Chapter Eleven.
An interview with Murillo—We gain nothing for our pains—I still endeavour to rescue the prisoners—Meet Antonio, who belongs to the guard at the prison—My conversation with him—He promises assistance, but gives me bad news—Our plan arranged—Don José suspects us, and requests us to leave his house—We remain till the following day—Dr Cazalla and Señor Monteverde, with many others, shot—Domingo brings me a disguise, and advises me to escape without delay—Don José requests me not to see him again—Mr Laffan and I separate—He starts for Honda; I go towards the prison, followed by Lion—Outside the prison walls—Joined by Uncle Richard—Our escape from the city—We reach the mountains—Our arrival at a river—No means of crossing—Spanish soldiers in pursuit—A tarabita or rope-bridge—Dangerous crossing—The bridge cut—Our escape—Sounds of firing—We find shelter in the hut of an Indian, whose son undertakes to guide us.
By the aid of Don José and other friends to whom I had letters, I ascertained that Dr Cazalla and Mr Duffield had been brought into Bogota, and were confined, with several other persons whom I knew, in the chief prison of the city—although they had not yet undergone the mockery of a trial, which would precede their execution. Don José had made every exertion to obtain their liberation, but in vain. The savage Murillo, it was said, had resolved to shoot the whole of them. As there was no English Consul at that time in Bogota, and no one who dared openly to take Uncle Richard’s part, I determined, according to the advice I had received, to beard the lion in his den, and threaten him with the vengeance of England should Mr Duffield be injured. I was also to point out to Murillo the disgrace of destroying a man of such high scientific attainments as Dr Cazalla, and to plead that he might be banished to England, where he could render service to the human race.
Mr Laffan was quite willing to accompany me as interpreter. “We may bamboozle the scoundrel, and succeed where others have failed,” observed the dominie. “There is nothing like impudence,—or a bold bearing, as some would call it,—when one has to deal with a fellow of this sort.”
We set out, accordingly, for the viceroy’s palace. On our arrival we found numerous officers hurriedly coming and going, but most of them merely glanced at us and passed on. In the ante-room there was a motley assemblage of persons of all ranks. Some had come with petitions, others had been summoned to undergo examinations; and several—informers, I have no doubt—were hoping to obtain a reward for their treachery. I sent in my card by an aide-de-camp, requesting an interview with his Excellency. To my surprise, we were almost immediately admitted. The general was seated at a table covered with papers—two or three officers standing near him. His countenance did not belie his character. Although the expression of his mouth was concealed by his huge moustache, the dark eyes which gleamed forth from under his shaggy brows, and the frown which wrinkled his high forehead, betokened his savage disposition.
“Who are you, and what do you want?” he asked abruptly in Spanish.
I turned to Mr Laffan and begged him to interpret what the general said.
“Tell him that I am English, and how, hearing that a countryman of mine has been imprisoned unjustly, I have come to demand his release, and permission for him to accompany me back to England.”