“Very good, sir,” he replied. “It is quite evidently a mistake.”

He then returned to the “Bellerephon,” which answered our salute, and we squared away for Costa Rica. My mind was free from any further fear of capture, for a stiff breeze was singing over our quarter, and I knew by the time the old warship could get to Kingston and start after us again we would be well out of reach. As soon as she was hull down I mustered the crew aft and complimented Bill on his ready wit and rewarded it. He was with me for years after that and was never known by any other name than “True Bill.”

I then reminded the men that, in accordance with my invariable rule when running contraband, I had told all of them the exact nature of our voyage before we were out of sight of land and had offered to set ashore any who did not wish to undertake it, while those who stayed with me were to receive double pay, and a bonus out of the profits in addition, in consideration of the hazardous nature of the trip.

“Therefore,” I told them, “the treachery of Donovan has not only endangered your extra pay and bonus but also placed your freedom in jeopardy. As he was one of your number I will turn him over to you for such punishment as you think his case deserves. I, of course, reserve the right to review your verdict, but I do not believe you will be too lenient with him.” The crew welcomed this announcement with cheers, which could not be regarded as a good omen for the traitor, and a court-martial was organized, with the “bos’n” at the head of it.

Donovan confessed when he was brought before the court, whereupon it was unanimously and speedily decided that he should run the gantlet and be marooned, which verdict I approved, for I believed it to be none too severe. The crew prepared for the first ceremony by knotting a lot of rope ends and tarring them until they were as hard as iron but flexible. They then formed in a double line the full length of the ship and as Donovan ran down the middle of it they laid on so well that he was leaving a trail of blood before he tumbled in a heap at the end. He was then placed in the brig and kept there until we came to a small island off the Costa Rican coast, on which he was landed with enough water and provisions to last him a couple of weeks or more and a flag that he could use to signal any vessel coming his way. There was not a great deal of travel down that way in those days and he may still be there, doing a repetition of the Robinson Crusoe act, though the island was not very large and the boat’s crew that landed him reported that they saw no goats. Donovan was helpless from fear when he was lowered into the boat to be rowed to the island, and begged for mercy, but that was something our cargo did not contain.

The arms we carried were sold to the revolutionists in Costa Rica, being paid for partly in cash and partly in coffee, which I sold at Curacoa. From there I returned to Venezuela and reported to Guzman Blanco, after having been away only about four months. Not long after my arrival in Caracas, where I resumed my old position as confidential agent for Guzman, I received a letter from President Baez asking me to enter his employ, to reorganize his army and aid him in suppressing the revolutionary feeling which was being developed by agents for Pimental and Cabral. He offered to give me a commission as General in the Santo Domingan Army, which he did do later, and to pay me liberally for my services, which he didn’t do. I replied that I had again associated myself with Guzman and that while no length of service had been specified, I wished to remain with him at least a short while, after which I would try to get leave to join the Santo Domingans.

Guzman was paving the way for his election as Constitutional President, which was accomplished the next year, 1873, and all of his friends were working to that end. He was supported by a public sentiment that became practically unanimous, but there were a few who were unalterably opposed to any established order of things and who could not get over the habit of “revoluting,” with or without provocation. During the Fall and Winter these discontented ones gradually drew together under the leadership of General Pulido. Guzman was kept advised as to what they were doing but their following was so small that it caused him no uneasiness and, to further strengthen himself with the people, he determined to take no steps against them until they came out in the open, when he was prepared to crush them. The moment the rebels raised their banners Guzman took the field against them, in person. At the head of an army of four thousand veterans he marched to Valencia where he met Pulido and routed him, following up his scattered forces and almost annihilating them, and the revolt was stamped out with one smashing blow. That was the last hand raised against Guzman for seventeen years; during all of that time he was the absolute dictator of Venezuela. The constitution prohibited the President from succeeding himself so he occupied that office for alternate terms, with an obedient dummy serving in the intervals, which he spent in Europe as Minister Plenipotentiary, directing the government by mail. His rule was wise and progressive. Railroads were built, roads improved, schools established, and real religious liberty took the place of clericalism. He was betrayed, in the end, by his supposed friends, men whom he had raised to prominence and prosperity. Had he been succeeded by a man as strong and able as himself Venezuela would to-day be the foremost country in South America, instead of the one most uncivilized.

Not long after the campaign against Pulido, in which I served on Guzman’s staff, I received another letter from Baez, urging me to come to Santo Domingo. The same mail brought a letter from Baez to Guzman, asking him to grant me leave of absence for a few months to enter his service. Guzman was flattered by this request and with his permission I went to Santo Domingo City in the Spring of 1873, on the “Juliette.”

CHAPTER VI
A SWIFT VENGEANCE

PRESIDENT BAEZ of Santo Domingo was short and thin and had a washed-out look, as though his skin had been faded by chemicals instead of by a three-quarters’ admixture of white blood. He had large full eyes that were shifty and insincere. He was clever but superficial, cunning and treacherous. Had I seen him before I went to his cursed country, to reorganize his army and aid in putting down the growing revolutionary sentiment, I would have remained in Venezuela or gone elsewhere in search of adventure, for he looked a coward and provoked distrust. I had heard of him only as a good fighter but that reputation, I became convinced soon after my first visit to the “palace,” had been earned for him by his former friends and supporters and was in no sense the work of his own sword, at least so far as recent years were concerned. In his earlier days he might have displayed more bravery, and he must have shown some courage to arouse a fighting degree of loyalty that had four times swept the country, but presuming that to be true he had gone back greatly with advancing age. He seemed to have convinced the superstitious mulattoes, with whom the still more fanatical full-blooded blacks were always at war, that he was a real man of destiny whose course could not safely be interfered with, and his successive successes probably were due more to that belief than to any other cause. His brother, the Minister of War, had all of the President’s faults in accentuated form and added to them an inordinate vanity. He was jealous of me from the start. He had expected that I would recommend to him such changes in the “military establishment” as I thought wise, but I insisted on doing things myself and having a free hand, which the President was quite willing to give me, perhaps because he was suspicious of even his own brother.