Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison 29 – Bidwell · Verses Across
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison 29Fear Says "No" to Happiness
18
Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison 29
Fear Says "No" to Happiness
BidwellEnglish
We passed during the day a military post and several squads of armed men. Poor fellows! they were wretchedly equipped, so far as garments went. They all examined us curiously, but did not offer to stop or question us while I marched on ahead of the cavalcade like a drum major, giving the military salute to each party as we passed. I ought to have been fatigued, but I was not. After about five miles of uphill work we began to descend. The road was a masterpiece of engineering, and well it might be, for it was one of five military roads the great Napoleon ordered to be constructed across the Pyrenees, and it was done in a thoroughly workmanlike manner. It wound in and out and along defiles of stern beauty.
We halted for rest and refreshment at noon, and again at 4 o'clock for an hour. At the last place we found some Carlist officers, one a young Englishman, who was a good fellow and most attentive. He was an aide-de-camp on Don Carlos' staff. He told me there was no chance of his side winning, but he was in it for the fun of the thing and in hope of seeing some fighting. He had taken part in a number of skirmishes, and was by no means satisfied yet. He volunteered to escort us through the lines, and was evidently more than pleased to meet an English lady in the person of my wife.
It was beautiful to see him order about my muleteers and bully them up hill and down dale, not hesitating to use his whip on them. About 5 o'clock we started off in great shape, having some twenty miles to go to the little town on the railway south of the Pyrenees. We had two lanterns and a number of torches; it was a picturesque caravan in the darkness. The young officer rode beside the first cart, conversing with my wife, while I walked in the rear. We had reason to congratulate ourselves over our escort, he being a brave and brilliant fellow and evidently a person of importance. He little thought whom he was escorting. I was pleased on my wife's account, as he was company for her, and, altogether, she thoroughly enjoyed the novelty of the whole situation.
We had made a fine bed of hay and blankets for our sick man. Nevertheless, he was a source of much anxiety and trouble. At last, to the intense relief of all, we heard far away the shrill whistle of a locomotive. It was sweet music to my ears, for I realized the peril of the delay. We had now arrived at the base of the southern slope of the Pyrenees and the plain stretched out before us. We had just passed through an intrenched camp that guarded the entrance to the valley. Our escort had ridden ahead, and not satisfied with smoothing the way for us, had turned out the guard to do us honor. We halted for a few minutes, and several uniformed officers came forward and were introduced to my wife and me. It was a picturesque scene. The mantle of snow covering all, the strange-looking mountaineers, the eager-faced, boyish officers--French, English, Austrian--all soldiers of fortune, who, in the dearth of great wars, were seeking fame in the inglorious civil contest; our torches casting fantastic shadows until the forest-covered mountain, dark and frowning, though snow lay everywhere, seemed peopled with hosts of men--all made a picture never to be forgotten by some of the observers.
Another mile and our escort had to leave us, but the town, standing dark against the snow, was in plain view. By his advice I went ahead on foot with two men, in case any of "the enemy" were prowling around, but found none until we arrived in the town; then a scene of great excitement to the townspeople arose.
We were examined and cross-examined, and our statements taken down in writing and sworn to by all hands. In the mean time I had made beds for our sick man and the ladies in the waiting room of the station, and about 2 o'clock I went to sleep. The station was fortified and full of soldiers, but I did not care, being told the Madrid train would start at daylight; if so, I would be in time for El Rey Felipe, and would be sailing out of Cadiz harbor on Monday over the blue water, westward ho!
After a two hours' nap I was up, paid off my lucky thirteen, giving them a present in addition to their due, with a written paper certifying that they were honest and brave, and had delivered me and mine in safety.
The weather continued very cold, and when the train, consisting of two passenger and one baggage car, arrived we found there were no heating arrangements, and we shivered at the thought of an all-day's ride without fire or heat across that windy plain. I determined to have a compartment to ourselves, for my wife and I had not had a moment's privacy since the smash-up of the train. So we fixed up a bed on the floor of a compartment for our sick man, and I put his family in to look out for him. When the train left we found ourselves, very much to our satisfaction, alone. I had telegraphed ahead to Burges to have hot water cases, then the only mode of heating cars in Europe, ready on our arrival.
The engineer of our train was an Englishman. As it was so important that I should not be delayed I gave him a sovereign and his stoker another, and asked him as a favor to make time. He said he would and kept his word. But arriving at Burgos we found that the train from Santander going south was two hours late, so my wife and I started out to see the famous town.
After a short view we made our way to the Cathedral, and it was a sight! It is one of the many sacred edifices which the piety of former ages bequeathed our own. One of these sacred buildings--like the Strasbourg and Cologne Cathedrals, in the construction of which generation after generation of pious souls--pious according to the fashion of their times--had given their days to the building and decoration of the cloister or church where their lives were lived, and all was done with loving and patient care.
We in our day may sneer at the monks and brothers of the Dark Ages, but in those times of rude violence all gentle hearted, scholarly souls found in the sanctity and quiet of the cloister the only refuge open to them, and they did good work, both in the domain of mind and in the world of material things. Much that was "piety" and much that was "faith" in their day is termed superstition in ours; but who will deny that the simple piety and credulous faith of their day was a million times better than the restless skepticism and sad unrest of ours?
At Burgos I tried to get an English paper, but none was to be had and no one there had ever seen one.
But here some startling news came flashing over the wires. Nothing less than that there had been a revolution at Madrid, the capital. Amadeo, the lately elected king, had suddenly resigned, and a republic had been proclaimed with Castelar at the head.
I began to see more and more what a fool I was to let myself be caught at such a time in such a land, but still had so much confidence in my good fortune that I felt I would be on time for the steamer on Monday.
It was now 3 o'clock Friday. We were all aboard for Madrid and just pulling out of the station. We would be due there the next morning. From Madrid to Cadiz there is only one through train in twenty-four hours, and that leaves seven mornings a week; but, as it runs only fifteen miles an hour, and is seldom on time at that, one must figure on taking an entire twenty-four hours for the journey. Still, as we would be due Saturday morning, I had a big margin for delay.
At last we were off. On the train and in every group we passed there were signs of subdued excitement. Between Royalists and Republicans sharp lines were evidently drawn which soon were to culminate in bloody conflict.
Soon after 10 o'clock we arrived in the walled town of Avila, about eighty miles from the famous Escurial built by the second Philip, and about 150 miles from Madrid. Here we got an excellent dinner and good coffee. But dinner was spoiled for me by the disastrous intelligence that martial law had been proclaimed and that the Government had seized the roads running north from Madrid to transport troops.
Here was a pretty pickle! I was enraged. I saw the chief of the railway at Avila, but he was a fool, and under the unwonted state of affairs had lost what little head he ever had.
So once more our baggage was all piled out of the train, and once more we had to go into camp on the floor of the station, with a terrific din around us.
I arose early, and looking up the telegraph clerk and railway chief, I made them both rich by the present to each of five escudos.
Then I telegraphed Castelar and the Minister of War that I was an Englishman, that I had my family with me, and having important business in Madrid I must not be detained in Avila. I demanded that he should at once direct the military officials to send me on to Madrid by special train. I also sent a telegram to Hernandez, president of the road in Paris, offering 5,000 francs for a special train. Another urgent message was sent to the superintendent in Madrid repeating the offer for a special train, the same sum to himself if he expedited the train. I also authorized him to spend a similar amount if necessary in bribing the military authorities.
At 11 o'clock I had a long telegram from him saying a train would be made up at Avila. But an hour having passed away, I sent him a message to order up an engine and one car from Madrid. Another message arrived at 12 o'clock, and down came an engine and car.
Our baggage was hustled into the three front compartments. I put Nunn and the Portuguese party in one and my wife and I occupied the rear compartment. Thank Heaven! once more alone together. The soldiers and inhabitants flocked around, and we were the observed of all observers.
The local railway chief was more than anxious to see us off, as I added another five to the five escudos already given. Just then the telegraph operator flew out with an order for our train to await the arrival of the train from Madrid.
I stormed. I kept the wire hot with messages of protest to officials. Two messages came from Madrid saying the delay was but temporary. So there I sat in that musty compartment, my wife by my side and with a heart full of bitterness, for I saw the precious hours slipping away, and with them my chance of taking the Sunday morning train so as to catch the Cadiz steamer. To miss it, I thought, meant ruin.
Hour after hour passed by, and there we sat. My secret cause of unrest had to be kept locked in my breast, while my young wife, all unsuspecting, was merry and happy, chanting little snatches of song and telling me a hundred times she was the happiest of women. She did not care for revolutions, nor for delays. Was she not with me! The sun began to go down the sky, and the shadows fell. Still we sat on, expecting every moment an order to proceed. The suspense was terrible.
At last about 6 o'clock an order came to have everything ready to pull out for Madrid at 7, so very reluctantly we dismounted to take supper in the station, and once more got into the car. But no order came. The hours dragged on, and I saw fate closing her hand on me.
The night wore on, when suddenly, toward midnight, the operator rushed out of his office and, shouting to the engineer, flew up to our compartment, said good-bye and in a minute we were off. After that long and terrible day it was happiness to be moving.
I had given the engineer a tip; he put on steam, and as we flew over the road hope returned. I felt we were safe. At the rate we were going I should have two or three hours to spare. We soon were at the Escurial. As fate would have it we found here an order to run us on a side line and to keep the track clear for a train going north. For two miserable hours we waited and no train. Then I set the wires in motion again, and just as the eastern skies grew gray we started.
Soon after midnight I telegraphed to the railway authorities at Madrid to hold the train going south to Cadiz until my arrival, offering $100 an hour for every hour's detention.
Madrid is situated on a high sandy plain, storm-swept in Winter worse than any plains in Northern Europe. We had a wheezy engine. Four miles out it broke down, and then I gave up the struggle.
At 4 o'clock Sunday afternoon, nine hours too late for the Cadiz train, we arrived at Madrid, too late to reach Cadiz by a special train. Not too late could the train have been started off as soon as ordered, but in Spain a special train is an unheard-of thing.
Mine from Avila was an innovation, only possible because there was so much money behind it to all concerned at both ends of the line. No Spaniard was ever known to be in a hurry, and no particle of matter between his chin and his sombrero holds any lurking suspicion that anything born of a woman could be in a hurry or have any reason for any such insanity.
Here I was at last in the much-longed-for Madrid, but not on time, and I had nothing to do but to put in execution some new plan. Had I even at that late date resolved to go to New York, I could have returned to France by the Eastern route, via Barcelona, and all might have been well.
I telegraphed to Lopez & Co. to Cadiz inquiring if they would hold the El Rey Felipe for twenty hours. They replied they were under contract with the Government and had to sail on time. So I said good-bye to that plan.
On consulting my memorandum I saw there was a French steamer sailing from St. Nazaire, on the west coast of France, for Vera Cruz, Mexico, which would touch at Santander on Saturday for mails and passengers, and I resolved to go by her; this, of course, meant retracing our way through the hated Avila to Burgos, and changing there for Santander.
Here we saw the last of the Portuguese family with their sick member. They said good-bye with every expression of gratitude, and in truth I was glad to see them off. We were all very tired of them, and they had been a serious expense. That is, might have been serious, but as I paid that expense out of the Bank of England's cash I naturally could be liberal in the extreme, and gave a salve to my conscience by reflecting what a good-souled, charitable young man I was in looking out for these strangers and putting my hand freely in my pocket in their behalf.
As soon as breakfast was over I hurried to the English Embassy, and there securing files of the London papers looked eagerly and nervously through them. To my intense relief I saw there was nothing in them. Therefore, I knew all was serene in London and that the Old Lady was without doubt giving out sovereigns by the tens of thousands for us.
Very much relieved in mind I returned to the hotel, and we set out to see Madrid.
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Literature · Crime, Thrillers & Mystery
Bidwell's Travels, from Wall Street to London Prison 30
