On Foreign Service; Or, The Santa Cruz Revolution — John Shaqi
On Foreign Service; Or, The Santa Cruz RevolutionJeans, T. T. (Thomas Tendron)
General
On Foreign Service; Or, The Santa Cruz Revolution
Jeans, T. T. (Thomas Tendron)
Great Britain. Royal Navy -- Fiction; Seafaring life -- Fiction; South America -- Fiction
The Angel and I squeezed each other to buck ourselves up, and kept our
eyes on it all the time. It looked most awfully gloomy, and it seemed
horrid to think that only twelve hours ago Billums had driven past it
with us, and now he was inside and we were going back without him.
’What will he think of us?’ I gulped. ’Poor old Billums!’
Well, we got on to the main road, left the city behind us, and presently
began to go downhill. Mr. Perkins went to sleep soon, his jolly red
face rolling from side to side as the carriage bumped, and the Captain
snuggled down in the other corner, and we knew when he went to sleep,
because his eyeglass fell out, and he didn’t ’tut, tut,’ and put it
back.
We didn’t go to sleep for a long time—we were too miserable and cold—and
watched the troopers riding on each side of us with their blankets over
their shoulders, and every half-mile or so, flaming fires at the side of
the road, with soldiers sitting round them. We could hear them
challenging the carriages in front, but when we got up to them, they
only stared at us, or called out to the escort, and wrapped their
blankets round them more closely. There was a huge nigger chap riding
on my side of the carriage, and both he and his wretched thin horse
seemed nearly asleep. I watched him bobbing and lurching from side to
side in his saddle, waking up with a start whenever his poor brute
stumbled, and then must have gone to sleep, because the next I remember
was finding that we were going past rows of houses—pitch dark, with not
a sound coming from them—and knew that we’d got down to Los Angelos.
I was colder than ever, because the Angel had all the rug, but the smell
of the sea was grand.
We drove down to the wharf where we’d landed in the morning. The
carriages all stopped—I could hardly stand when I got out because my
legs were so cramped—and two of our barges were waiting for us, their
mids. holding up lanterns and singing out to let us know where they
were.
The cavalry escort clattered away, the old Governor kissed the hands of
all the ladies as he helped them into the boats, the two A.D.C.’s,
looking frightfully sleepy, clicked their heels and bowed, the Captain
said, ’Tut, tut,’ a good many times and shook the Governor by the hand,
the Angel and I managed to get hold of the fat A.D.C. and shake his
hand, and off we all went.
It was simply splendid to be in a boat again and to hear the oars go
’click, click’ in the rowlocks, and when we’d got round the end of the
breakwater to see the lights of the _Hector_ and _Hercules_. The other
chaps who had gone back before us had taken orders for the two barges to
wait in, all night, if necessary; that was why we’d found them there.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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