Fitz the Filibuster

by George Manville Fenn

“Hah!” said the boatswain, turning towards the two lads, after being very silent for quite half-an-hour. “I call this something like; but I do hope as the Camel’s had time to pick a bit.”

So busy had the party on board been, that they had thought little about the proceedings on shore, the less so that the excitement and noise of shouting orders, trampling feet, and the buzz of chattering women and children had drifted farther and farther away to the opposite side of the town, where beyond the low houses and hovels of the poorer part of the population the long low valley commenced which rapidly became a pass, the key, so to speak, of the little city.

Here Don Ramon had mustered his force, and here during the rest of the night his men worked by the light of the stars, making a wall of stones with openings for the field-pieces, and clearing the road behind between them and the earthwork nearer to the fort, to which in case of emergency they could be withdrawn ready for another stand.

He was no novice in such matters, having passed his life as he had amidst a volcanic people where revolutions came and went as if indigenous to the countries bordering upon the Mexican Gulf.

In his way he was no bad soldier, and in fact a better man than his rival the tyrant and oppressor, whom he had been urged by the superior part of his fellow-countrymen to supplant.

Hence it was that before morning, and without interruption, he made the most of the rough but enthusiastic and willing materials to his hand, so that at last he could breathe more freely and accept the congratulations of his friends over the knowledge they shared that Villarayo would find when he came up that not only had he a formidable nut to crack, but the probability before him that the nutcrackers would give way first.

All this was plain enough in the coming daylight, when the skipper and the two lads made their way ashore in one of the boats from the spot where the Teal was moored, floating more lightly now, and almost as gracefully in the pearly grey light as the beautiful little waterfowl after which she was named.

“Why, it looks almost like an anthill,” said Fitz, as they approached the mouth of the pass, whose sides were dotted with men, most of whom were carrying rifles, while each displayed a formidable knife in his belt. “But there doesn’t seem to be any sign of the enemy as yet.”

“No,” said Poole; “but I say, father, do you think that they will be able to manage those guns?”

“Yes,” said the skipper gravely. “The men who had the gumption to plant them like that will be pretty sure to find out the way to use them with effect. Besides, they have had some experience, of course, with the old-fashioned pieces in the fort.”