“After this ­as he called it ­act of justice, Ruiz crossed the Rio Blanco, followed by the greater part of his band, and entrenched himself upon a hill A company of regular troops sent out foolishly against him was surrounded, and destroyed almost to a man.  Other expeditions, though better organised, were equally unsuccessful.

“It was during these sanguinary skirmishes that his wife first began to appear on horseback at his right hand.  Rendered proud and self-confident by his successes, Ruiz no longer charged at the head of his partida, but presumptuously, like a general directing the movements of an army, he remained in the rear, well mounted and motionless on an eminence, sending out his orders.  She was seen repeatedly at his side, and for a long time was mistaken for a man.  There was much talk then of a mysterious white-faced chief, to whom the defeats of our troops were ascribed.  She rode like an Indian woman, astride, wearing a broad-rimmed man’s hat and a dark poncho.  Afterwards, in the day of their greatest prosperity, this poncho was embroidered in gold, and she wore then, also, the sword of poor Don Antonio de Leyva.  This veteran Chilean officer, having the misfortune to be surrounded with his small force, and running short of ammunition, found his death at the hands of the Arauco Indians, the allies and auxiliaries of Gaspar Ruiz.  This was the fatal affair long remembered afterwards as the ‘Massacre of the Island.’  The sword of the unhappy officer was presented to her by Peneleo, the Araucanian chief; for these Indians, struck by her aspect, the deathly pallor of her face, which no exposure to the weather seemed to affect, and her calm indifference under fire, looked upon her as a supernatural being, or at least as a witch.  By this superstition the prestige and authority of Gaspar Ruiz amongst these ignorant people were greatly augmented.  She must have savoured her vengeance to the full on that day when she buckled on the sword of Don Antonio de Leyva.  It never left her side, unless she put on her woman’s clothes ­not that she would or could ever use it, but she loved to feel it beating upon her thigh as a perpetual reminder and symbol of the dishonour to the arms of the Republic.  She was insatiable.  Moreover, on the path she had led Gaspar Ruiz upon, there is no stopping.  Escaped prisoners ­and they were not many ­used to relate how with a few whispered words she could change the expression of his face and revive his flagging animosity.  They told how after every skirmish, after every raid, after every successful action, he would ride up to her and look into her face.  Its haughty-calm was never relaxed.  Her embrace, senores, must have been as cold as the embrace of a statue.  He tried to melt her icy heart in a stream of warm blood.  Some English naval officers who visited him at that time noticed the strange character of his infatuation.”

At the movement of surprise and curiosity in his audience General Santierra paused for a moment.

“Yes ­English naval officers,” he repeated.  “Ruiz had consented to receive them to arrange for the liberation of some prisoners of your nationality.  In the territory upon which he ranged, from sea coast to the Cordillera, there was a bay where the ships of that time, after rounding Gape Horn, used to resort for wood and water.  There, decoying the crew on shore, he captured first the whaling brig Hersalia, and afterwards made himself master by surprise of two more ships, one English and one American.

“It was rumoured at the time that he dreamed of setting up a navy of his own.  But that, of course, was impossible.  Still, manning the brig with part of her own crew, and putting an officer and a good many men of his own on board, he sent her off to the Spanish Governor of the island of Chiloe with a report of his exploits, and a demand for assistance in the war against the rebels.  The Governor could not do much for him; but he sent in return two light field-pieces, a letter of compliments, with a colonel’s commission in the royal forces, and a great Spanish flag.  This standard with much ceremony was hoisted over his house in the heart of the Arauco country.  Surely on that day she may have smiled on her guasso husband with a less haughty reserve.

“The senior officer of the English squadron on our coast made representations to our Government as to these captures.  But Gaspar Ruiz refused to treat with us.  Then an English frigate proceeded to the bay, and her captain, doctor, and two lieutenants travelled inland under a safe conduct.  They were well received, and spent three days as guests of the partisan chief.  A sort of military, barbaric state was kept up at the residence.  It was furnished with the loot of frontier towns.  When first admitted to the principal sala, they saw his wife lying down (she was not in good health then), with Gaspar Ruiz sitting at the foot of the couch.  His-hat was lying on the floor, and his hands reposed on the hilt of his sword.

“During that first conversation he never removed his big hands from the sword-hilt, except once, to arrange the coverings about her, with gentle, careful touches.  They noticed that when ever she spoke he would fix his eyes upon her in a kind of expectant, breathless attention, and seemingly forget the existence of the world and his own existence too.  In the course of the farewell banquet, at which she was present reclining on her couch, he burst forth into complaints of the treatment he had received.  After General San Martin’s departure he had been beset by spies, slandered by civil officials, his services ignored, his liberty and even his life threatened by the Chilian Government.  He got up from the table, thundered exécrations pacing the room wildly, then sat down on the couch at his wife’s feet, his breast heaving, his eyes fixed on the floor.  She reclined on her back, her head on the cushions, her eyes nearly closed.

“‘And now I am an honoured Spanish officer,’ he added in a calm voice.

“The captain of the English frigate then took the opportunity to inform him gently that Lima had fallen, and that by the terms of a convention the Spaniards were withdrawing from the whole continent.

“Gaspar Ruiz raised his head, and without hesitation, speaking with suppressed vehemence, declared, that if not a single Spanish soldier were left in the whole of South America he would persist in carrying on the contest against Chile to the last drop of blood.  When he finished that mad tirade his wife’s long white hand was raised, and she just caressed his knee with the tips of her fingers for a fraction of a second.

“For the rest of the officers’ stay, which did not extend for more than half an hour after the banquet, that ferocious chieftain of a desperate partida overflowed with amiability and kindness.  He had been hospitable before, but now it seemed as though he could not do enough for the comfort and safety of his visitors’ journey back to their ship.

“Nothing, I have been told, could have presented a greater contrast to his late violence or the habitual taciturn reserve of his manner.  Like a man elated beyond measure by an unexpected happiness, he overflowed with good-will, amiability, and attentions.  He embraced the officers like brothers, almost with tears in his eyes.  The released prisoners were presented each with a piece of gold.  At the last moment, suddenly, he declared he could do no less than restore to the masters of the merchant vessels all their private property.  This unexpected generosity caused some delay in the departure of the party, and their first march was very short.

“Late in the evening Gaspar Ruiz rode up with an escort, to their camp fires, bringing along with him a mule loaded with cases of wine.  He had come, he said, to drink a stirrup cup with his English friends, whom he would never see again.  He was mellow and joyous in his temper.  He told stories of his own exploits, laughed like a boy, borrowed a guitar from the Englishmen’s chief muleteer, and sitting cross-legged on his superfine poncho spread before the glow of the embers, sang a guasso love-song in a tender voice.  Then his head dropped on his breast, his hands fell to the ground; the guitar rolled off his knees ­and a great hush fell over the camp after the love-song of the implacable partisan who had made so many of our people weep for destroyed homes and for loves cut short.

“Before anybody could make a sound he sprang up from the ground and called for his horse.  ‘Adios, my friends!’ he cried, ’Go with God.  I love you.  And tell them well in Santiago that between Gaspar Ruiz, colonel of the King of Spain, and the republican carrion-crows of Chile there is war to the last breath ­war! war! war!’

“With a great yell of ‘War! war! war!’ which his escort took up, they rode away, and the sound of hoofs and of voices died out in the distance between the slopes of the hills.

“The two young English officers were convinced that Ruiz was mad.  How do you say that? ­tile loose ­eh?  But the doctor, an observant Scotsman with much shrewdness and philosophy in his character, told me that it was a very curious case of possession.  I met him many years afterwards, but he remembered the experience very well.  He told me too that in his opinion that woman did not lead Gaspar Ruiz into the practice of sanguinary treachery by direct persuasion, but by the subtle way of awakening and keeping alive in his simple mind a burning sense of an irreparable wrong.  Maybe, maybe.  But I would say that she poured half of her vengeful soul into the strong clay of that man, as you may pour intoxication, madness, poison into an empty cup.

“If he wanted war he got it in earnest when our victorious army began to return from Peru.  Systematic operations were planned against this blot on the honour and prosperity of our hardly-won independence.  General Robles commanded, with his well-known ruthless severity.  Savage reprisals were exercised on both sides, and no quarter was given in the field.  Having won my promotion in the Peru campaign, I was a captain on the staff.

“Gaspar Ruiz found himself hard pressed; at the same time we heard by means of a fugitive priest who had been carried off from his village presbytery, and galloped eighty miles into the hills to perform the christening ceremony, that a daughter was born to them.  To celebrate the event, I suppose, Ruiz executed one or two brilliant forays clear away at the rear of our forces, and defeated the detachments sent out to cut off his retreat.  General Robles nearly had a stroke of apoplexy from rage.  He found another cause of insomnia than the bites of mosquitoes; but against this one, senores, tumblers of raw brandy had no more effect than so much water.  He took to railing and storming at me about my strong man.  And from our impatience to end this inglorious campaign, I am afraid that we young officers became reckless and apt to take undue risks on service.

“Nevertheless, slowly, inch by inch as it were, our columns were closing upon Gaspar Ruiz, though he had managed to raise all the Araucanian nation of wild Indians against us.  Then a year or more later our Government became aware through its agents and spies that he had actually entered into alliance with Carreras, the so-called dictator of the so-called republic of Mendoza, on the other side of the mountains.  Whether Gaspar Ruiz had a deep political intention, or whether he wished only to secure a safe retreat for his wife and child while he pursued remorselessly against us his war of surprises and massacres, I cannot tell.  The alliance, however, was a fact.  Defeated in his attempt to check our advance from the sea, he retreated with his usual swiftness, and preparing for another hard and hazardous tussle began by sending his wife with the little girl across the Pequena range of mountains, on the frontier of Mendoza.”