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
“That was well done indeed!” the girl said, clapping her hands merrily. “I
scarce thought that it could be your knock when you came, for we had
agreed that if you did manage to make your escape it would not be until
very late, and it seemed impossible that you could have got out so early.
However, that is all the better, as you will now have a long start. Now,
señor, the first thing for you to do will be to put on the disguise
Filippo has prepared for you in that bag on the table. Here is a piece of
burnt cork for darkening your eyebrows and eyelashes, and a false
moustache that will quite change your appearance. I will go into the next
room with nurse; when you are dressed you can call, and I will come back.”
As soon as he was alone Stephen opened the bag and drew out an attire such
as would be worn by a respectable Peruvian merchant. This he put on,
darkened his eyebrows, and stuck on the moustache, and acknowledged when
he viewed himself in a small mirror that he should not have known himself.
On his opening the door the girl came in from the other room again.
“We have talked over, Filippo and I, the way you had best go, and we both
agree that the journey south would be altogether too dangerous. It will
naturally be supposed that you have gone that way, and the news will be
sent down by horsemen, so that the troops and the authorities will be on
the look-out for you everywhere. We both think that, although the journey
is very long and toilsome, your best plan will be to ride straight inland,
cross the Andes, and come down into Brazil. You are not likely to be
questioned on that line, which no one would imagine that you would be
likely to take. You may meet with adventures on the way, but you English
people are fond of adventures. At any rate that plan will be safer for
you, and indeed for us.”
“Why for you, señorita?”
“If you were to be captured,” she said, “you would be questioned as to who
aided you, and there are means in these prisons by which they can wring
the truth from the strongest and bravest. There are tortures, señor, that
flesh and blood could not withstand.”
“You are right, Donna Inez,” Stephen said gravely. “For myself I should be
ready to run the risk of getting through to the south, but what you have
said decides me. I would die rather than say a word that could betray you
and your cousin. But no one can say what one would do under fiendish
tortures; therefore I at once accept your plan.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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