It was some short time after the storming of Monte Video by the British troops, when the guerilla bands were formed in the neighbourhood of the city, that a party of young men took it into their heads to ride into the adjacent country; and though the inhabitants were decidedly hostile to the English, yet with the carelessness and impetuosity natural to youth, they resolved to seek adventures, cost what they might. With hearts elate, and mounted on swift horses, they passed the city gates and swept round the bay that forms the extensive harbour. After riding through some villages, they considered it as not accordant with their plan to keep the beaten road,—nor indeed was there any road which merited the name, after they had gained a certain distance from the town. The meridian sun saw them scouring across the plain, where neither tree nor shrub could mark their track, or serve as guides for their return. Frequently, from behind the jutting rock, the paysáno⁠[6] would display his hardened and ferocious features, and muffling himself in his poncho, or long robe, grin defiance at the adventurers. His long fusee held in one hand, with his lasso coiled at his side and a terrific knife stuck in his girdle, the marauder stood undaunted by danger and undismayed by the fear of death. The young men had frequently been led to pursue the wild ostrich in its course, and to chase the numerous deer; but this hunting produced consequences which might have terminated seriously, for it scattered the number into parties of two or three, who might easily have been cut off and destroyed by the enemy:—and now for my own individual portion of the excursion. Having been, with one other, separated from the rest, we used every possible exertion to discover them, but without effect. Whenever we shouted, our voices reverberated from the rocky piles that reared their heads upon the plain like monuments of ancient grandeur, and seemed to revive recollections of the field of graves.

The sun, whose journey was even more rapid than our own, threatened to leave us in obscurity and darkness; and when once his beams had disappeared, we had no certain direction to ascertain our way. It was in the month of June, and consequently winter in that part of the world; but accustomed to privations of almost every kind, we cared but little for the season, and as for attacks—we had weapons of defence. Yet still, at times, an indescribable emotion agitated my heart. The countenances of the paysános, and the certain death which awaited capture—death, too, the tortures of which might be increased by malignity and rendered lingering in the extreme, left no very pleasant sensation on the mind. The recollections of home crowded upon me—for the delights of domestic society never come more sweet to the memory than when they threaten to be torn from us for ever. Still we had come out for adventures, and the buoyant spirit of sailors urged us on. We had already travelled, at a moderate calculation, upwards of twenty miles without seeing a habitation, or the least trace of civilized society, when the bright luminary of day disappeared from the western horizon, and all became murky gloom and darkness. To have continued on without knowing whither we were going, (for not a star was visible to act as a friendly pilot in our navigation,) would have been downright madness; so reining in the horses, we suffered them to pursue their own way. Often could we hear the jaguar growling near us, and the enraged buffalo would dart across our path, while the bellowing of the wild cattle from the distance floated on the breeze. Frequently misled by the false light above the fen, we had nearly plunged into irretrievable destruction, and then imagination would (as the bleak wind passed across our eyes) make us fancy that we saw some dwelling near at hand of safety and security. Hunger, too, attacked us, for we had tasted but little food since our departure.

Three hours had been employed in suffering the horses to take their own course, during the last of which neither of us had spoken much, when my companion suddenly exclaimed, “We are stopped; here is a gate!” and sure enough the gate, with large wide folding compartments and a mud fence—as far as the darkness would allow our sight to extend—was distinctly visible, though no habitation nor the trace of human being could be seen. Immediately alighting and securing our horses to the gate-posts, we cautiously reconnoitred; but all ingress by that way appeared impossible, without climbing over. To propose and to perform were synonymous, and in a few minutes we were safely landed within the walls. Following the track of a narrow path for about a quarter of a mile, our progress was arrested by hearing the strains of music, and shortly afterwards a female voice, of exquisite tone, commenced the evening hymn to the Virgin. Sailors are naturally superstitious, and at this moment, yielding to the romantic fervour of my disposition, all seemed enchantment. Never, perhaps, was there a voice more harmonious, or more calculated to work upon the softer emotions of the soul. There was no laboured execution—all was pure nature, offering up its sacrifice of heartfelt devotion. The sounds ceased. “Surely,” said I to my companion, “those are the sweetest notes that could ever charm the coldest nature.”—“Truly,” replied he; “for now we shall get something to eat, at all events!” This answer called me from my heroics, and we proceeded onwards.

Not a light was to be seen—not the least vestige of a house in view; yet we followed the path till a low, but extensive range of buildings displayed itself. It was on one floor, and on turning the corner, a sudden blaze of light burst upon us.

In a small but neat chapel, such as is usually attached to country residences among the Catholics, a number of wax candles illuminated the altar. The gray-haired sire stood before it, whilst his wife, children, and domestics knelt in a semicircle round him. He raised the emblem of redemption in his hand, and pressed it upon his breast; then kneeling down, his aged head reclined upon the cross as he poured forth his fervent petitions. Rising from this attitude, he replaced the crucifix upon the altar, and turning towards the assembled group, his hands were outstretched to dispense a parent’s blessing. There was something in the whole scene so truly descriptive of a patriarchal benediction, that I felt all the emotions of my breast indulging in their full energies. “Sidney,” whispered I to my companion, “this is indeed delicious. What fervour, what devotion, what——.” “Nonsense,” said he, “let us see the roast beef and a bottle of wine, and then I’ll talk to you.” We introduced ourselves at the close of the service, and were received with the most hospitable welcome. Servants were despatched for our poor jaded horses, we were ushered into a large hall, and the table soon groaned with substantial fare, amongst which was hot beef, cooked in the hide. Our host informed us we were upon a farm belonging to himself, and after refreshing ourselves, he introduced us to his family. They were nine in number, nor was I long in discovering from whom those dulcet warblings had proceeded, which made such an impression upon my mind. It was the old man’s pride,—his eldest daughter, in her sixteenth year. In that country, nature is extremely bountiful to females; sixteen is considered the age of maturity, and few marriages are contracted after that period. Mariqueta was lovely, yet it was not that sort of beauty that strikes the beholder with mere admiration; it was a loveliness that interested the heart. Among the attendants was one who seemed to watch our movements with marked attention; he almost anticipated our wants, and I frequently observed the shades of deep sorrow pass across his features. He had once been handsome, but age had dimmed the lustre of his eye, and I fancied that his countenance still bore marks of hurried passion and guilty daring.

Of the Spanish language, myself and companion scarcely knew any thing, nor was there an individual in the place to interpret; nevertheless, we contrived to hold something like a conversation, though frequently the subject was left to chance for decision. The old man expressed his undisguised resentment against the invasion of the English, but scorned to withhold hospitality from benighted travellers, though they were his enemies. He spoke of the paysános as terrific people, and rejoiced that we had not fallen into their hands. On retiring to rest, he placed a hand on each of our heads, and offered up a prayer. We then saluted the family round, and never were my lips pressed to those of a female with more unblemished purity or chastity of thought than when they touched the cheek of Mariqueta.—After a night of sweet refreshing slumber, we arose and contemplated the surrounding scenery. The farm was erected in a secluded spot, far in the interior, for the purpose of catching wild cattle, and jerking or salting the flesh, which, at Monte Viedo, formed a great branch of commerce. The hides and tallow were also carefully preserved.

At a short distance from the house was a large garden, tastefully arranged, and beyond this was an orchard. There was an air truly English in the decorations and manner of laying out the grounds that caused very great surprise, as being totally different from any thing else I had seen in this part of the world; but I could gain no other information on the point, than that it was performed by the attendant, or chief man, whom I have mentioned before. Suspecting he might have been in England, I spoke to him; but he shook his head and seemed totally ignorant of the language. After breakfast we prepared for our departure, but the old gentleman, our kind host, would not suffer us, as he feared danger was abroad, and we might be attacked; nor was he altogether wrong, but how he derived his intelligence we did not discover. Thus another day was passed at the farm, and passed in the society of Mariqueta. Young, ardent, and enthusiastic, the folly of entertaining any partiality or affection for a female, whom a few hours would probably separate from us for ever, did not enter my thoughts. I felt she was amiable—I saw she was beautiful, and the difficulties which presented themselves only served to enhance the treasure. The attendant frequently addressed her, and I could plainly perceive his language was in my favour, while the aged parent seemed rather to encourage than to repel my assiduity. The following day, our horses were led to the gate, and the attendant was ready to conduct us on our way. We bade farewell to the parents, and Mariqueta in their presence bound a bracelet of her own hair round my wrist, while I pressed upon her acceptance a plain gold ring. As soon as we had reached the road, our guide stopped; then coming close by my side (while Sidney was some distance in advance) and addressing me in my native tongue, said, “Sir, I am an Englishman, your countryman; I have written a few particulars on this piece of paper, which I request, if possible, you will attend to. Be secret and be faithful; do not let your friend know who or what I am, and now farewell.” Having uttered this, he wheeled his horse round, and the swift animal soon bore him from my sight. In a few hours we arrived safe in the city, and found every one of the party, for though each had met with adventures, yet all had returned uninjured. On perusing the paper so mysteriously given to me, it contained, as near as I can recollect, as follows:—

“I am the son of a clergyman, who for an alleged crime was convicted and sentenced to transportation. The convicts seized the ship and brought her into the River Plate. In this I had no participation, but the guilt rests upon me, and I must die a stranger in a foreign land. My acquaintance with the Spanish tongue has deceived many into a belief that I am a native, but there are others who wish to drag me into battle against my countrymen. I will see you again, and then be prepared to say whether I can entertain a hope of escape. If not, provide me with a few books, particularly a bible and prayer book, and be secret, as my life is now in your hands.”

There was no name signed, and I immediately recollected the circumstance of the convicts taking the ship Jane Shore from the crew several years before; but why the man should place such confidence in me seemed inexplicable. However, I instantly set about an inquiry as to his prospects of protection, but the grounds were not sufficient to warrant any assurance of it; and as he had not mentioned when I should see him again, the affair would most probably have been soon forgotten, had it not been for the memorial of Mariqueta and the recollection of herself.

There are some feelings in the human mind so exquisitely delicate in their nature, and yet so firm in their endurance, that neither time can impair nor distance efface them. Who is there, even when “their strength becomes labour and sorrow,” that does not with a retrospective eye glance back upon his early days, and call to remembrance the scenes of his youth in all their sunny vigour? Oh, there is an enchantment in it which sweetens life and lightens toil! But to my tale.

Upon an enthusiastic mind, nothing fixes an impression more deeply than the danger attendant upon an enterprise and the difficulties of accomplishing it, and such I experienced in my attachment to Mariqueta. The remembrance of her beauty, her retiring modesty, and her kindness to an enemy and a stranger, filled my thoughts day after day; while, in the stillness of night, fancy renewed the vision in my dreams. The risks which myself and companions had run in our excursion, produced an order from the commander-in-chief forbidding similar undertakings, except to a certain distance from the town; and often have I rode to the very verge of the precincts, entertaining the flatterer Hope, yet destitute of expectation.

It was about three weeks after my visit to the farm that Sidney accompanied me in my ride, and on our return we were overtaken by a storm, which raged with the utmost fury. The rain came down in torrents, and was swept like sheets of foaming spray across the plain. The wind in its fury tore up the trees and scattered the branches in every direction, threatening to crush us beneath their ponderous weight. Completely drenched with rain and worn with the efforts to keep our horses under curb, we arrived at the first village in our homeward path. A straggling place it was, formed of a few miserable cottages, or huts, with a chapel in the centre.

We stopped at the wine-house, (the only decent place,) and put our frightened animals into a shed; after which we entered the room appropriated for travellers, and found it was nearly filled with Spaniards. Near the fire were ranged several persons attached to the commissariat department, who had come from the city to bargain with the hunters for cattle. The hunters, arrayed in their ponchos and broad-brimmed hats with small crowns, were mingling with the former and carrying on a traffic, using the most violent gesticulations. Stretched in one corner lay several guerillas with their fusees by their side, ready at a moment’s notice in case of alarm. They were soundly sleeping; but even in this placid state their features retained the most hardened ferocity. Distinct by himself, in another corner, sat a man in the guerilla costume, who on our entering, muffled up his face as if he wished to be concealed from observation. Conviction instantly flashed upon my mind that this was the individual I had been seeking, but prudence dictated that the present moment was no time to recognise him.

Our entrance produced a momentary silence, and all eyes that were not closed in slumber were directed towards us. The guerillas, whom noise could not disturb, instantly awoke at the cessation of it, and raising themselves up, stared with a gleaming fierceness upon us; but finding we were alone, they growled a few indistinct curses, and again resumed their former position. Without betraying any surprise at the strange company we had fallen into, we drew near the fire, but nevertheless, I determined to quit the place as soon as we had obtained refreshment, preferring rather to trust to the storm, than run the hazard of the long and shining blades which each guerilla knew so well how to use. The day was waning apace when the marauders suddenly took their departure, and, in a few minutes afterwards, the man who sat alone followed them. In a country where, among the lower orders, wild and lawless passions usurp the place of reason, and baleful revenge steels the heart against every generous feeling of humanity, the departure of the guerillas came across my mind like a prophetic warning of evil intentions. I walked to the door; the storm still raged as these desperadoes were slowly putting their horses in motion. No time was to be lost; one half hour’s ride would place us in security at the British out-posts, where a company of the —— regiment was stationed.

As soon as the guerilla band had disappeared, we hastily mounted and pursued our way. But darkness came stealing upon us, and the plain was so inundated that we found it difficult to keep the beaten track; while the lightning, rendered more visible by the gloom, alarmed the spirited animals we rode, and greatly impeded our progress. When we had gained midway between the village and the out-post, the road lay through a deep ravine, formed by two craggy and almost perpendicular rocks. It was a wild and dreary spot, where several skirmishes had taken place, and many a mangled body still lay beneath huge piles of stones. Scarce had we advanced a few paces in the defile, when a shot was fired from above, and several others immediately succeeded it. Happily, our horses knew the road, and dashed forward with amazing swiftness; but the guerillas also were well mounted and possessed every advantage over us, though after the first discharge I trusted to the state of the weather to prevent them firing again, and so it proved. Still, however, we could distinguish them in close pursuit, the leading men gaining rapidly upon us. The out-post was in view, when I heard the noose of the lasso whistle past my ears, and saw it encircling the neck of the horse. The moment was one of desperation, yet I had the presence of mind instantly to check the animal and stand still. By this means the lasso was slackened; but while I was endeavouring to clear him from restraint, the guerilla was by my side, and his arm upraised to strike the fatal blow. My hanger was unsheathed, though fighting on horseback was something new to me; but death from the unerring aim of the ruffian seemed inevitable. At this very instant, while the glittering blade hung over me, I heard the report of a gun, and the guerilla fell backwards from his horse in the agonies of death; but so vengeful had been his purpose and so strong his arm, that the knife designed for me was buried deep in the shoulder of his generous steed. This, however, was only a reprieve, for others came pressing on, and no doubt we should have been sacrificed to the memory of their companion, but for a whole volley from about fifty men who had advanced from the out-post. The guerillas immediately wheeled round, and sought safety in flight.

On joining the party who had thus snatched us from destruction, the first object that met my view was the man whom I had seen at the wine-house, and recognised as the attendant or chief man at the farm, and to him I was indebted for rescuing me from the party. I have already mentioned that he quitted the house directly after the guerillas, and leading his horse to a distance, in a contrary direction to them, he had there mounted and sought the British out-post; where giving information of our danger, the commanding officer instantly despatched a party for our protection. The attendant acted as their guide, and from his fusee it was that death was dealt to my opponent at the critical juncture, when my own life was trembling upon the verge of eternity.

On reaching a place of safety, I told him that his expectations could not be complied with; but, from the recent service he had performed, I would make a proper representation to the commander-in-chief, and hoped to succeed. He then inquired for the bible and prayer book, which were given to him, as I had constantly carried them about me, under the hope of falling in with him. His gratitude for the gift I shall never forget; he pressed them to his heart, and the tears flowed down his furrowed cheek. He opened the bible and read these words, “Yet never saw I the righteous forsaken, or his seed begging their bread.” A sudden ejaculation of—“Oh, my father!” followed. It came with double force upon my heart. His father had been a holy man; but there was another parent, whose name he had been taught to lisp in early infancy, as “Our Father, which art in heaven;” and though his earthly sire could no longer pour the balm of consolation on his mind, yet He whom the heaven of heavens cannot contain, hath respect unto the lowly and heareth the contrite in heart. As soon as grief would give him utterance, he told me of his early days, and then the conversation turned upon his present situation. He had nothing to complain of as to treatment, but his soul still clung to the land of fond remembrances. He mentioned Mariqueta, and I had to ask some questions which respect for his sorrows had restrained. “She was well,” he said; “but the gayety of her heart had fled, and her chief pleasure was to sit in the little chapel and sing the evening hymn which had so delighted me. She frequented those spots where we had been together, and her whole conduct manifested a remembrance of the stranger, which became more deeply rooted by time. But,” continued he, “I must depart; those demons, if they knew who had frustrated their design, would wreak their vengeance on the innocent and helpless.” He struck his forehead,—“I must away, yet do not forget me. I claim no memorial for what I have done, but think that a fellow-creature, a countryman, sues for your pity, and may the Almighty reward your efforts.” Having uttered this, contrary to every persuasion, he prepared to go. In addition to the books for the attendant, I had also carried with me a present for Mariqueta; it was a miniature of myself, plainly set, but allowed to be an excellent likeness, and with this and my ardent expressions of regard, he bade me farewell.

As soon as I had reached the city, no time was lost in making the necessary representations to the commander-in-chief, and I pointed out the extreme danger to which the family would be exposed in the event of the guerillas discovering that they had afforded shelter to Englishmen, and that one connected with the farm had given intelligence against them. My persuasions and my entreaties had their weight, and the following afternoon I was despatched with a party of men to take post at the farm, and escort the family into the town. Never shall I forget the feelings which agitated my breast as the guide conducted us the nearest route to the spot, and when the gates appeared in view, my heart throbbed with tumultuous agitation. I should see Mariqueta—I should press her in my arms and conduct her to a place of safety. The gates stood open, and a damp hung upon my spirits, as I had witnessed the caution with which they had been closed as evening approached. Still a herd of cattle might have entered, or a hundred things have occurred to prevent it; so without stopping to conjecture, we entered within the walls. But deeming the appearance of so large a party might alarm the inmates, I dismounted, and giving my horse to one of the men, requested the whole to wait until my return.

With a light elastic step I bounded on. The night was beautifully clear, the stars shone in their effulgent glory, and the beautiful cross of the south was at its meridian height. I reached the building, but all was calm serenity. In the little chapel a single lamp burned by the side of the altar, while a dark substance screened its feeble rays. I entered the door, and beheld a negress sitting on the steps of the sanctuary, with her face concealed in her hands, which were resting on her knees. To the left of the altar lay several persons, covered over, apparently wrapt in slumber; while in front, upon a raised platform, spread over with white satin, was a dead body. The noise of my footsteps aroused the negress, who, upon seeing me, shrieked most piteously, and taking the lamp in her hand beckoned me to advance. An instinctive impulse urged me on. I sprang forward, and, as the pale gleam of light fell upon the corpse, beheld the perishing remains of the still lovely Mariqueta. Yes, there she lay, like a lily blighted by the tempest, or a flower seared by the lightning’s flash. The hand of the destroyer had indeed been speedy, for those whom I had deemed at rest were also in the cold sleep of death. Parents, kindred, all cut off, and there was none to deliver. Oh, the agony of that moment! Years have since passed away, but years cannot efface the recollection from my mind; and even now, a sick shuddering creeps upon my soul. Yes, there lay the beautiful Mariqueta—beautiful even in death. The negress removed the coverlet, and displayed a deep wound in her bosom, from which her pure spirit had escaped.

Frenzy took possession of my reason. I tore the cover from the bodies beside the altar, and the first countenance that met my view was the aged sire. Near him lay the other members of the family—all cold—all dead. Full of desperate resolve, I called my party, pointed to the bleeding bodies, and urged my comrades to avenge their fall. We searched the house, but all displayed marks of the bloody hand of the plunderer. The negress informed us that the guerillas had attacked the farm the day before, and committed acts of atrocious barbarity. The gentle Mariqueta had received her wound while shielding her father from the fiends; who, after murdering all they could find, had carried the attendant and the servants away as prisoners. She had escaped by secreting herself beneath the altar. “The Englishman had fought,” she said, “and some of the guerillas had fallen.” With this vague intelligence, after leaving a guard at the farm, we sallied forth, our guide undertaking to show us the haunts of the murderers.

The face of the heavens was still, calm, and clear; but, in my state of mind, the whirlwind and the tempest would have been more congenial to my agitated feelings. The stars still glittered in their brightness, but the deed of blood I had just witnessed, gave to my sight a red and gory haze that dimmed the sparkling lustre of the glistening orbs. The soft persuasions of humanity were deadened in my breast, and vengeance alone reigned with all its cruel terrors. Eagerly we pursued our course, and after one hour’s smart riding, our guide suddenly pulled up and informed us we were close to their retreat; but it would be necessary for one or two to go before with him and reconnoitre, while the others slowly advanced. Taking two men with me, and leading our horses, we approached a wild romantic spot, formed of stunted shrubbery and craggy rocks, beneath which the mouths of many caverns yawned in darkness—but all was solemn stillness. Entering one of these dismal dens, a deep groan arrested our steps. The guide shouted in the Spanish language, but no answer was returned. A gun was fired, but all remained tranquil; and it became evident that the guerillas had not been there, or else had withdrawn on our approach. Another groan decided me on searching the interior of the cave, and having procured a light, by flashing some powder on a flambeau, we advanced through several intricate windings to an inner apartment, when another sight of horror was presented. Stretched on his back upon the damp floor lay the Englishman, weltering in his blood; round his ankles and his wrists strong ropes were fastened, the other ends of which were secured to pegs driven firmly in the ground, so as to stretch his extended limbs to the extreme of torture. Nor was he the only one; two others appeared in similar situations, but their sufferings were over. We lost no time in releasing the Englishman from the rack, but his state of insensibility from loss of blood, left but small prospect of recovery. Time was rapidly hastening away, and our guide informed us that all pursuit was fruitless, as he had no doubt the guerillas had retreated to the mountains; we therefore retraced our steps to the farm, from whence I despatched a communication to the commander-in-chief. The same night a reply was brought, stating that the priests refused to officiate or attend at the removal of the bodies; I was therefore directed to inter them wherever I could find a place most suitable.

In the orchard attached to the farm was an avenue or grove of orange-trees, and at the extremity of the walk, a rural seat (where I had sat with the sweet girl) was formed beneath the spreading branches; and this was the spot I selected as the last resting place of murdered innocence. At the still midnight hour the bodies were laid in their narrow home; no chaunt of voices gave notice of their burial; but the ritual of our church was solemnly read over them. No pomp attended the funeral; but the honest tear of the veteran, as he consigned the last remnants of frail mortality to the dust, was a memorial far more precious. No monumental inscription marks the spot—the name of Mariqueta, engraven on the green bark of the orange-tree, formed the only memento.

The Englishman was removed to the city, where by excellent medical attendance he slowly recovered, and under the protection of the commander-in-chief, he returned to his native land. But he found his parents had long been consigned to the tomb; the friends of his youth were either dead or estranged, and after lingering a few months, tortured by remorse, he entered upon that “bourne from whence no travellers return.” In early life he had been nursed in the lap of luxury, and received a good education, but in an evil hour he had committed a felony to answer the demands of a gambling debt. He had been tried and sentenced to die, but through powerful intercession his punishment was commuted to transportation for life. The ship Jane Shore, in which he embarked, was seized upon by the convicts, and carried into the River Plate. From that hour no ray of pleasure beamed upon his mind, but all was cheerless melancholy, bordering upon hopeless despair. Oh! may “he who thinketh that he standeth, take heed lest he fall.”