The war maker : $b Being the true story of Captain George B. Boynton — John Shaqi
The war maker : $b Being the true story of Captain George B. BoyntonSmith, Horace Herbert
History
The war maker : $b Being the true story of Captain George B. Boynton
Smith, Horace Herbert
Filibusters
As though impressed by his confidence in himself, I announced that
I would take a chance with him and accept his offer, with a mental
reservation to escape at the first opportunity, for I did not propose
to fight against Guzman, and that, I was convinced, was what it
amounted to.
“That is excellent,” he said, with the suggestion of a bow. After
coffee I went with him to inspect his troops. He had about three
thousand men, many of whom were already armed with the rifles I
had brought in, and they were strung across the narrow arm of the
peninsula in a line almost as ragged as their clothes. I was formally
given command of a battalion of three hundred men, and an Indian
servant,--I afterward found he had orders to shoot me if I attempted
to escape,--was assigned to me. I accompanied Pulgar back to his
headquarters, where I was given an old sword and the tarnished shoulder
straps of a colonel, these constituting my uniform.
“Now that you have allied yourself with my forces,” he then said, “you
will have no use for your ship, for the present at least. She is still
lying in the bay and if she remains there she is likely to be captured
or cause trouble. You will therefore write a note to the officer in
charge of her directing him to proceed to Curacoa and await orders.
She will be safe there and,” with a quizzical smile, “you will be safe
here. We have no boats but we will signal your ship from the beach that
we have word for it.”
I had been expecting this command and, as there was nothing else for
me to do, I complied with it at once. It was cutting off my only hope
of rescue, though a forlorn one as I was forced to admit, but the
adventure which the situation promised to develop was getting into my
blood and, to tell the truth, I rather liked the idea of being left to
my own resources amid such strange surroundings. Pulgar had told me
during the inspection of his camp that we would probably soon be in
action, as “some” troops were advancing on him, and if they did not
attack him before he was ready to march, he would go out to meet them.
He preferred that they should bring the fight to him for all of his men
were recruited from that section and knew every foot of the country.
When I came to know Venezuela I appreciated that Pulgar required no
great prestige to gain a considerable following in that part of the
country, for it was a veritable hotbed of revolution, ranking with
Maturin in the east and Barquisimeto in the southwest,--three kegs of
powder that could be set off by almost any man who had two legs and a
sword.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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