Manco, the Peruvian Chief / Or, An Englishman's Adventures in the Country of the Incas

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Manco, without stopping, made his horse breast the hill. He had got up some way, when we saw the noble animal stagger and fall, and both horse and rider lay motionless on the ground. Ned and I galloped down the hill towards him; for Don Gomez had, in the moment before, thrown himself from his horse, and was standing grasping Pedro’s hand, and looking earnestly in his face. We reached Manco. We found that his horse was dead, and that he had received a severe wound in his side. While we were stooping over him, the Indians came up, and, not knowing who we were, were on the point of knocking us on the head with their clubs, when he recovered his senses, and exclaimed that we were friends. We were once more aroused to action by Pedro’s voice; and lifting Manco on my horse, which was fresh and strong, I rode up the hill, accompanied by Ned, and followed by the Indians.

“Fly, fly!” exclaimed Pedro. “I came to warn you of the danger you are in. Look there, look there!”

We looked in the direction he pointed; and I now perceived that while we had been watching the flight and capture of the Inca, and Manco’s subsequent escape, which had occupied a considerable time, a strong body of troops had crossed the ford higher up the river, and were advancing rapidly along the path which led to the village where the wives of the chiefs had been left. In a few hurried words, Pedro told me that on hearing the firing, he had come out to see what was taking place, and that, like ourselves, he had been watching the battle from another height. To my deep regret, I found that, from the character of the ground, the troops were already much nearer the village than we were, and already occupied the only approach to it, so that the Indian women must inevitably fall into their power. I endeavoured to conceal this information from Manco; for, heart-broken and wounded as he was, I thought it would kill him outright. Those only, however, for whom I felt a personal interest, were Nita and her child; and I would have run every risk to save them. We were at the time posted in a dip in the hill, and while Ned and I bound up Manco’s wound, I sent Pedro to a height above us, to report the movements of the troops. In a short time he gave notice that a party of them had been detached from the main body, and were advancing in our direction. I concluded that as we climbed the hill, followed by the Indians, we had been perceived, and that, unless we were prepared to run the risk of falling into the hands of the Spaniards, we must make our escape. Manco was sufficiently recovered to sit on horseback, and I proposed giving him my horse and following on foot. As we were about to move off, I recollected Don Gomez’s request.

“He is at liberty to go,” answered Manco. “Perhaps he may recollect how he has been treated, and intercede for some of the unfortunate Indians who have fallen into the hands of his countrymen.”

To my surprise, Don Gomez refused the offer.

“I will remain some time longer with you, unless that, youth (pointing to Pedro) may accompany me. I would ask him some further questions; for his countenance has strangely agitated my mind.”

I had no opportunity of inquiring what he meant, when Pedro exclaimed that he saw an Indian woman, with a child in her arms, on the ridge of the hill, at some distance; and that the party of soldiers he had seen detached from the main body, were evidently in pursuit of her.

Manco hearing these words, seemed to surmise what had occurred, and, in spite of his wound, throwing himself on my horse and calling on the Indians to follow, he galloped along the rocky height. The eye of love at once recognised the person of the fugitive. It was his own Nita. We all hurried after him, and even Don Gomez seemed anxious for his success. Ned, who was the only other person on horseback, and who, though he rode like a seaman, always managed to make his steed cross places few people would have ventured over, was soon by his side, and together the two galloped on towards the Indian woman.

“Hurra,” shouted Ned, “Hurra! Mr Indian, hurra! We’ll manage to diddle the Dons.”

The Spanish soldiers had begun firing; but as they had at the same time to climb the hill, and were at a considerable distance, their aim was not good. Their bullets, notwithstanding, as we got nearer, came whizzing by our heads; but still we pushed on. They were evidently, however, gaining on the poor girl; and should she fall, or her strength fail her, they would be up to her before her husband could arrive to her rescue. I have often had to undergo moments of great excitement, but never have I felt such intense anxiety as I did for Nita’s rescue. On galloped Manco and Ned. The soldiers saw them coming, and fired a volley. I saw Manco reel for an instant, but still he sat his horse. In another minute Ned had lifted Nita on his horse, and placed her before him, and handing the child to Manco, the two returned at the same rapid rate towards us. The Spaniards, disappointed of their prey, halted, and fired again; and then seeing only a small body of Indians, continued their advance. As we had nothing to gain by fighting, I called out to Manco, as he came up, to order the Indians to retreat. We managed to do so in very good order, and at so rapid a rate that we soon distanced the Spaniards. They were, however, continuing the pursuit, when the sound of a bugle from the main body called them back. Halting as they heard it, they fired a parting volley after us. It was well aimed; several of the Indians were struck, as was also the unfortunate Don Gomez. I ran to his assistance; but he still sat his horse.