The Shadow of Great Britain

752: Chapter 358: Your Turn to Be the Clown (7K6)_4 752: Chapter 358: Your Turn to Be the Clown (7K6)_4 A few days later, I ran into that band of robber-like soldiers again, as they were subduing an Indian tribe near a salina.

In the Indian tribe, there were roughly one hundred and ten men, women, and children combined, with every man being hacked to death, and almost all the rest killed or captured.

The Indians now lived in great fear, no longer banding together in resistance, but abandoning their wives and children to flee everywhere.

Yet if they were pursued, they would fight like wild beasts to the bitter end, despite being vastly outnumbered.

A dying Indian clamped an opponent’s thumb between his teeth, and let his own eyeballs be gouged out rather than let go.

Another, injured, pretended to be dead, all the while readying his knife to deliver a fatal blow to the enemy at the opportune moment.

What a dark scene this was, and an even more horrifying but undeniable fact was that all women over the age of twenty were also mercilessly slaughtered!

I yelled at them, “Why do you do this?

It’s simply too inhumane!”

The Commander nonchalantly wiped his crimson-smeared saber clean with a handkerchief, replying, “Why?

What else can be done?

They breed!”

Every person here firmly believed this was the most righteous war, simply because it was waged against savages.

Who could believe that in this age, in a Christian and civilized country, such brutality could exist?

Indian children, spared from the massacre, either got sold or given away as servants; ‘servants,’ that is, slaves in truth!

What was even more despicable was that General Rosas, like my country’s Lord Chesterfield, believed that today’s friend could be tomorrow’s enemy.

Therefore, he always placed his Indian allies at the forefront of his troops to reduce their numbers.

Such conduct had long surpassed the minimal defense of private property, much less the diffusion of advanced civilization, but was outright genocide.

Both Eld and I had intended to persuade Rosas’s troops to cease slaughtering this hopeless Indian tribe of roughly a hundred, but Colonel Fitzroy told us to mind our own business, which led to a heated argument.

We could only watch helplessly as they interrogated the last three Indians for the locations of other tribes.

The first two Indians each replied, “I don’t know.”

Consequently, they were shot, one after the other.

The third one also said, “I don’t know.”

In the end, he added, “Shoot, I am a man, and I can go to die.”

To protect their homeland and kin, they refused to utter a single word!

But their chief was a different story, a coward indeed.

That fellow, to save his own life, disclosed the Indian Alliance’s battle plans and rendezvous point.

I cursed Rosas and his shameless soldiers, hoping they would ultimately achieve nothing.

This cold-blooded Executioner even fancied that we would be willing to be the raised butcher-knife in his hand, as if not all in the world could see beneath his cold iron mask to the truly ugly face hidden underneath!

With such sentiments, I cursed him and his army day by day, but my prayers to God for evildoing to be punished and good to be elevated failed once again.

On October 20, soon after we disembarked at Las Conchas, we found ourselves inadvertently turned prisoners.

A violent revolution had occurred, and all ports were blockaded by order of Rosas.

We could neither return to our ship nor walk on land.

After a series of negotiations, we obtained permission to meet the next day with Rosas’s rebel commander General Loro’er at Las Conchas.

The next morning, I rode to his camp.

The general, officers, and soldiers looked like a bunch of thugs, and I believed them to be just that.

General Loro’er told us that on the evening before he left Buenos Aires, he had voluntarily met with General Rosas and sworn with his hand on his heart to be forever loyal to him.

General Loro’er informed us that the city was completely blockaded, and the only favor he could grant was a pass for me to go to Quilmes to meet with the rebel supreme commander, Rosas.

The people of Argentina seemed to have no complaints about this revolution, nor any excuses for dissatisfaction.

According to the Constitution, the term for each provincial governor was three years; however, this country had once undergone fifteen government changes in just nine months, making questioning Rosas’s coup seem quite unreasonable.

General Rosas could not have been unaware of this uprising, as it obviously fit perfectly with his faction’s plans.

A year prior, he was elected governor but refused to accept unless the provincial legislative assembly granted him special powers.

After his request was denied, his faction made it clear that if Rosas could not be governor, then no one could securely occupy that position.

Both opposing factions remained inactive until hearing Rosas’s opinion.

Just a few days after we left Buenos Aires, Rosas’s edict arrived, stating that he disapproved of disrupting the peace, but also believed justice was on the side of the rebels.

That brief message caused hundreds, including the governor, government officials, and part of the army, to flee the capital.

The next day, the rebels entered the city, and a new governor was elected, with fifty-five hundred people being fully rewarded for their votes for Rosas.

From these events, it was evident that Rosas was destined to become a king in all but name, a great dictator.

The only reason he did not ascend to kingship was that the people here, like those of other republics, especially detested the title of ‘King’.