Up the Forked River: or, Adventures in South America

Barely more than a hundred yards separated the two craft, when the explosion came. General Yozarro had aimed to sink the other boat, reckless of the lives he sacrificed. It may have been and it probably was because he took the best aim he could, that the ball missed the catboat by twenty feet and crashed harmlessly into the jungle beyond.

The delay caused by the slackening speed of the tug gave our friends the chance they were prompt to use. Not the slightest change had been made in the course of the craft, whose prow the next moment impinged sharply against the shore, and Captain Guzman and Martella sprang out. Instead of running away, however, they seized the gunwale and tugged to draw the bow up the bank.

Grasping the hand of his sister, Major Starland dashed after them. They had the length of the boat to travel, but quickly did it and joined their friends on land.

“Why do you dally?” he called angrily; “if you wait another minute, you will be taken! Off with you!”

“Fret not about us,” was the gruff response of Martella; “attend to the Señorita, and we’ll look after ourselves.”

The great fear in the minds of all was that General Yozarro would fire the rear gun. It would take a few minutes to bring it to bear, and, although neither he nor his men knew how to aim to hit, an accident might result in harm. The passing seconds were of measureless value.

But, before the tug could veer, a gleam of returning reason came to the ruffian. He had done an outrageous thing, but providentially without evil consequences. It would not do for him to repeat the crime. He might claim, as doubtless he meant to claim, that the first shot was fired as a warning to bring the smaller craft to, though in all his life he never tried harder to destroy and kill.

He shouted to the Captain to head for land, and the officer did so with a skill born of experience. In rounding to, he narrowly missed smashing the smaller boat.

Now, through one of those coincidences which occur oftener in this life than is supposed, the catboat had touched shore at the opening of a clearly-marked trail, leading into the interior. It was pure chance or providence, for even Martella knew nothing of the path, which was one of many that wound down to the river. It was his intention to plunge into the jungle with no other thought than that of immediately finding a hiding place for his friends and himself, when he happened upon the path. Yielding to impulse, he called out the fact and told the others to follow, as he hurried up the slight incline.

But a few paces told him this would never do, for their pursuers would be right behind them. He abruptly stopped.

“We must turn off,” he said, “and let them pass us.”

“They may not do so,” suggested Starland.

“They will not know where to look for us.”

He began picking a course among the matted vegetation, unmindful of the dangers that might threaten. Miss Starland went next, then her brother, and then Captain Guzman. They penetrated no more than twenty feet, when, at a whispered word from Martella, all halted, and, as they had done earlier in the evening, watched for their pursuers to pass. In this instance, however, the path was so screened that nothing could be seen, and our friends depended wholly upon their sense of hearing.

Less than ten minutes elapsed between the landing of the two parties. General Yozarro was the first to set foot on shore, and, noting the trail, he started up it on a lope, with the others hurrying after him. Their footsteps were heard by the crouching fugitives, who were unable to see a single shadowy form.

“How long will they keep that up?” asked Major Starland when the last had gone by.

“Not long,” answered Captain Guzman; “they know the Señorita cannot travel fast, and that, if we took the trail, they must quickly come up with us.”

“Failing to overtake us, what will they do next?”

But for the darkness, the Captain would have been seen to shrug his shoulders. It was the deserter who spoke:

“They can do nothing but wait.”

“Martella, I am now ready to join you in capturing the tugboat.”

“Esta buena! Esta buena!” whispered the delighted fellow; “it makes no difference, if there is more risk, for we do not know how many they have left behind.”

“Hang the risk! Lead on!”

In his eagerness, Martella took no pains to hide the noise of tearing through the jungle, and the next moment they emerged into the trail again. The Major had already instructed his sister to stay at the rear, with the Captain directly in front of her. There was likely to be sharp fighting, and she must keep out of it.

“When we rush aboard, remain on the bank till I call to you.”

She promised to do as told, and the three men, their heads bent forward, went down the trail at the double quick, she readily keeping pace with them. The brief distance was quickly passed, and the three drew together on the edge of the river, just within the shadow.

“The Captain is in the pilot house,” whispered Martella, indicating the figure of a man who had seated himself; “but I don’t think there are any others beside the engineer and firemen.”

“Leave the Captain to me,” said the American, who sprang into the moonlight and led the way up the gang plank with the two at his heels. In his left hand was his rifle and in his right his revolver.

CHAPTER XXVIII

In his haste General Yozarro had given no orders to secure the tugboat in place, nor was there need of doing so. The water was deep enough to permit the craft to lie against the bank, where it was held by the gentle turning of the screw. With a few more vigorous revolutions, the prow would have gouged into the bank, or taken the boat into the river on the proper direction of the wheel.

Running across the gangplank, with a firearm in each hand, Major Starland bounded up the few steps leading to the upper deck. The Captain of the boat was seated in the pilot house, calmly smoking a cigarette while he waited. His gaze being turned dreamily toward the river, he saw nothing of the intruder, or, if he heard his footsteps, he was not disturbed. His awakening came, when the athletic American strode forward and thrust a revolver through the window of the pilot house.

“Do as I tell you and you won’t be hurt; try to do different and I’ll blow your brains out!”

These words, uttered in Spanish, were to the point. Without them, the action of the officer would have made his meaning clear. The Captain was cooler and braver than any of his countrymen. He did not stir, but looking into the face of the other, removed his cigarette and said:

“I shall be pleased, Señor, to be told in what way I can serve you.”

“You shall learn in a moment; at present continue smoking, and hold yourself ready for orders.”

He bowed and with a smile that showed his even white teeth, replied:

“I am happy to do as you say.”

“Are you armed?”

“I am the Captain of this boat; General Yozarro does not allow me to attend to any other duty; I have no weapon on me; would you prefer to search me?”

“I accept your word.”

The Major turned to look for Guzman and Martella. The sound of voices showed that they were on the boat.

“Warrenia,” he called, “come aboard!”

She was alert and moved quickly up the plank.

“Now, Captain, steam out into the river.”

“Pardon me, do you not wish the gangplank drawn in?”

“We have no time; do not wait.”

The Captain was on his feet, one hand resting on a spoke of the wheel, while the other gripped the curved piece of brass, which being drawn upward twice sent an order to the engineer to back the boat. Major Starland stood listening with some misgiving, for he did not know how things had gone below. The response, however, indicated that all was well, for almost on the instant, the screw began churning, and the boat slowly receded, allowing the gangplank, after being drawn askew, to drop with a splash into the water.

Knowing the purpose of their leader, Guzman and Martella had hurried into the engine room, where Valentin Herrera, the engineer, was found dozing. The place was smotheringly hot, and below, the firemen were asleep, so used to it that they would have slumbered in tophet itself.

There was consternation for a moment, but it did not take the visitors long to impress upon the men that the boat had been captured and that their lives depended upon their prompt acceptance of the changed conditions.

“How many are with you?” asked the engineer, who knew his former fireman so well that he did not feel much personal fear of him.

“Enough to hold you all at our mercy.”

“You know Captain Ortega is in the wheelhouse.”

“Major Starland has attended to him.”

“I have heard no pistol shot.”

“The Captain is a wise man and has surrendered; Valentin, I want to make General Yozarro angrier than before,” added Martella with a grin.

“He cannot be any angrier than he has been ever since I gave him your message; but I accept the situation. He cannot condemn his men for being overpowered when he leaves them no weapons with which to fight. You needn’t fret about the firemen or me – ”

Just then the gong clinked in response to the switching in the pilot house above.

“That means go back.”

“I wouldn’t wait, Valentin; our leader, elAmericano, is impatient, and is quick to use the revolver he carries.”

“It is my duty to obey orders,” commented the engineer, with another grin, as he made the necessary shifting of cranks and levers to set the machinery to plunging and swinging. The drowsy firemen cared little for what was going on over their heads and slouchily threw wood into the furnace.

“It is my wish to go to Zalapata,” Major Starland explained to the Captain of the tug; “General Yozarro set out to take my sister there last night, but seems to have changed his mind, for he brought her only part way. We will now complete the journey.”

“At the highest speed, Señor?”

The American did not catch the significance of this question, but accidentally he made the best answer.

“There is no haste necessary; we shall be able to reach there soon after sunrise; you know how fast to go; am I understood?”

“Perfectly, Señor.”

Feeling himself master of the craft, Starland now went back into the Captain’s cabin to see his sister, whom he found seated in the quarters which had been occupied by her and the Señorita Estacardo the evening before. Although this species of craft are not intended to carry passengers, outside the necessary equipment, General Yozarro had caused the small compartment to be fitted up and furnished suitably for the entertainment of guests. The swinging lamp was lighted overhead, and the bottles, glasses and fragments of cigarettes showed how the Dictator and his friends had spent most of the time in coming from Atlamalco.

Miss Starland was flustered and nervous, but the cool self possession of her brother greatly reassured her.

“That was a clever trick we played upon the scamp,” said he with a smile.

“What do you intend to do with the boat?”

“Take you to Zalapata; it would serve him right if I scuttled it, but I will turn it over to Bambos to keep or destroy as he pleases – ”

She was about to speak, when shouts and calls caused both to hurry outside. As might have been anticipated, General Yozarro and his party had speedily returned and had halted on the edge of the river, the President shouting his orders for Captain Ortega to return at once. The Major, standing beside the pilot house, could not deny himself the pleasure of answering for the other.

“The Captain is under my orders; he cannot obey you.”

“That is my boat!” howled General Yozarro; “return at once or suffer the consequences of your thievery.”

“I’ll suffer the consequences, but I am only borrowing it for a little while; you did not seem to be able to deliver Miss Starland to Zalapata, and I will do it myself; I place at your disposal the small boat we left behind.”

“I shall make known your crime to your government,” shouted the Dictator, for nothing better to say.

“I shall be glad; perhaps it would be better to lay it before The Hague Tribunal. The whole world will be interested in learning what a cowardly wretch calls himself President of the Atlamalcan Republic.”

CHAPTER XXIX

It is quite probable that General Yozarro felt himself unequal to the situation, for he said nothing more. He could plainly be seen standing out in front of his friends, who, he noted, were busy at something. They were hoisting the sail of the catboat and the whole party scrambled aboard, as it was shoved from shore. Their weight sank the craft low, but it buoyed them safely, and the smaller craft began its pursuit of the larger one, somewhat after the manner of a handcar chasing a locomotive.

As before, there was no comparison in their speed, despite the fact that the tug had slowed down considerably. Major Starland ordered the Captain to hold their relative position. His contempt for the ruffian Dictator was so deep that he could not forbear exulting over him.

The men in the fire room knew that they had no choice except to obey the orders sent down to them. No responsibility could attach to them, and the American would visit fearful punishment upon any disobedience or treachery.

Guzman and Martella came to the upper deck, where Major Starland was holding converse with Captain Ortega.

“I wish,” said the Major, speaking too low for the Captain to hear him, “you would find out how many are in the boat yonder. I make it six.”

The three gave several minutes to scrutiny and agreed there were seven, which was more than had been supposed.

“And all are heavily armed, some with pistols and some with swords; if they should come alongside, they could give us a pretty fight.”

Captain Guzman took it upon himself to say:

“General Yozarro and Captain Sepulveda – if he is there – are the biggest cowards in the Atlamalcan army, but the others are fighters. I know three of them who are worse than tiger cats. They are eager for a chance to attack us.”

“And they should have it, but for two reasons: it will be too great a trial for my sister. We could beat them off, except for the danger in our rear.”

The two looked inquiringly at the American.

“That Captain at the wheel is one of the bravest of men. He is devoted to General Yozarro, or at least holds him in fear; the moment he gained a chance to strike a blow for him he would strike hard, no matter at what risk to himself.”

“He carries no arms; he has no chance.”

“He may know where he can lay hand on a weapon; if he attacked us behind, while we were repelling boarders – as I am sure he would – the jig would be up. So I have ordered him to keep the present distance between us and their boat. After awhile, we shall pull away from them.”

There was no driving off the uneasiness regarding Captain Ortega. Starland sauntered over to the pilot house, and, with assumed carelessness, kept furtive watch of the man. He could see nothing suspicious in his deportment. He had flung away his cigarette, and both hands were upon the spokes of the wheel, which now and then were shifted slightly as cause arose. He peered keenly ahead, for the bifurcated river has its treacherous places, like our own Mississippi, and he who guides so large a craft in its current has need to keep his wits about him. The moonlight gave a fine view of the broad stream, and the Captain seemed to feel no interest in anything else.

“I don’t know whether he is up to mischief or not,” reflected the American; “if he is, he is mighty sly. Let him try to play me false and I won’t hesitate a minute to shoot him.”

The Major looked toward the other boat, which instead of trailing directly at the rear, was following a parallel course, about half way between the tug and the southern shore, and some two hundred yards to the rear. Filled with so many men, the craft looked like a variegated bouquet floating down the muddy Rio Rubio.

It was the fact that General Yozarro maintained a pursuit which, in the nature of things, was hopeless, that caused Major Starland misgiving. It must be that the Dictator was counting upon some move in his favor by the Captain of the tug, which held the former to his course, and the latter was biding his time. Studying hard, the American could think of no scheme which promised the slightest success in this direction, but none the less, he was convinced that something was on foot, and that it could be frustrated only by alertness on his own part.

In this uncomfortable frame of mind, he came down from the upper deck and followed his two friends forward, where they were leaning against the pile of wood near the gun. Both were smoking and occasionally glancing up at the pilot house, as if they too were apprehensive of the man, whose head and shoulders were in sight. He had resumed smoking and the tip of his cigarette glowed in the moonlight.

The three stood for a few minutes without speaking, when Martella straightened up and asked in a low voice:

“Have you noticed, Major, that our speed has increased within the last few minutes?”

The American looked off over the water and then at the shore, but could see nothing to enlighten him.

“The other boat is falling behind,” said Captain Guzman.

Glancing at the smaller craft, all doubt was instantly removed. The tug was steadily drawing away from it.

“Captain,” he called, looking up at the pilot house; “we are going too fast; slacken your speed.”

“As you please, Señor; I beg your pardon.”

The signal was sent down to the engineer, who quickly brought about a diminution in the progress of the tug.

“Probably it was unintentional – ”

At that moment, all felt a jar through the craft, accompanied by such a rapid slackening of pace that the three took an involuntary step forward.

“We’ve run aground!” exclaimed Starland.

“There’s no doubt of it,” calmly added Martella.

CHAPTER XXX

It was done purposely!” added the American, placing his hand on his revolver. Glancing up from where he stood, the head and shoulders of Captain Ortega were in fair sight through the lowered slide at the front of the pilot house. He made no attempt to elude the bullet that he must have expected.

But prudence told the American to wait. The services of the other were too valuable for the time to be thrown away, even though the man was under suspicion. Besides, there was one chance in a hundred that the mishap was unintentional.

Hardly had the motion of the boat ceased, when the double clinking of the gong in the engine room sounded, accompanied by the jangling of the bell, which called upon the engineer to reverse instantly at full speed. The water at the stern was threshed into muddy foam, but the craft did not slide off the incline up which it had partly glided.

“Give her full head!” called Major Starland.

“We are doing so, Señor!” replied the placid Captain.

“Your life depends on getting the boat off.”

The other made no reply, but with the hand on the pulse of his patient, as may be said, he noted all the symptoms. He was seen to turn and look in the direction of the catboat, as if he expected something from that. He was not disappointed.

General Yozarro and his friends were quick to note the mishap that had befallen the tug and they headed their craft toward it. They meant to board, and, despite the bravery of the defenders they were quite certain to succeed, since, as has been shown, the “house was divided against itself.”

The American dashed to the stern, calling upon Guzman to follow. It took them but a moment to turn the muzzle of the gun so that it bore directly upon the catboat.

“If you come any nearer, I’ll blow you out of water!”

Then the Major added a bit of information which perhaps was superfluous:

“We Americans always hit what we aim at.”

General Yozarro saw that it would never do. He was heard to speak sharply to the man at the tiller, and the small boat immediately veered off. Daring as some of the inmates might be, they had not the courage to advance straight against the throat of a gaping six-pounder.

“Martella, take charge of the other gun!” called the Major to the deserter, who, as quick as himself to note the danger, had stepped to the side of the second piece of ordnance. The two half-circles commanded by these included the whole horizon, a fact which General Yozarro and his comrades were not likely to forget.

It would seem that it was impossible for Captain Ortega, with the aid of the engineer, to effect any change in the position of the tugboat, while it stuck to the submerged bank, like a bull ramming its head against a stone wall. Instead of staying motionless the stern swung slowly to the right and then to the left, as if trying to wriggle its nose out of the mud. This caused the muzzle of the cannon to wabble, sometimes being directed straight at the sailboat, and sometimes to one side of it. But the gun was so easily shifted that the American could readily perfect the aim whenever he chose, and that would be done the instant the enemy tried to run in upon him.

There was a fighting chance for the Atlamalcans. They were so near that by fiddling back and forth they might by a sudden dash close in. Most likely, had the wind been strong they would have tried this, but the breeze remained so soft that quick action was impossible. The situation was so critical that Major Starland warned the others of what was certain to follow an attempt to board.

“General Yozarro, I hold a repeating rifle in my hand; you are in clear view; just before firing the cannon, I shall shoot you, and when I pull trigger, you’ll drop!”

The Dictator was on his feet about to summon the others to surrender, with threats of the consequences that would follow a refusal. The words of the American threw him into a panic and in his haste to scramble back, he tumbled over the man directly behind him, not ceasing his frantic efforts till he was cowering at the stern.

The laugh of the American was heard, before he called out:

“I’ll pick you out, no matter where you are in the boat, but I sha’n’t fire till you try to run in on us. We’ll rake you fore and aft, and if you don’t believe what I say, all you have to do is to test me.”

The General could be heard consulting with his officers. Evidently the counsels were divided and some favored making the rush, despite its danger, for, as has been shown, not all of them were poltroons, but that awful threat of the American had done what it was intended to do. Had General Yozarro followed his own promptings, he would have withdrawn, but he lacked the courage to do that, and in his dilemma tried diplomacy.

“Major Starland, I have naught against you, though you have stolen my property, but I have the right to demand that you surrender the deserter with you. Do that, and we will trouble you no more.”

“You are not troubling me in the least; I’m enjoying this, though it doesn’t seem to give you much amusement. However, you may as well save your words regarding the noble Martella, who has served us so well. He has cast his fate with us and I consider him worth a thousand such as you.”

There was really no call for the General to keep up the conversation and he subsided. The action of the current steadily bore his boat forward, but the helmsman shied off toward the northern bank, and bye and bye, was farther down stream than the tug. Either one or the other of the six-pounders carefully followed the relative change of position, and an eighth of a mile below the smaller craft glided out of sight around a sweeping bend in the river.

All this time the screw of the tugboat was viciously churning, but the prow held fast. Once or twice a trembling of the hull seemed to show a partial lessening of the hold, but nothing more.

The danger of boarding having passed for the time, Major Starland returned to the cabin to speak to his sister. She had understood everything that had taken place and needed no cheering. Then he rejoined Captain Guzman and Martella at the front.

“We are free of the General for awhile.”

“But there is no saying for how long,” remarked the Captain.

“What do you think he means to do?”

“I cannot guess, unless it is to keep on to Zalapata and to appeal to General Bambos.”

“Which is likely to be bad for you, Captain, unless Bambos is anxious after all to go to war, as he pretended the other day.”