The Motor Scout: A Story of Adventure in South America

by Herbert Strang

Impressing on the men that haste and silence were essential, Tim returned to the house in search of Romaña. But Romaña was not to be found. Seeing one horse where there had been two just before, Tim leapt to the conclusion that the man had taken fright and made good his own escape. His lip curled with disdain of his cowardice. He found Biddy Flanagan, told her to keep the servants quiet and attend to Captain Pierola, who lay wounded on the floor of the patio, then picked up the rifles which the gendarmes had cast aside in their hasty flight, and carried them out to the men. A few minutes afterwards he put himself at the head of the column, now increased by a score of Cholos, eager to share in the adventure, and set off at a rapid pace along the track to San Rosario.

He had spoken boldly and cheerfully to the men, but his mind was dark with misgiving. He could not be charged with lack of forethought now. As he marched his brain was busy. Nobody in San Rosario would dream of the audacious movement he was leading; no special guard would be maintained at the barracks; with the advantage of surprise he felt that a sudden swift onslaught might win the place. But what then? In a day or two at the most he would be besieged by an overwhelming force, and, unless aided by a popular rising against the Prefect, his little band of untrained men must be annihilated. The one consolation was that by a preliminary success he would certainly gain time; and recollecting that the Japanese, if they had remained on the plantation, or fled over the open country, would have been at the mercy of pursuing cavalry, he felt that the course he had chosen was the wisest in the circumstances.

After marching for nearly a mile along the track, he struck off to the left, over a marshy wilderness that lay between it and the highroad east of the town. By this time, no doubt, a detachment of mounted men was already riding out to deal with the mutiny. Pardo would have seen to that. They would follow the direct path; it was essential that they should neither see nor hear the body of men hastening in the opposite direction.

Ten minutes after he had quitted the track, he heard the thud of hoofs and the clinking of metal in the distance. He instantly called a halt, waited until the sounds had dwindled away behind him, then hurried on still more rapidly than before. The diminution of the garrison would render his task easier; but it was important that he should accomplish it before the horsemen, finding that the birds were flown, had time to return to the town. Luckily he knew every yard of the ground, and chose his route unerringly even before the distant lights of San Rosario came into view to give him guidance.

Fifty minutes after starting he reached the eastern outskirts of the town. This was the best quarter. A few substantial houses were scattered irregularly, surrounded by their gardens, and separated by crooked streets and lanes which all debouched upon the plaza. It was in one of these streets, on the opposite side of the plaza from the gobernador's house, that the barracks were situated--a large two-storey building, once a mansion, but now reserved for the accommodation of the gendarmes and the irregular troops of the Prefect whenever great occasions brought them from San Juan. The outlying streets were strangely quiet, though a murmurous hum came from the direction of the plaza. Choosing the narrowest and least frequented lane, Tim led his silent force to the end of the street of the barracks.

Meanwhile the centre of the town was in a ferment of excitement. The arrival of the fugitives with news of the revolt led by the outlawed Inglés, the attack on the house, the murder (thus it was exaggerated) of Captain Pierola, was like the coming of a whirlwind. The wildest rumours flew through the town, and the whole populace flocked into the plaza to discuss them. One of the two lieutenants in the barracks immediately set off with a troop for the hacienda; the other, summoned from the house where he had been dining, sent a second troop into the plaza to keep order and check any revolutionary demonstration to which the news of the outbreak might give rise. Thus all things conspired to favour the bold plan which Tim had conceived.

The barracks occupied almost the whole of one side of the short street. Wide gates gave entrance to an open porch that cut the building in two. It was flanked on both sides by the lower floor, devoted to stores. Staircases led to the upper floor, in which were, on one side the quarters of the men, on the other the guardroom and armoury. Both right and left a palisaded balcony overlooked the porch. Beyond this was a long rectangular patio, bounded on three sides by the stables. The patio was surrounded by a high wall abutting on the gardens of the surrounding villas.

During the daytime the front gates were constantly open, and a sentry marched up and down the porch between the street and the patio. At night they were shut, and the sentry occupied his box just within. Tim had debated on the way whether to scale the rear wall or to rush the front entrance, and decided that the latter course had the better promise of success. The wall was spiked; if they safely surmounted it, to descend on the stable roof would cause a commotion among the horses, and before they could reach the main building they would have to cross the whole width of the patio, perhaps in the face of a hot fire. If the front gates were shut, the wicket would no doubt be opened in answer to a knock. Then his plan was to seize and silence the sentry, and send his men up the stairs, if possible before the alarm was given.

He halted at the end of the street, which was not overlooked by houses, and glanced up it towards the plaza. To his surprise and joy he saw a bar of light across the roadway at the position of the gates. They were open: evidently the surprising events of the evening had led to a modification or the neglect of the usual arrangements. The street was empty. Passing word along the line that the men were to follow at his heels as quickly as possible, he rushed along towards the open gates.

Within the porch the sentry at his box was talking to two of his comrades who, with their coats loosened, were leaning over the railing of the balcony on the guardroom side. The attackers had come within a few yards of the gates before the sound of their hurrying feet was audible above the hum of the excited crowd in the plaza. It awakened no alarm or suspicion; but the sentry moved leisurely to the street to see what was happening. He had just reached the gates when, before he could cry out, he was hurled to the ground, and a crowd of men dashed past and over him into the porch. The two men above stared in bewilderment for a moment; then, partially realising the situation, they ran back into the guardroom shouting with alarm.