Chapter IX: Part 9

"I do not know. Francisco will know."

They ran downstairs.

"Can you bring the Senora up?" asked the youth.

"Yes, I carried her down."

"Please do."

Juanita hastened to the patio below; Jack went into the sala.

"Stop firing now, hombre," he said to the servant. "There is one chance of escape, from window to roof. Are there any planks?"

Francisco put down his musket, and glanced keenly at the speaker, with a touch of surprise at his urgent manner.

"None, Senor, but the boards of the floor."

"No time to tear those up."

He glanced round the room. He saw that the heavy curtains were enclosed at the top within an ornamental wooden framework, square-cut, massive, and ugly.

"Steps? A ladder?" he said.

"In the press at the head of the stairs, Senor."

"Quick! bring them here; and a hammer."

In a few moments Jack was standing on a short ladder, hammering the planks of the framework apart. Extending over both windows and the wall between, they were about sixteen feet in length. A few hard blows wrenched the fastenings, and two planks an inch thick lay on the floor. Side by side they measured three feet across.

"Now, ropes, cords!" cried Jack.

A long, stout bell-pull hanging from the ceiling caught his eye. Tearing it down, by the time Francisco returned with a length of rope Jack had lashed the planks together at one end. Soon the other ends were bound as firmly together.

"Help me upstairs with it."

They reached the topmost room, whither the girl had already carried her feeble, whimpering aunt. The extemporized bridge was long enough to rest on the ledge of the opposite parapet, with a foot each way to spare. But it could not be thrown across without a support at the other end; its weight would more than counterbalance any pressure that could be exerted on the end in the room.

"Another rope!" cried Jack.

He had noticed a strong staple in the attic roof above the window. Francisco came back in two minutes with a long rope. Jack lashed it round the end of the planks, sprang on the window-sill, and pulled the rope through the staple.

"Now let it out steadily as I push the bridge across."

Juanita stood with shining eyes, watching the young stranger as he pushed the planks across the street, while Francisco stolidly paid out the rope. The bridge rested on the parapet.

"Hold this end firmly against the sill," said Jack to Francisco.

Juanita held her breath as the young fellow mounted a chair, stepped out of the window, and walked cautiously to the middle of the bending bridge. In a moment he was back again in the room.

"It will bear," he cried. "I go first with the Senora."

He lifted the old lady carefully; she was too much dazed to have any consciousness of what was before her, and lay inert in Jack's arms, moaning "Ay de mi! Ay de mi!" incessantly.

"Wait till I return," he said to Juanita, who stood, her cheeks flushed with excitement and hope, within the room.

Step by step he slowly bore the old lady across the creaking, swaying planks, till he reached the other side; then he laid her gently down behind the parapet at the foot of the gable. Then he sped back.

"Now it is your turn, Senorita," he said, preparing to lift the girl.

"I can go alone," she said without hesitation. "I can," she repeated resolutely as Jack sought to detain her.

Springing lightly on to the planks, she paused for an instant, caught her skirt in one hand, bit her lips, and then ran across as lightly as a hare, Jack watching her with a tense feeling of anxiety mingled with admiration. He gave a gasp of relief.

"Now, hombre," he said, turning to the old servant, who had held the planks steady without uttering a word.

"Not so, Senor," he said; "I go last."

"Nonsense! I am responsible for this. Get on at once."

There were loud shouts from below.

"I am old, Senor. The Frenchmen in the street have seen us now; they will shoot; it matters little if I die."

"No more. You must go. The ladies require you."

From the parapet opposite Juanita was looking at them. Her cheeks were very pale.

"Come, Francisco," she said in a tone of authority that brooked no denial.

The man hesitated no longer. He mounted the bridge, and walked with slow, firm step towards his mistress. An upward shower of shots pelted all around him. One struck him in the leg; he stumbled, nearly wrenching the planks from Jack's grasp, and Juanita uttered a cry as the poor man fell headlong into the street.

Jack saw that there was no time to be lost. A few dexterous shots from below might destroy the bridge. He must run the gauntlet. He mounted at his end. At the same moment Juanita, with great presence of mind, seized the other end, and held it firmly against the parapet. Three bounds, amid flying shots, and Jack reached the parapet in safety. Then, catching up the planks, he hurled them down upon the crowd.

"You are not hurt, Senorita?" he said.

"Poor Francisco!" was her reply. There was a tremor in her voice, not from fear, as her next words showed. "I am ready, Senor; tell me what we are to do now."

There was a trap-door a yard away, opening inwards. Jack tried this with his foot; it was bolted, but the bolt rattled, and could evidently be forced with little exertion. Without hesitating he sprang heavily on to the wood; it gave and fell in with a crash. Jack's body had almost disappeared into the opening, when as he fell he caught the ledge with both hands, and though the sudden stoppage gave his muscles a severe wrench, he managed to maintain his grip, and hung on with legs dangling.

"Senorita," he said, "come and look down and tell me what the drop is. I cannot see, myself."

Juanita went down on hands and knees, and peered into the darkness. For a moment her eyes could discern nothing; then, as they became accustomed to the obscurity, she said that the trap-door opened into an attic room, and that the floor was not far below. Jack instantly let go, and dropped. The distance was but ten feet. Regaining an erect posture, he found, after a little groping, a short ladder in a corner of the attic. He placed this in the opening, and went up into the light again. It was the work of only a few minutes to carry the old lady down the ladder. Juanita followed, and instantly busied herself with her half-fainting aunt.

"Wait here, Senorita," said Jack, "while I go down into the house and see if the way is open for escape."

The attic door was not locked. Jack went out, down the stairs, through the house from top to bottom, and found every room empty, every window barricaded, and the outer doors locked. Unlike the occupants of the other houses on this side of the street, the inhabitants of this had clearly not stayed to defend it. The front door was bolted on the inside; at the door of a yard at the back the bolts were drawn, showing that escape had been made that way. Jack pulled at the door; the lock held firmly; it was impossible to force it; the only means of exit was over the wall. Hastening upstairs again, he explained the position to Juanita, who looked at him with the same quiet self-possession.

"Do you know any house in the centre of the city, Senorita," asked Jack, "where you can take refuge? Your own house is now, without doubt, in the hands of the French."

"Yes, Senor, we have friends in the Calle del Coso with whom we can stay."

"Then, if you will allow me I will escort you thither. I do not know the town very well, but I know the Calle del Coso."

"Yes, we will go. But how can we take my aunt, Senor?" asked the girl. "Helpless as she was half an hour ago, she is prostrate now. You could not carry her all the way."

"I think I know of a plan. The first thing is to take her downstairs, and I am strong enough for that."

In a few minutes all three were at the yard door. Jack returned to the attic for the ladder, and having placed that against the wall, he carefully carried the old lady to the top, where he sat with her until Juanita had also mounted, drawn up the ladder, and let it down on the other side. They were now in a narrow lane, in which nobody was to be seen, though they knew by the shouts and the gunshots that fighting was going on at no great distance. Leaving the old lady in Juanita's charge, Jack went back into the house, and soon returned with a large chair and two short props he had found in the patio. Placing the old lady in the chair, he passed the props through the legs on each side.

"If you will hold them at the back, Senorita," he said, "I will take them in front, and then we shall be able to carry the Senora between us."

Thus burdened, they walked slowly down the lane, turned to the right, and found themselves in a street filled with soldiers and citizens, among whom were many women and priests. Almost all, even the priests, were armed, and many were hastening in the direction of the Augustine convent, where the French, after a desperate struggle, had just succeeded in forcing an entrance to the town. Barricades had been erected at various parts of the street. No one showed any surprise at the sight of an old lady carried on a chair. Strange incidents of the siege were happening every day. Every hour some new family was obliged to quit its dwelling and seek safety in flight. Unnoticed and unmolested, Jack and his companions in a few minutes reached the house in the Calle del Coso to which Juanita had referred. They were admitted immediately to the patio. There Juanita found her friends eating a meal the frugality of which spoke only too plainly of the straits to which the city was now reduced. The exhausted condition of the old lady demanded instant attention, and while the group of friends gathered about her solicitously, Jack took a hurried farewell of her niece.

"Now that you are in safety, Senorita, I can leave you and go to fulfil an errand I have. I trust the Senora will soon recover from her weakness and terror, and that you will not suffer from the strain of this frightful morning."

"Senor, you have the heart-felt thanks of my aunt and myself. But for your timely help--I dare not think of it. And poor Francisco! To think of him dead, killed by those horrible French! ... We can never thank you enough."

Jack was conscious of some constraint in the young lady's manner, which he ascribed to the reaction from her excitement and the peril recently gone through.

"I am only too glad that I happened to be passing at that moment, Senorita," he said. "And now, farewell!"

He bowed. The young lady looked at him with a curiously scrutinizing expression in her eyes; then, returning his bow with somewhat more formality, Jack thought, than the occasion required, she said:

"Adios--Senor!"

*CHAPTER XIX*

*Palafox the Man*

Night on the Ebro--Across the Boom--Heroines of the Siege--The Captain-General--An Interview--A Missing Letter--War to the Knife--An Interruption--Santiago Sass--First Impressions

So exciting an incident immediately on his entrance into Saragossa had engrossed Jack's attention so thoroughly as to drive from his mind the matter which, until he turned the corner of the Casa Ximenez, had been giving him much concern. Where was Pepito? That mischievous but useful elf had been the life and soul of the sailors during their rapid voyage from Seville to the mouth of the Ebro. When they disembarked at Tortosa he had managed with great cleverness the hiring of horses on which to continue the journey overland, and had ridden with Jack across country until they reached the village of Mediana, some fifteen miles from Saragossa. There Jack learnt that Saragossa was closely invested on all sides by the French, and in particular that the Monte Torrero, an eminence on the south-west of the city, was in the hands of the enemy, who had made it the base of most vigorous and sustained operations.

It was clearly impossible to penetrate the French lines and enter the city on foot or horseback; the only other means was the river. Jack made anxious enquiry as to the chances of finding the waterway open. He learnt that in the early days of the siege several boats had eluded the vigilance of the French and come down the river, and that, only a fortnight before, Francisco Palafox, the brother of the captain-general in command, had escaped under cover of night and was now at large, endeavouring to raise a relief force. But the peasants of Mediana knew of no case of a boat going up-stream and passing the French batteries since Colonel Doyle had sent a number of new muskets into the city the day before the strict investment began. Further, in addition to a bridge of boats near the confluence of the tributary Huerba with the main stream, a boom had been thrown across the river a few hundred yards below this point, and it seemed most unlikely that now, in the seventh week of the siege, the French sentries would have so far relaxed their watchfulness as to allow the boom to be crossed or broken.

This was bad news, and Jack, for the moment, felt baffled. He discovered, however, that at this time of year Saragossa and the neighbouring district were covered at early morning with a thick mist from the river and the low-lying banks, and he felt that if he could take advantage of this fact he might slip into the city despite all the enemy's vigilance. At any rate he determined to make the attempt. A bargain was soon struck at a riverside village for the loan of a boat. The oars were carefully muffled, and after dark, on the night of January 31st, Jack started with high hope on the last stage of his long journey.

All went well. It was a pitch-dark night, and the strain of rowing a heavy craft against the stream necessitated frequent pulls-in to the bank for rest. But steady progress was made mile by mile, until, about five o'clock in the morning, sounds ahead indicated that the boat was drawing very near to the French encampments.

Every stroke of the oars was now made with infinite precaution, and the boat crawled along at a snail's pace. Pepito, in the bow, leant over to watch for the boom which blocked the waterway, and many times dipped his hands into the icy-cold water so that touch might not fail where sight was impossible. The air was raw and chilly, and Jack was delighted to learn, from his sensations in throat and eyes, that the mist of which his informant had spoken was an actuality.

It was drawing towards dawn. The darkness was yielding to a faint luminance that was not yet light, when suddenly, a few moments after Pepito had withdrawn his numbed hand from the water, the boat was pulled up with a jolt, and a harsh prolonged creak testified that its nose had come at last into contact with the boom--a heavy chain drawn across the river from bank to bank. Instantly there was a cry from the bank on their right: "Qui va la?" At that same moment, without the least hesitation, Pepito slipped noiselessly over the side of the boat into the water, caught the chain with one hand, and endeavoured to pull it down, whispering to his master to row over. But his puny strength was, of course, unavailing, and he crept back shivering into the bows. Jack, however, had at once divined the only possible solution of the problem. So heavy a chain must undoubtedly sag towards the middle of the stream. Was the middle to his right hand or his left? He pulled the boat sideways against the obstruction, and told Pepito to slip overboard and walk along the chain while he himself gently paddled. At a guess he moved to the right, and was soon gratified by Pepito's whispered announcement that the chain seemed to be sinking. When the water reached the boy's middle, Jack gently brought the boat's head to the stream, and with two vigorous strokes drove the unwieldy vessel across the boom. The boat's bottom scraped the massive links as it crossed; Pepito clambered in rather too hastily and slipped; the sounds caught the ears of the sentry on the bank, and another cry of "Qui va la?" penetrated the mist, followed by a shot. More voices were heard; more shots; and then from a point behind came the sound of a boat being run down the bank. Jack now plied his oars with might and main; cries, followed by shots, rang out from the other bank, and then, ahead and approaching him, he heard the straining of oars against rowlocks. There was no time for hesitation. Pulling hard on the left oar he headed for the bank, taking his chance, and in a few seconds grounded with a shock. In an instant he was out of the boat, and, followed closely by Pepito, started at a quick walk through the clinging fog in what he guessed must be the direction of the city.

They had not walked fifty yards when a terrific explosion rent the air, deafening their ears and almost knocking them backward. Immediately afterwards the thunder of heavy artillery broke out to their right, and the mist beyond them was fitfully illuminated by lurid flashes. Brought to a momentary stop, Jack again went forward, with eyes and ears painfully strained, every fantastic eddy of the mist presenting itself as a possible enemy. Suddenly he looked round to see that Pepito was with him. The boy was gone! Retracing his steps, he peered through the gloom, calling the gipsy's name softly. There was no answer, no sign of him. Five minutes were spent in fruitless search; then, within a few yards of him, Jack heard the tramp of men marching rapidly in file. With a mixed feeling of annoyance and anxiety he turned and made off in the opposite direction, crossed the district known as the Tanneries, and after wandering about for nearly an hour, dodging footsteps, and seeing with concern the mist clearing, arrived at the turning of the Casa Ximenez just in time to assist the young lady then so urgently needing assistance.

Still anxious about the safety of the gipsy boy, Jack felt, after leaving the house in the Coso, that he could do nothing at the moment, and his first duty was to present his despatch to General Palafox. The sounds of combat hurtled in the air; behind him clouds of smoke and flame bore witness to the success of the French bombardment. The street was full of men, women, citizens, soldiers, priests, hastening from point to point, all armed, all with fury and grim determination printed on their worn features. Stopping a boy who was hauling along a barrow filled with powder, Jack asked him where General Palafox could be found.

"In the Palace of the Inquisition, by the Portillo Gate," replied the boy in surprise, scarcely stopping to answer the question, and hurrying on again with his fatal load. Before he had gone fifty yards a bomb fell into the barrow, and, unknown to Jack, this little defender of Saragossa was blown into eternity.

Jack hastened along the street, climbing the barricades, shuddering as he saw the unburied corpses of the slain lying before every church door, wincing in spite of himself as the thunders of the cannonade resounded in his rear, and admiring the courage of the black-robed noble ladies, who went about the streets swiftly but quietly, some carrying aid to the wounded, others almost staggering beneath the weight of great bags of powder and ammunition tied to their waists. He hurried along the Coso, crossed the Calle del Hospital, pursued his way to the Portillo Gate, and at length, passing through a long covered approach, reached the Palace of the Inquisition--the Castle of Aljafferia, at the extreme north of the city, outside the walls. At the gate of the castle many people were going in and coming out. Jack joined the ingoing stream, and found himself within the stately halls of the old palace of the kings of Aragon, crowded with soldiers and people of all classes. Learning with some difficulty that the captain-general was in one of the smaller salons, he at length reached the room, and stood in presence of the man whom for months past he had been more than eager to see.

Jose Palafox was barely thirty years of age, a tall man with dark complexion, heavy brown moustache and whiskers, and kindling eyes--kindling now, alas! with the flame of disease as well as of patriotic ardour. He was seated at a table on which papers were outspread. Every now and then his frame was racked with coughing. At his right hand stood a grim-visaged priest, Don Basilio Bogiero, his chaplain, whose fiery zeal in the defence of the city was equal to his own. Around were others of the notable men of the place, whom Jack came to know before many days had passed--the parish priest Santiago Sass, the burly peasants known to the whole populace as Uncle George and Uncle Marin, who had already proved their valour at the first siege of Saragossa, six months before. Making his way through the throng, he came to the table, and, bowing to the general, presented him with the despatch he had run such risks to deliver.

"From the British minister, Senor?" said Palafox in surprise, looking keenly at Jack.

He broke the seal, and showed the handwriting to Don Basilio, who nodded in answer to his mute enquiry. The general then rapidly cast his eyes over the despatch; Jack, watching him, saw his features twitch as he read. Collecting himself, he folded it up and placed it in his pocket.

"My brothers," he said aloud, "this is good news."

A shout interrupted him.

"Good news! good news!" rang from lip to lip. Santiago Sass crossed himself and cried: "Praise to our Lady of the Pillar!" Don Basilio watched everything with his fierce eyes.

"Yes, my brothers, good news!" continued Palafox. "The great English general, Sir Moore, has smitten the hosts of the accursed French; an army three times his own he has smitten and scattered to the winds of heaven. The traitor, the regicide, Bonaparte, has fled to France, and our brethren in all parts of Spain are massing to march to our assistance. Praise to the noble English! Praise to our noble allies! Praise to the great and noble Moore!"

"Praise to Our Lady of the Pillar!" shouted Santiago Sass.

The room rang with exultant cries, some in praise of Moore and the English, others in adoring gratitude towards the patron saint of the city. The fervour of religious enthusiasm was all the intenser because of the general belief that the extraordinary failure of the first siege, six months before, had been due to the miraculous interposition of Our Lady.

While the exultation was at its height, Palafox whispered a few words in the ear of Don Basilio, rose from his chair, and beckoned Jack to follow him into a small inner room. There, having shut the door, he asked:

"Do you know the contents of the British minister's despatch, Senor?"

"Not in precise terms, Senor Capitan, but I know the facts. I was myself with Sir John Moore's army. I--"

"Pardon me, Senor. You see what I am compelled to do? The patriotic ardour of the Saragossans is so furious that I dare not as yet let them know all the truth. And, indeed, I do not yet give up hope. Though Mr. Frere tells me that I can no longer expect assistance from without, I do not know--I do not know. My brother is raising levies to the south; others are gathering forces. In any case, our brave countrymen will form guerrilla bands, and we shall give the accursed French no respite until they are all driven back across the mountains. And--but tell me; I do not understand why I have received so long and full a despatch from Mr. Frere and none from our own Junta. I should have expected that the Marquis del Villel would have given you a despatch that would have been of equal importance with the British minister's."

"That is easily explained, Senor Capitan. I carry Mr. Frere's despatch because I am myself an Englishman. My name is Lumsden--Lieutenant Lumsden of the Rifles." Jack watched the general's face for a sign of recognition of the name.

"Indeed! you amaze me. You speak our tongue so--Lumsden! I remember; I had almost forgotten it; a friend of my old friend Don Fernan Alvarez--is it not so? Alas! Don Fernan could not survive the humiliation of his unhappy country. Are you the Senor Lumsden who was Don Fernan's friend?"

"My father was his partner, Senor," replied Jack.

"Yes, and I had a letter for you, addressed to you by Don Fernan, and left in my charge ere he died. As I understood, it was a duplicate of a letter sent to Mr. Lumsden in London--your father, no doubt, Senor--and Don Fernan asked me to retain it until I heard either from your father or yourself, and if I heard from neither within six months, I was to send it to an address in London that he gave me."

Palafox was here overtaken by a fit of coughing, which shook his fever-worn frame. When the coughing ceased, and the general lay back panting, Jack said quietly:

"And the letter, Senor?"

"That is what troubles me, Senor. I regret to tell you--"

He was seized again with coughing; Jack waited anxiously for the paroxysm to cease.

"I regret to tell you the letter is gone."

"Gone!" echoed Jack blankly.

"Gone, Senor."

"But how--why--can it have been lost, mislaid?"

"It was locked in my cabinet. A fortnight ago my cabinet was rifled, and a box of papers was taken away, among them the letter addressed to your father."

"But still I do not understand, Senor. Why should anyone wish to steal a letter addressed to an unknown Englishman?"

"No one wished that, I suspect," said Palafox with a faint smile. "The box in which the letter was placed was exactly similar to another box containing papers of public importance, including plans for the defence of the city. That, as I surmise, was the box which the thief wished to secure. Luckily for Spain, unluckily for you, he stole the wrong box, and apart from your letter obtained nothing of any great importance."

"I am glad of that," said Jack instantly. "Of course I am disappointed and vexed about the letter, but a private loss like that does not matter half so much as the loss of your plans would have done; it's no good crying over spilt milk, as we say, and I must put up with it."

"It is good of you to take the matter with such noble resignation," said the courtly Spaniard. "Believe me, I regret the circumstance exceedingly. I can only hope that the French spy who stole the box--he must have been a French spy; we have no afrancesados in Saragossa--I can only hope that there was nothing in the letter that will seriously affect your fortunes, and after all, it was a duplicate, and the original is probably safe with your father in London. And now tell me, Senor, how you succeeded in the daring and marvellous feat of entering our sorely invested city."

Jack gave a brief account of his adventures, to which Palafox listened with an air of the keenest interest.

"It will be more difficult to get out than in," he said at the conclusion of the story. "And yet to remain in the city will be to court death or disease. It cuts me to the heart to think of the thousands who are dying here week by week, not for want of food--we have provisions of a sort in plenty--but for want of air and space. We had too large a population, Senor, when the siege began. I should have sent away the townsfolk; I see it now. And yet no, for the townsfolk are our most ardent and staunch defenders; even when the courage of the soldiers flags, the brave citizens cry "Guerra al cuchillo",[#] and "Hasta la ultima tapia",[#] and when fell disease overtakes them in the fetid cellars where they now mostly live, still with pious resignation they cry: "Lo que ha de ser no puede faltar".[#] Such is their spirit, Senor, and hoping against hope I maintain my defences, and, if God wills, shall yet win the day."

[#] "War to the knife."

[#] "To the last wall."

[#] "That which is to be cannot fail."

During this speech Palafox had worked himself up into a frenzy that brought on another fit of coughing; and Jack, observing his unnaturally bright eyes, could not but wonder whether the labours and responsibilities of the defence were not affecting his mind. In a moment Jack said quietly:

"My position need not give you concern at present, Senor Capitan. I must stay in Saragossa for at any rate a day, for I have to make enquiries after my old friend Don Fernan's family. His daughter, Senor--is she well?"

"I believe so; I hope so. It is long since I saw her. I wished her to leave the city before the siege, but, like a true maiden of Spain, she preferred to remain and do what she could to help the noble Countess of Bureta and the thrice noble Maria Agustin, our heroic maid of Saragossa, in serving the soldiers and tending the sick and wounded. The Senorita is under the guardianship of her aunt, the Dona Teresa, and if you will seek the Padre Consolacion, he will give you all particulars of their welfare; he undertook to watch over their interests at my special request. If you stay with us for a time, then, Senor, you will want a residence. There is little choice; we are at the mercy of the French guns; no house is safe, but--"

"I have been thinking, Senor," interposed Jack, as the general paused: "Will you accept me as a volunteer? I have some months' leave. I not only have personal interests in your city, but I feel that the struggle in which you are engaged is one that I can throw myself into with a whole heart. The cause of Spain is the cause of England, and if I can do anything--"

"Senor, I thank you; I welcome you with eagerness. You are an officer; your experience with Sir Moore's army will be of value to me. Many of my best officers are dead; many more have no experience. If you please, I will assign you a definite command on our defences; will you come to me to-morrow at this hour?"

Jack was on the point of replying when loud vociferations came through the door from the large room. "Palafox! Where is Palafox? The captain-general! Come! Help! Tio Jorge! Palafox!" The cries grew louder and louder; heavy fists, muskets, pikes battered on the door; Don Basilio's powerful voice was heard endeavouring to quell the tumult. Gathering himself together, and bravely repressing the signs of weakness he had previously shown, Palafox walked to the door, opened it, and stood in the doorway.

"What is it, my children?" he said.

The noise was hushed; the crowd turned as one man and seemed to be looking for someone. Then a passage opened up among them, and a huge brawny figure, with capless, dishevelled head, torn clothes, and face and hands black with the smoke of battle, elbowed his way through till he came to the general.

"Viva Arcos! Viva el valiente Arcos!" cried several in the throng.

"Silencio!" in the stern, authoritative tone of Don Basilio.

"Senor Capitan," said the big man, "the French are making towards the Coso! The Casa Ximenez block is in their hands. They are burning, butchering; they are beating down our men at the barricades! I come for the reserve, Senor; for Tio Jorge and Tio Marin, and all their men! At once, Senor; send them at once; for if time is lost, the accursed foe will swarm into the centre of the town, and all is lost."

Before Palafox could say a word, the priest Santiago Sass seized a musket, and, raising his piercing voice, cried:

"Follow me! follow me! In the name of God and Our Lady of the Pillar! To the convent of San Agustin! Tio Jorge, Tio Marin, Jorge Arcos, follow me!"

He rushed out into the corridor, and the mob, in a frenzy of enthusiasm, poured pell-mell after him, carrying their heroes with them. The room was left almost empty. Don Basilio turned to Palafox and said quietly:

"They will recover any ground that is lost. Spare yourself, my son Jose."

"But the madness of Santiago leading them to the convent! The walls were breached by the explosion this morning, and the French must now be in full possession of it."

"If the Augustine convent is where the explosion took place," cried Jack eagerly, "that is near where I came in this morning. I found out by accident something of the position there, Senor. I think I could help. Have I your leave?"

Palafox looked kindly into the boy's shining eyes.

"Yes," he said, "go, and bring me word of what befalls."

Jack sprang instantly towards the door. As he passed out, Don Basilio turned with an enquiring look towards Palafox.

"An English youth, Padre," said the general, in answer to his mute question.

"A leader of men," said the priest, and sat down to write a proclamation.

*CHAPTER XX*

*A Day with Tio Jorge*

A Barricade--Battering-Rams--A Lull--A Way In--On the Stairs--The Day's Work--A Triumph--Pepito's Watch

At the end of the covered way leading to the Portillo Gate Jack found Tio Jorge giving instructions to a group of armed citizens, who went off one by one on various errands. Seizing a favourable opportunity, Jack went up to the big Spaniard, and in a few rapid words acquainted him with his own position and intentions. Jorge scanned him for a moment with quick, penetrating glance, then said:

"Senor will want a musket. There is a stand of arms at the corner yonder."

In two minutes Jack, armed with a musket of British make--one of those opportunely thrown into the town by Colonel Doyle the day before the siege opened,--was hastening along by the side of Tio Jorge into the city. On entering the streets, the Spaniard summoned to join him small bodies of citizens who were gathered at certain points to act as reinforcements and reserves. Soon he was at the head of a considerable troop, all of the artisan class, for in these days of stress every able-bodied man in the city was transformed into a fighter.

As they ran, their ears were deafened by a loud explosion on the right. The air was darkened with dust; broken slates and stones came hurtling down upon their heads; but the eager citizens pressed on with an indifference that showed how much accustomed they were to such incidents.

"A block of houses blown up between here and the Santa Engracia convent," said Tio Jorge in answer to a question of Jack's. "But that is not our business. The French will hold the ruins, but they'll get no farther. Our men will beat them back. 'Tis more dangerous towards San Agustin. The French have gained more there in this one day than in weeks on the Santa Engracia side. Hombres," he cried to the men with him, "hasten, hasten! The French are over the barricades, and we must drive them out at all costs."

They ran on. Even in the rush and excitement Jack was struck by the scenes of horror in the streets. At one point two corpses swung slowly on gibbets erected by the door of a church. Tio Jorge pointed to one of them, a look of grim exultation on his face.

"He was my school-fellow," he said, "and my friend; but I hanged him. So perish all who falter and counsel surrender!"

Wounded men were being carried to the hospitals by women; some were limping or crawling with shattered limbs and ghastly faces. Women and children ran hither and thither, some carrying goods from houses threatened by the enemy, others food and ammunition for the fighters. Though many of them bore only too manifest signs of sickness and privation, they all seemed animated by the same spirit of fierce determination, and a gleam lit up their worn features whenever Tio Jorge, as he passed, threw them a word of encouragement.

All the way along the Coso the sounds of firing in the eastern quarter of the city came more and more distinctly on the ear. Dense clouds of smoke rolled towards them, and Jack heard the crackle of flames, still invisible. A messenger with blackened face came towards Tio Jorge, and announced that the French had captured three blocks of buildings beyond the Casa Ximenez, and were slowly but surely gaining ground. The Spaniard, bellowing out fierce maledictions on the enemy, hastened his stride, and in a few minutes reached a street leading to the university. Here the Spaniards had entrenched themselves behind a barricade, where they endeavoured to find cover from the musket-shots fired from houses on both sides of the streets. The French, borrowing the tactics of the besieged, had occupied these houses, and were shooting from windows and loopholes bored in the walls.

The lean figure of the frenzied Santiago Sass was conspicuous among the defenders of the barricade. Disdaining all artifice, he stood erect, a mark for every bullet, yet unhurt, uttering derisive shouts, and mingling his battle-cry with quotations from the Psalms. Seeing Tio Jorge approach at the head of his men, the priest hailed him with loud acclaim.

"Twice," he cried, "twice, Tio Jorge, have we already beaten back the men of Belial. The hand of the Lord is heavy upon them!"

"And shall be heavier!" cried Tio Jorge. "We must over the barricade, hombres."

Instantly Santiago Sass mounted the entrenchment, and was first on the other side, his long cassock flying loose as he led the charge, musket in hand. Tio Jorge and Jack were but a yard behind him, and with a great shout the Spaniards swarmed over and dashed furiously at the French advancing to the attack. Nothing could withstand their rush. The French gave way, but instead of retreating down the street they disappeared into the houses on either side, bolted the doors behind them, and went to swell the numbers of those who already occupied posts of vantage within. In vain the frenzied Spaniards beat on the doors with their clubbed muskets; the massive panels were unyielding, and a rain of bullets fell from above, thinning the Spanish ranks moment by moment.

"Poles, bring poles!" shouted Tio Jorge.

Instantly men ran off, some of them only to drop on the way. The survivors returned by and by with poles and beams, with which as battering-rams they drove at the fast-closed doors. They were shot down almost to a man; but the places of those that fell were at once taken. A door here and there was burst in, and the heroic Spaniards sprang into the gardens and patios, only to be killed or wounded before ever they came to close quarters with the French.

From the first Tio Jorge had selected as the special object of his attack a large house on the right of the barricade. It was evidently held by a considerable force of the enemy. But all assaults upon its thick door had proved ineffectual. Even when a heavy beam was brought up as a battering-ram it could not be used with effect, for the door was at such an angle to the barricade that it could only be struck obliquely unless the bearers of the beam advanced for several yards into the open, where so many of their comrades had already been struck down. Tio Jorge ordered his men to make an attempt to drive in the door from the angle of the barricade. Before the beam could be thrown across, one of the men carrying it was shot. The rest persevered, hauled it over, and made for the door. A sheet of flame burst from the windows above; six of the men were hit. The weight of the beam being now unequally distributed, the other men were dragged down, or tripped over the bodies of the slain.

Jack had accompanied them. Feeling a sharp pain in his left arm, and seeing that nothing could be done at the moment, he ran back to the barricade, narrowly escaping being hit by flying bullets. Behind the barricade he found Tio Jorge with a few others, the only survivors of the band which had come up with such ardour and enthusiasm. The leader was furious, railing at fate and at the failure of the men to back up their comrades, and shouting for more men to come to his assistance. Meanwhile, as Jack stood by endeavouring to bind up what proved to be a slight flesh wound, a lady came from the corner of the street, bearing food and wine. Seeing what Jack was about, she placed her baskets on the ground, calling upon the men to help themselves, and then with quick deft hands completed the bandaging which Jack had clumsily begun.

"You look tired," she said. "Take some food, Senor."

Jack was only too glad to eat and drink. It was the first food that had passed his lips since he left the boat. Tio Jorge, too, ate like a famished man.

"Gracias, Contessa," he said in a softer voice than was usual with him.

When all had eaten and drunk, the lady picked up her baskets and moved away without hurry towards another part of the city.

"Who is she, hombre?" asked Jack.

"The noble Contessa de Bureta, Senor; a delicate, frail lady, as you see, but as fearless as--as I myself."

There was a breathing-space, during which the men rested, awaiting reinforcements, and rejoiced that the French were contenting themselves with their work from the houses, and made no further attempt at present to storm the barricade. Jack took stock of the situation. The house on the right could not be taken by assault; it was occupied in too great force by skilled marksmen. To ram the door by a direct blow was impossible, as experience had proved; the fire from the houses was so deadly that no bearers could live through it. While Jack was pondering, the little band had been reinforced by other citizens, and Tio Jorge was on the point of ordering another attack. But he had uttered only a few words of vehement encouragement when Jack interposed.

"Give me ten men, and I think in a few minutes we could drive the French from yonder house without great loss."

Tio Jorge looked doubtingly at Jack's eager face. They were crouching behind the barricade, and there was a temporary lull in the firing.

"How will you do that?" asked the Spaniard.

"Attack them from above."

"Impossible! impossible! If you got to the roofs you could not get into the houses, for the trap-doors are all towards the street. You would be seen from the houses on the opposite side, and shot down at once."

"Still, I think it is possible. I have a plan."

"Well, then, go, Senor, in the name of Our Lady of the Pillar, and I will remain here and fire on the French to cover your movements."

Accompanied by ten men hastily selected by Tio Jorge, Jack made his way to the rear, and came to a house which had not yet fallen into the hands of the French. Gaining admittance, he led his men upstairs to the attic floor, clambered out by the trap-door, and, before the enemy had caught sight of him, succeeded in crawling over the sloping roof to the opposite side. Two or three men had followed him safely. Then the move was seen, and bullets began to patter on the roof, so that the other men had to follow Jack at great risk. All but one managed to crawl over and join him without hurt, and the nine stood with him on the farther side of the roof, sheltered by the low parapet from any shots that might come from that direction.

Then he led them quickly on to the roof of the adjoining house, which was occupied by the French. Immediately over an attic window he cautiously started to loosen the tiles, the Spaniards eagerly following his example as they perceived his intentions. After the first two or three tiles had been gently prised out, the rest came away easily. Half the men were employed in lifting the tiles, while the others took them from their hands, and laid them quietly in heaps at the foot of the parapet. Under the tiles were the joists, and as these were not connected by matchboard, it was an easier matter than Jack had expected to break an opening into the room below. It was empty. Such little noise as had been made on the roof had evidently been drowned by the continuous firing in the houses and streets. Jack handed his musket to the man next him, and, catching hold of one of the joists, swung lightly down into the room. The man handed him his musket, then followed him, to be followed in turn by all his comrades. In little more than ten minutes after their arrival on the roof the ten stood together in the attic.

"Now, hombres," said Jack, "we have to clear them out room by room."

Followed by the Spaniards, he dashed from the attic down the stairs into the first room on the floor below. At the window were three men, so intent on firing at the barricade that they were not aware of their danger until the invaders were upon them. When they turned and saw their enemies they had no thought of surrender. In this bitter war surrender to a Spaniard was only another name for death. But before they could bring their muskets to the shoulder the Spaniards were at their throats. They fell. Instantly the victors rushed to another room. In a few minutes all the occupants of that floor were disposed off.

By this time the rest of the garrison had taken the alarm. Many of the French had left their posts, and were crowding downstairs in a panic, believing that a large force of Spaniards had gained a lodgment in the house. Tio Jorge below inferred from the slackening of the enemy's fire that the bold attempt had been successful. Without losing an instant he ordered some of his men to make another onslaught with the beam on the door, and sent others round to the back of the house, where a narrow lane was at present clear of the French, to intercept any who should endeavour to escape there. Panic had now seized the French in the house. Fearing to be taken in front and rear, most rushed downstairs towards the back entrance, a few obstinately refusing to stir, and calling on their comrades to stand firm. But Jack and his men poured in pursuit, shouting, to keep up the illusion of their being a numerous body. Below, the door at last fell in with a crash before the strokes of the ram. Tio Jorge burst in, and found only a small knot of French between himself and Jack's men. The execution was swift and sure. Of all the French who had used that house as their fortress only those escaped who, fleeing out by the back door, cut their way through the Spaniards sent by Tio Jorge to intercept them.

This brilliant success, won by citizens without the help of the soldiery, wrought the spirits of the people to a high pitch of exultation. Santiago Sass, who had escaped in all his wild peregrinations without a scratch, rejoined Tio Jorge's band, and rolled out sonorous sentences in jubilant frenzy. But the Spaniards were not satisfied with the first triumph of the day. There were other blocks of houses in possession of the French. After a brief respite, during which reinforcements of soldiers and citizens came up in considerable numbers, the defenders set to work systematically to dislodge the French from the positions so hardly won. The housetop device was put in practice wherever access could be obtained. For hours the struggle continued, and Jack, who worked as hard as any man, was struck with admiration of the untiring enthusiasm of the Spaniards. Fighting from barricade to barricade, and from house to house, they retook position after position, until, as early dusk fell, the French had been cleared out of all the houses and forced back to their impregnable position in the Santa Monica and San Agustin convents.

The din of combat died down. Jack had arrived at the Casa Ximenez, the scene of his adventure in the morning. Entering the house, he found many signs of its temporary occupation by the French, but the fighting had been so intense and so persistent that they had had no time to perpetrate the wanton mischief and destruction which usually marked their progress. Jack went through the house to make sure that none of the French were left, and, entering one of the rooms, he guessed by the character of its furniture and appointments that it belonged to the young lady whom he had assisted earlier in the day. The French had been so much occupied in the lower rooms that they had left this room untouched. There were a few trinkets on the dressing-table. Jack put these into his pocket, knowing that the Senorita would be glad to receive anything of value that could be rescued. Then, descending into the patio, he found that Tio Jorge had already told off a company of his men to occupy the house during the night, in preparation for the renewed attack which was undoubtedly to be expected in the morning.

"Come, Senor," shouted the big fellow, "we will now go to the captain-general and tell him what we have done for Saragossa this day. And your part, por Dios! is one that no Saragossan will forget. Come!"

They left the house. The sounds of bombardment and musketry had ceased; parties of the citizens were moving about collecting the dead and wounded; women and children were emerging for a breath of air from the close cellars in which they had sheltered during the day. As Tio Jorge and Jack passed into the street, they became aware, from the attitude of a group of soldiers and citizens all looking in one direction, that something unusual was attracting their attention. Looking up the street, towards the same end at which he had entered it nearly twelve hours before, Jack saw, by the light of the torches carried by search-parties, a small figure advancing--the figure of a boy, with a Frenchman's kepi many sizes too large for him almost obliterating his head, a Frenchman's sword dangling from his belt, its point trailing a yard behind him along the cobbles, and a Frenchman's musket weighing down his shoulder. The boy was staggering along under his burdens, yet contrived to maintain an air of jauntiness and assurance that held the Spaniards spell-bound with surprise and curiosity.

"The imp again!" ejaculated Jack with a smile.

The boy caught sight of him, and, endeavouring to hasten his step, tripped over his sword and fell headlong, rising a moment after without musket or kepi, and revealing the swarthy face and unkempt hair of Pepito.

"Here I am, Senor," he said with his enigmatical smile. "Not lost, Senor."

"So I see. And what have you been doing? What do you mean by giving me the slip like that, and making me think the French had got you?"

Pepito looked aggrieved. He took out of his vest the silver watch Jack had given him at Seville, and held it dangling by its chain.