“DOWN for your lives,” cried O’Neil, grasping the benumbed lads, and dragging them to the bottom of the trench.
A heavy fusillade of musketry from behind them, a stamping of many feet in their rear, then a swarm of humanity had pressed in close to the almost empty trench and were emptying the contents of their rifles at the surprised enemy but a rod away.
The lads were filled with joy; the reserves had arrived. Phil peered out between the loyal rifles around him at the startled, disappointed enemy; they had been sure of victory until this second and now, their ranks depleted by hundreds left on the naked field behind them, they had still opposed to them a formidable force of loyal soldiers, whose number they did not know. Their confidence had flown; this terrible hill had been a death trap, while they had been assured of an easy and bloodless victory. For an instant they hesitated; then they turned and retreated, a scathing fire from the coveted trenches impelling them onward in their flight for safety.
The excitement among the government troops was intense. The three Americans were cheered to the echo by the wildly joyful soldiers.
A group of horsemen galloped up the hill; they approached the trenches amid welcoming cries from the men.
“Come, Syd, we can do no more here,” Phil cried breathlessly. “Let’s get away quickly.”
With O’Neil, they pressed their way through the jubilant natives, but had gone but a short distance when they were stopped by a horseman; he reined in his foaming steed, swung himself from his saddle and placed himself smilingly before them.
“Our president desires to meet our American allies,” he cried proudly.
Phil’s countenance fell. He had been hoping to avoid this meeting, yet he could not refuse; to do so would have the appearance of a slight to the chief magistrate of the country.
He acknowledged the honor paid them with appropriate words, and then they followed the officer back toward the group of horsemen now halted in the rear of the trenches which the boys had just left.
“My good friends,” a familiar voice hailed in Spanish, and the next minute the lads were embraced by their warm friend, Captain Garcia.
“General Barras,” the latter cried, dragging the bashful Americans forward, “to these three American officers we owe our success at Rio Grande.”
The general’s face was wreathed in smiles. He was joyful at snatching victory from what had seemed to him but a few minutes before utter defeat. He grasped the hands of both lads and in his native tongue expressed his heartfelt obligations.
“Señors,” he said, “you have accomplished that which I was powerless to do. These machine guns I knew were leaving your country for my enemy, but I was powerless to find out the means by which they were to be landed; your marvelous work here to-day has saved my government from being overthrown and the lawless rebels raised to power. Your defense of this hill with but a company of raw soldiers has won our highest praise.”
Captain Garcia’s face wore a puzzled look. He knew nothing of the defense of La Mesa.
“General Barras,” he exclaimed, “these gentlemen have shown themselves our staunch friends; they have risked their lives many times for our cause. I have told you but an unimportant part of their work for me on board the ‘Aquadores,’ and now they have saved the day for us here. Cannot we suitably reward them for their heroic services?”
“General Barras,” Phil finally managed to explain to the president of the republic, who had been directing the defense in person, “for my companions and myself, I thank you for the high compliments you and Captain Garcia are paying us, but we dare not allow the knowledge of our work to become common property. I crave your pardon if we appear ungrateful, but we ask that our services here and at Rio Grande be kept as secret as is possible.” He stopped, seeing the disappointment and surprise on the president’s face; then he continued hurriedly: “These machine guns arrived in La Boca in such a manner that we felt ourselves in honor bound to see that they did no harm to your government; the small service we have been able to do for you has been made possible through our determination to prevent the guns from falling into the hands of your enemy. We have acted upon the dictates of our consciences, but we are in the naval service of the United States and our motives, if the circumstances were known, might be easily misconstrued to our ruin.”
The president, though disappointed at not being allowed to show his official appreciation for their invaluable services, readily promised secrecy, and after bidding them farewell they were allowed to continue on their way.
“Those are the two finest dagos I have ever seen,” exclaimed O’Neil, after they had gotten out of ear-shot.
The excitement of the last half hour had been so intense that the lads had quite forgotten to ask of O’Neil his experiences in the house of Juarez.
“How did you get into the house?” Phil questioned the sailor, while they walked rapidly toward the city.
The boatswain’s mate told his experiences, quite ashamed of his conduct.
“I certainly acted like a landlubber,” he complained mournfully. “I walked right into the spider’s web with both eyes wide open, but seeing nothing. Think of my deserting you and letting you do all this work alone.”
Then it was O’Neil’s turn to ask questions, and the lads told him of their nerve-racking ordeal in the tunnel and of their difficulty in getting the soldiers to help them.
“I was on the right track then, after all,” cried O’Neil. “It was Juarez’s house, and he was at home. It wasn’t a very hospitable reception he gave me,” he added, putting his hand to his swollen head. “I fired at one of them in the darkness and that’s the last I remember until the little dago doctor tried to make me swallow some ill-tasting medicine. Then I broke away from him and ran up the hill just in time to see Mr. Lazar point his gun at you; his face was not encouraging, so I thought the gun was safer in its holster.”
“He wouldn’t have dared shoot you, Phil,” Sydney exclaimed, “would he?”
“He might have,” answered the lad thoughtfully; “he saw that we must defeat his plans if we remained, and in the excitement after the assault had commenced, it could not have been laid at his door.”
The Americans were now in the city. They walked rapidly through the crowded streets; excited groups of natives had gathered and were discussing in loud tones the battle which they had just witnessed from afar. They had seen the assault and had expected to see their homes given over to pillage.
“Where are we going?” asked Sydney, as they pressed their way through the joyful natives.
“To the legation,” Phil explained. “I am going to put the minister on his guard against the villain who gave him the information which nearly lost the day for the government. Once the president of the republic, General Barras, hears of his treachery, his firm will cease to do business in La Boca.”
“The firm can be no other than La Fitte and Company,” declared Sydney, “the one that is striving to get the concessions away from the American syndicate; but this man surely cannot hope to succeed now; the rebels have lost. With the Colt guns, properly handled, in addition to artillery and infantry, the city will now be impregnable.”
“Quite true,” agreed Phil, “but it is better to render this man harmless; he doubtless stands high in the confidence of General Barras. You heard the minister say that he did not wish his name connected with the information; that was of course an act of caution in case the rebels failed; but now I feel sure the minister will divulge his name.”
Reaching the legation they met Marshall, in charge in Lazar’s absence; his men ready under arms in case of need.
He greeted them in astonishment. The midshipmen for the first time appreciated what a sorry sight they presented; their white uniforms stained with mud and sprinkled with blood; while O’Neil’s burly figure was incased in a suit of khaki many sizes too small.
“Who won?” Marshall questioned anxiously. “We have been hearing the firing for the last two hours. The bullets have been whistling over us by the hundreds.”
“It’s all over,” Phil answered. “General Ruiz was repulsed and General Barras holds his lines strongly.”
Marshall and his men were not at all pleased to hear the news. They had anticipated interesting work if the city were taken by the rebels and their longing for adventure had received a keen disappointment.
“All this work for nothing,” Marshal cried dejectedly. “We have been kept here ready for over two weeks, expecting any moment to have exciting times, and now there isn’t going to be anything.”
“Where’s the minister?” questioned Phil intent on his mission.
“Inside, in his office,” answered Marshall, leading the way into the legation.
The diplomat received them immediately, his manner anxious and excited.
“We can see nothing from this house,” he exclaimed, as the midshipmen entered the office, “and I have as yet heard no news of the battle. Mr. Lazar went out to the lines to observe, but as yet has not returned, and the firing has been stopped now for over a half hour.” Then his restless eyes were attracted to the disheveled uniform of the lads before him. “You have been in the battle?” he questioned eagerly. “Tell me quickly, must I send to the admiral to land his men? Are the rebels advancing into the city?”
“We witnessed the fight,” Phil answered promptly; “your fears are groundless, sir. General Barras has repulsed the enemy at every point;” he stopped and looked at the minister, a mischievous smile on his face; “the main attack was on La Mesa.”
The minister gasped.
“And on Tortuga Hill, what of that?” he exclaimed in alarm.
“The attack there was a well devised feint that came near defeating the government,” Phil explained, and then he tersely described the battle, but said nothing of the part they had taken.
“Then I might have brought defeat on the government arms in giving the information I had received from Señor Mareno,” he cried aghast. “What does it mean?”
“It means,” returned Phil dramatically, “that Mr. Mareno is in league with the rebels.”
“Impossible,” exclaimed the minister quickly. “His firm has too much at stake to cast their fortunes with such scoundrels.”
Phil was surprised that the minister could not see the villainy of Mareno; it was plain enough to him. Then he realized the minister did not possess the mass of incriminating evidence that they held against him. How could he show the true character of this man without betraying himself and his companions?
“What about the valuable concessions held by the American syndicate?” he asked, seeing a way to enlighten the minister. “Who has the power to give and take away this concession right?”
“The president of Verazala only,” replied he perplexedly.
“Very well, sir,” continued Phil; “if Ruiz was president to whom would he give the concession?”
“To those who offer him the largest price,” the minister answered readily, “and that has always been this American syndicate.”
“Yes, but suppose he should be heavily in debt financially to the firm of Señor Mareno, besides being bound down by promises before he became president. What then?” questioned Phil.
“I remember now that La Fitte and Company have bid for the concession,” said the minister thoughtfully, “but their price was too small. It’s but a matter of money, you see.”
“Is Mr. Mareno of that firm?” asked Phil, though he knew he must be.
“Yes,” replied the minister, “he is the head and the largest stockholder.”
“Then that proves my case,” cried the lad. “La Fitte and Company desire the Pitch-Lake concession and also the new concession which American capital is endeavoring to obtain, to open up the rich mining country in the interior of the republic, which will include the right to build a railroad over the mountains and thereby open to the sea the large rubber, coffee and sugar industries now shut in by this impassable mountain range.”
“Remarkable,” exclaimed the minister, intensely excited. “Why should I not have thought of that? I believed it was but a meaningless revolution to change the party in power. I had no thought that such black intrigue might be bound up in it. What villains these men are to sacrifice hundreds of lives for the sake of their own pockets.”
“It was by the merest accident that we unearthed the plot,” said Phil delighted at the success of his argument. “There are many of Ruiz’s sympathizers within the city who would have welcomed him with delight if he had been even partially successful to-day. Many of General Barras’ regiments were ready with but slight encouragement to join the rebels; all of this was done with Señor Mareno’s gold.”
“What treachery!” the minister cried angrily. “I shall write immediately to the president and give him the name of my informant.” Then he looked with admiration at the midshipmen. “You boys are a marvel to me; how did you ever find this out?”
Well pleased with the impression their disclosure had made on the minister, they withdrew from his presence without telling him further. They were glad he hadn’t required proofs; to have given them would have greatly embarrassed the lads, for they could not tell the minister of the part they had taken in recapturing the arms; he might not agree to secrecy and this knowledge in the hands of the State Department in Washington might cause serious consequences.
O’Neil joined them at the door of the legation; he was now in a sailor uniform, borrowed from one of the men of the guard.
“Mr. Lazar is here,” he whispered, “with a Spaniard; they just came through the gate. There they are,” he added as the two men approached the house by the gravel walk and mounted the steps of the legation.
As Lazar passed them the lads saluted stiffly. He turned a glance full of hatred on them.
“Mr. Perry, wait here; I wish to see you,” he ordered sharply, then he and the visitor entered the minister’s office.
Phil stepped inside the house noiselessly and stopped breathlessly to listen. A sound of voices raised excitedly came from within the room. Phil quickly rejoined his companions.
“That was Mareno,” he exclaimed, “the owner of the automobile. I can never forget his voice in the tunnel. He will try to undo our work with the minister.”
Inside of a minute Señor Mareno appeared; his swarthy face was pale, showing the mental strain he was enduring.
“You see, I too was deceived,” he was urging the minister, standing on the threshold of his office.
The latter’s answer was diplomatic:
“You can readily explain that to General Barras,” he answered. “My letter will show him that I did not misinform him intentionally.”
Señor Mareno thought deeply and was about to speak, but as he glanced up at the office door the minister had gone within. Then he turned and regarded the midshipmen blankly; a spark of recognition turned his face unconsciously a shade paler, then he strode away down the steps without a word.
A moment afterward Lazar confronted them.
“Mr. Perry,” he said coldly, “you have put your authority above mine. I order you and your companions to return to the ship immediately. Your mutinous conduct on La Mesa shall not pass unnoticed.”
Phil’s blood boiled with anger. His hands twitched and he controlled himself with difficulty. He glanced at his companions, who regarded him inquiringly; he saw he must obey.
As they left the legation, they pondered deeply over their predicament. Lazar would report the occurrence on La Mesa. The admiral and Captain Taylor might in their hearts be glad the lads had acted as they had, but their high positions in the navy forbade their official countenance.
Lazar might not see fit to report aught but Phil’s disobedience; in time of urgent danger on foreign soil, he, as their senior officer ashore, had ordered them to leave La Mesa and Phil had deliberately refused for himself and companions.
The penalty in the “articles of war” under which naval courts adjudged their punishments was dismissal from the service.