I was now nearly quite well, as was also Mr Laffan, and he had determined to set off next day to rejoin Juan’s corps. He had, however, over-estimated his strength; for that very evening, on returning home, he was seized with a fever. My father insisted that he should at once go to bed. “If you do not,” he said, “I will not answer for your life.”
The dominie obeyed, but very unwillingly. His illness however, as was proved in the sequel, was the means of saving his life. I had gone one afternoon with my father to visit some Royalist friends living in the great square, who had had the courage to remain in the town. My father had attended the family, and not long before had been the means of curing Don Cassiodoro de Corran of a dangerous disease. Though a Spaniard, he was very liberal, and, being respected by all parties, he ventured to remain, and the Patriots had not molested him. The young ladies of the family were playing on their guitars, and two or three other people having come in, we were proposing a dance, when we were startled by the sound of musketry. Presently we heard shouts and cries, and the trampling of horses coming down the principal street leading from the northern gate.
“The Godos! the Godos! the hated Spaniards! The enemy is upon us!” shouted the people, as they rushed across the square.
Unfortunately, the principal officers of the troops were in different parts of the town, paying visits or amusing themselves. The soldiers, without proper leaders, seized their arms and turned out, some coming without ammunition, others leaving their bayonets or swords behind them. They then attempted to form under their sergeants and such officers as remained, but, being ill-disciplined, all was done in a hurry and without order; and many, seized by a panic, made their escape.
Antonio, who, I should have said, had accompanied me, rushed into the house and begged me to fly. My father, however, insisted that I should remain.
“You can do nothing, and will certainly lose your life,” he said.
Antonio, who was a brave fellow, hastened out again to join his comrades. I could not, however, resist going to the window to see what was taking place. Presently a large body of Spanish cavalry rode into the square, putting to flight the soldiers they first encountered, who, scattering in every direction, attempted to seek safety in the houses. Among others I caught sight of Antonio, who was making towards the house he had so lately left, hotly pursued by a Spanish colonel. I determined, if possible, to save Antonio, and asked Don Cassiodoro to speak to the colonel. He was about to do so, when Antonio stopped and cried out—
“I will surrender, señor colonel, if you will spare my life.”
“Well, well! trust to me,” was the answer.
But as the Spaniard spoke he drew a pistol from his holster; on which Antonio, expecting the next moment to be a dead man, made a lunge at him with his long lance, the point wounding the colonel, who the next moment rolled from his horse. Our hero, as may be supposed, did not stop to help him up, but leaping on his steed, galloped off, master of a good horse and all the colonel’s appointments. As he passed our windows he waved his hand to me, and disappeared like lightning down the street. I had great hopes that he would make his escape before the main body of the Spaniards could enter.