The Rover of the Andes: A Tale of Adventure on South America by R. M. Ballantyne (ebook pc reader .TXT) 📕

him by the beam before mentioned, while around him were masses of brick and mortar densely packed.

Again exerting his lungs, the youth shouted with all his might, and then paused to listen; but there was no reply. Then he shouted the name of Manuela, in the hope that she might hear, and answer, if still alive. But no answering voice replied.

Believing now that nothing could save him but a fixed purpose and a prolonged desperate effort on an intelligent plan, he prayed again for help, and then proceeded to enlarge his tomb by scraping the rubbish back under the beam, from beneath which he had drawn himself, and packing it tightly down. This enlarged the space, enabling him to get upon his knees. To work upward through the fallen wall would, he knew, be an impossibility. He therefore worked horizontally for some time, throwing the rubbish between his legs behind him, as, we presume, the moles are accustomed to do. Then he passed his hand along over his head, and found that the solid wall was no longer above him,—only disjointed bricks and beams.

With renewed hope and redoubled effort he now worked his way upwards, although well-nigh suffocated by dust, as well as by smoke arising from fires which had broken out in many places all over the ruined town. Suddenly, while thus engaged, he heard voices faintly. He shouted with all his might, and listened. Yes, he was not mistaken; he heard voices distinctly, and they appeared to be speaking in Spanish. With something like a bounding of the heart he repeated his shout, and renewed his labours.

If he had known the character of the persons who had thus encouraged him, his hopes would not have been so strong.

We have said that the entire town had been levelled by one tremendous convulsion, and that in many places fires had broken out among the ruins. These fires sent up dense volumes of smoke, which naturally attracted people from all quarters of the surrounding country. Among them came bands of desperate and lawless characters, who fastened on the ruins as vultures seize on carrion. They resembled the unclean birds in more respects than one, for they went about as long as there was anything of value to be seized, long after other people had been forced to quit the place owing to the horrible stench of the hundreds of corpses decaying, and in many cases burning, among the ruins. (See note 1.)

It was the voices of some of these lawless ruffians that Lawrence had heard. He soon became aware of their character by the terrible oaths which they used, and the fiendish laughter in which they indulged whenever he called for help. Knowing that he had nothing to hope from such miscreants, he ceased to call out, but toiled none the less vigorously to effect his deliverance. At last he managed to scrape through to the upper world; and a feeling of inexpressible relief filled his breast as a bright ray of sunshine shot into his prison.

That it was daylight did not surprise him, for the many hours which he had spent under ground seemed to him like weeks. But he soon found that he was not yet free. The hole which he had scraped was much too small to admit of the passage of even a little boy. In trying to enlarge it, he found, to his dismay, that on one side of it was an enormous beam, on the other a mass of solid masonry, which could not be moved without aid. Looking out, he saw nothing but confused heaps of smoking ruins, save in one direction, where, in the far distance, (for the hotel had stood on a mound), he could see a group of men engaged as if searching for something.

To these he shouted again, but did not attract their attention. Either they did not hear him, or did not care. Turning then to the beam, he tried with all his might to raise it, but failed, though it moved slightly. Encouraged by hope, and afterwards influenced by despair, he tried again and again, until his strength broke down.

At this juncture he heard footsteps, and saw a man passing near.

“Senhor! senhor!” he cried, in the best Spanish he could muster, “aid me to get out, for the love of God!”

A coarse insult was the only reply as the man passed on. A group of other men who passed soon after behaved as badly, for they only laughed at his entreaties.

It is difficult to say whether rage or indignation was more powerful in Lawrence’s heart, but both passions were equally unavailing in the circumstances. He felt this, and soon calmed down; so that when, half an hour later, another man passed that way, he addressed him in tones of respect and earnest entreaty.

The bandit, for such he was, seemed to be utterly unaffected; for although he must certainly have heard the appeal, he, like the others, passed on without taking the slightest notice.

“Senhor! senhor!” cried Lawrence, “I have a gold watch and chain, to which you—”

The man stopped, for the bait took at once. Turning, and walking towards the place from which the sound came, he soon found the hole through which our hero looked.

“Hand out the watch, senhor,” he said.

“No, no,” answered Lawrence; “aid me first to lift the beam.”

Whether the man understood the bad Spanish or not we cannot say, but instead of helping to lift the beam, he drew a pistol from his belt, and said—

“Hand out the watch, or I shoot!”

“Shoot away, then,” cried Lawrence, savagely, as he drew quickly back into his hole.

The report of the pistol followed the words, and the ball caused a cloud of dust and rubbish to mingle with the smoke.

A wild laugh of defiance from within told that our Englishman was not hurt.

“Ha—ha! Shoot again,” he cried, fiercely.

“No, senhor, no. You are brave. I will help you,” replied the miscreant.

Lawrence doubted the honesty of the man’s assurance, but of course thanked him, and expressed readiness to avail himself of his assistance. He kept carefully at the extreme end of the hole, however, while his murderous deliverer removed some of the rubbish from the beam, and so made it possible to raise it. Remaining quite still, Lawrence waited till he saw that the beam had been so far moved as to enlarge the space sufficiently for him to get through. Then, with a sudden spring à la Jack-in-the-box, he leaped out, and stood before the astonished bandit.

Lawrence, whose sense of honour taught him to hold his promise as sacred to a thief as to an honest man, had fully intended to give up his watch and chain to the man if he should remain peaceably disposed; but the bandit was not so disposed. Recovering from his surprise, he drew a second pistol from his belt and levelled it at Lawrence.

Thought is quick; quicker even than triggers. His length of limb happily flashed into the youth’s mind. Up went his foot with a sudden kick, and away went the pistol into the air, where it exploded after the manner of a sky-rocket! The bandit did not wait for more. He turned and fled, much to the satisfaction of the victor, who, overcome by prolonged exhaustive toil and excitement, sank down on a heap of rubbish, and lay there in a semi-conscious state. It seemed as if both mind and body had resolved to find rest at all hazards, for he lay perfectly motionless for nearly an hour,—not exactly asleep, but without being fully conscious of connected thought.

From this state of repose, if it may be so called, he was partially aroused by the voices of men near him, talking in coarse, violent language. Raising his head languidly, he observed a band of about eight or ten villainous-looking fellows busy round a hole, out of which they appeared to be drawing some sort of booty.

“A prize!” exclaimed one of the men; “be gentle; she’s worth taking alive.”

A loud laugh from the others roused Lawrence again, but a feeling of unwonted exhaustion oppressed him, so that he scarce knew what it was he heard.

Suddenly there arose a female voice, in a cry of pain. Lawrence started up on one elbow, and beheld Manuela struggling in the grasp of one of the band.

If electric fire had taken the place of blood in his veins, he could not have bounded up more quickly. The shock seemed to renew and double his wonted strength. Like the English bull-dog, with terrible purpose, but in absolute silence, he rushed over the rubbish towards the man who held the struggling girl. The man seemed to be a leader, being the only one of the band who carried a cavalry sabre. The others were armed, some with short swords, some with carbines and pistols.

Swift though Lawrence was, the chief saw him coming. He let go the girl, and made a wild cut at him with the sabre.

Lawrence received the cut on his left arm. At the same moment he struck the villain such a blow with his clenched fist, that it seemed to crush in his skull, and sent him headlong into the hole out of which they had just dragged the Indian girl. Fortunately he dropped his sabre as he fell. With a shout of defiance our hero caught it up, just in time to arrest the descent of a carbine butt on his head. Next moment the man who aimed the blow was cleft to the chin, and a united rush of the robbers was for the moment arrested.

Manuela, helpless and horror-struck, had stood motionless on the spot where the chief had released her. Lawrence caught her in his left arm, swung her into an angle of the broken wall, placed himself in front, and faced his foes.

The villains, though taken by surprise, were no cravens. Apparently they had already discharged their fire-arms, for only one fired at our hero with a pistol, and missed his aim. Flinging the weapon at his adversary with a yell of disappointment, he missed his aim a second time. At the same moment another of the band—one of the tallest and most ferocious-looking—sprang upon the youth with terrible fury. He knew well, apparently, how to use his weapon; and Lawrence felt that his experience at school now stood him in good stead. As the weapons of these giants flew around with rapid whirl and clash, the others stood aside to see the end. Doubtless they would have taken unfair advantage of their foe if they could, but Lawrence, turning his back to the wall, where Manuela crouched, prevented that. At last one dastardly wretch, seeing that his comrade was getting the worst of it, bethought him of his carbine, and began hurriedly to load. Our hero noted the act, and understood its fatal significance. With a bound like that of a tiger he sprang at the man, and cut him down with a back-handed blow, turning, even in the act, just in time to guard a sweeping cut dealt at his head. With a straight point he thrust his sword through teeth, gullet, and skull of his tall adversary, until it stood six inches out behind his head. Then, without a moment’s pause, he leaped upon the nearest of the other bandits.

Awe-stricken, they all gave back, and it seemed as if the youth would yet win the day single-handed against them all, when a shout was heard, and half a dozen men of the same stamp, if not the same band, came running to the rescue.

Lawrence drew hastily back to his protecting wall.

“Pray, Manuela, pray,” he gasped; “we are in God’s hands.”

At that moment two shots were heard away on their right, and two of the advancing bandits fell. An instant later, and Quashy bounded upon the scene with a high trumpet-shriek like a wild elephant. Pedro followed, brandishing the rifle which he had just discharged with such fatal effect. Lawrence