With Cochrane the DauntlessHenty, G. A. (George Alfred)
General
With Cochrane the Dauntless
Henty, G. A. (George Alfred)
Biographical fiction; Dundonald, Thomas Cochrane, Earl of, 1775-1860
The men consulted together, and then said that they thought they would
have more chance of making their way south were they to separate. Stephen
was glad of this decision, which, he had no doubt was arrived at from the
fear that if they were taken, and he was recognized to be an Englishman,
it would make their treatment worse than it would otherwise be. He himself
much preferred to go alone; he had no authority over these men, and five
men together were more likely to attract attention than one alone. Looking
across the river they saw a number of people on the opposite bank. They
were evidently inhabitants of the town, who, having seen the ship running
for shore, had come down to watch her fate, and to give any assistance in
their power. Stephen saw that they were waving their hands for them to
make up the bank, where there might be a ferry-boat to take them over. He
pointed this out to the men, and said, “I am afraid we shall be pursued
ere long. Of course, at present they take us for their own people; but
when they see that we do not cross, they will suspect the truth, and will
send over to see whether we have taken shelter in some village there may
be on this side. When they hear that we have not done so, they will guess
that we are Chilians, and there will be a hot pursuit for us. We will walk
together for a little way along the bank as if going in the direction that
they point to. They are not likely to stay long where they are; some will
go back to the town now that there is nothing to see, others will no doubt
remain on the bank to collect wreckage that may be washed ashore, a few
may go on to the ferry and wait there for us. If there are any boats in
the river you may be sure they will soon put out to collect floating casks
and bales.”
The little crowd was indeed just beginning to break up, and after going a
short distance Stephen and his companions left the river and started
south. After going two or three hundred yards they shook hands and
separated, the sailors striking more inland, while Stephen took for the
present a course that ran parallel with the sea-coast. It was already
growing dark, and Stephen was worn out with the excitement of the day, so
that after going on for an hour, he lay down in a clump of trees and went
to sleep. It was broad daylight when he awoke, and on walking to the edge
of the trees he saw a village a few hundred yards in front of him. He made
a long detour to pass it, and was proceeding along a well-beaten path when
he heard the sound of horses’ hoofs behind, and looking round saw four
Spanish troopers riding towards him. Escape was out of the question, and
he walked quietly on in the faint hope that they might pass without
stopping him. This, however, was improbable; his hair was matted with sea
water, his clothes still wet—his whole appearance too evidently that of a
shipwrecked man. They stopped when they reached him.
“You are one of the men who were cast ashore last night?” a sergeant said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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