“He failed in the first, however,” observed Philip, hopefully.
“True! but he may not fail in the second.”
“One moment, Señores,” said the Colonel, earnestly, “The Pizarro dare not stop the torpedo-boats—they could sink her in no time. She has no defence against them—no nets, for those were left at Tlatonac when the fleet went north.”
“All the more reason that Xuarez should capture the torpedo-boats,” retorted Jack, hotly. “The Pizarro will not try force, mi Colonel! No; the torpederas left England before war was proclaimed; therefore, those in charge know nothing of the disaffection of the fleet, of the rebellion of Xuarez. If they meet The Pizarro, they will stop when she signals; their commanders will go on board in blissful ignorance, and be either seduced to the cause of Xuarez, or retained as prisoners of war. In either case, the torpederas, taken by surprise, will be captured, and accompany The Pizarro to the north.”
“True! What you say is true, Señor! Santissima! What ill-fortune!”
“The torpederas must be warned!” exclaimed Philip, quickly. “I will speak to His Excellency, and offer the services of my yacht to the Republic. If my offer is accepted, I will get steam up on The Bohemian, and stand out to sea at once. Cruise up and down till I see the torpederas, and then warn them of their danger.”
“Yes, and be chased all the time by The Pizarro.”
“She can’t catch The Bohemian. I’d back my boat against the combined speed of the whole rebel navy. It is the only chance of saving the torpedo-boats from the clutches of Xuarez.”
“What a pity my railway is not finished,” said Jack, regretfully; “then we could have ran up the whole army to Acauhtzin without trouble. As it is, the only passage is by sea, and I am afraid the war-ships render that impossible.”
“How far have you got with the line, Jack?”
“Only fifty miles. It stops in the centre of a dense forest, so it is worse than useless—to Xuarez as to ourselves.”
At this moment Don Rafael entered, in a state of great excitement.
“Ola, Señores,” he said, gaily; “I have just come from the presence of His Excellency and my father; it is the intention of the Junta to send an embassy to Acauhtzin.”
“To treat with Xuarez?”
“Carajo! no!” retorted the young man fiercely; “to promise freedom to the rebels, if they lay down their arms and deliver up Xuarez for punishment.”
Colonel Garibay shook his head.
“They won’t do that, mi amigo! if I know anything of Don Hypolito.”
“It is true that he has great influence over them,” said Rafael, thoughtfully; “but the power of the Opposidores is as nothing before that of the Junta; if they are wise, they will lay down their arms.”
“They are not wise, however,” said Jack, dryly; “and they won’t lay down their arms. And how does the embassy propose to get to Acauhtzin?”
“It is said that Señor Felipe has offered his ship to the Junta,” said Rafael, bowing courteously to the baronet; “and the Junta have decided to accept that grand offer with a thousand thanks.”
“Bueno!” cried Philip, heartily. “I am glad The Bohemian will be of some service. Yes, Don Rafael, my yacht is at the disposal of the Government. But tell me, Señor, who goes north with the embassy?”
“Yourself, Señor Felipe, if you will come; my father and myself, with a company of soldiers.”
“Why yourself, Don Rafael?”
The young hidalgo blushed, and rolled a cigarette with pretended indifference.
“I! Oh, I wish to hurl defiance in the teeth of Xuarez.”
Philip had received a hint of Don Rafael’s passion and as Jack was busily talking with Garibay, approached the captain with a smile.
“Is that all?” he whispered, smiling.
Don Rafael looked at him steadily, and then caught his hand with a sudden passion of friendship.
“No, mi amigo. I wish to see Doña Carmencita, and, if possible, carry her south.”
“Will she come, Rafael?”
“Yes, she loves me; her father is cruel to her; she will come, if you will permit it.”
“Señor, my ship and all I have is at your disposal.”
“A thousand thanks, Don Felipe,” said Rafael, cordially pressing his friend’s hand; “I will take advantage of your kindness. Not a word to my father, Señor. He knows nothing as yet; I will tell him all at Acauhtzin.”
“I will be silent.”
“Gracias mi amigo. I will give you my help in the like case.”
“It will certainly be needed some day,” replied Philip, significantly.
“But not as yet. Ah, Señor, you do not then know what it is to love.”
“Don’t I?” thought Philip, and saw before him, as in a dream, the fair face of Doña Eulalia.
It was now late, so, after they had dined with Garibay, the two Englishmen, at the invitation of Don Rafael, went to the Casa Maraquando.
When they arrived, to their surprise, all was in confusion. The servants were running aimlessly about, Doña Serafina and Eulalia were in tears, and Don Miguel was cursing loud and deep.
“What is the matter?” asked the young men in alarm.
“Dolores is lost!”
Chapter XII.
A Strange Disappearance
Shepherds kind! my love hath left me,
Therefore am I filled with woe;
Of my heart hath she bereft me;
Thievish nymph! why didst thou so?
Ah, well-a-day! True love is a jewel!
Why hence away? Oh, my Chloe cruel.
Tell the damsel, should ye meet her,
That, alas! no heart have I,
For her love I would entreat her;
Fickle maid, why didst thou fly?
Ah, well-a-day! True love is a jewel!
Why hence away? Oh, my Chloe cruel.
Prythee shepherds, her discover,
I her face again would see;
Still am I her longing lover;
Sweet coquette, return to me!
Ah, well-a-day! True love is a jewel!
Why hence away? Oh, my Chloe cruel.
Dolores lost! Jack’s thoughts immediately became busy with Don Hypolito, and the Forest Indians. Could it be that she had been carried off by one of these, and if so, by which of the two? It was now nine o’clock, and Jack had left her on the roof of the azotea at four. It seemed impossible that in so short a period the girl could have utterly disappeared. At the same time, by the strict social observances of Tlatonac, Dolores should have returned from her visit to the cathedral before dark, and as she had not done so, there seemed to be reasonable ground for apprehension.
Such