CHAPTER VI
TIM IS HELD TO RANSOM
Tim had many acquaintances but few friends among the youth of SanRosario and the neighbourhood. He often felt the lack of a chum of hisown age, and looked forward eagerly to the time, now drawing very near,when he would return to England and enter an engineering college. Hismost intimate friend in Peru was a young fellow, two or three yearsolder than himself, named Felipe Durand, who lived on his father'shacienda, about twelve miles north of the town. Durand had beeneducated in England, and being a very fair batsman, he sometimes joinedTim in getting up a cricket match between elevens of the Japaneseworkers.
On the day after Pardo's dismissal, Tim rode out to Durand's house toarrange for a match in the following week. The path was only a roughtrack; it was indeed not a public thoroughfare at all, but wasmaintained by Senor Durand and Mr. O'Hagan for their own convenience.Much of it ran through woods, and on each side the ground rose graduallyto a considerable height.
Tim met nobody on the way, but within a few miles of the hacienda henoticed a group of men at the edge of the wood some little distance fromthe path. Thinking that they were peons of Senor Durand he gave themonly a fleeting glance and passed by. He reached his friend's houseabout twenty minutes after starting, and discussed the proposed match ina little summer-house, over a dish of fruit and a glass of lemonade.
"I say, O'Hagan," said young Durand, after arrangements had been made,"I wish I had seen your performance with the gobernador. It must havebeen great sport."
The two boys always used English when together.
"Indeed, it was good fun," said Tim. "The pater was in a bit of a fizz:he thinks the Mollendists won't like it."
"I dare say not. He should do as my governor does."
"What's that?"
"Pay up. My father gives them a regular subscription."
"That's rather dangerous, isn't it? The Prefect would drop on him if heknew."
"The Prefect has dropped on him as it is. He has borrowed a good dealthat he'll never pay back. My father grumbles, of course; but he likesa quiet life, and would rather pay than be worried. He subscribes tothe Mollendists' funds for the same reason; they leave him alone. Hesays that old Mollendo will get the better of the Prefect one of thesedays, and as the old chap is fairly honest he won't be sorry. Yourpater had better do the same."
"I'm sure he won't. He says corruption is the curse of this country,and he won't have anything to do with either of the parties."
"That's very honourable and British, but it won't pay.... Have thoserobbers been caught yet?"
"They have not. D'you know, I believe our man Pardo had a hand withthem; the pater gave him the sack yesterday. He resigned, but only toavoid a sacking. I'm not sorry.... Well, you'll come over on Monday,then. It's a holiday, so we'll make a day of it."
Tim had ridden only a few miles on his homeward way when he was broughtto a sudden check. The path was blocked by a tree which had apparentlyfallen since he passed a couple of hours before. He dismounted, restinghis bicycle against the trunk. The tree was obviously too heavy to belifted, and he was looking for a way round it when a number of menrushed at him from the bushes on each side of the track, and in a fewseconds he was a prisoner. Among his captors he saw one of the brigandswho had snapped up the gobernador.
"You will not get away this time, Senor Ingles," said the man, laughing."You will please to come with us."
Tim was helpless. He could only put the best face on it. The men ledhim along the track northward, in the direction of Durand's house, twofollowing with the bicycle. As they neared the house, they struck intothe woods on the left, not returning to the track until they were somedistance beyond, at a wooden bridge over a ravine. The district to thenorth had a bad name. It was the immemorial haunt of outlaws, whetherrevolutionist or criminal. The outlawed criminal was invariably arevolutionist; though among the revolutionists there were many, liketheir leader, Mollendo himself, who were quite respectable members ofsociety.
After a few miles the country became very wild and rugged. The men incharge of the bicycle grumbled at their laborious task; they were notused to wheeling so heavy and cumbersome an object, and in the rougherplaces it was difficult to balance. Every minute Tim expected to seethe machine escape from their hands, topple over, and dash itself topieces on the rocky declivity.
The track became steeper and steeper. It wound this way and that, arough wall of rock rising high on the left hand; on the right longslopes and sheer descents, crossed by yawning gullies, stretchingdownwards for hundreds of feet. Now and then white gull-like mountainbirds flew screaming in front of the party; hundreds of squirrels weredisporting on the rocky ramparts, darting among the trees that clothedthe ravines when they saw the intruders upon their solitudes. Theymarched on for hours, covering, perhaps, a mile and a half an hour,until night threw its purple shade upon the hills. Then they halted in anarrow glen. The leader of the party gave Tim the option of being tiedup or passing his word not to attempt escape.
"You are Ingles," he said. "I can trust your word."
Tim did not appreciate the compliment; but since it was quite clear thathe could not escape with his bicycle, he gave his word, looking aspleasant as he could. The men bivouacked, making a supper of parchedmaize, which they took from their wallets, and weak spirits from theirflasks. They offered Tim a share of their provisions; he accepted themaize, but declined the spirits, longing for a draught of water.
He spent a very uncomfortable night. The rocky ground cut into his lightsummer clothes, which afforded but a poor defence against the cold ofthis upland region. He slept fitfully, wondering in the wakefulintervals what was going to happen to him, and thinking of the distresshis parents must suffer at his absence. "Durand was right," he thought."When I get free I'll ask Father to give these Mollendists asubscription. But I bet he won't."
The march was resumed in the morning. The track still ascended, until itreached a ridge, from which Tim caught glimpses on the other side of ariver meandering far below between wooded banks. In front the ridgerose gradually. In about three hours the party, passing between twotall rocks like gate-pillars on either side of the track, foundthemselves suddenly in an encampment of considerable size. Two or threehundred men were assembled in a sort of courtyard surrounded bytumble-down buildings of unworked stone. Tim knew at a glance that hewas in the ruins of an ancient Inca fortification, castle, orobservation plaza, built by that vanished race on a hill-top which hadprobably been flattened artificially. The men were encamped on twosides of the enclosure; on the other two sides a number of horses werehobbled.
Tim had no time to take in more details of the scene. The arrival ofhis captors was hailed with shouts, and he was led through the excitedthrong to an angle of the courtyard, where, in a little recess, aPeruvian between fifty and sixty years of age, and of benevolent aspect,was reclining on rugs before a slab that served as a table.
"Senor," said the leader of the party, "this is the young Ingles whoreleased the man Fagasta."
Senor Mollendo rose and made a courtly salutation.
"Good-morning, Senor Ingles," he said. "I have heard of you and yourrespected father. It gives me the greatest pain to see you in yourpresent unhappy plight."
"You can relieve your pain at once by releasing me, senor," said Timboldly.
Mollendo gave him an indulgent smile.
"I have to consider the claims of justice, my young friend. See how thecase stands. You were taken with the man Fagasta, the hireling of theusurping Prefect. You were released, but with rank ingratitude returnedand set free the gobernador, the agent of the odious dictator, the manwho had been heard to boast of his intention to root out the friends ofliberty from this oppressed region. Your offence could scarcely be moreserious. It is dangerous for a foreigner to interfere in our domesticaffairs; especially is it unbecoming in an Englishman, a citizen of thatglorious land of
freedom, a lover of liberty and of equal laws, toassociate himself with the agents of a corrupt and shameless tyranny.It is necessary to signalise the abhorrence with which such action mustbe viewed by all right-thinking men. You shall be a recipient of suchpoor hospitality as I can extend to you until your unworthy conduct isredeemed by the payment of L250, and the engine by means of which youeffected your reprehensible intervention on behalf of the oppressor willbe confiscated to the use of the patriots."
Tim was quite unused to having such eloquence hurled at him. His headmaster had contented himself with a few sharp words and half a dozenswishes--infinitely preferable to such a lot of "jaw." He feltoverwhelmed, and had nothing to say. "Jolly cheek!" he thought, "askingL250. I wish he may get it."
His parole was demanded again, and he was strictly forbidden to straybeyond the limits of the enclosure. He was given a dinner consisting ofmutton boiled with vegetables, and toasted maize, with water from astream, almost dried up by the summer heat, that flowed into the broaderriver below. Mollendo offered him a Manilla cigar, which he put in hispocket.
He was allowed to roam about the encampment. So well placed that onemight approach within a few yards without discovering it, it overlookedthe surrounding country for hundreds of square miles. On the east hecould see the track by which he had come, winding east and south-eastthrough the hills. On the west a few steps cut in the rock led to whathad once been an Inca road, running into the path that led southward tothe highway to San Juan. Southward flowed the hill-stream, through arough and precipitous gully. To the north the ground rose steeply toinaccessible snow-capped peaks.
Tim passed a restless and unhappy day. He supposed that Mollendo hadsent one of his men to demand the ransom from his father; but noinformation was given him. The only mitigation of his captivity wasafforded by the brigands' experiments with the motor-cycle. None ofthem was able to ride it; few were anxious to try. They were goodhorsemen, no doubt; but Tim soon came to the conclusion that they wouldnever make motor-cyclists. He watched with amusement their firstattempts in the middle of the courtyard. One man tried to mount thebicycle when stationary, and became violently angry at each failure tomaintain his balance. Then he got two of his comrades to support him,one on each side, and thrust at the handles. No movement resulting, hissupporters pushed the machine for a few yards, then let it go. Ittoppled over, and the rider's leg being crushed between the cycle andthe ground, he swore bitterly, and retired to digest his discomfiture.
Senor Mollendo looked on at all this with much disappointment. Theconfiscated machine, apparently, was not to be so valuable anacquisition as he had supposed. He smiled with pleasure, however, whenthe machine was set in motion by a series of accidents. While one manwas in the saddle; held up on both sides, another happened to discoverthe petrol tap, and turned it on. The supporters pushed the bicycle fora few feet, the engine began to fire, and the rider chancing to move thethrottle switch, the machine started forward with a suddenness thatcaused the two men at the sides to lose their grip. There were shoutsof delight from the onlookers; but the rider was so much amazed at hisown inadvertent skill that he lost his head, and could neither stop norsteer his unmanageable steed. Only by sprinting across the courtyard atfull speed did Tim save man and cycle from being dashed disastrouslyagainst the stone wall.
After this the machine was left severely alone, until Tim, weary forwant of something to do, offered to instruct the men in itsmanipulation. This won Senor Mollendo's warm approval, and Tim spentseveral hours of that day and the next in teaching the younger membersof the party how to ride. They had no personal feeling against him; andwith the prospect of their lean treasury being increased by L250 on hisaccount, they began to regard him with even more kindliness than hiswillingness and good temper had already won.
On the third day the messenger sent by Senor Mollendo to claim theransom, returned, bringing with him not merely the money, but a rumourof the manner in which the midnight raiders had been received at Mr.O'Hagan's house. That they were part of the Prefect's escort was anopen secret. Mollendo called Tim to him and asked if the story wastrue. Tim saw no reason to conceal anything, and gave a fulldescription of what had happened, only suppressing the fact that hisinformation had come from the gobernador.
"You showed remarkable ingenuity, my young friend," said Mollendo,greatly tickled by the picture of the spluttering crew stumbling outinto the darkness. "I quite understand why your good father shouldconsider you worth L250. He has sent the money; you are free. And as amark of my appreciation of your service to the cause of liberty bydiscommoding the usurper's minions, I have much pleasure inreturning"--("How much?" wondered Tim in excitement)--"your motor-cycle.Four of my supporters will assist you to the path below. When you meetyour father, convey to him my salutations, and assure him that the moneywill be put to a good use in upholding the flag of freedom."
He shook hands warmly, bowed with his hat to his breast, and with apolite _a reveder_, the Spanish equivalent of _au revoir_, he endedTim's captivity.
The Motor Scout: A Story of Adventure in South America Page 6
