Mr. Fortescue by William Westall (best books for 8th graders .TXT) 📕

cotton prints are in great demand just now, and if it is anything of that sort we might sell it to arrive."

"It is nothing of that sort, Mr. Van Voorst."

"More portable, perhaps?"

"Yes, more portable."

"If you could show me a sample--"

"I can show you the bulk."

"You have got it in the schooner?"

"No, I have got it here."

"Gold dust?"

"Diamonds. I found them in the Andes, and shall be glad to have your advice as to their disposal."

"Diamonds! Ach! you are a happy man. If you would like to show me them I can perhaps give you some idea of their value. The house of Goldberg & Van Voorst, at Amsterdam, in which I was brought up, deal largely in precious stones."

On this I undid my belt and poured the diamonds on a large sheet of white paper, which Mr. Van Voorst spread on his desk.

"_Mein Gott! Mein Gott!_" he exclaimed in ecstacy, glaring at the diamonds through his big glasses and picking out the finest with his fat fingers. "This is the finest collection of rough stones I ever did see. They are worth--until they are weighed and cut it is impossible to say how much--but at least a million dollars, probably two millions. You found them in the Andes? You could not say where, could you, Mr. Fortescue?"

"I could, but I would rather not."

"I beg your pardon. I should have known better than to ask. You intend to go there again, of course?"

"Never! It would be at the risk of my life--and there are other reasons."

"There is no need. You are rich already, and enough is as good as a feast. You ask my advice as to the disposal of these stones. Well, my advice is that you consign them, through us, to the house of Goldberg, Van Voorst & Company. They are honest and experienced. They will get them cut and sell them for you at the highest price. They are, moreover, one of the richest houses in Amsterdam, trustworthy without limit. What do you say?"

"Yes, I will act on your advice, and consign these stones to your friends for sale at Amsterdam, or elsewhere, as they may think best. And be good enough to ask them to advise me as to the investment of the proceeds."

"They will do that with pleasure, mine friend, and having financial relations with every monetary centre in Europe they command the best information. And now we must count and weigh these stones carefully, and I shall give you a receipt in proper form. They must be shipped in three or four parcels so as to divide the risk, and I will write to Goldberg & Van Voorst to take out open policies 'by ship or ships'--for how much shall we say?"

"That I must leave to you, Mr. Van Voorst."

"Then I will say two million dollars--better make it too much than too little--and two millions may not be too much. I do not profess to be an expert, and, as likely as not, my estimate is very wide of the mark."

After the diamonds had been counted and weighed, and a receipt written out, in duplicate and in two languages, I informed Mr. Van Voorst of my intention to visit Caracas and asked whether things were pretty quiet there.

"At Caracas itself, yes. But in the interior they are fighting, as usual. The curse of Spanish rule has been succeeded by the still greater curse of chronic revolution."

"But foreigners are admitted, I suppose? I run no risk of being clapped in prison as I was last time?"

"Not the least. You can go and come as you please. You don't even require a passport. The Spaniards, who were once so hated, are now almost popular. I hear that several Spanish officers, who served in the royal army during the war, are now at Caracas, and have offered their swords to the government for the suppression of the present rebellion. Do you intend to stay long in Venezuela?"

"I think not. In any case I shall see you before I leave for Europe. Much depends on whether I find my friend Carmen alive."

"Carmen, Carmen! I seem to know the name. Is he a general?"

"Scarcely, I should think. He was only a _teniente_ of guerillas when we parted some ten years ago."

"They are all generals now, my dear sir, and as plentiful as frogs in my native land. If you are ever in doubt as to the rank of a Venezolano, you are always safe in addressing him as a general. Yes, I fancy you will find your friend alive. At any rate, there is a General Carmen, rather a leading man among the Blues, I think, and sometimes spoken of as a probable president. You will, of course, put up at the Hotel de los Generales. Ah, here is Bernhard with the five hundred dollars in hard money, for which you asked. If you should want more, draw on us at sight. I will give you a letter of introduction to the house of Bluehm & Bluthner at Caracas, who will be glad to cash your drafts at the current rate of exchange, and to whose care I will address any letters I may have occasion to write to you."

This concluded my business with Mr. Van Voorst, and three days later I was once more in Caracas. I found the place very little altered, less than I was myself. I had entered it in high spirits, full of hope, eager for adventure, and intent on making my fortune. Now my heart was heavy with sorrow and bitter with disappointment. Though I had made my fortune, I had lost, as I thought, both the buoyancy of youth and the capacity for enjoyment, and I looked forward to the future without either hope or desire.

As I rode with Ramon into the _patio_ of the hotel, where I had been arrested by the alguazils of the Spanish governor, a man came forward to greet me, so strikingly like the ancient _posadero_ that I felt sure he was the latter's son. My surmise proved correct, and I afterwards heard, not without a sense of satisfaction, that the father was hanged by the patriots when they recaptured Caracas.

After I had engaged my rooms the _posadero_ informed me (in answer to my inquiry) that General Salvador Carmen (this could be none other than my old friend) was with the army at La Victoria, but that he had a house at Caracas where his wife and family were then residing. He also mentioned incidentally that several Spanish officers of distinction, who had arrived a few days previously, were staying in the _posada_--doubtless the same spoken of by Van Voorst.

The day being still young, for I had left La Guayra betimes, I thought I could not do better than call on Juanita, who lived only a stone's throw from the Hotel de los Generales. She recognized me at once and received me--almost literally--with open arms. When I essayed to kiss her hand, she offered me her cheek.

"After this long time! It is a miracle!" she exclaimed. "We mourned for you as one dead; for we felt sure that if you were living we should have had news of you. How glad Salvador will be! Where have you been all this time, and why, oh why, did you not write?"

"I have been in the heart of the Andes, and I did not write because I was as much cut off from the world as if I had been in another planet."

"You must have a long story to tell us, then. But I am forgetting the most important question of all. Are you still a bachelor?"

"Worse than that, Juanita. I am a widower. I have lost the sweetest wife--"

"_Misericordia! Misericordia! Pobre amigo mio!_ Oh, how sorry I am; how much I pity you!" And the dear lady, now a stately and handsome matron, fell a-weeping out of pure tenderness, and I had to tell her the sad story of the quenching of Quipai and Angela's death. But the telling of it, together with Juanita's sympathy, did me good, and I went away in much better spirits than I had come. Salvador, she said, would be back in a few days, and she much regretted not being able to offer me quarters; it was contrary to the custom of the place and Spanish etiquette for ladies to entertain gentlemen visitors during their husbands' absence.

After leaving Juanita I walked round by the guard-house in which I had been imprisoned, and through the ruins where Carmen and I had hidden when we were making our escape. They suggested some stirring memories--Carera (who, as I learned from Juanita, had been dead several years) and his chivalrous friendship; Salvador and his reckless courage; our midnight ride; Gahra and the bivouac by the mountain-tarn (poor Gahra, what had become of him?); Majia and his guerillas; Griscelli and his blood-hounds (how I hated that man, but surely by this time he had got his deserts); Gondocori and Queen Mamcuna; the man-killer; and Quipai.

My mind was still busied with these memories when I reached the hotel. There seemed to be much more going on than there had been earlier in the day--horsemen were coming and going, servants hurrying to and fro, people promenading on the _patio_, a group of uniformed officers deep in conversation. One of them, a tall, rather stout man, with grizzled hair, a pair of big epaulettes, and a coat covered with gold lace, had his back toward me, and as my eye fell on his sword-hilt it struck me that I had seen something like it before. I was trying to think where, when the owner of it turned suddenly round, and I found myself face to face with--GRISCELLI!!

For some seconds we stared at each other in blank amazement. I could see that though he recognized me, he was trying to make believe that he did not; or, perhaps, he really doubted whether I was the man I seemed.

"That is my sword," I said, pointing to the weapon by his side, which had been given to me by Carera.

"Your sword! What do you mean?" "You took it from me eleven years ago, when I fell into your hands at San Felipe, and you hunted my friend Carmen and myself with bloodhounds."

"What folly is this? Hunted you with bloodhounds, forsooth! Why, this is the first time I ever set eyes on you--the man is mad--or drunk" (addressing his friends).

"You lie, Griscelli; and you are not a liar merely, but a murderer and a coward."

"_Por Dios_, you shall pay for this insult with your heart's blood!" he shouted, furiously, half drawing his sword.

"It is like you to draw on an unarmed man." I said, laying hold of his wrist. "Give me a sword, and you shall make me pay for the insult with my blood--if you can. Senores" (by this time all the people in the _patio_ had gathered round us), "Senores, are there here any Venezuelan caballeros who will bear me out in this quarrel. I am an Englishman, by name Fortescue; eleven years ago, while serving under General Mejia on the patriot side, I fell into the hands of General Griscelli, who deprived me of the sword he now wears, which I received as a present from Senor Carera, whose name you may remember. Then, after deceiving us with false promises--my friend General Carmen and myself--he hunted us with his bloodhounds, and