Then I took the passport from his pocket and hustled off to the arsenal. I had been assiduously cultivating the officers there and was delighted to find the young lieutenant with whom I was best acquainted in charge of the guard. I told him I would have the order for the release of the rifles within an hour and proceeded to celebrate by getting him in the same state in which I had found the convenient Englishman. I sent word to Lorensen, sailing master of the “Leckwith,” to get up a full head of steam, and engaged a dozen big wagons to be at the arsenal in an hour. I arrived with the wagons, waved the gaudy passport in front of the young officer’s face, and without trying to read it he told me to go ahead. We made quick work of getting the boxed arms to the ship and under her hatches, for the guard was changed at four o’clock and my sleepy young friend would be succeeded by an officer who was sober and in his right mind. We were not quite fast enough, however, for just as we were pulling out the new officer of the guard came running down the dock, shouting that he wanted to see the order for the release of the arms. As he was well out of arm’s-reach I made a fussy effort to hand him the passport. Then I opened it out and showed it to him, all the while explaining that it was all right.

He went away shaking his head and I anticipated trouble at the fort at the entrance to the harbor, at the head of the Adriatic, as the channel through which we had to run was narrow. The fort occupied a commanding position and had high walls from the water’s edge, with a free bastion high up. Sure enough, a shot whizzed across our bows as we reached the fort. Immediately I swung the ship in and before they saw I was not going to come to anchor, as they had supposed, we were so close under the walls that they could not bring their guns to bear on us. It was only a very few minutes, however, until they could reach us with their seaward guns, and they let go at us without any delay. The second shot took a bite out of the mainmast and it looked as though they had found our range and would smash us in a jiffy; but the brave little ship was tearing through the water at her top speed and, as we were going directly away from them, was hard to hit. Shells splashed uncomfortably close to us for a few minutes, but save for one shot that carried away some of the ginger-bread work on the stern we were not struck again, and were soon out of reach of anything like accurate fire. The “Leckwith” had stood her first baptism of fire in a way that augured well for her future, and the sign was a good one.

The arms were rushed to Bordeaux and turned over to the Committee of Safety only a few days before the battle of Sedan. I was sufficiently enthusiastic in the cause of France to land them without a proper guarantee of payment, and, in fact, they never were paid for. Everything was turmoil; so after waiting a few days I placed the bill for the arms with an attorney and hurried on to London, en route for Venezuela, where I expected to find more excitement, in which hope I was in no way disappointed. I placed the “Leckwith” and my ships in the hands of Nickell & Co., for charter, and took the first steamer for New York.

CHAPTER IV
LAWLESS LATIN AMERICA

THE first word that reached me on my arrival in New York near the end of September, 1870, was that my wife was seriously ill at her old home in Illinois. She had been on the Continent with relatives of old man Nickell, the ship broker and contraband dealer, during most of the time that I was messing around with Don Carlos and the French, and started home two months ahead of me. She had a very bad trip, her ship having been twenty-six days at sea, and as she was not a good sailor she suffered severely and contracted an illness which proved fatal. I went to her at once and remained at her side until the end, three weeks later. Her death was a severe blow to me. She was an exceptional woman, in that she had much good sense, was not given to chatter, and was a delightful companion. Though she had never become quite reconciled to my adventurously active life, I was devoted to her, and if she had lived I might eventually have settled down and become a respectable and self-respecting business man, in which class, I am bound to say, I would have had little company.

When I returned to New York after the funeral I was greatly depressed and was in a mood for anything that offered excitement. A few days later I found some diversion through a chance meeting with Frank (Francis Lay) Norton, just after he had gone broke in John Morrissey’s uptown gambling house. He knew me, by reputation and through the old Cuban Junta under which both of us had operated, as well as I knew him, and we soon became friends. Later we became partners in some of the most gloriously exciting exploits in which I have been fortunate enough to participate. Norton was a natural-born pirate, and he looked the part. He was then about forty years old, five feet, eight inches tall, thin and wiry and possessed of remarkable strength. His eyes, hair, beard, and moustache were as black as coal. You could feel his eyes looking through you and would almost lose a realizing sense of what was in your mind; it was not hypnotism nor mental or physical dominance but he could almost read your most secret thoughts. He was completely irreligious, cynical, and cold-blooded. Under the most severe tests a slight twitching of the eyes was his only sign of excitement. He was daring to the supreme degree but never foolishly reckless, and I don’t believe he ever experienced the sensation of fear. He was, too, as he needed to be, almost a dead shot in off-hand firing with rifle or pistol, and an expert swordsman.

When I first met him he was wild about the China Sea, where he had spent several thrilling years and made several fortunes, only to lose them as soon as he could find a gambling house, for he was a faro fiend of the most virulent type. He declared that was the only part of the world for us, with regard both to excitement and money, and suggested that we form a partnership and go out there “to do anything that came handy.” Though I had spent money like the proverbial drunken sailor, or worse, for I was born with all the tastes of an aristocrat, I was then worth several hundred thousand dollars, while Norton was worth nothing, so I could not quite see a partnership such as he had in mind. Nor was he able to tempt me away from Venezuela. I had heard so much of that country and of Guzman Blanco that my heart was set on going there before I undertook to explore any other strange lands. The upshot of our many discussions was that I sent Norton to London to take command of the “Leckwith” until I was ready to join him, when it was agreed we should go out in the yacht to his beloved China Sea. I had brought Lars Lorensen, the former sailing master of the “Leckwith” and a brave and loyal Norseman, with me from the other side, as I expected to have need of him in South America.

After Norton’s departure I bought the fore and aft schooner yacht “Juliette,” about eighty tons, fitted her out at New London, Connecticut, for a six months’ cruise, and with Lorensen as sailing master, started for Bermuda to test her seaworthiness. We reached there in five days and proceeded to St. Thomas, where I hoped to find Guzman Blanco. He was not there so we went on to Curacoa, which was then, as it has been ever since, a revolutionary rendezvous. We arrived there in the latter part of December. I found that Guzman was there, and James Faxon, the American consul, introduced me to him at the Willemstad Club, where he was playing billiards with Gen. Pulgar, his chief-of-staff. Before meeting him I had familiarized myself with recent Venezuelan history, as far as it concerned him. I learned that Guzman Blanco’s father, Dr. Antonio Guzman, began political life as private secretary to Simon Bolivar, the famous “Liberator,” and had been prominent in Venezuelan politics for fifty years. He aided in the election of Jose Tadeo Monagas to the presidency and at his request his son, Guzman Blanco, was appointed Secretary of Legation at Washington, where he lived during 1856 and 1857. In the latter year Dr. Guzman had a row with Monagas and was expelled from the country. He went to St. Thomas and was soon joined by his son. There they met Gen. Falcon, who too had been banished by Monagas and was planning a revolt. When Falcon invaded Venezuela in 1859, in what became known as the “Five Years’ War,” Guzman Blanco went with him. In a succession of brilliant victories young Guzman demonstrated his great bravery and military genius and he soon was at the head of a division, later becoming second in command. Falcon entered Caracas in triumph in April, 1863, after devastating most of the country, and was elected President, with Guzman Blanco as Vice-President. In addition to this title Guzman was made Minister of Finance and of Foreign Relations, and in 1864, and again in 1867, he went to Europe to settle the national debt and arrange a new loan. While he was away the second time the old Monagas faction came back to life with enough strength to force Falcon to abandon Caracas, and when Guzman returned from London in 1868 a mob surrounded his house and stoned it. He fled to Europe. He had just returned and was planning an invasion of Venezuela when I met him.

I told him of my efforts the year before to meet him in London and Paris and their purpose; that I was running contraband, more to satisfy my love of adventure than as a business, and I believed I could be useful to him; that South America was prolific of revolutions and I was ambitious to have a hand in them. After he had studied me, asked all sorts of questions, and apparently satisfied himself that I could be relied on, Guzman told me, in a general way, of his plans and asked me to secure for him three thousand old Remington rifles and five hundred thousand cartridges and deliver them as quickly as possible at Curacoa. We sailed for New York the day after the order was given, early in January, and made the trip in just a month. I bought the arms from P. D. Orvis & Co., of Whitehall Street, and we were on our way back within a week. We made the return trip in twenty-eight days and reached Curacoa just before the sunset gun was fired. The entrance to the harbor at Curacoa is very narrow and in those days it was, and I believe still is, closed during the night by a great chain, which was raised at sunset and lowered at sunrise by a powerful windlass.

I went ashore at once and to the club where, instead of Guzman Blanco, whom I expected would be waiting for me, I found Gen. Ortega, who was with Guzman when I first met him and seemed to be fully in his confidence. Ortega handed me a note, bearing what purported to be the signature of Guzman, which directed me to deliver the cargo at a place to be indicated by Ortega, and stated that payment for it would be made on my cabin table. As I was not familiar with Guzman’s writing I showed the signature to Dr. Leon and to old man Jesurun, who owned the shipyard, who knew Guzman well, and both of them pronounced it genuine. I had no suspicion that anything was wrong and took this precaution simply as a matter of ordinary business sense. Ortega directed me to deliver the cargo at Tucacas Point, a little peninsula about one hundred miles west of La Guaira, and said we must put to sea that night, as Guzman was anxiously awaiting the arms. Through exceptional representations of some sort to the commandante he secured the lowering of the chain, and we left at once, arriving off the point the next evening.