Chapter XXIII The Fight in the Ruins
Mines and Countermines—In the Cellars—Burrowing—Y Mines—An Underground Enemy—The Foe Within—Planning a Surprise—At Dawn—Across the Barricades—In the Enemy’s Works—A Bird’s-eye View—Through the Wall—Sword versus Bayonet—Shut Out—A Mob Leader—Too much Zeal—Not Proven
Jack walked downstairs abstractedly, and was only brought to himself by the sudden realization that he had almost collided with a person entering at the door. Looking up with a murmured apology, he saw that the visitor was a burly priest, in long cassock and broad sombrero which roofed a round jovial face. The priest was equally apologetic, and eyed Jack curiously, stopping in the doorway and turning round to gaze after his retreating figure. Outside, Jack found Pepito perched on a stone post. He sprang to the ground when he saw his master.
“Well, imp,” said Jack, “sticking to me as usual, eh?”
“Sí, Señor. Señor knows the fat padre?”
“No. Do you?”
“A friend of the Busno Don Miguel,” replied the boy.
“Indeed! How do you know that?”
“I saw them talking at the door of the great big house over there.”
He pointed to the Franciscan convent on the other side of the road. Jack looked thoughtful; he wondered whether this was the Padre Consolacion of whom he had heard, and was half-minded to turn back and make his acquaintance. That he had been seen in consultation with Miguel was somewhat disturbing. But, on second thoughts, he decided that he had already been long enough away from his command at Santa Engracia, and he hastened his steps in that direction, anxious to see how things had been progressing there in his absence.
When he left the Casa Alvarez, two hours before, he had given instructions for the commencement of operations by which he hoped to beat the French at their own game. From what he had learnt from Don Cristobal he saw that the mistake up to the present had been the waiting for the explosion of the French mines, the result being that the enemy gained positions from which it usually proved impossible to dislodge them. The only means of keeping them effectually in check was to practise countermining, not in the hand-to-mouth manner in which it had hitherto been attempted, but systematically, with a longer outlook, with a regard to ultimate developments rather than to the immediate repelling of attack. During his interview with the foreman that morning he had explained his ideas, and learnt that, so far as the man’s limited experience went, there was no practical obstacle to their accomplishment.
The French, as he had seen, had been for some days past working steadily through the three parallel blocks of buildings that ran from the Santa Engracia direction towards the Plaza Alvarez. They had made equal progress in all three blocks. The limit of destruction was marked by the Casas Vega, Tobar, and Vallejo, the first two being at the end of their blocks immediately facing the Casa Alvarez, separated from each other by a narrow lane, while the last was separated from the Casa Tobar by the street running into the plaza. These three houses were still standing, but it was obvious that they would form the next points of attack, and it was highly probable that even now the enemy had begun to cut galleries towards them.
Jack had made up his mind to anticipate the attack. Before leaving in the morning he had learnt from the foreman, whose name was Pulgar, that the work of mining underground could usually be heard from a distance of about forty feet. From this he calculated that, if the French began to work from their side immediately after their last attack, there would be time for his own men to drive a short gallery beneath the wall of each of the three houses before there was any risk of their operations being heard by the enemy. He had therefore left instructions for a hole to be cut beneath the farther party-wall of each house, where it adjoined the house last demolished. He told Pulgar to see that the digging was done as quietly as possible, and to be on the alert to catch the slightest sound of the approach of the French miners in the opposite direction.
“Well, how are things getting on?” he asked of Don Cristobal, on arriving at his post after his interview with Juanita.
“Excellently,” was the reply. “Pulgar has kept the men at work without relaxation.”
“In shifts, I suppose?”
“Only one man can work at each tunnel, so he gave each man half an hour; then his place was taken by another. Here is Pulgar himself.”
“You are doing capitally, I hear, hombre,” said Jack. “How far have the men got?”
“The tunnels are nearly three feet long by this time, Señor. It takes about an hour to cut away a foot.”
“Any sound of the French?”
“None, Señor.”
“Very well. Another four feet will finish these. But we mustn’t stop at that. We can’t hope to keep the enemy back altogether by one explosion at those walls. It would delay them, certainly, and do considerable damage; but we’ll have to prepare to give them much more trouble farther back.”
“I had thought of that, Señor.”
“Well, I think we’ll go and have a look at the cellars. Come along. Bring your measure with you; we shall require that, and a candle.”
Descending to the cellars of the Casa Alvarez, Jack found that they ran along the walls on the west and north sides of the building, at a distance of ten feet below the surface of the ground. They formed a series of arched rooms leading one from the other, with small openings for ventilation giving on the patio.
“Dark musty places these!” said Jack. “Judging by the appearance of them, they haven’t been used for a century. There’s not even a bottle of wine to be seen, let alone a rat. Ah! I spoke too soon; sh-h-h!”
A rat had just scurried along the wall into its hole in the corner.
“I have been thinking over things,” resumed Jack, “and I shall be glad of your opinion of the plan I have partly formed. Our object, of course, must be to hold the French in check as long as possible; but if they succeed in occupying the two houses opposite, and the Casa Vallejo, we shall be very hard put to it to defend the plaza and this house. They outnumber us. It is quite likely that, in spite of all we can do, they will eventually succeed in obtaining a lodgment in these three houses or their ruins. I propose, therefore, to plan our defence on the assumption that they will do so. This house in which we now stand will be our fort, and we should arrange so that we can do the enemy as much damage as possible from this spot.”
“That is reasonable, Señor,” said Don Cristobal.
“Well, the greatest damage we can do will be done by mines like their own—either to destroy their mines before they have time to explode them, or to drive the enemy back when they have exploded their mines and seized the houses. To do that effectually we require to drive at least two galleries from these cellars under each house. But the Casa Vallejo is too far away. We haven’t men enough, and it would take too long, to cut a gallery from here right across the plaza and street and under that house. The Casas Vega and Tobar are much nearer, and I see nothing to prevent us from cutting the galleries under them.”
“In addition to the short tunnels already being cut under the party-walls?” asked Don Cristobal.
“Oh yes! You see my aim? The short tunnels are to delay their attack on those houses; the longer tunnels I propose are to check their advance on this house when they have captured the others.”
“But why two long galleries, Señor?” asked Pulgar.
“Because, after we have fired one, the French will come on in greater strength again, thinking we have done our worst, and the explosion of the second will have a shattering effect on them in every way.”
“An excellent idea, Señor!” said Don Cristobal, “but our men are not too strong, and it would cost immense labour to drive two galleries. It is forty feet across the plaza between this and the houses opposite; you must allow for several feet of tunnel in each house if you want to spare the walls facing us—”
“Eight feet at least,” interrupted Jack. “I don’t want to destroy the houses entirely.”
“Well, that makes ninety-six feet of tunnelling for each house, and all the earth to be carried back as it is dug out. You will work your men to death, Señor.”
Jack considered. For the moment he envied some friends of his who had commissions in the Engineers. “They would have mugged up all this sort of thing in their books,” he said to himself. How could he achieve his purpose without running the risk Don Cristobal had pointed out? He stood for a time unconsciously tapping the stone floor with his foot as he thought over the problem.
“I have it!” he exclaimed suddenly. “It’s a case of letter Y—you see? Drive one gallery half-way; then two branching out from it like the arms of a capital Y. It won’t save time, but it will save labour, and we can’t afford to knock the men up.”
“That is it, Señor,” said Pulgar, rubbing his hands.
“Then I will get you to arrange with the men so that they take turn and turn about. And by the way, two short tunnels must be cut between the Casa Vallejo and the house next it on this side—the Casa Hontanon, is it not? Those houses are not so capable of defence as this is, but we must do what we can to beat the enemy there also.”
Pulgar at once set off to arrange with the workmen, while Jack proceeded to organize the garrisoning of the houses. Except for a few shells thrown over the ramparts nothing had been done by the French since the explosion of the previous evening. The barricades in the streets and lane were held by men of the Valencia regiment; Jack selected other men from the same regiment, and some of the best of the guerrilleros, and thus formed three companies of twenty men each to garrison the three casas, Vega, Tobar, and Vallejo. Fifty men were held in reserve in the Casa Alvarez.
As the day wore on, Jack found that the tunnelling proceeded more rapidly than he had expected. Working on a more definite plan than hitherto, the men saw that their chances of seriously checking the French advance were much greater, and dug and carried with a dogged perseverance that gave Jack a new respect for the Spanish character. By the evening the short holes under the party-walls nearest the French were ready for the charges. Thinking it advisable to see for himself what had been done, Jack crawled through one of the tunnels with a lighted candle, feeling the oppression of the dank confined air. He saw by the dim light that the sides and roof were roughly shored up with timber, and that, as he had wished, there was a slight slope upwards, so that the head of the tunnel was only about four feet from the surface. At the end he listened for the sound of the French miners, who, he guessed, were approaching, but hearing nothing concluded that they were not as yet so far advanced with their work.
Returning to the rear end of the tunnel, he arranged for a heavy charge of powder to be placed in position with the fuses. When this had been done it was time to “tamp” the tunnels—fill them up again with earth to a distance greater than the depth of the mines below the surface. This was necessary, or when the explosion took place it would exhaust its force along the open tunnel instead of in the upward direction intended. But Jack decided not to do any tamping until he was sure that the French had driven their galleries so close to his own that the explosion of his own mines would destroy the enemy’s. If he found that the French tunnels were to the right or left of his own, so far away that his explosion would not greatly affect them, he would have to await the French explosion and then use his own mines to repel the attack on the buildings that would instantly follow.
Late at night Antonio the guerrillero, who had been one of the most enthusiastic of the workers, reported that at the farther end of the short tunnel into the Casa Vega he had heard the faint sound of picks. Jack instantly crawled into the tunnel to listen for himself. Undoubtedly the man was right. Giving orders that men should take turns to watch all through the night at the tunnel head, he went to bed after midnight, tired out with the day’s exertions.
Before he fell asleep his mind ran over the strange events with which the last two days had been crowded. In particular he reflected on the story he had heard from Juanita, and could not help wondering at the extraordinary mischances which had befallen her affairs. The letter confided to Palafox must have contained instructions in regard to the property which old Don Fernan had preserved somewhere for his daughter, and had been written as a precaution in case anything happened to his trusted servant José. Some perverse fate seemed to have decreed that José should die and the letter be lost simultaneously. And then his thoughts turned to Miguel. His story about the projected marriage was clearly a sheer fabrication; but it showed what his intentions were. He meant to take advantage of Juanita’s orphaned condition to coax or cajole her into a marriage, and thereby to secure the property which he knew must be hers. It seemed improbable that he could have learnt where her father had stored his wealth; it might be that he supposed Juanita knew. His sudden nocturnal appearance in Saragossa, with a story of overpowering a sentry, was in itself very suspicious. Could he be playing a double game? At any rate Jack felt that he must be on his guard, on behalf of Juanita as well as himself; that Miguel would not hesitate to injure him he had now little doubt.
These thoughts, however, were banished by the important work of the next day. At dawn he learnt that hour by hour during the night the approach of the French had been more distinctly heard. All that morning he paid frequent visits to the Vega tunnel, and about eleven o’clock he felt sure, from the direction and the proximity of the sounds, that the French miners had arrived at a point in a line with the head of his gallery. The mining continued; it would take them between six and seven hours to reach the wall. Leaving Don Cristobal in charge, with instructions to keep as vigilant a look-out as ever, Jack went to see how the Y-shaped mines from the cellars of the Casa Alvarez were progressing, and then made a general round of the district. Several times during the day he had heard the sound of explosions in other parts of the city, but had been too busy to enquire about what was happening. He learnt now, however, that a block of houses twenty yards nearer the Coso, in the direction of the Franciscan convent, had been carried by the French, by which means they had extended their attacking front by nearly three times that distance. He heard also that trenches had been opened against the Jesus Convent, in the suburb of San Lazaro, across the river. It was evident that the enemy were at last arranging for a determined attack in that quarter, where they had done little since the early days of the siege. The possession of San Lazaro would enable them to harass the whole north side of the city, the only portion that hitherto had been immune, and where, consequently, the greater part of the stores was collected and the mass of the fever-stricken inhabitants huddled together.
About six o’clock he was recalled to the Casa Vega by the news that the French gallery had reached the wall and the tunnelling had ceased. It would take them some four hours, Jack conjectured, to tamp their mine; when that was done they would no doubt retire from the tunnel, and it would then be safe for the Spaniards to tamp their mine in turn. If they started to do so earlier, the sound would betray them. At ten o’clock all sounds from the French end had ceased; then Jack, after allowing a short interval, set his men to perform the tamping. Working without relaxation, they completed the task by two in the morning. Within four or five hours the French would explode their mine beneath the wall.
The first thing Jack did on being awakened by Pepito half an hour before dawn was to enquire whether any sounds of the French progress had been heard in the Casas Tobar and Vallejo. In the former he learned the mining had been heard for several hours; in the latter there had been no sounds at all. Satisfied that immediate work would only be required in the Casa Vega, he proceeded to get his men into order.
His plan, carefully thought out on the previous day, was to withdraw his garrison from the Casa Vega, leaving only one man to fire the mine; otherwise a large number would be uselessly sacrificed. The inrush of the French after the explosion of their mine was to be the signal for the firing of his own, and that in turn the signal for a sortie of the whole of his available force. By this means he hoped to drive the French back to such a distance that he could discover and blow up the galleries they were driving into the Casa Tobar, and probably into the Casa Vallejo also.
It still wanted some minutes of dawn when his motley force was drawn up in the plaza behind the walls of Vega and Tobar. It numbered only 350 men in all—some haggard burghers of the city, some rugged guerrilleros from the country districts, a few regulars from General Fiballer’s Valencian regiment, a few of Palafox’s grenadiers. All bore signs of the stress and toil of the past few weeks; but all were animated by one spirit of indomitable resolution. Fifty of the best marksmen were at once picked out to garrison Tobar and Vallejo and harass the French with musketry-fire from the windows. Eighty good men were drafted as a reserve. This left 220, of whom 120 were told off to make the main sortie over the barricade in the street between Tobar and Vallejo, while 30 were appointed to guard the shorter barricade across the lane between Tobar and Vega. The remaining 70 were ordered to march to the upper side of the Casa Vega and make a demonstration at the barricade erected in the street there.
Jack had resolved to lead the principal sortie in person, and he devoted special attention to the organization of his band. Ten of the men were ordered to carry bags of powder to blow up the French galleries into Tobar and Vallejo, if the sortie party were able to push home their charge. Another ten were given short ladders and mats to assist the rest across the barricade, which was of timber, some twelve feet in height, and studded at the top with sharp nails. It had been constructed so hastily, and with so little idea of the possibility of a sortie, that it formed almost as formidable an obstacle to the Spaniards as to the French.
The sortie party beyond the Casa Vega was entrusted to Don Cristobal, the reserve to Pablo Quintanar, the chief of the guerrilleros. This man was very much dissatisfied with the post allotted him; he grumbled and protested that he deserved a more prominent part in the operations, but Jack had a vague distrust of the fellow, and somewhat curtly refused to alter his arrangements.
All was now ready. In the chill foggy dawn the men waited at their several posts for the expected explosion. Sounds floated across the river from the French lines: the blare of bugles, the rat-tat of drums, occasionally the loud call of bustling officers. Jack began to wonder whether the French would wait until their galleries into Tobar and Vallejo were ready, and then spring the three mines simultaneously. But the anxious period of waiting was at length ended. About an hour after daybreak there was a dull roar; the whole district seemed to tremble; there was the crash of falling stones and timber, a cloud of smoke and dust from the Casa Vega, and with a shout the French rushed into the ruined building beyond, to make good their position there.
Then came a terrible interval of suspense, even more trying to the nerves of the Spaniards than the long wait for the French explosion. When would they hear the answering explosion? Had the gallant fellow who had offered to fire the train perished before his work was done? Jack wondered, waited anxiously. Second after second slipped by; he could hear the ticking of the watch in his vest pocket. At last when, unable to endure the uncertainty longer, he was about to rush into the casa himself, a deafening noise like a thunderclap close at hand checked him. The French mine, acting immediately upon the wall and at a considerable depth below-ground, had spent most of its force on the wall itself. But Jack’s mine, having only a few feet of earth above it, and being heavily charged, exerted its destructive effect in all directions. It blew to fragments the ruins of the house adjoining the Casa Vega, brought down what remained of its roof, shattered the remnants of the walls on either side, and filled the air for a hundred yards around with dust and débris, a few of Jack’s men, even in the plaza behind, being injured by objects that were shot clean over the houses. Jack, from his position, could not see the extent of the damage; but the fact that the explosion had actually occurred left him in no doubt that the French in the ruined house beyond the Casa Vega must have been annihilated, and in the ruins, where they had but slight protection, they must have suffered heavy loss.
But he hardly waited to estimate the effect of his successful coup. Immediately after the explosion he gave his men the order to advance; they dashed from cover and began to swarm over the barricades. At the last moment Jack sent a man with orders to barricade as far as possible the newly-made breach in the Vega wall. Then, with Antonio at his side, he led the charge. The dust was still falling in clouds as they came to the Tobar barricade. So sudden was the unexpected event, and so swiftly did the Spaniards move, that their manoeuvre was not discovered by the French until the greater number had crossed and, headed by Jack and Antonio, charged down the street. But within fifty paces a shot rang out from beyond the ruined house on their left; it was followed immediately by a scattered fire, and amid yells of rage and pain many of Jack’s men fell. The French were firing from the half-dismantled houses they had rushed a few days before, which, being somewhat remote from the scene of the explosion, and sheltered by the ruins of the house adjoining the Casa Tobar, had not suffered like the rest of the French position. Nothing daunted by their losses, the Spaniards pressed on with shouts of “Nuestra Señora del Pillar! A la cuchillo!” Don Cristobal meanwhile had swept round the upper barricade. The ruins beyond the houses lately burnt were carried with a rush. Drums were heard beating not far away; there were loud shouts in French and the hurried tramp of feet. It was clear that the enemy, not anticipating danger at this point, had drawn away their troops in the direction of the Franciscan convent; they had expected that under cover of the explosion the Casa Vega would be captured, as a score of houses in the same quarter had been rushed before, by a handful of disciplined men. No plans had been made to meet so unexpected a movement of retaliation; for a moment the battle was to the Spaniards.
But Jack knew well that he durst not attempt to push his attack far. He had given orders to Antonio, who had led a small body to the assault of a house to the left, where the street bent inwards from the ramparts, to blow up the head of the gallery into the Casa Vallejo, then to retire towards that house, recross the barricade, and take up a position behind it. To cover these movements, Jack directed a party of his men to keep up a hot fire on the house at the bend of the street, from which some French marksmen had swept the front of the attacking force. Within a few minutes he heard a sharp report. At the same time Antonio’s men came streaming back towards Vallejo and over the barricade. One of the French galleries was evidently accounted for.
Meanwhile Jack’s own position had been hotly assailed in front. The ruined houses on the right of the street were now full of Frenchmen, who charged again and again across the débris up to the party-wall, only to be driven back by the men stationed there, under such cover as the irregular remnants of the broken walls afforded. There was no time to barricade the gap; it was only a question of time before the French must break through in overwhelming numbers. Don Cristobal had occupied the ruins adjoining the Casa Vega, but he was now ordered back across his barricade, from which he could protect the flank of Jack’s force when it became necessary to withdraw it.
At this juncture Jack felt the necessity of obtaining a view of the whole position. He looked round for some point of observation. Through a large rent in one of the walls to his right he perceived the remains of a staircase to the second story. Was there time to clamber up it before the French burst in? “I’ll chance it,” he said to himself. Ordering his men to stand firm, he ran across the narrow lane, through the wall, and began to ascend the staircase. It was a rickety structure; its top had been blown away; it remained upright only by favour of one or two stout joists which had been so firmly embedded in the stone as to withstand the shock of the explosion when the party-wall was cracked. Up he went. The stairs creaked under him; at every step it seemed that the whole structure would fall with him. But at length he reached a spot whence, through a hole in what had been once the wall, he could see for a considerable distance over the quarter occupied by the French. To his left he saw the dreary waste of ruins through which, by patient mining and sudden rushes, the French had made their painful way from the convent of Santa Engracia, which stood a woful spectacle of destruction some hundreds of yards distant.
Eastward he traced their progress through a series of dismantled buildings, up to within a short distance of the Franciscan convent. Farther to the right they had made yet deeper inroads into the city, and were now almost within arm’s-length of the Coso. Jack thought, with a sudden pang, of the danger Juanita would soon be in, and decided that at the earliest opportunity he must persuade her to change her quarters and retire northwards, loth as he was to see her in that fever-haunted spot.
Suddenly his eye was caught by a compact body of French, about 500 in number, advancing at the quick step across the wide open space outside the Santa Engracia convent. They had evidently been hurried from the entrenchments beyond the walls. At the same time, glancing to the right, he saw another body of men issuing from some buildings near the Coso. Clearly no time was to be lost. Outnumbered already, he had only held his own up to the present by having the advantage of the defensive position. But the position was not strong. If the French occupied the adjoining ruins in force there was scarcely an inch of cover for his men. He must, therefore, at once blow up the head of the French gallery leading below the Casa Tobar, which he had been unable to do hitherto for fear of destroying his own men, and then withdraw his troops to their original position. In face of the large French reinforcements coming up, it would be as much as he could do to hold his own even there. Springing down the staircase, three steps at a time, one of them breaking through and falling with a crash behind him, he hastened back to his men. He called up a little musketeer belonging to the Murcian tiradores—one of the few survivors of that regiment—
“Hombre, run back to the Casa Alvarez; tell Pablo Quintanar to leave a gap in the Vega wall wide enough to allow the passage of men in single file. Understand, in single file.”
“Sí, Señor,” said the man, and bounded off.
Now Jack prepared with all possible speed to evacuate his advanced position. He was delayed by the necessity of removing his wounded; for all this time the French had been firing into the houses, and, though their aim was bad, several shots took effect owing to the Spaniards’ almost reckless exposure of themselves. Before he actually gave the order to evacuate, the French, unaware of the reinforcements hastening to their support, gathered themselves together for another charge. They came gallantly almost to the very muzzles of the Spanish muskets; then they recoiled before a terrible volley, and fell back in confusion. Seizing the moment, Jack ordered his men to retire towards the Casa Vega.
“Leave the gap in the wall open for me,” he said to one of the regulars; “I shall not be long behind you.”
Then, catching up a burning rope, he hastened to the end of the French gallery, where his men had laid a train of gunpowder connecting with a heavy charge. He had just time to set light to the train before a group of three or four French soldiers dashed towards him through the ruins. His perilous task was done; he turned to follow his men, the enemy, not waiting to fire, close behind him. As he was crossing the lane dividing the Casas Vega and Tobar there was a loud explosion; the gallery had blown up, and with it the head of the French column immediately behind his pursuers. Only two men were now on his track. He glanced over his shoulder, and judged that there was time to reach the gap in the wall before he could be overtaken. At this moment his foot slipped on a loose heap of fallen masonry; he fell headlong, and before he could recover himself, the foremost pursuer was upon him. Wriggling over instantly on his side, he drew his pistol, and managed to snap it at the man when the point of his bayonet was within a foot of him. The ball hit the man full on the forehead, and he dropped like a log.
Springing to his feet, Jack drew his sword in the nick of time to meet the attack of the second pursuer. It was sword against bayonet, and if the latter had been in the hands of a British soldier, Jack, in spite of his skill as a swordsman, might have stood a poor chance. But the bayonet, as wielded by a Continental soldier, was not the same formidable weapon, and it happened that his attacker was a Pole—one of Colonel Chlopiski’s Vistula regiment, which, as Jack had already learnt, had proved the most troublesome of all the French troops since the capture of Santa Engracia. Jack had more than once shown himself to be a swordsman of exceptional resource, and at this critical moment the old French émigré who had been his fencing master in London, if he could have seen the duel, would have beamed with satisfaction. After a few passes Jack gave the Pole an opportunity to lunge; he eagerly seized it; his thrust was lightly parried, and the next moment Jack was in beneath his guard.
As he hurried away, even in that breathless moment Jack could not help feeling some pity for his two gallant foemen who would see the Vistula no more. It was in the hope of freeing their country from the bondage of Russia that the Poles had allied themselves with Napoleon. They were now purchasing their own freedom by assisting to enslave others.
Hastening across the ruins adjoining the Casa Vega, Jack saw terrible signs of the havoc wrought by his mine. The attacking French force had been a large one. It had perished to a man. But there was no time for anything but escape from the horde of French now rapidly approaching him. Scrambling over charred beams, shattered brickwork, fragments of household furniture, and the dead bodies of the fallen enemy, he drew near to the spot where the explosion of the French mine had blown a large hole in the party-wall. It was here that Jack expected to find the gap through which his men had preceded him into safety. But there was no gap. The hole was completely closed up, and the obstruction was too strong to be won through, too high to clamber over. Nonplussed for the moment, Jack turned to look for another means of escape, aware, as he did so, of loud voices in altercation on the other side of the barricade.
Bullets were now pattering on the brickwork, and the sound of scrambling feet in the adjoining ruins showed that he had been seen by the French, and that they were making towards him. There was not an instant to lose. To his left, as he faced the French quarter, the ruins were open and exposed to fire from several directions; escape was impossible that way. But on his right there still stood the remnant of what had been a lath-and-plaster wall between two rooms. He caught at this chance of even temporary concealment. Bending low, he dodged along behind its precarious shelter till he came to a ruined window within a few feet of the barricade defended by Don Cristobal. The rattle of musketry could now be heard on all hands. Jack felt sure that his appearance at the window would be the signal for a hail of bullets from the opposite side of the street, at the angle nearer the Coso where the French had obtained a lodgment. But it was now or never, and he was just wrenching away a broken iron bar, to squeeze his way through, when his ears were assailed by unexpected shouts from the street. To his amazement, he saw Don Cristobal’s men come swarming over the barricade and rushing along the street towards the French. But it was not Don Cristobal who led them; the leader was a tall figure who rushed forward, sword in hand, with long robe tucked up, and bare arms, from which the sleeves had been flung back over the shoulders. He was shouting in frenzied tones. Jack recognized Latin phrases mingled with Spanish. It was the patriot priest, Santiago Sass.
Wondering what had happened, Jack jumped into the street, safe now, for the French were occupied with the rush of the headlong Spaniards. There they were, cutting their way through a large body of French troops, heedless of the pelting bullets from the surrounding houses, yelling, slashing, and, alas! many of them falling.
“What imbecile folly!” exclaimed Jack in his anger. The rash charge was useless, hopeless. All that he could do was to cover the inevitable retreat. Clambering over the barricade, Jack ran towards the Casa Alvarez, overtaking on the way Don Cristobal, who had hastened thither on the same errand as himself.
“Men of the reserve,” cried Jack, “follow me!”
Pablo Quintanar, their leader, was, strangely, not with them. They dashed after Jack and Don Cristobal, and reached the barricade just in time. The Spaniards, all that were left of them, were streaming over it, broken and disheartened, pursued by bullets from the French. Last of them all came Santiago Sass, splashed with blood from head to foot, blood streaming from a wound on his brow.
“In te, Domine, speravi!” he cried breathlessly as he staggered over the barricade.
Catching him by the arm, Jack dragged the exhausted priest out of harm’s way, and then, ordering his men to hold the barricade, enquired of Don Cristobal what was the meaning of the recent extraordinary movement. He learnt that Santiago Sass, who was ever where danger was thickest, had been passing the quarter, and, attracted by the noise of the explosions, had hastened, full of burning zeal, to the nearest barricade. There, finding Don Cristobal’s force, as he thought, culpably inactive, and hearing musketry on all sides, he had jumped to the conclusion that the Spaniards were skulking, and, refusing to listen to Don Cristobal’s explanation, had poured out upon them a torrent of invective and exhortation, called on them to follow him, and led them furiously over the barricade. Such was his influence that not a man refused to obey his call.
Meanwhile the hot fire maintained by the reserve had driven the French back. But they showed some disposition to come on in greater strength and attempt the capture of the barricade. Santiago Sass, furious at the failure of his ill-timed sortie, and still more with Jack for forcibly removing him from the scene, began to vent his wrath upon him.
“Do not stay me!” he cried. “Cursed be any that flinches! Dominus vir pugnator! Let us haste—”
“Señor Padre,” interrupted Jack quietly, “you led a most gallant charge, but look—it has cost me some twenty good men.”
He pointed to the corpse-strewn street. The priest looked, and was evidently impressed. Gathering his skirts about him he sped away towards the Coso in search of more forlorn hopes to lead, the sound of his wild and whirling words being scarcely drowned by the noise of the battle.
For the rest of that day French and Spaniards continued to occupy their respective positions. The former made no attempt at organized attack; they clearly dreaded the discovery of more mines. The Spaniards were not strong enough to expel the enemy altogether. Thus, when nightfall again put an end to the fighting, the situation was essentially the same as it had been in the morning.
Reckoning up the results, Jack was able to congratulate himself on having accomplished all that he had hoped to do. The two French galleries towards the Casas Tobar and Vallejo were destroyed; the French had suffered very heavy loss in men. The explosion of their mine in the Casa Vega had not furthered their advance, and their work for three days past was rendered null. But their failure, Jack knew, would only nerve them to redoubled energy; he must be prepared for an even more strenuous attack on his position. All that he could do was to ensure that if the houses must be captured it should be with a maximum of delay and loss to the French.
As he went the round of his district, before proceeding to convey his nightly report to Palafox, Pablo Quintanar, the guerrilla leader, came up and made a complaint against his subordinate Antonio. He had been attacked, he said, and nearly murdered by Antonio for refusing to reopen the barricade thrown across the gap in the wall of the Casa Vega.
“Did you not receive my order?” demanded Jack.
“Your order was to hold the barricade, Señor.”
“But you opened a gap to let in my men. I sent the order by one of the Murcian tiradores.”
“Yes, indeed, and the men came through one by one, and when the last was through I closed the barricade.”
“And shut me out!”
Jack looked sharply at the man, but as usual was unable to catch his eye.
“I waited for the Señor,” he protested, “five, ten, twenty minutes; but he did not come. What was I to think but that he was dead? If I had known—”
“You would have acted otherwise. Well, as you did make so unfortunate a—mistake, perhaps the less you say about Antonio’s attempt to mend it the better. Buenas noches, hombre!”
Jack turned on his heel, and, wondering what conceivable motive Pablo Quintanar could have for doing him a hurt, set off for the Castle Aljafferia.