# The Sea Wolves/Chapter 24

The woman rode for some way in silence and with great caution in the precipitous descent. She did not seem to fear any immediate press of danger from the neighbourship of the troops, and when Messenger asked her, she answered curtly—
"We have the best of them by an hour, and that is enough. They have something to report now, and may sleep on it." After that she left it to her pony to feel his way down the hill-side, and did not even press him to the canter when they entered the woods again.
She had said that night was coming down upon them; but as yet there was only a shimmer of twilight seen through the canopy of branches, though the breeze sang with a melancholy note in the heights of the pines, and the grass rustled with the uneasiness it betrays often at sunset. Otherwise the woods were very still; no living soul seemed to tread them; the multitudinous birds were roosting, the herds of hogs were lying lazily upon the sward, even the streams trickled lazily, as bums wearying for rest. At any other time the scene would have glowed with an infinite charm for all who enjoyed it; but the two who now beheld it were harassed by so many thoughts, so many hopes, even by so many fears, that its beauties escaped them. They only rode on in mutual silence—glad of the solitude and of its meaning.
They must have now come within a mile and a half of the castle, and had reached an open clearing where they had some view of the wood-capped heights of their own bay. Here the woman drew rein for the first time on the homeward journey, and looked up expectantly to the highest of the peaks which towered above her home. A thin, cloud-like reek of smoke was rising up from it; and as they stood to observe it the cloud broke into bright flame, such as would exude from kindled logs. This beacon, rapidly becoming a bush of light, was quickly answered by the flare of a second fire on the nearer hill; and soon from peak to peak and valley to valley the signal flashed—woods lighting up as fairy scenes where the glow spread upon them; the granite rocks all ruddy as ore of ruby where they stood incarnadined; the chasms of quartz and marble and granite glowing with a sheen of a thousand lights in the play of the flames which shot up from crags and ridges, from the swards of the forests and the open faces of the woodland glades.
The desolate land had, indeed, become alive with the life of its beacons. Though no man was seen upon the hills, though the silence of nightfall yet lingered in the woods. Messenger felt that many watched near to him, that unseen hands were working to the safety of the woman, and thus to his own security. He scarce hazarded the question, "Of what moment is the signal?" as he rested upon the pony's back and watched the path of the fire. But she, when she had remained motionless for many minutes, of a sudden set spurs to her beast, and as he laboured after her she gave him the explanation.
"They have lit the fires—there is danger in the hills, then. Du courage, mon ami! It will be a clever fellow who shall lay hands upon me in my own house. But ride, ride!—ride as I ride!"
She set the good example with her words, and never man rode as she rode, sweeping through the labyrinthine path at a mad gallop, which was like to the gallop of a phantom. Messenger had a fine knowledge of horsemanship, but scarce could he keep with her as she dashed, by thicket and bramble and through the darkening groves, onward to the flickering lights which now marked the work of her own men in the park of the castle. Nor was her mad flight a mere freak of excitement, as the man at one time thought; for scarce were they come to the last thicket which lay between them and the open park when five mounted carabineers, whose dark-blue coats looked black in the failing light, forced their horses upon their path, and called loudly for them to stop. So sudden was their appearance that the woman had hardly drawn rein and pulled her pony upon its haunches when both she and Messenger were among the company, and their leader rode forward to lay his hands upon the Englishman. But at this the hag rose upon her stirrups like a fury, and, striking the man across the face with the butt-end of her whip, she felled him to the ground at the blow.
As the man fell his four companions stood back dumb before the fury of the crone. But she, cursing them fiercely in Spanish, drew two pistols from her holsters with amazing readiness. One she gave to Messenger, and, with the other in her bridle-hand, she cackled—
"Follow where I lead, and shoot when I shoot! I count upon you!"
The readiness of the woman was as remarkable in this vital moment as it had been all along. While she yet spake the words she wheeled her pony round and galloped back for twenty yards; but there she wheeled again, and set spurs to the brute so that it bounded forward with the agony; while the man imitated her, and, driving his horse forward headlong, he rode at the four. So irresistible was the charge that the carabineers instinctively held back in their saddles as the witch neared them—a horrid figure of a woman screeching with uncontrollable rage—but she, as she swung outward from her pommel, fired twice at their horses, and the brutes reared and plunged before her, and galloped madly into the woods. Of the others Messenger shot one in the forehead, whereon the man's horse raced away with him, dragging a corpse at the saddle; but the fourth, in no wise fear-stricken, let the pair pass him, and then loosed rein for the pursuit.
The vigour and courage of the charge had now carried the pursued into the open park, where the veldt was smooth as a green, and the ponies flew on with the mad gallop of fear. The carabineer at their heels had pulled a pistol from his holster, but had no skill in shooting from the saddle, and his bullets skimmed the ground, or whistled high in the air, or were buried in the turf immediately before him. Yet still he held on, and, shouting loudly with the intense heat of chase, he was presently answered in loud whoops from the woods by the sea, whence came a company of lancers at the gallop. They were the men from Vivero, and it was evident that they had seen the woman as she rode, and were set to the pursuit of her. But at the sight of them she laughed again with her wild harsh laugh, and her pony, as if in sympathy, bounded forward in the momentous race which was to save the lives of the pursued or to put them and the bullion at the mercy of the Spaniards.
The two, as I have said, were now upon the fine stretch of lawn-like land which ran up to the moat on that side of the castle where the keep was. Inspired by the near proximity of stables, and by knowledge of the environment, the ponies here gathered themselves together, as rabbits that press upon a warren, and snorted with the freshness of their pace and their own pleasure at it. Yet, with all their efforts, they would scarce have outpaced the troopers had not the shoremen come to their aid, and at the very moment when the aid was needed sorely. Scarce, indeed, were the riders come into the park than a great crying went up from the purlieus of the mansion; wild arrieros and hillmen came crowding upon the wooden bridge which stood across the moat for lack of drawbridge, and yelled lustily encouragement to the pursued and oaths upon the pursuers. Then, running some for their muskets and some for their pistols, they threw themselves flat upon the grass, and began to pick off the galloping cavalry with a skill which could be looked for only among nomads of the hills.
At this sight the Spanish woman cut her pony fiercely with the whip, and took new heart. She had been riding for some time crouched down upon her brute's neck, fearing the pistol bullets of the carabineers; but when her own men began to shoot, she sat upright again, and screeched approval with a reckless flow of curses and encouragements which must have been heard away upon the sea. And in her exulting joy she circled about Messenger, so speedy beyond his was her pony, and shared with him her anticipations.
"Once beyond the bridge, mon ami, there is safety— safety! Let them follow me then! I have a hundred men at the gates, and another hundred upon the hills. Let them come if they care nothing for their lives! Holy Virgin, what music!"
It was the music of musketry that she spoke of—the music of a rattling volley fired by the mercenaries upon the grass-land. And so well did they shoot that twenty of the horsemen reeled back in their saddles with the echo of the report, and twenty more at the least fell headlong upon the turf with dead or dying brutes beneath them. Then for the first time the troopers checked their pace, and, swerving right and left from the deadly attack, they reined in for consultation. But this was the woman's opportunity. As a second volley flashed upon the failing light she rode furiously across the gravel pathway which led to the bridge; and, Messenger being at her heels, they presently drew up among their men with a great clatter of stones and ponies reeking; and were welcomed with guttural shouts that rang through court and cloister as the cry of a victorious army.