"Were any of you drowned?"

"Not any of us that are here," responded the captain, grimly. "No, nor any other of the _Goshhawk_ men, but there are more wrecks in sight below, and I don't know how many from them got ash.o.r.e. Our bark stranded this side of them, and she's gone all to pieces. We took to the life-boat in time, but we've had a hard pull of it. We went ash.o.r.e through the breakers, about six miles below this, and here we are, but I don't want to ever pa.s.s such another night. I'm going on down to the consul's now, to report, and Ned had better be there as soon as he can.

Then, the sooner he's out o' Vera Cruz, the better for him and all of us."

"I think so myself," said Senor Zuroaga. "Don't even stay here for breakfast. n.o.body from here must come to the consul's with Senor Carfora."

"Of course not," said the captain, wearily, and away he went, although Ned felt as if he were full to bursting with the most interesting kind of questions concerning the captain's night in the life-boat and the sad fate of the swift and beautiful _Goshhawk_.

"Come into the house," said the senor, "and put on your Mexican rig. I have a message from Colonel Guerra that we must get away to-night. I must not bring any peril upon the Ta.s.sara family. Up to this hour no enemy knows that I was a pa.s.senger on the powder-boat, as they call it."

"All right," said Ned. "I'll write one more letter home. I couldn't get out of the city in any other way just now, and I want to see Mexico."

That idea was growing upon him rapidly, but his next errand was to the senor's own room, to put on what he called his disguise. He followed his friend to a large, handsome chamber in the further end of the house, and, as he entered it, his first thought was:

"Hullo! are they getting ready for a fight?"

In the corners of the room and leaning against the walls here and there were weapons enough to have armed half a company of militia, if the soldiers did not care what kinds of weapons they were to carry, for the guns and swords and pistols were of all patterns except those of the present day. Ned saw at least one rusty firelock, which put him in mind of pictures he had seen of the curious affairs the New England fathers carried when they went to meeting on Sunday. He had no time to examine them, however, for here were his new clothes, and he must be in them without delay. He admired each piece, as he put it on, and then one look into the senor's mirror convinced him that he was completely disguised.

He had been turned into a somewhat stylish young Mexican, from his broad-brimmed straw hat to his Vera Cruz made shoes. He still wore a blue jacket, but this one was short, round-cornered, and had bright silver b.u.t.tons. His new trousers were wide at the bottoms, with silver-b.u.t.toned slashes on the outsides below the knees. He had not worn suspenders on shipboard, but now his belt was of yellow leather and needlessly wide, with a bright buckle and a sword-catch on the left side. As to this matter, the senor showed him a short, straight, wide-bladed sort of cutlas, which he called a machete.

"That is to be yours," he said. "You need not carry it in town, but you will as soon as we get away. You will have pistols, too, and a gun. It won't do to go up the road to Oaxaca unarmed. Now you may make the best of your way to the consul's, and I'll stay here to finish getting ready."

He appeared to be laboring under a good deal of excitement, and so, to tell the truth, was the disguised young American. Out he went into the hall, trying hard to be entirely collected and self-possessed, but it was only to be suddenly halted. Before him stood the stately Senora Ta.s.sara, and clinging to her was the very pretty Senorita Felicia, both of them staring, open-eyed, at the change in his uniform. The senorita was of about fourteen, somewhat pale, with large, brilliant black eyes, and she was a very frank, truthful girl, for she exclaimed:

"Oh, mother, do look at him! But it does not make a Mexican of him. He's a gringo, and he would fight us if he had a chance. I want them all to be killed!"

"No, my dear," said the senora, with a pleasant laugh. "Senor Carfora will not fight us. He and his ship brought powder for Colonel Guerra and the army. I am sorry he must leave us. You must shake hands with him."

"Oh, no!" said the wilful Felicia, spitefully. "I don't want to shake hands with him. He is one of our enemies."

"No, I'm not!" stammered Ned. "But did you know that our ship was wrecked in the norther? If you had been on board of her when she went ash.o.r.e, you would have been drowned. The men in the life-boat had a hard time in getting ash.o.r.e. I'm glad you were at home."

"There, dear," said her mother. "That is polite. You heard what Senor Zuroaga said about the wrecks. They were terrible! Can you not say that you are glad Senor Carfora was not drowned?"

"No, mother," persisted Felicia. "I'll say I wish he had been drowned, if--if he could have swum ash.o.r.e afterward. Good enough for him."

Senora Ta.s.sara laughed merrily, as she responded:

"You are a dreadfully obstinate young patriot, my darling. But you must be a little more gracious. The gringo armies will never come to Vera Cruz. They are away up north on the Rio Grande."

"Well, mother, I will a little," said the senorita, proudly. "Senor Carfora, your generals will be beaten all to pieces. You wait till you see our soldiers. You haven't anything like them. They are as brave as lions. My father is a soldier, and he is to command a regiment. I wish I were a man to go and fight."

Her eyes were flashing and she looked very warlike, but the only thing that poor Ned could think of to say just then was:

"Senora Ta.s.sara, if you are not careful, somebody will get in some day and steal your beautiful coffee-urn."

"Ah me!" sighed the senora. "This has been attempted, my young friend.

Thieves have been killed, too, in trying to carry off the Ta.s.sara plate.

There would be more like it, in some places, if so much had not been made plunder of and melted up in our dreadful revolutions. Some of them were only great robberies. I understand that you must go to your business now, but we shall see you again this evening."

"Good morning, Senora Ta.s.sara," said Ned, as he bowed and tried to walk backward toward the outer door. "Good morning, Senorita Ta.s.sara. You would feel very badly this morning if you had been drowned last night."

The last thing he heard, as he reached the piazza, was a ringing peal of laughter from the senora, but he believed that he had answered politely.

He knew his way to the office of the American consul, and the distance was not great in so small a town, but as he drew near it, he saw that there was a strong guard of soldiers in front of the building. They were handsomely uniformed regulars from the garrison of San Juan de Ulua, and there was cause enough for their being on duty. All up and down the street were scattered groups of sullen-looking men, talking and gesticulating. None of them carried guns, but every man of them had a knife at his belt, and not a few of them were also armed with machetes of one form or another. They would have made a decidedly dangerous mob against anything but the well-drilled and fine-looking guards who were protecting the consulate. Ned remembered what Felicia had said about her soldiers, and he did not know how very different were these disciplined regulars from the great ma.s.s of the levies which were to be encountered by the troops of the United States. He was admiring them and he was thinking of battles and generals, when one of the most ferocious-looking members of the mob came jauntily sauntering along beside him. He was a powerfully built man, almost black with natural color and sunburn. He was not exactly ragged, but he was barefooted, and his broad-brimmed sombrero was by no means new. A heavy machete hung from his belt, and he appeared to be altogether an undesirable new acquaintance. Ned looked up at him almost nervously, for he did not at all like the aspect of affairs in that street. He was thinking:

"I guess they were right about the excitement of the people. This isn't any place for fellows like me. I must get out of Vera Cruz as soon as I can. It's a good thing that I'm disguised. I must play Mexican."

At that moment a good-natured smile spread across the gloomy face of his unexpected companion, and he said, in a low tone of voice:

"Say nothing, Senor Carfora. Walk on into the consulate. I belong to General Zuroaga. There are four more of his men here. We have orders to take care of you. You are the young Englishman that brought us the powder. There was not a pound to be bought in Vera Cruz, but some of those fellows would knife you for a gringo."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "WE HAVE ORDERS TO TAKE CARE OF YOU"]

Quite a useless number of queer Spanish oaths were sprinkled in among his remarks, but Ned did not mind them. He only nodded and strictly obeyed the injunction against talking, even while he was asking himself how on earth his friend, the senor, ever became a general. He concluded, for the moment, that it might be a kind of militia t.i.tle, such as he had heard of in the United States. However that might be, he and his guide soon reached the door of the consulate, and he himself was promptly admitted, as if the keeper of the door had been expecting to see him. There were guards inside the house as well as in the street, and they motioned Ned on through a narrow entry-way, at the end of which was an open room. He pa.s.sed on into this, and the next moment he was exclaiming:

"Hullo, Captain Kemp! I'm so glad you are here! What am I to do next?"

"Almost nothing at all," said the captain, quietly. "Just sign your papers and get away. The consul himself has gone to the city of Mexico, with United States government despatches for President Paredes, and we shall finish our business as easy as rolling off a log. You have nothing to do with the wrecking of the _Goshhawk_, for you weren't on board when she parted her cable. But just look at those people!"

Ned did so, for the room, a large and well-furnished office, was almost crowded with Americans of all sorts, mostly men, whose faces wore varied expressions of deep anxiety.

"What are they all here for?" asked Ned.

"Safety!" growled the captain. "And to inquire how and when they can find their way out of this city of robbers. I hear that a whole regiment is to be on guard duty to-night, and that the mob is to be put down. If I ever see your father again, I'll explain to him why I sent you away."

Before Ned could make any further remarks, he was introduced to the vice-consul, a dapper, smiling little man, who did not appear to be in the least disturbed by his unpleasant surroundings. Almost a score of papers, larger and smaller, required the signature of the young supercargo of the unfortunate _Goshhawk_. They were speedily signed, although without any clear idea in Ned's mind as to what they all were for, and then Captain Kemp took him by the arm and led him away into a corner of the room.

"Ned, my boy," he said, "you see how it is. You must keep away from the seacoast for awhile. After things are more settled, you can come back and get away on a British, or French, or Dutch vessel, if the port isn't too closely blockaded. Whether I shall get out alive or not, I don't know. You haven't enough money. I'll let you have a couple of hundred dollars more in Mexican gold. You'd better not let anybody suspect that you carry so much with you. This country contains too many patriots who would cut their own President's throat for a gold piece. Don't ever show more than one shiner at a time, or you may lose it all."

Ned took the two little bags that were so cautiously delivered to him, and while he was putting them away in the inner pockets of his jacket, his mind was giving him vivid pictures of the knives and machetes and their bearers, whom he had seen in the street.

"Captain," he said, "those fellows out there wouldn't wait for any gold.

A silver dollar would buy one of them."

"Half a dollar," replied the captain. "Not one of them is worth a shilling. They ought all to be shot. But look here. I mustn't come to Colonel Ta.s.sara's place again. I find that he is under some kind of suspicion already, and President Paredes makes short work of men whom he suspects of plotting against him. Go! Get home!"

"That's just about what I'd like to do," said Ned to himself, as he hurried out of the consulate, but the next moment his courage began to come back to him, for here was Senor Zuroaga's ferocious-looking follower, and with him were four others, who might have been his cousins or his brothers, from their looks, for they all were Oaxaca Indians, of unmixed descent. Their tribe had faithfully served the children and grandchildren of Hernando Cortes, the Conquistador, from the day when he and his brave adventurers cut their way into the Tehuantepec valley.

CHAPTER VII.

THE LAND OF THE MONTEZUMAS

"Father Crawford, do read that newspaper! The war has begun! They are fighting great battles on the Rio Grande! Oh, how I wish you hadn't sent Ned to Mexico! He may get killed!"

She was a woman of middle age, tall, fine-looking, and she was evidently much excited. She was standing at one end of a well-set breakfast table, and was holding out a printed sheet to a gentleman who had been looking down at his plate, as if he were asking serious questions of it.