Jack's position was now similar to that of Tantalus. Love was within his reach, yet he dared not to grasp it, for on the next day he was to depart with Don Rafael for Janjalla, in the torpedera Montezuma. Peter had also been invited to visit the seat of war, and although a man of peace, decided to go, as he was anxious about Tim. That redoubtable warrior was at Janjalla, with General Gigedo, busily engaged in wiring sensational accounts of the siege to The Morning Planet. Tim was particularly anxious that Janjalla should not fall into the hands of Don Hypolito, as it was the spot whence started the telegraph-wires for the south. If Xuarez captured the town, the forces of the Junta would be driven back to Tlatonac, and as likely as not the wires would be cut by the rebels, therefore Tim would be unable to transmit news to England. As it was, he made good use of his time, and took full possession of the telegraph-office in Janjalla.

As to Philip, he decided to march by land with the Regimiento de los Caballeros, of which corps he was now an officer. Colonel Garibay, the commander of the regiment, was already at Janjalla, having been sent there by President Gomez on a special message to General Gigedo. The regiment was, therefore, under the command of Captain Velez, who was a great admirer of Philip, and made much of him. Altogether reinforcements amounting to close on a thousand men were now on their way south, to assist General Gigedo in holding Janjalla, and the torpederas, in company with the armed cruiser Iturbide, were to proceed there by sea, in order to destroy, if possible, the three ships of the enemy now bombarding the town.

There was no doubt that the war had begun badly for the Junta, but this was the fault of President Gomez. A more obstinate man never existed, and having made up his mind that Xuarez would attack Tlatonac without delay, he had foolishly withdrawn the garrison from Janjalla, Puebla de los Naranjos, Chichimec, and other towns, for the protection of the capital. It was in vain that Don Miguel, warned by his son, represented that it was more than probable Xuarez would attack Janjalla first, in order to concentrate his troops in the south, and so march them across the plains to Tlatonac. The President refused to take this view of the matter, and by the withdrawal of the garrisons, left the whole of Southern Cholacaca in an unprotected condition.

The effect of this policy was most disastrous. Warned by his spies that but a feeble defence could be offered by Janjalla, Don Hypolito sent southward, without delay, transports filled with troops, and a convoy of the three war-ships. He hoped to capture and garrison Janjalla with his own men before the Junta became aware of his design, and thus secure an important town as the basis of his operations. At Acauhtzin he was hemmed in by mountains, unable to march his troops overland to the capital; but in the south, between Janjalla and Tlatonac were vast alluvial plains, over which he could lead his army. It was his intention to effect a conjunction with the Forest Indians before the walls of the Opal City, and having ordered his war-ships to bombard it by sea, thus attack the capital on two sides at once. Between two fires, he deemed that the city would speedily yield.

Becoming aware that the war-ships had gone south, Don Francisco speedily saw how foolishly he had acted, and ordered five hundred men to at once proceed to Janjalla, to defend it against the rebels. He sent back the troops to garrison the inland towns, and thus hoped to stretch a barrier between the rebels and the capital. The whole danger lay in the south, for as yet the Indians were quiet, and no rising was apprehended on their part, though Jack was doubtful as to the advisability of trusting to appearances. He quite believed that the campaign would be conducted by Xuarez, as had been prophesied by Don Rafael, and could not help deploring that such an incompetent man as Gomez was at the head of affairs.

"If he would only leave things alone, and not interfere," he said to Philip, on the eve of departure. "His generals know more about warfare than he does. The man's an ass."

"I'm with you there," replied Philip, heartily; "he has made a muddle of things already. Who but an ass would send only five hundred men to Janjalla, when it is about to be bombarded by three men-of-war, and attacked by two thousand rebel troops? Even this reinforcement is not strong enough. Sending his troops southward in these dribblets will end in their being cut to pieces. I would not be surprised if even now Xuarez was in possession of Janjalla, and, with such a basis for operations, he will make it hot for the Republic."

"What do you think ought to have been done?"

"I was speaking to Colonel Garibay, and we both came to the same conclusion. Don Francisco ought to have taken the warning of Rafael, and concentrated most of the troops at Janjalla. The capital is well defended by its forts, and can look after itself. Janjalla, on the other hand, is in no fit state of defence to resist the heavy guns of three ships pounding at its walls. As I take it, the great aim should be to prevent Don Hypolito from getting a footing in the south by capturing Janjalla. Then he would have nothing but the sea and Acauhtzin for a field of operations. In the north, owing to the mountains, he can do nothing, and now we have the torpederas, he cannot have it all his own way at sea."

"Well, and supposing he captures Janjalla?"

Philip shrugged his shoulders.

"The result is plain enough. Instead of mountains between this and Tlatonac, he has nothing but plains on which he can manœuvre his troops. He will either capture the intervening towns or seduce them to his cause. Then he will arrive at Tlatonac, and while he is besieging it from the inland, his fleet will bombard it from the sea."

"That is if the torpederas don't sink his ships."

"Of course! I am talking of the campaign from Don Hypolito's point of view. But one thing is certain. If he captures Janjalla, this war may be prolonged for months. Think of the ruin that will mean to the country."

Philip spoke truly. Hitherto Cholacaca had enjoyed immunity from the horrors of war. From the year 1840, when under the leadership of Zuloaga, the Republic had thrown off the yoke of Spain, there had been peace for a period of forty-five years. Those fratricidal wars which constantly convulsed the communities of South America were not to be found in the history of Cholacaca. The Republic kept well within her borders, was at peace with her neighbours, and under the rule of wise rulers, devoted herself to improving her material condition.

It was true that a greater part of the country consisted of wild forests filled with unconquered Indians, but the Cholacacans had always been able to keep these savages at bay. The coast-line of the north, the immense alluvial plains of the south, were thoroughly civilised, and covered with thriving towns. The two secondary capitals, Janjalla in the south, Acauhtzin in the north, looked up to and respected their powerful sister city, Tlatonac, who held her seat in the central portion of the sea-board. Yet it must be admitted that they bore a grudge against her, as nearly all the commerce of the country poured into her walls, from thence to be distributed over the civilised world. Why should Tlatonac be the capital when they were each equally suited for the post? They had rich countries behind them, they exported goods far and wide, they had their municipal institutions, their walls, ramparts, palaces, and magnificent churches. Why, therefore, should they be forced to send their ships to the port of Tlatonac, there to pay toll and custom duties? The Junta had constituted Tlatonac the starting-point of all vessels, and according to law, ships from the north and south were forced, both in going and coming, to report themselves at the capital. By this means Tlatonac dominated her sister cities, and held them firmly under her thumb.

The reason that Tlatonac was chosen to be the capital by Zuloaga was very plain. It was situated in the centre of the coast-line, and thus commanded equally the north and the south. It had been the shrine of the opal, and the traditions of that stone closely interwoven with the history of the country. Greatest reason of all, the harbour was the finest in Cholacaca. Moreover, roads from most of the inland towns diverged to the capital, thus rendering communication easy; while Janjalla, environed by swamps, and Acauhtzin girdled by forests, were more or less shut off from the heart of the country. When inland traders could transport their goods to Tlatonac at half the cost they could take them to either of the other two towns, it was not likely, from a commercial point of view, that they would ever forsake the capital. Under the circumstances, it can well be seen that Gomez had good reason to doubt the fidelity of Janjalla. The northern town had, through jealousy of Tlatonac, sided with the rebels, and it was just possible that the southern city might follow suit. The only thing in favour of Janjalla remaining faithful was that while both towns were jealous of the capital, they were equally jealous of one another. The populace of Janjalla knew well that if Xuarez conquered that he would transfer the seat of Government to Acauhtzin out of gratitude for its help, and would certainly not assist a cause calculated to elevate a rival city.

The Republic was very wealthy. She exported tobacco, coffee, cacao, cotton, rice, maize, and cattle. Her plains were covered with grain, her mountains were rich in ores, and her population extremely industrious. With the exception of the area covered by the forests, the whole country was cultivated, and now the formation of a railway through the forests, up to Acauhtzin promised the opening up of the northern lands. Already fifty miles of railway had pierced the enormous belt of timber lying between Acauhtzin and the capital. From the main line, branches were to extend to the different towns, so as to connect them with the seat of Government. Unfortunately, all this promise of prosperity was now interrupted by the war.

There was no doubt that Don Hypolito was a source of infinite trouble to the country. This Indian coming from the sacred city of Totatzine, was now revenging himself on the descendants of the Conquistadores, for their treatment of his ancestors. He had no genuine cause for dissatisfaction, as at the time when he raised the standard of revolt, the country was thoroughly prosperous. The wealth gained by the exports of the Republic was used by her Presidents to open up the interior of the continent, and to supply Tlatonac with all the refinements of civilisation. The army was well drilled, well clothed, well armed. The walls of the city were built on the most approved system of engineering science, the principal squares were lighted by electricity, millions had been expended on drainage, in the formation of interior roads, in the construction of the proposed railway to Acauhtzin. The Republic had even formed the nucleus of a navy, and had already three war-ships in hand, and two torpederas coming, when the war broke out.

Now the war-ships had revolted to Xuarez, the northern capital was bound to his cause, and this ambitious Indian, assuming the name and race of a Spaniard, had plunged the country into what promised to be a disastrous war. The effect was ruinous. Business was at a standstill, exports were stopped, the capital was declared in a state of siege, and the whole country resounded with the tramp of armies, the clash of arms, the thunder of cannon. Industry was paralysed, and many of the country-people crowding to the capital, rendered food dear. To avoid the horrors of famine and ruin which threatened the Republic, it was absolutely necessary that Xuarez should be crushed at once.

President Gomez was no warrior certainly, but he was a judicious ruler—in time of peace. He saw at once the terrible calamities likely to ensue should the war be prolonged, and already regretted his folly in not taking the advice of Don Miguel. So far as was possible, he repaired his mistakes. A thousand men were sent to the relief of Janjalla by land, and The Iturbide, in company with the torpederas, left for the seat of war by sea. If the reinforcements could succour Janjalla in time, if the torpederas could sink the rebel ships, then there would be some hope of the war being brought to a speedy conclusion. But as it was, the whole danger lay in the probability of Don Hypolito capturing Janjalla, from whence he could threaten the capital and intervening towns.

Jack was very anxious that Philip should come with him in The Montezuma, but the baronet was obstinately set on going with his regiment.

"I shall be in Janjalla before you, Jack; for between you and the town lie the war-ships, while we have but to march across those easy plains in safety."

"Yes, if the Indians don't stop you."

"Nonsense; there is no chance of that."

"I am not so certain, Philip. Don Hypolito has his spies, as you know; and when he hears that reinforcements are advancing southward, he will probably send word to Ixtlilxochitli to have them intercepted. As you know, the plains are fringed to the west by the forests, so the Indians could break out from thence, and perhaps exterminate the troops."

"What! exterminate a thousand soldiers, armed with rifles? Impossible!"

"Well, it does seem impossible. However, as you won't come with me, go as you please. We shall meet at Janjalla."

"Of course. I shall see you from the walls being chased, by The Pizarro and The Cortes."

They were talking in the patio of the Casa Maraquando, and Philip was tricked out in all the bravery of his uniform. He looked remarkably handsome and Eulalia sighed as she thought he was about to leave her. All coquetry had been laid aside, and she had confessed that she was deeply in love with the Americano. Philip fully returned her affection, and intended, on returning from Janjalla, to ask Don Miguel to permit them to be married on the same day as Jack and Dolores. Turning away from Jack, he caught sight of Eulalia's pensive face, and heard her plaintive little sigh. In an instant he was by her side.

"Querida," he whispered tenderly, "you must not be sad. I go forth to bring home laurels to lay at your feet."

"I would rather you were at my feet, Felipe," sobbed Eulalia. "This horrid war! I am sure you will be killed, and then I shall die. Oh yes, mi alma, I shall assuredly die."

They were standing in a secluded corner of the patio. Neither Don Miguel or Serafina were in sight, so Philip, taking advantage of the situation, kissed Eulalia once, twice, thrice. It was true Jack and Dolores were not far off, but they were too busy with each other to take much notice. Eulalia sobbed on Philip's breast, vowed she would die if he left her, told him to march forth and be a hero at once, commanded him to remain at Tlatonac, ordered him to depart for Janjalla, and thus contradicting herself every moment, smiled and wept in turns. Finally, she produced a little gold cross.

"This is for thee, my own one," she whispered slipping it into his hand. "It has been blessed by Padre Ignatius. Nought can hurt thee while the sacred thing is on thy heart."

Philip kissed the cross, kissed Eulalia, and swore he would never part with it throughout the campaign. In the middle of their tender leave-taking, a trumpet pealed forth in the Plaza de los Hombres Ilustres. It was the signal for departure.

"I must go! Farewell, my dear one. Watch from the azotea, and let your face be the last thing I behold in Tlatonac."

"Adios, mi alma," murmured Eulalia, and embraced him fondly, after which, Philip, turning hastily away, shook hands with Jack, and kissed the hands of Dolores and Serafina, the latter of whom had just entered the patio.

"Adieu, dear ladies. Good-bye, Jack. Take care of yourself, and don't be carried off to any more Indian cities. We meet at Philippi. Adios!"

With a wave of his hand he was gone, and Jack escorted the ladies to the azotea to watch the regiments departing. The Plaza was crowded with soldiers and women, the latter taking tearful leave of those marching to the front. President Gomez, attended by a brilliant staff, among whom Jack saw Don Miguel and his son, made a speech full of fire and patriotism, which caused the utmost enthusiasm. Then the banners of the different regiments were unfurled, the bands began to play the March of Zuloaga, and the soldiers began to file out of the square by the Calle Otumba.

Regiment after regiment marched past, through streets wreathed with flowers, amid tears, cheers, and wavings of handkerchiefs. The house-tops were crowded with ladies looking down on the troops. They made a gallant show as they tramped along with waving plumes and glittering arms. The cavalry soldiers came first, and those on the azotea of the Casa Maraquando saw Sir Philip riding by the side of Captain Velez, at the head of the Regimiento de los Caballeros. The banners streamed in the air, the horses champed their bits, and proudly pawed the earth, and, one vast rainbow of hues, this splendid body of men moved majestically past. Philip was riding with his drawn sword sloping over his shoulder, and as he passed the Casa Maraquando, looked up, and saluted the ladies. Eulalia hastily snatching a bunch of jasmine from her breast, let it drop when he was directly underneath. The baronet dexterously caught it, and pressing a kiss on the blossoms, fastened them in his jacket. In another minute or so, he disappeared round the corner of the street on the way to the Puerta de la Culebra, from whence the troops marched southward to Janjalla.

After the disappearance of Philip, Eulalia took no further interest in the proceedings of the day, and retired to her room, followed by Dolores, who strove to console her. Jack not caring for the sole companionship of Doña Serafina, excused himself on the plea that he wanted to ride after the troops and give Philip a message to Tim. Doña Serafina graciously permitted him to depart, and he dashed out of the house, flung himself on his horse, which was waiting at the door, and was about to ride towards the Puerta de la Culebra when Don Rafael came riding at full speed out of the Plaza! The young man seemed much excited, and in his headlong rush knocked down two or three people, so crowded was the street. Never heeding their cries, he raced past Jack, waving his hand.

"To The Montezuma, mi amigo! News of the war-ships."

Anxious to know what fresh event had taken place, and fearful that Janjalla had fallen, Jack spurred his horse after Rafael, and at a break-neck speed they clattered down the street to the sea-gate scattering the crowd in every direction.

Outside the sea-gate, Rafael headed to the left, where the torpedera Montezuma was lying, and jumping off his horse, threw the reins to a peon, and called a boat. Jack followed his example, and in a few moments they were pulling for the torpedo-vessel.

"Carambo mi amigo!" said Jack, breathlessly, "you ride like the devil. What is the matter now?"

"His Excellency has just received news that two of the war-ships have returned to Acauhtzin."

"What! Have they given up the siege?"

"No. They are acting as convoy to the transports. Xuarez is sending more troops south, and, knowing that our torpederas are not ready, thinks that The Pizarro, single-handed, is sufficient to blockade Janjalla."

"Then he has landed his other troops?" said Jack, as they sprang on board The Montezuma. "The ship guns have evidently silenced the forts, and permitted the rebels to get on shore."

"Precisely! But what matter? Reinforcements are now on their way by land, and we, my friend, will start to-morrow by sea to smash up The Pizarro."

"Will the torpederas be ready?"

"They must be ready!" cried Rafael, stamping his foot. "We may never get such another chance. If we can only sink The Pizarro, it will dishearten the troops of Xuarez now besieging Janjalla, and they can be easily defeated."

"If we can manage that, it will be a sad blow to Don Hypolito!"

"Dios! so I should think," replied Rafael, laughing gaily. "He will come south with more troops, and find Janjalla occupied by us, and his way barred by two torpederas and The Iturbide. Then The Pizarro's loss won't please him. Carajo! no."

"Bueno! But you forget The Pizarro has search-lights, torpedo-netting——"

"Not the last, mi amigo!" interrupted Rafael quickly. "I told you before, the netting was left behind in Tlatonac when the war-ships left for Acauhtzin. As to the search-lights, she can keep them on The Iturbide or on the other torpedera. Then, my friend, The Montezuma will make things unpleasant for her."

"It's a mere chance, Rafael!"

"Quien sabe!" retorted the young man, shrugging his shoulders; "all warfare is mere chance. Come and look over the boat."

As the fittings of the torpederas were somewhat complicated, engineers had been sent out from England in charge, and these, being paid heavily by the Junta, remained to manœuvre the boats. Among them Jack discovered a Scotchman, from Aberdeen, with whom he struck up a friendship. This gentleman, whose clan was Mackenzie, showed them all over the boat, and spoke in terms of great affection of the Whitehead torpedoes.

"Eh, mon!" he observed to Jack, as they surveyed those triumphs of modern warfare, "jouist gie her a shove, an' she'll smash the hail boatie to bits—into sma' bits."

"That is if the ship you propose to smash doesn't bring her heavy guns to bear on this boat."

"Hoots! hoots! mon. The Montyzumy can gang her ain gait. Nineteen knots an hour! Ma certie, it wud tack a braw gun to catch the likes o' her."

When they returned on deck from their inspection of the ship, a note was brought to Rafael, from Captain Pedraza, of The Iturbide, requesting his presence on board. They dropped into a boat, and were speedily clambering up the giant sides of the cruiser. Being conducted to the state-room, they found Captain Pedraza, surrounded by his officers, reading a message from the President.

"Ola mis amigos!" cried the captain, gaily, "you are just in time. Señor Juan, I am your servant. Don Rafael, we leave Tlatonac for Janjalla to-morrow afternoon."

"Why in the afternoon?"

"Carambo. So as to reach Janjalla at night. The Pizarro is lying there in the harbour, and, under cover of darkness, we may be able to sink her either with our guns or by means of torpedoes."

"Will the torpederas be ready?" asked Jack, for the second time.

"You may be certain of that," said Rafael, significantly. "I will guarantee that The Montezuma will be able to start at the appointed time."

"And I can say the same of The Zuloaga," observed a slim man, in whom Jack recognised the commander of the other torpedo-boat. "I think, Señor, it can be looked on as certain that all three can depart."

After this a babel of talk ensued concerning the chances of surprising The Pizarro. Some proposed one place, some another, and amid all the excitement, Jack, growing weary of the arguing, slipped out of the saloon, and went ashore, so as to have as much time as possible with Dolores before departure.

He strolled along the sea-shore, and met Cocom just outside the sea-gate. The old man saluted him gravely—

"Señor," he said, mysteriously approaching Jack; "beware of Ixtlilxochitli."

"What do you mean, Cocom?" asked Duval, rather startled.

"The Indians, Señor, are now on the war-path—to the south," added Cocom, significantly.

"Great Heaven!" ejaculated the young man, horror-struck. "They intend to surprise the reinforcements."

"That is so, Señor. But I, Cocom, have sent runners after them to warn the Señors."

"Bueno! Cocom, you are the safeguard of Cholacaca!"

"Not I, Señor; but the Chalchuih Tlatonac!"

"Oh, I haven't much belief in that."

"Don Juan!" said Cocom, significantly; "the Indians obeyed the stone implicitly—it is sacred. What it speaks they do. Red is burned and war was proclaimed. But, Señor, if it flamed blue, then would the Indians be at peace."

Before Jack could say a word, Cocom mysteriously slipped away, leaving the young man sorely puzzled as to his meaning.

"That confounded opal," he said, as he resumed his way towards the Casa Maraquando, "it meets one at every turn. They say opals are unlucky, and certainly the Chalchuih Tlatonac has not brought much luck to us as yet."

  CHAPTER XII.

A NAVAL ENGAGEMENT—NEW STYLE.

On leaving Cocom, Jack at once went to Don Miguel and informed him of the Indian rising. Maraquando thought but little of the affair, as it was unlikely unarmed savages would dare to attack a force of one thousand soldiers. Besides, the journey to Janjalla was through a civilised and cultivated country, and an Indian raid was improbable. Nevertheless, at Jack's urgent request, he spoke to President Gomez about the matter, and though his Excellency took the same view as did Maraquando, yet he sent on messengers to overtake the reinforcements and inform them of their possible danger.

The next day at three o'clock the vessels were to leave for Janjalla, but when the hour came it was found that the torpederas were far from ready. It is true The Iturbide was in a state of efficiency, and could have left Tlatonac at the appointed time, but the complicated engines of The Montezuma and The Zuloaga were somewhat out of gear. Though the engineers worked day and night to get everything in order, yet it was not until three days had elapsed that the squadron was ready to start. This delay made Rafael feel very uneasy lest the consorts of The Pizarro should return south before they could sink her by the torpedoes. He reckoned out the matter with Jack.

"Dios, mi amigo! Three days have gone since The Cortes and The Columbus passed Tlatonac with the transports to the north. It is three hundred miles to Acauhtzin, and those boats steam at the rate of twelve knots an hour——"

"True," interrupted Jack, significantly; "but the transports do not."

"That is so, Juan. Let us reckon accordingly. Steaming at the rate of twelve knots, the war-ships would probably reach Acauhtzin in twenty-five hours. Allowing for the slowness of the transports say thirty hours. In twenty-four hours they will be able to take in troops, provisions, horses and guns. That makes fifty-four hours. Steaming south to Tlatonac thirty hours. Eighty-four hours. To Janjalla from here it is a hundred miles—say twelve hours. In all ninety-six hours. Divide by twenty-four, that is exactly four days."

"At that rate, the rebel ships cannot possibly reach Janjalla before to-morrow midnight. When do we leave here?"

"About three o'clock," said Rafael, glancing at his watch. "The torpederas can knock out eighteen knots, but the full speed of The Iturbide is fifteen. We will reckon at that, so by leaving here at three can reach Janjalla long before midnight."

"Bueno! We shall have a clear twenty-four hours in which to sink The Pizarro."

"Twelve," contradicted Rafael, captiously, "we must attack in the darkness. The less risk the better."

"I don't see that it makes much difference," retorted Jack, grimly, "if The Pizarro can fight two torpedo boats and an armed cruiser she is a mighty clever ship. I look upon The Pizarro as lost."

"So do I, Juan," replied Rafael, with a sad expression flitting across his face, "she was my ship, you know. I am sorry that it falls to my lot to sink her."

"Perhaps she will surrender."

"Not while she is commanded by De Galvez. He was my first lieutenant, and is as obstinate as the devil. Dios! There is noon. We have not much time in which to make our adieux. Go up and see Dolores, mi amigo, but return by two o'clock."

Jack gladly took advantage of the permission and had a long interview with Dolores, who wept bitterly at the idea of parting with him again. She was already low-spirited, through having comforted Eulalia, and now that her own lover was going away broke down entirely.

"Promise me you will take the greatest care of yourself, querido."

"My dearest, I will ask Rafael to wrap me in cotton wool. But, indeed, cara, you need not fear. I will be as safe on board The Montezuma as in Tlatonac."

"But you will be gone many days."

"A week at the most. If we succeed in sinking The Pizarro we will steam north to meet the other war-ships, and try our luck with them."

"I will pray for you, Juanito, and I will look after the beetles of Don Pedro."

Jack burst out laughing at the incongruity of such coupling.

"Has Don Pedro asked you to look after that rubbish!"

"Yes, Juanito! I am to take the very greatest care. They are precious."

"In the doctor's eyes they are more precious than the opal. By the way, where is Peter?"

"He has said farewell, and departed with my uncle. Would I could come down to the boat, querido. But I dare not."

"I never knew such particular people as the Tlatonacians," muttered Jack, somewhat vexed. "Well, angelito, we must say good-bye here."

"Will you take the opal for good fortune, Juan?"

"I? Take the opal? My dear Dolores, I would be frightened out of my life at carrying such a treasure with me. No! No! You keep the opal with yourself, and yourself in Tlatonac. Then will the good fortune of the city be assured. But I will take this ring."

"Turquoise! rubies! pearls!" said Dolores, drawing it off her finger. "It was my mother's, querido. Now it is yours."

"A thousand thousand thanks, alma de mi alma!" replied Jack, slipping it on his little finger, "it will remind me ever of you. Rubies for your lips, pearls for your teeth, and—and——"

"Ah! and what for turquoise?" said Dolores, seeing he was rather nonplussed, "for my eyes?"

"No, those are black! Well, we will say turquoise for peace. The blue ray of the opal means peace. And now, good-bye, my dearest—my own one!"

"Adios, Juanito. My soul! My heart!"

Jack, not trusting himself to speak further, kissed her passionately, and hastily left the house. Fortunately, he met no one, much to his gratification, as he was too agitated to say a word. He went to his house, and put all his necessaries together, then, in company with Peter, went on board The Montezuma.

At three o'clock the forts saluted the squadron, and The Iturbide, followed by the torpederas, stood out to sea. The crowd on the beach watched the vessels until they were mere specks on the horizon, and then retreated within the walls, with loudly expressed hopes that they would return with the rebel ship in tow. The Tlatonacians expected much more than they were ever likely to obtain.

The three vessels stood out about ten miles from the coast, and steamed southward at no great speed, as Pedraza did not wish to fetch Janjalla until darkness had set in. As two warships and the transports had gone to Acauhtzin, it was probable that The Pizarro would be the only vessel left in the harbour, and vigilant watch would be kept on board, lest the torpederas should come on her unawares. The rebel commander knew perfectly well that the torpederas had arrived, and would soon be in chase of his ships; but he did not expect that they would be able to attack while the other war-ships were away. Still, it was probable The Pizarro would make good use of her search-lights, and Pedraza, wishing to come to close quarters unexpectedly, had to exercise the greatest care as they drew near the harbour.

Towards nine o'clock they were off the coast of Janjalla, and intense excitement prevailed on board all three vessels. The plan of attack had been settled at a general counsel on board The Iturbide before they left Tlatonac, and it was arranged as follows. The Iturbide was to steam silently into the harbour of Janjalla, followed by the torpederas, and come to close quarters with The Pizarro, if possible. Should she be discovered by the search-light of the latter, she was then to steam boldly ahead, and concentrate the attention of the rebels on herself. The Pizarro, thus being busy with the cruiser, would not notice the torpederas, which could then steal silently within five hundred yards, and launch a Whitehead or so. The result would be obvious.

The torpederas, with twin screws and powerful engines, manœuvred with wonderful rapidity, darting here and there in the darkness like black sharks. Both were armed with Hotchkiss guns and four Whitehead torpedo-tubes, while their strong search-lights protected them against the unexpected approach of an enemy. Painted a dark colour to escape notice, they could steal silently within striking distance of a vessel, and sink her with one of their deadly explosives. The only chance of safety for The Pizarro lay in her sighting them at a considerable distance, and keeping them at bay with her heavy guns; but as she would be fully taken up with The Iturbide, this would be difficult for her to do. Worst of all, she had no defence against the rapid darting torpederas, as the nets had been left behind in Tlatonac, when she deserted to the rebel Xuarez.

As to the cruiser, she was a handsome vessel, with a spar deck, and filled with bow chasers and Gatling guns. She carried a crew of ninety men including officers, and also two hundred soldiers, who had embarked at Tlatonac to be landed, if possible, at Janjalla. Fifteen knots was her usual speed; but, if necessary, she could stand to seventeen. This was the fleet of the Junta, and now manœuvred ten miles from the town of Janjalla, waiting the signal to pounce down on the unsuspecting Pizarro.

Fortunately the night was cloudy and dark. At intervals the moon, emerging from behind heavy clouds, cast a pale light over the scene. It was far down in the west, and would soon drop behind the low-lying shore, so Pedraza, who wanted complete darkness for his project, waited until her disappearance before he gave the signal to steam into the harbour. All lights were extinguished on the vessel, so as to avoid attracting the attention of the enemy, but, if necessary, the search-lights could blaze forth in an instant. The torpederas were to attack the warship, one on the port, the other on the starboard side. It was now close upon midnight, and as the moon showed but half her orb above the shore, all waited the signal in breathless silence.

"What is to be done if we sink The Pizarro?" asked Jack, as he stood by Rafael, watching for the signal from The Iturbide.

"Quien sabe!" replied Maraquando, shrugging his shoulders, "I expect we will wait in the harbour till daylight, and then see if we can land our troops."

"There won't be much chance of that, my Comandante," said Duval, drily; "between us and Janjalla two thousand rebel troops lie encamped. We cannot break through that barrier."

"You forget, mi amigo, there are close on a thousand troops of the Junta in the town. By this time the reinforcements must have reached their destination, so that will make two thousand. If they attack the rebels from Janjalla, and we land our two hundred men under cover of The Iturbide's guns, who knows but what we may not be able to crush these scoundrels before their warships and transports arrive from Acauhtzin."

"Bueno! Always presuming that the reinforcements have arrived safely. I fear the Indians."

"Carambo! Surely a thousand well-armed soldiers are a match for a horde of naked savages. The reinforcements are safe in Janjalla by now. I am sure of it. Believe me, Don Juan, we shall exterminate the rebels."

"First we shall have to exterminate The Pizarro, and——"

"Hold!" interrupted Rafael joyfully, "the signal."

A rocket shot up from The Iturbide and scattered its fires in the dark air. The moon had entirely disappeared, and an intense gloom prevailed over land and sea.

Hardly had the rocket's trail of fire disappeared when The Iturbide's screw began to spin and followed by the torpederas she moved cautiously towards the harbour at half speed. At the end of an hour all three vessels were within sight of the town. Through the gloom sparkled the lights of Janjalla, and between them and the incoming vessels lay the huge bulk of The Pizarro, the glare of her search-lights shooting up into the dark like two gigantic swords of pale flame.

The Iturbide was leading by three hundred yards, and crept cautiously forward so as to pounce on her prey unawares. Whether the noise of her screw reached the ears of those on board The Pizarro, or that they marked her coming through the darkness, it is impossible to say, but just as she steamed within eight hundred yards, the search-lights swept round like the spokes of a wheel and in a moment their glare revealed her whereabouts. In the radiance she stood out like a phantom ship, and seeing that he was discovered, Pedraza cracking on all steam, swept past The Pizarro in a wide circle.

A heavy fire was at once opened by the rebels and they doubtless deemed that this foe was not alone, for keeping one light on the cruiser, they swept the sea with the other in search of her possible companions. Those on board The Iturbide could hear the yell of mingled rage and terror, as the light struck the low bulk of The Zuloaga darting through the water, evil looking and venomous. A broadside was poured on the torpedera, now left unprotected by The Iturbide which was circling to the left in the inner part of the bay. Owing to the dexterity of The Zuloaga's manœuvring, none of the heavy guns could hit her. She skimmed the grey waves at full speed like a swallow, and the search light of The Pizarro was much put to in following her. It was like a dancer in the theatre followed by the lime light. One moment the torpedera would be swallowed up in the gloom, the next moment the darting ray of the electric light would stab through the darkness and pick her out. The other ray followed The Iturbide, which kept steaming slowly backwards and forwards on the port side, firing her Armstrongs whenever she got a fair chance.

The Zuloaga sent off a bow torpedo, but it passed harmlessly under the stern of The Pizarro without doing any damage. Nevertheless, the crew of the rebel ship seemed much alarmed, as well they might be, seeing that a single torpedo striking them amidships would sink their iron ship in a few minutes. Foolishly enough, it never occurred to De Galevez to sweep the starboard with his lights, and he was quite unaware that a second torpedo-vessel was stealing up in the darkness.

Indeed, what with following The Iturbide and The Zuloaga with his search-lights, De Galevez had enough to do, and kept the torpedo boat at bay with his heavy guns. Occasionally a shot from The Iturbide would pass through the rigging of the rebel ship, but no damage was done, and De Galevez's great desire was to keep at a distance the wasp-like torpedo which circled round rapidly, everywhere trying to plant its sting.

While this drama was taking place on the port side, The Montezuma, on seeing The Iturbide was discovered, moved up on the starboard at a distance of four hundred yards. When abreast of The Pizarro she slowed down her engines and crept up within pistol range. Had it not been for the incessant firing of the guns, those on board The Pizarro would surely have become aware of their danger. As it was, they thought themselves safe while they kept The Zuloaga at a distance. A tremendous broadside was directed at that torpedera and at The Iturbide. It was her last discharge, for the next moment she was struck amidships by a torpedo from The Montezuma.

There was a cry of frenzied fear, and the search lights flashed round to starboard only to see The Montezuma slipping back into the gloom. Three minutes afterwards The Pizarro sank.

The vessels of the Junta at once flashed their electric rays on the spot, and where a moment before had been a magnificent vessel, now saw nothing but a wide expanse of cold black sea dotted with drowning men. Boats were lowered by The Iturbide and a few soldiers and sailors were rescued, but so suddenly had The Pizarro gone down that, with the exception of half a dozen survivors, the whole crew, officers, and soldiers, in all three hundred men, were drowned.

It would be impossible to describe the joy on board the loyalist ships at this successful termination of the contest. Rafael and Jack went on board The Iturbide to receive the congratulations of Pedraza for their success, and the officers of The Zuloaga also hastened to participate in the general joy. The large state-room of the cruiser was one mass of excited men, drinking champagne, and wildly embracing one another. This victory would surely damp the enthusiasm of the rebels, and raise that of the loyalists to fever pitch. Don Hypolito had now but two ships of war, and these could not surely stand before the valour of The Iturbide, with her two torpedo-vessels. The vivas were deafening, and Rafael, as commander of the boat which had sunk The Pizarro, was nearly stifled by the embraces of his brother officers.

As soon as the excitement had somewhat subsided, all went on deck, and The Iturbide stood in to the shore with the idea of seeing how matters stood in the rebel camp. Flying the Opal flag, lest the forts should open fire on one of their own vessels, the cruiser turned her lights on to the beach, and saw that it was lined with the rebel forces, all under arms. The noise of the firing and the flashing of the lights had attracted the attention of those on shore, and fearing that an attack was contemplated by the enemy, those rebels encamped in front of Janjalla were now on the alert. No one could understand the reason of this sea-fight, as it seemed quite impossible that the torpederas could have arrived from Tlatonac in so short a period. The general in command of the troops of Xuarez did not know what to think, and had to wait till dawn before he could make up his mind what course to pursue.

As the lights of The Iturbide struck the distant town, a long line of walls, surmounted by a crowd, leaped out of the darkness. The search-lights from the forts were flashed on to the ships, and those in Janjalla recognising the Opal flag, cheered vociferously. They saw three boats, each flying the ensign of Tlatonac, and no Pizarro. Then they guessed what had occurred, and were glad accordingly. The rebel soldiers on the beach stamped and swore with rage as they saw their loss, but being without boats could do nothing save parade under arms till dawn, so as to be prepared against a possible attack by the victorious loyalists.

"Bueno!" cried Captain Pedraza, who had his night glass up. "There is one good thing, mis amigos, the Opal flag still flies over the town, so as yet it holds out."

"What is next to be done, Comandante?" asked Jack, who was standing near with Rafael.

"We must wait till dawn, Señor Americano, and then find out if the reinforcements have arrived at Janjalla. Afterwards we will steam back to Tlatonac, and if possible meet the Cortes and Columbus coming back. In any event, we must go to Tlatonac to report this victory to the Junta."

"Shall you land these two hundred troops?"

"Caranto! Why not?"

"Because the camp of the enemy lies between the town and ourselves. Two hundred men cannot do much against two thousand."

"True, Señor. If it is impossible, we will not attempt it. But at dawn, I will signal to General Gigedo to make a sally from the gates down to the shore; our men will land, and effect a conjunction, and so with small loss they ought to get into the town. Especially under cover of our guns, and those of the forts."

"I don't see what use that will be, Pedraza," interrupted Rafael, bluntly.

"Caro, Señor! His Excellency ordered this to be done, so it must be done."

"Rather a useless task, I think," said Jack, dryly. "However, I am not sorry, as I wish to get into the town myself. But you, Señor Comandante, what will you do?"

"Wait till these troops are safe with Gigedo, and also ascertain if the reinforcements have arrived. Then I shall sail north."

"You won't wait for the warships and transports?"

"Carajo! what use? We shall find those on our way to Tlatonac."

After this conversation, Rafael and Jack returned on board The Montezuma, the former slightly gloomy in spite of the victory so unexpectedly achieved.

"Caro, Juan!" he said, reflectively; "if we lose this war, it will be through Don Francisco Gomez. He is a good politician, but a bad general. What use is there to sacrifice two hundred men to-morrow?"

"It's rather like the Charge of the Light Brigade, certainly," replied Jack, with a smile; "as foolhardy and as brave."

"What is that, mi amigo?"

Whereupon Jack related the glorious charge to Rafael, and thereby stirred up the excitable Spaniard to fiery enthusiasm.

"Oh, what men are the English," he cried, stamping his foot. "It is a story worthy of the Cid. But this to-morrow, my friend—it is rare! it is brave! and, like your story, there is no good to be gained."

"Perhaps Gomez wants to frighten the rebels by showing them how dauntless are his men."

"Dios! That is not wise. The sinking of The Pizarro will frighten them without risking two hundred lives. However, as it is ordered, it must be done. But you, Don Juan! Will you go?"

"Assuredly, mi amigo. I wish to see the Señor Correspondent and Felipe."

"But you will be killed."

"That is as it may be. But no, Rafael. I did not escape the perils of Totatzine to fall in a skirmish before the walls of Janjalla. But see, mi amigo, it is nearly dawn, let us snatch a few hours' sleep."

"Bueno!" replied Rafael, leading the way to his cabin; "but first we must call our friends together, and toast our victory once more."

It was done accordingly.

  CHAPTER XIII.

WITHOUT THE WALLS.