In New Granada - Heroes and Patriots

William Henry Giles Kingston

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• Publié par: foom
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 24
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of In New Granada, by W.H.G. Kingston
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Title: In New Granada
Heroes and Patriots
Author: W.H.G. Kingston
Release Date: May 9, 2007 [EBook #21401]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN NEW GRANADA ***
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
W.H.G. Kingston
"In New Granada"
Chapter One.
Introductory—My father’s history—Enters the navy as a surgeon—Learns
Spanish—Appointed to the “Zebra,” in the Pacific—Takes Dicky Duff under
his charge—A shooting expedition on shore—Captured by Spaniards on
coast of Guatemala with Dicky and Paul Loro—Carried to Panama—Meets
an old friend, who takes him to Guayaquil—Visit Loja to inspect Peruvian
bark—Meets Dr Cazalla—Accompanies him to Popayan—He marries Miss
Cazalla, who becomes my mother; and Richard Duffield marries her niece,
an heiress—They both settle at Popayan.
The circumstances which led my father, Dr Andrew Sinclair, to settle in New
Granada—the land of my birth—are of so romantic a character, that I cannot
better preface an account of my own adventures in that country than by
narrating them.
My grandfather, Duncan Sinclair, after whom I was named, was a member of an
old Covenanter family in Dumfriesshire, and was the parent of six sons,—all of
whom, with the exception of the eldest, who inherited the estate, had to seek
their fortune in the world. My father was his fourth son. Having gone through amedical course at the University of Edinburgh, where he gained not only a
knowledge of his profession, but of science generally, he entered the Royal Navy
as an assistant-surgeon, and was ultimately promoted to the rank of surgeon.
Among his many other talents, he possessed that of acquiring foreign languages,
and he spoke French and Spanish remarkably well; though at the time he learned
the latter—from a wounded Spanish prisoner, whose life was saved by his skill—
he little thought how useful it would prove to him. After visiting many parts of the
world, adding greatly to his store of information, he was appointed to the Zebra
sloop-of-war of eighteen guns, which soon after sailed for the Pacific.
Among the youngsters on board was a midshipman named Richard Duffield,—
generally known, however, as Dicky Duff. He was the orphan son of an old
messmate, who had been killed in action. The brave lieutenant’s last thoughts, as
he lay mortally wounded in the cockpit, the guns still thundering overhead, were
about his son.
“The boy’s mother is dead, and when I am gone he’ll not have a friend in the
world. Doctor, will you look after him? I know you will!”
“Don’t let any doubt about that trouble you. I’ll act a father’s part towards your
boy as well as I am able,” was the answer.
My father faithfully fulfilled his promise; and when the boy was old enough, he
got him placed on the quarter-deck, and generally managed to take him to sea
with himself. Richard Duffield was grateful for the kindness shown him, and
became much attached to his protector, with whom he had many tastes in
common.
My father, whenever he had an opportunity, was in the habit of going on shore
with his gun, to obtain specimens of the birds and beasts of the country; while he
also frequently brought off a bag of game for the benefit of the commander and
his own messmates. On such occasions he was generally accompanied by Dicky
Duff, who had become as good a sportsman as himself.
On one occasion, when the Zebra was off the coast of Guatemala in Central
America, my father, having obtained a boat from the commander, left the ship,
taking with him Dicky Duff, and their constant attendant, Paul Lobo, an African
seaman, and a crew of six men. No inhabitants appearing, the boat was hauled
up on the beach, and the crew amused themselves at leap-frog and other
games, while my father and his two attendants proceeded some way inland.
Having had very good sport, and filled their bags, my father sent back the
midshipman and Paul to the boat with the game, while he continued shooting,
hoping to obtain some more birds.
He had been thus employed for some time, and was thinking of returning, when
the sound of several shots reached his ears. These were followed by a regular
volley, and he had too much reason to fear that the inhabitants had attacked the
boat. Instead, therefore, of returning to her, he made his way directly towards
the shore. Emerging from the forest, which reached almost to the water’s edge,
he saw the boat at some distance off, with a party of men on the beach firing at
her. His hope was that Dicky and Paul had already got on board before the boat
shoved off. The distance was considerable, but still he hoped to be able to swim
to her; so, leaving his gun and ammunition, with the game he had shot, under a
tree, he plunged into the water. He had got some distance from the shore when
he found that he was discovered, by seeing a shot strike the water not far from
him. On looking round, what was his dismay to perceive Dicky and Paul in the
hands of the Spaniards! He could not desert them, and consequently he at onceturned and swam back, hoping that by explaining their object in visiting the shore
he might obtain their release. But no sooner did he land than the Spaniards
rushed down and seized him. In vain he expostulated. “He and his companions
belonged to a ship of war, and they wished to be able to boast that they had
made three prisoners.” They told him, however, that if he would make signals to
the boat to return, they would give him and his younger companions their liberty.
On his refusing to act so treacherously, they became very angry, and bound his
hands behind him, as well as those of Dicky and Paul. The seamen at once pulled
back to the ship, when the captain sent a flag of truce on shore to try and
recover his surgeon and midshipman; but the Spaniards refused to give them up.
After being kept prisoners for some time, they were sent down to Panama. Here,
though strictly guarded, they were not ill-treated; and when it became known
that my father was a surgeon, many persons, of all ranks, applied to him for
advice. He was thus the means of effecting several cures, by which he obtained
numerous friends. Indeed, he might here have established a good practice, and
have comfortably supported himself and his companions; but he was anxious, for
Dicky’s sake especially, to return with him to the ship. There was no place,
however, nearer than Cartagena, at which it was customary to exchange
prisoners; and how to get to it, was the difficulty.
He had been kept a prisoner for some months, when, passing through the
streets, he met his old acquaintance, Don Tomaso Serrano, from whom, while
Don Tomaso was a prisoner on board his ship, he had learned Spanish. They
immediately recognised each other, and expressed their pleasure at meeting.
Don Tomaso, on hearing what had befallen my father, told him that he was in
command of a man-of-war schooner, and was about to proceed in her to the
southward. “Although I cannot obtain your liberty,” he said, “I have sufficient
influence to get leave for you and your companions to come on board my vessel
and proceed with me as far as Guayaquil. I have friends there, whom I hope to
interest in your favour; and by their influence you will, I hope, be able to obtain
permission to land and travel across the country to Honda, from whence you can
make your way down the river to Cartagena. It is a round-about route, but it may
prove the shortest in the end. You will have an opportunity, too, of seeing a
beautiful region; and you cannot fail, I am sure, to be hospitably treated
wherever you go.”
My father at once closed with Don Tomaso’s offer, and was allowed to go on
board the schooner, accompanied by Dicky and Paul. Having obtained a
considerable sum of money, he was able to dress both of them, as well as
himself, in Spanish costume, so that they did not attract attention; and as both
he and Paul spoke Spanish perfectly, they were generally taken for natives.
Though still prisoners, the party were treated with the greatest kindness, and
enjoyed as much liberty as they could desire.
Heavy weather coming on, the schooner ran into the port of Buenaventura.
Beyond the bay, opening into it, is a lagoon of considerable extent. On one side is
the town, a great part of which is built on piles at the water’s edge. The place has
but little to recommend it; indeed, there are scarcely a dozen houses of any size,
while the rest of the buildings have a miserable appearance both without and
within. Above the town stands the church,—a building of no architectural
pretensions, and greatly resembling a barn. Buenaventura is the port of a
considerable district, embracing