He was almost on the point of forcing his way through the mob to attempt to save Ramon from lynch law. But moderate counsel prevailed. He realized that in their present burst of frenzy, the crowd might murder him. He was willing to risk that possibility, but the result would destroy the amicable relations existing between the inhabitants of San Antonio and the British seamen and marines. The bloodshed that would ensue would be enormous, and perhaps the Rioguayans would make a desperate and prolonged resistance.
Yet, somehow, Peter couldn't stand by and watch his enemy being done to death.
Mackenzie was watching him covertly.
"Keep cool, laddie," he exclaimed. "There's an armed party coming up."
A British naval patrol and a picquet of marines, wearing shrapnel helmets, doubled up the street. A sharp word of command and the armed men formed two deep right across the Calle Almeira, motionless as statues.
"Order arms... fix bayonets!"
The click of steel and the clatter of rifle butts on the asphalt acted like a cold douche upon the hot-headed citizens of San Antonio. The forefront of the crowd retreated. Those in the rear, unable to see what was going on, pressed forward. Yet a strange silence fell upon the crowd.
The civil police, seizing their opportunity, hurried their prisoners forward right up to the steel-tipped line of British bluejackets and marines.
The officer in charge of the armed party was in a bit of a dilemma. Unable to understand a word, he tried to silence the now vociferous clamour of both prisoners and civil guards. He couldn't grasp the situation, being under the impression that the affair was an anti-British demonstration, while Don Ramon was in such a state of collapse that his fluent command of English failed him utterly.
Peter and Cavendish, followed by Mackenzie, went up to the officer, who happened to know the two former. Briefly Corbold explained the situation.