she had to remember. But the more andthe longer he puzzled over it, the less did he clear up his mind on thesubject.
When it became known that Lawrence was a doctor, there was a visibleincrease of hope in the expression and bearing of the poor woundedpeople. And the youth soon justified their trustful feelings, for, withPedro and Quashy as assistant-surgeons, and Manuela as head-nurse, hewent about setting broken bones, bandaging limbs, sewing up wounds, andotherwise relieving the sufferers around him.
While this was going on the poor people were recounting many marvelloustales of terrible risks run, escapes made, and dangers evaded. Duringall this time, too, frequent shocks of earthquake were felt, of greateror less violence, and these afterwards continued daily for a month, sothat the few buildings which had partially survived the first awfulshock were finally levelled like the rest.
When Lawrence with his assistants had gone the rounds of theextemporised hospital, he was so completely worn out that he couldscarcely keep his eyes open. Swallowing a cup of hot coffee hastily, heflung himself on a heap of straw beside one of his patients, and almostinstantly fell into a profound lethargic slumber.
There was an unoccupied arm-chair in the room. Placing this beside theyouth's couch, the Indian girl sat down with a fan, purposing, in hergratitude, to protect her preserver from the mosquitoes, which werehaving an unusual bout of revelry over the sufferers that night.
Quashy, observing this as he lay down in a corner, shook his head sadly,and whispered to himself:
"Ah! you brown gal, you's in lub wid massa. But it's useless. De olestory ob unrekited affection; for you know, pretty though you is, massakin nebber marry a squaw!"
Thus thinking, Quashy went sweetly to sleep.
So did most of the others in that crowded place. But Manuela stuck toher colours nobly. She kept awake until her pretty black eyes becamelustreless, until her pretty brown face became expressionless, until theeffort to continue awake became hopeless. Then her little head fellback on the cushion of the chair, the little mouth opened, and the largeeyes closed. The little hand which held the fan dropped by her side.The fan itself dropped on the floor, and, like the others, poor Manuelaat length found rest and solace in slumber.
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Note 1. A similar disaster, accompanied by dreadful scenes oflawlessness and horror, occurred in 1861, when the city of Mendoza wastotally destroyed by an earthquake, and nine-tenths of the inhabitantsperished.