Last of the Incas: A Romance of the Pampas

"What?"

"Give me twenty faithful gauchos."

"Take them, and what then?"

"Leave me to act, major. I do not answer for success, as these red demons are as numerous as flies; but I shall certainly kill some of them."

"And the women and children?"

"I have shut them up in the Estancia of San Julian."

"Heaven be praised!"

"But, by the way, they will attack the estancia if they take Carmen."

"You're a humbug, Pedrito," the major said, with a smile. "You forget Doña Concha."

"That is true," the bombero remarked gaily; "I did not think of the señorita. I also forgot this – the signal for the attack will be an urubú cry, repeated at three equal intervals."

"Good! I will go and prepare, for I do not expect they will wait for sunrise."

The major on one side, and the bombero on the other, proceeded from post to post to awake the defenders of the town, and warn them to be on their guard.

On that very evening, Major Bloomfield had convened all the inhabitants; and in a short and energetic harangue depicted to them their desperate situation.

"The boats tied up under the guns of the fort," he said, in conclusion, "are ready to receive the women, children, and any frightened men. They will be removed during the night to the Estancia of San Julian."

The inhabitants stationed themselves behind the barricades with eye and ear on the watch, and musket in hand. An hour was spent in watching for the Patagonians, when suddenly the hoarse, ill-omened cry of the urubú broke the silence. A second cry followed the first closely, and the last note of the third was still vibrating, when a frightful clamour burst forth on all sides simultaneously, and the Indians dashed forward tumultuously to scale the outer entrenchments. They broke against the living wall that rose at the barriers. Astounded by this unexpected resistance, the Patagonians fell back, and were decimated by the canister, which spread desolation and death among their ranks.

Pedrito, profiting by the panic of the Redskins, dashed, after them at the head of his gauchos, and cut them down vigorously.

After two hours of terrific fighting, the sun, disdainful of human contests, majestically rose in the horizon, and spread the splendour of its beams over the field of carnage. The Indians saluted its apparition with shouts of joy, and rushed with much rage at the intrenchments – their shock was irresistible.

The colonists fled, pursued by the savages. But a formidable explosion upheaved the ground beneath their feet, and the hapless Indians hurled into the air fell dead all around. It was a mine the Argentines had fired.

The Indians, wild with terror, and deaf to the voice of their Ulmens, fled, and refused to begin the engagement again.

Nocobotha, mounted on a splendid charger, black as night, dashed forward, almost alone, and waved the sacred totem of the United Nations, shouting in a voice heard above the din of battle —

"Cowards who refuse to conquer, at least see me die!"

This cry sounded in the ears of the Indians as a shameful reproach, and they ran after their chief.

Nocobotha appeared invulnerable. He made his horse curvet, rushed into the thickest of the fight, parried every blow with the staff of the totem, which he raised above his head and shouted to his men —

"Courage, follow me!"

"Nocobotha, the last of the Indians! Let us die for the Child of the Sun!" the Patagonians shouted, electrified by the rash boldness of their Toqui.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, enthusiastically pointing to the planet of day, "See! My radiant father smiles on our valour. Forward, forward!"

"Forward!" the warriors repeated, and redoubled their fury.

All the town was already invaded, and the fighting went on from house to house. The Aucas formed in close columns, and, led by Nocobotha, dashed up the eastern steep street that runs to Old Carmen and the citadel. They advanced fearlessly, in spite of the incessant fire from the guns of the fort. Nocobotha, respected by death, and ever in front, brandished his totem, and made his black horse rear.

"Well," Major Bloomfield said, mournfully to Pedrito, "the hour has arrived."

"Do you wish it, major?"

"I insist on it."

"That is enough," the bombero added. "Good-bye, major, till we meet again in another world."

The two men shook hands: it was a final leave-taking, for, unless a miracle occurred, they were about to die. After this farewell, Pedrito collected fifty horsemen, formed them into a close squadron, and between two discharges from the battery, they dashed at full speed upon the ascending Indians. The Redskins opened right and left before this avalanche that rushed down the mountain; and they had scarce recovered from their stupor, ere they perceived the Spanish horsemen in three boats, pulling out to sea with all their might.

Taking advantage of this bold diversion, all the colonists, by Major Bloomfield's directions, shut themselves up in the fort.

Nocobotha made the Aucas a sign to halt, and advanced alone up to the walls of the citadel.

"Major," he shouted in a firm voice, "surrender; you and your men will be allowed to live."

"You are a traitor and a dog," the major, who at once appeared, answered.

"You are warned, you and your men."

"I will not surrender."

Twenty bullets whistled from the top of the wall, but Nocobotha had returned to his warriors with the rapidity of an arrow.

"Back! Back!" he shouted to them.

A detonation, loud as a hundred peals of thunder, rent the air. The major had blown up the powder in the fortress. The stony giant oscillated for two or three seconds on its base like an intoxicated mastodon; then, suddenly torn from the ground, it rose in the air, and burst like an overripe pomegranate, amid expiring cries of "Long live our country!"

A shower of stones and horridly mutilated corpses fell on the terrified Indians.

All was over. Nocobotha was master of the ruins of Carmen. Weeping with rage on seeing this disastrous victory, he planted his totem on a piece of tottering wall, which was the only relic of the fort and its defenders.

CHAPTER XXIV.

THE LAST OF THE INCAS

The principal houses of the town were only spared from pillage; and Nocobotha, in order to save their riches, adjudged them to the most powerful Ulmens. As for himself, he established his headquarters in his own mansion in Old Carmen. Don Valentine and his daughter took possession of their house, which had escaped the fury of the Indians.

The town, crowded with Patagonians, offered an image of desolation.

A week after the capture of the colony, at about ten in the morning, three persons were conversing in a low voice in Don Valentine Cardoso's saloon. They were Don Valentine himself, his daughter, and the Capataz Don Blas Salazar. The latter, in his gaucho dress, had the look of a thorough bandit. Mercedes, standing as sentry at a window was laughing heartily at him, to the great despair of the capataz, who most sincerely wished his confounded disguise at the deuce.

"Blas, my friend," Don Valentine was saying, "get yourself ready for a dance."