Manco, the Peruvian Chief Part 17

"No, I cannot," he answered. "I only know that he was taken a few clays ago in a skirmish with the enemy, who are not many leagues off. It is feared even that they may attack the town, though we have too many soldiers here to give them much chance of success."

"I trust they will not," I exclaimed, thinking of the dreadful scenes which had before occurred. "But can you learn the name of this young chief? I fear he is a friend of ours."

"Oh, do not acknowledge him, then," said the gaoler, "as you value your lives. You cannot benefit him, and may run the risk of sharing his fate."

I saw the mistake I had committed; but still I pressed Sancho to learn who he was, and he undertook to comply with my wish, provided I followed his advice. I again asked him to inform us who was the friend who had interested himself in our favour; but he replied that he was not at liberty to say, and he then hurried from the room.

The news he had brought made us very sad, for we could not help contemplating the scene of bloodshed which was about to occur, which was of itself sufficiently horrible, even should my suspicions that Manco was a prisoner not prove correct. We were doomed not to have our anxiety relieved, for Sancho did not again make his appearance during the day. He was probably afraid of being observed if he visited us too frequently. We ate the food Sancho had brought us most thankfully, and it much contributed to restore our strength; but we had lost all pleasure in looking out of the window on the square, which was so soon to be the scene of the slaughter of so many of our fellow-creatures. We found a bundle of blankets and some clean linen hid away under the bedding; for the latter, which to us was a great luxury, we had no doubt we were indebted to Don Eduardo. At night we threw ourselves on the bed, and tried to sleep; but my rest was very disturbed, and I constantly dreamed that I heard firing, and saw the unhappy Indians being shot down before the windows. Towards morning, however, I fell into a deep slumber; and, probably owing to the change of air and the improvement in our food, we both slept to a much later hour than usual.

We were awakened by the confused sound of the voices of a concourse of people, and jumping up, we hurried to the window. From thence we saw a large crowd collected in the square, who seemed to be eagerly watching the doors of the prison. We could distinguish the tones of those nearest to us; and from the words which reached us, we learned that a sort of trial had taken place the previous evening of the prisoners lately captured, as well as of those in Tupac Catari's army, and that they were all condemned to be shot. No one seemed to pity them; but, on the contrary, all appeared to exult at the prospect of the slaughter which was about to commence.

"The pretended Inca, Tupac Amaru, has been taken," said one man.

"No; that is a mistake," was the answer. "But another chief has, though he fought like a lion, it is said."

"Who is he?" asked another.

"A relation of the Inca's: one of the viper's brood," replied the first.

"They say two strangers were made prisoners leading on the rebels,"

observed a third. "They are to be shot also, I hope."

"No doubt of it; but the viceroy has thought it necessary to send to explain the matter to the English consul at Lima; and his answer has not arrived," remarked a fourth.

"It is known that it cannot arrive for three or four more days; and care will be taken to shoot them before that time," said the former speaker.

"Can they allude to us?" I asked of Pedro, feeling my heart sink within me.

"There is no doubt about it," he replied. "We must be prepared for the worst; but I do not think they will dare to kill one of your great nation. They will shoot me though, as I have no friends to help me."

"Nor have I, Pedro; but I would rather say, Let us hope for the best," I answered. "They would gain nothing by killing either of us, and it would be very unjust to kill you and let me escape."

"It would be very unjust to kill either of us; but they care little for justice, and they wish to strike terror into the hearts of their enemies," he remarked calmly.

"Such cruelty as they are about to perpetrate will only exasperate the Indians the more," said I. "If they were to treat them well, and let them go, they would be more likely to put down the rebellion."

The crowd was every moment increasing, as people were coming in from all directions. Among them were a large number of Indians, mestizos, and other half-castes, who seemed to look on with the same unconcern as the Spaniards. My eye had been attracted by a man whose florid complexion and dress showed that he was a seaman of some northern nation, and I hoped an Englishman. He shouldered his way through the crowd with a confident, independent air, as if he felt himself superior to any about him. At length he came close under our window, and caught my eye watching him. He stared at me fixedly for some time, and I thought recognised me to be a countryman by my light hair and fair complexion.

Once he put his hand up to his mouth, as if he was going to hail me, as he would a man at the masthead; but he again let it drop, having apparently changed his mind, and, returning his hands to his trousers pockets, he rolled away with the unmistakeable air of a British seaman.

I longed to call after him to tell who I was; but, afraid of being heard by others, I restrained myself.

"Is that man a friend of yours?" asked Pedro.

"I never saw him that I know of before," I answered.

"Well, I thought that he recognised you," he observed. "I marked the expression of his eye, and I should say that he knew you, or mistook you for some one else."

I eagerly watched the sailor, afraid that he would go away, and that we should see him no more. I observed, however, that though he dodged about among the crowd with a careless air, he never got to any great distance from our window. This circ.u.mstance kept alive my hope that he had come for the purpose of bringing us information, or of helping us to escape. The crowd had now begun to grow as impatient at the non-appearance of the prisoners as they would at a bull-fight, had there been a delay in turning the bull into the circus, when three bodies of troops were seen marching up from the several streets leading into the square. They formed on either side of it, making a lane from the prison gates to the river; while the crowd fell back behind them. I had observed a number of Indians collecting on the opposite bank of the river, who now came down close to its edge, watching anxiously the proceedings of the soldiers. They appeared, however, not to be remarked by the people in the town. As they were partly concealed by the trees and the walls dividing the fields, their numbers might not have been perceived by the people in the square. The bell of the nearest church began to toll; the crowd looked eagerly towards the prison; the ma.s.sive gates were thrown open, and we saw issuing forth a posse of priests and monks, bearing crucifixes and lighted tapers, who were followed by the unhappy Indians intended for execution, chained two and two, and each couple guarded by a soldier with his musket presented at their heads.

I watched them file out with aching eyes, for every moment I expected to see Manco led forth. I had a painful presentiment that he was among the victims. The last of the Indians had pa.s.sed on, and I began to breathe more freely; but still the crowd began to look towards the gates of the prison. Alas! I was not mistaken. The mob raised a shout of exultation, and I saw a man I could too clearly recognise, between two soldiers, with a priest advancing before him, and reciting the prayers for the dead. It was the kind, the brave Manco himself. He walked on with a proud and dignified air, undaunted by the revengeful shouts of his enemies, thirsting for his blood. His step was firm, and his brow was unclouded, and his lips were firmly set; but I observed that his bright dark eyes were every now and then ranging anxiously among the crowd, as if in search of a friendly glance. His fellow-beings who formed the mob, looked at him with eager and savage curiosity; but no one appeared to offer him any sign of recognition. He was closely followed by a company of soldiers, with arms presented. They formed, I discovered, the fatal firing party. As they advanced, the other soldiers formed in the rear, and the mob followed close behind. The sailor, I observed, went with the rest for a short distance, but when he found that their attention was entirely occupied with the prisoners, he disengaged himself from among them, and rolled back with his unconcerned air towards our window.

"s.h.i.+pmate, ahoy," he exclaimed in a suppressed tone as he pa.s.sed.

"Who are you?" I asked eagerly.

"A friend in need," he answered, in the same low tone. "Keep a stout heart in your body, and if you can manage to rig a line of some sort, let it down out of your window soon after dark. If it's just strong enough to haul up another it will do. I'll bring a stout one with me."

"We'll do as you say, friend, and many thanks," I answered.

"That's all right then," said the seaman. "When you hear a cat mew under your window, let down the line. I shan't be far off. I must now go along with the crowd to see what's going on. I wish that I could lend a helping hand to some of those poor fellows; but it won't do, I must look after you, you know. A countryman in distress has the first right to my services."

I longed to learn who he was; but before I could ask him, he had sauntered away among the crowd. Meantime the soldiers had formed three sides of a hollow square, the river forming the fourth. Close to the bank there stood a large group of human beings--the victims destined for execution. Their arms and legs were secured with cords, so that they could not escape. They uttered no cries or lamentations, but appeared ready to meet their fate with stoical indifference. The priests, with their crucifixes and candles, collected round them, exhorting them to repentance, and uttering prayers which none of them could understand. I looked anxiously for Manco, but he was not among them, and at last I discovered him standing apart, under charge of a file of soldiers. With a refinement of cruelty, it was intended that he should witness the execution of his friends and countrymen, before he himself was led forth to be shot. A priest stood by his side, endeavouring to make him listen to the words of exhortation he was pouring into his ears; but, I judged, with no effect. His arms were folded, and his eyes were turned towards the group in the centre. Several officers were riding about the square.

At a signal from one of them (the colonel who had sent us to prison), the priests retired; and the firing party, consisting of a hundred men, fell back to the distance of about twenty paces. There was a death-like silence; even the savage crowd were awed. I could scarcely breathe, and a mist came before my eyes.

There was a pause of a minute. Perhaps, I thought, the commanding officer himself hesitates to give the word which must send so many of his fellow-creatures to eternity. I was mistaken. "Fire," he shouted, in a sharp loud voice. A rapid discharge of musketry was heard, and as the smoke cleared off, a number of the prisoners were seen struggling and writhing in agony on the ground. Some of them lay still enough, for they, more fortunate, were shot dead; while the wounded uttered the most fearful shrieks and cries for mercy. More than two-thirds stood erect, unharmed by the bullets. The soldiers, loaded as fast as they could, and again sent forth a deadly fire from their muskets. The number of prisoners was fearfully thinned. The soldiers fired again and again, and each time fewer remained alive. At last but two Indians continued standing side by side, unscathed by the fire. I was in hopes that they might have been pardoned; but no, the soldiers advancing, presented their pieces at their b.r.e.a.s.t.s and shot them dead, while those who lay wounded on the ground were likewise put out of their misery.

All eyes were now turned towards the chief Manco. I know not on what account his limbs were allowed to remain unfettered. Perhaps they thought that among such a crowd a single man could do no one an injury.

He walked along towards the spot where his murdered countrymen lay in heaps, with his head erect, and a firm, unfaltering step. The priest followed him; but he waved him off, as if his services were of no further avail. Even the officers seemed to feel some respect for him; and I saw one of them give him a handkerchief, with which to give the signal for the soldiers to fire. He stood boldly facing them, with his eye firmly fixed on his executioners, a little way on one side of the heap of dead men. My heart felt ready to burst; yet painful as it was, I could not withdraw my sight from him. I anxiously watched for the fatal moment. He gave a leap upwards it appeared, and threw the handkerchief in the air. The soldiers fired; but when the smoke cleared we could not distinguish his body on the ground. The head and shoulders of a man were, however, seen in the waters of the river, and he was striking out with powerful strokes towards the opposite sh.o.r.e, where at the same instant a number of Indians were observed plunging in to meet him.

"See, Pedro, he has escaped--he has escaped!" I exclaimed. "It is Manco I am certain; how bravely he swims. They will not be so cruel as to kill him now. He will reach the opposite sh.o.r.e. Ah! alas, he sinks.

No, he has only dived; see, he comes up some way down the stream."

The firing party advanced to the banks; but they had expended all their cartridges, I suppose, for they stood watching him in stupid astonishment; and no one, for a minute or more, thought of ordering any of the other soldiers to advance and fire. This gave the swimmer a great advantage; and as the current was strong, he had soon glided some way down below the square. At last some hundred men advanced to the edge of the river, and opened a rapid fire on him; but still he continued his course undaunted. The Indians on the banks set up loud shouts, as did those who had swam out to meet him. He was quickly among them, when it became impossible to distinguish him from the rest. Many, I suspected, lost their lives in their attempt to save their chief. A number of soldiers jumped into the canoes on the banks of the river, and attempted to pursue the fugitive; but long before they could have reached him, the swimmers had landed, and were seen rus.h.i.+ng up among the trees. Whether or not he was among them I could not tell; for the bodies of those who were killed floated down the stream out of sight. A rapid fire was kept up at the opposite bank, which the Indians, as they landed, had to pa.s.s through; but they were soon sheltered from its effects by the trees, and in a few moments not one of them was to be seen. Carts came to convey the dead away; sand was strewed over the spot; the crowd, murmuring at the escape of the princ.i.p.al victim, dispersed; and the square in a short time resumed its usual appearance.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN.

A FRIEND IN NEED--OUR ESCAPE.

Pedro and I turned from the window, and sitting down, with our hands before our faces, endeavoured to shut out the dreadful sights we had witnessed. It was satisfactory, however, to believe that Manco had escaped; and I trusted that he would not fall again into the power of his enemies. When Sancho entered with a supply of provisions, he found us so employed.

I do not know whether he suspected that we had some hopes of making our escape, and wished to warn us of the danger. His manner, I remarked, was more cordial than usual; and perhaps he did not expect to see us again. As soon as he had left us, we consulted how we should form a line to let down out of the window, as our sailor friend had advised.

We hunted about, but could not find even the smallest piece of rope. At last I suggested that we might tear up one of our s.h.i.+rts, and by twisting the bits and tying them together, we might make a line long enough to reach the ground, and strong enough to haul up a thick rope.

We forthwith, therefore, set to work; and having tried each bit as we fastened it on, we were satisfied that our line would answer our purpose.

It was nearly dusk by the time we had finished it; and lest some one should by chance come in and see what we had been about, we hid it away under the mattress. It was fortunate that we took this precaution, for just as we had done so the door opened, and a gaoler, accompanied by our kind friend, Don Eduardo, and another person, entered the room. Don Eduardo bowed to us, and as he took a seat which Sancho offered him, he looked at us rather sternly, as much as to signify that we must not appear on familiar terms.

"I have brought this gentleman to prepare your defence for you, Senores, as I hear that you are to be tried to-morrow," he said, in a kind tone.

"I am sorry to tell you that it will go hard with you if you cannot establish your innocence."

"I have to thank you very much, Don Eduardo," I answered; "but all we can do is to protest our innocence--we have no witnesses. The Indians, who might have proved that we were ourselves taken prisoners by their chief, have this morning been shot."

"It is indeed a difficult case," remarked the advocate. "I will do my best, Don Eduardo; and we must hope that something will appear in their favour."

I need not repeat all that took place. The advocate asked us a variety of questions, and made a number of notes; and then rising, followed Don Eduardo, who stiffly bowed to us as before, out of the room. Sancho, who went last, turned his head over his shoulder, and shook his head, with a grave expression on his face, which showed us that he thought our case was desperate. This circ.u.mstance made us more anxious than ever to effect our escape; and we waited anxiously for the signal the English sailor had promised us. By degrees the noises inside and outside the prison died away. People, fatigued with the excitement of the morning, had retired earlier than usual to their homes, and the square was totally deserted. It was very dark, for there was no moon, and a thick mist rising from the river, hung over the town; and what was of more use to us, there was a strong wind, which howled and moaned among the buildings, and rattled about the tiles. The time seemed to pa.s.s very slowly; and we began to fancy that the seaman might have been prevented from fulfilling his intention.

"Perhaps he was watched speaking to us, and has been taken up by the officers of justice," I remarked.

"Perhaps he was found coming here with a rope in his possession," said Pedro; "or perhaps he was deceiving us."