by Bret Harte
CHAPTER IX.
AN OPEN-AIR PRISON.
An hour after mass Father Esteban had quietly installed Hurlstone in asmall cell-like apartment off the refectory. The household of thepriest consisted of an old Indian woman of fabulous age and miraculouspropriety, two Indian boys who served at mass, a gardener, and amuleteer. The first three, who were immediately in attendance upon thepriest, were cognizant of a stranger's presence, but, under instructionsfrom the reverend Padre, were loyally and superstitiously silent; thevocations of the gardener and muleteer made any intrusion from themimpossible. A breakfast of fruit, tortillas, chocolate, and red wine,of which Hurlstone partook sparingly and only to please his entertainer,nevertheless seemed to restore his strength, as it did the Padre'sequanimity. For the old man had been somewhat agitated during mass,and, except that his early morning congregation was mainly composed ofIndians, muleteers, and small venders, his abstraction would have beennoticed. With ready tact he had not attempted, by further questioning,to break the taciturnity into which Hurlstone had relapsed after hisemotional confession and the priest's abrupt half-absolution. Was itpossible he regretted his confidence, or was it possible that hisfirst free and untrammeled expression of his wrongs had left him with ahaunting doubt of their real magnitude?
"Lie down here, my son," said the old ecclesiastic, pointing to a smallpallet in the corner, "and try to restore in the morning what you havetaken from the night. Manuela will bring your clothes when they aredried and mended; meantime, shift for yourself in Pepito's serape andcalzas. I will betake me to the Comandante and the Alcalde, to learn thedispositions of your party, when the ship will sail, and if your absenceis suspected. Peace be with you, son! Manuela, attend to the caballero,and see you chatter not."
Without doubting the substantial truth of his guest's story, the goodPadre Esteban was not unwilling to have it corroborated by such detailsas he thought he could collect among the Excelsior's passengers. His ownexperience in the confessional had taught him the unreliability ofhuman evidence, and the vagaries of both conscientious and unconscioussuppression. That a young, good-looking, and accomplished caballeroshould have been the victim of not one, but even many, erotic episodes,did not strike the holy father as being peculiar; but that he shouldhave been brought by a solitary unfortunate attachment to despairand renunciation of the world appeared to him marvelous. He was notunfamiliar with the remorse of certain gallants for peccadillos withother men's wives; but this Americano's self-abasement for the sinsof his own wife--as he foolishly claimed her to be--whom he hated anddespised, struck Father Esteban as a miracle open to suspicion. Wasthere anything else in these somewhat commonplace details of vulgar andlow intrigue than what he had told the priest? Were all these Americanohusbands as sensitive and as gloomily self-sacrificing and expiating?It did not appear so from the manners and customs of the others,--fromthose easy matrons whose complacent husbands had abandoned them to thelong companionship of youthful cavaliers on adventurous voyages; fromthose audacious virgins, who had the freedom of married women. Surely,this was not a pious and sensitive race, passionately devoted to theirdomestic affections! The young stranger must be either deceiving him--oran exception to his countrymen!
And if he was that exception--what then? An idea which had sprung up inFather Esteban's fancy that morning now took possession of it with thetenacity of a growth on fertile virgin soil. The good Father had beendevoted to the conversion of the heathen with the fervor of a one-ideaedman. But his successes had been among the Indians--a guileless, harmlessrace, who too often confounded the practical benefits of civilizationwith the abstract benefits of the Church, and their instruction hadbeen simple and coercive. There had been no necessity for argumentor controversy; the worthy priest's skill in polemical warfare anddisputation had never been brought into play; the Comandante and Alcaldewere as punctiliously orthodox as himself, and the small traders andartisans were hopelessly docile and submissive. The march of science,which had been stopped by the local fogs of Todos Santos some fiftyyears, had not disturbed the simple Aesculapius of the province withheterodox theories: he still purged and bled like Sangrado, and met thepriest at the deathbed of his victims with a pious satisfaction that hadno trace of skeptical contention. In fact, the gentle Mission of TodosSantos had hitherto presented no field for the good Father's exaltedambition, nor the display of his powers as a zealot. And here was asplendid opportunity.
The conversion of this dark, impulsive, hysterical stranger would be again to the fold, and a triumph worthy of his steel. More than that, ifhe had judged correctly of this young man's mind and temperament, theyseemed to contain those elements of courage and sacrificial devotionthat indicated the missionary priesthood. With such a subaltern, whatmight not he, Father Esteban, accomplish! Looking further into thefuture, what a glorious successor might be left to his unfinished workon Todos Santos!
Buried in these reflections, Padre Esteban sauntered leisurely upthe garden, that gradually ascended the slight elevation on which thegreater part of the pueblo was built. Through a low gateway in the wallhe passed on to the crest of the one straggling street of Todos Santos.On either side of him were ranged the low one-storied, deep-windowedadobe fondas and artisans' dwellings, with low-pitched roofs of dull redpipe-like tiles. Absorbed in his fanciful dreams, he did not at firstnotice that those dwellings appeared deserted, and that even thePosada opposite him, whose courtyard was usually filled with loungingmuleteers, was empty and abandoned. Looking down the street towardsthe plaza, he became presently aware of some undefined stirring in thepeaceful hamlet. There was an unusual throng in the square, and afar onthat placid surface of the bay from which the fog had lifted, the twoor three fishing-boats of Todos Santos were vaguely pulling. But thestrange ship was gone.
A feeling of intense relief and satisfaction followed. Father Estebanpulled out his snuff-box and took a long and complacent pinch. Buthis relief was quickly changed to consternation as an armed cavalcaderapidly wheeled out of the plaza and cantered towards him, with theunmistakable spectacle of the male passengers of the Excelsior ridingtwo and two, and guarded by double files of dragoons on each side.
At a sign from the priest the subaltern reined in his mustang, haltedthe convoy, and saluted respectfully, to the astonishment of theprisoners. The clerical authority of Todos Santos evidently dominatedthe military. Renewed hope sprang up in the hearts of the Excelsiorparty.
"What have we here?" asked Padre Esteban.
"A revolution, your Reverence, among the Americanos, with robbery of thePresidio saluting-gun; a grave affair. Your Reverence has been sent forby the Comandante. I am taking these men to San Antonio to await thedecision of the Council."
"And the ship?"
"Gone, your Reverence. One of the parties has captured it."
"And these?"
"Are the Legitimists, your Reverence: at least they have confessed tohave warred with Mexico, and invaded California--the brigands."
The priest remained lost for a moment in blank and bitter amazement.Banks took advantage of the pause to edge his way to the front.
"Ask him, some of you," he said, turning to Brace and Crosby, "when thisd----d farce will be over, and where we can find the head man--the bossidiot of this foolery."
"Let him put it milder," whispered Winslow. "You got us into troubleenough with your tongue already."
Crosby hesitated a moment.
"Quand finira ce drole representation?--et--et--qui est ce qui estl'entrepreneur?" he said dubiously.
The priest stared. These Americans were surely cooler and less excitablethan his strange guest. A thought struck him.
"How many are still in the ship?" he asked gently.
"Nobody but Perkins and that piratical crew of niggers."
"And that infernal Hurlstone," added Winslow.
The priest pricked up his ears.
"Hurlstone?" he repeated.
"Yes--a passenger like ourselves, as we supposed. But we are satisfiednow he was in th
e conspiracy from the beginning," translated Crosbypainfully.
"Look at his strange disappearance--a regular put-up job," broke inBrace, in English, without reference to the Padre's not comprehendinghim; "so that he and Perkins could shut themselves up together withoutsuspicion."
"Never mind Hurlstone now; he's GONE, and we're HERE," said Banksangrily. "Ask the parson, as a gentleman and a Christian, what sort of ahole we've got into, anyhow. How far is the next settlement?"
Crosby put the question. The subaltern lit a cigarette.
"There is no next settlement. The pueblo ends at San Antonio."
"And what's beyond that?"
"The ocean."
"And what's south?"
"The desert--one cannot pass it."
"And north?"
"The desert."
"And east?"
"The desert too."
"Then how do you get away from here?"
"We do not get away."
"And how do you communicate with Mexico--with your Government?"
"When a ship comes."
"And when does a ship come?"
"Quien sabe?"
The officer threw away his cigarette.
"I say, you'll tell the Commander that all this is illegal; and that I'mgoing to complain to our Government," continued Banks hurriedly.
"I go to speak to the Comandante," responded the priest gravely.
"And tell him that if he touches a hair of the ladies' heads we'll havehis own scalp," interrupted Brace impetuously.
Even Crosby's diplomatic modification of this speech did not appearentirely successful.
"The Mexican soldier wars not with women," said the priest coldly."Adieu, messieurs!"
The cavalcade moved on. The Excelsior passengers at once resumed theirchorus of complaint, tirade, and aggressive suggestion, heedless of thesoldiers who rode stolidly on each side.
"To think we haven't got a single revolver among us," said Bracedespairingly.
"We might each grab a carbine from these nigger fellows," said Crosby,eying them contemplatively.
"And if they didn't burst, and we weren't shot by the next patrol, andif we'd calculated to be mean enough to run away from the women--wherewould we escape to?" asked Banks curtly. "Hold on at least until weget an ultimatum from that commodious ass at the Presidio! Then we'llanticipate the fool-killer, if you like. My opinion is, they aren't inany great hurry to try ANYTHING on us just yet."
"And I say, lie low and keep dark until they show their hand," addedWinslow, who had no relish for an indiscriminate scrimmage, and had hisown ideas of placating their captors.
Nevertheless, by degrees they fell into a silence, partly the effectof the strangely enervating air. The fog had completely risen from thelandscape, and hung high in mid-air, through which an intense sun, shornof its fierceness, diffused a lambent warmth, and a yellowish, unctuouslight, as if it had passed through amber. The bay gleamed clearly anddistinctly; not a shadow flecked its surface to the gray impenetrablerampart of fog that stretched like a granite wall before its entrance.On one side of the narrow road billows of monstrous grain undulated tothe crest of the low hills, that looked like larger undulations of thesoil, furrowed by bosky canadas or shining arroyos. Banks was startledinto a burst of professional admiration.
"There's enough grain there to feed a thousand Todos Santos; and raised,too, with tools like that," he continued, pointing to a primitive plowthat lay on the wayside, formed by a single forked root. A passingox-cart, whose creaking wheels were made of a solid circle of wood,apparently sawn from an ordinary log, again plunged him into cogitation.Here and there little areas of the rudest cultivation broke into aluxuriousness of orange, lime, and fig trees. The joyous earth at theslightest provocation seemed to smile and dimple with fruit and flowers.Everywhere the rare beatitudes of Todos Santos revealed and repeatedits simple story. The fructifying influence of earth and sky; theintervention of a vaporous veil between a fiery sun and fiery soil; thecombination of heat and moisture, purified of feverish exhalations, andmade sweet and wholesome by the saline breath of the mighty sea,had been the beneficent legacy of their isolation, the munificentcompensation of their oblivion.
A gradual and gentle ascent at the end of two hours brought thecavalcade to a halt upon a rugged upland with semi-tropical shrubbery,and here and there larger trees from the tierra templada in theevergreens or madrono. A few low huts and corrals, and a ramblinghacienda, were scattered along the crest, and in the midst arose alittle votive chapel, flanked by pear-trees. Near the roadside were thecrumbling edges of some long-forgotten excavation. Crosby gazed at itcuriously. Touching the arm of the officer, he pointed to it.
"Una mina de plata," said the officer sententiously.
"A mine of some kind--silver, I bet!" said Crosby, turning to theothers. "Is it good--bueno--you know?" he continued to the officer, withvague gesticulations.
"En tiempos pasados," returned the officer gravely.
"I wonder what that means?" said Winslow.
But before Crosby could question further, the subaltern signaled to themto dismount. They did so, and their horses were led away to a littledeclivity, whence came the sound of running water. Left to themselves,the Americans looked around them. The cavalcade seemed to have haltednear the edge of a precipitous ridge, the evident termination ofthe road. But the view that here met their eyes was unexpected andstartling.
The plateau on which they stood seemed to drop suddenly away, leavingthem on the rocky shore of a monotonous and far-stretching sea of wasteand glittering sand. Not a vestige nor trace of vegetation could beseen, except an occasional ridge of straggling pallid bushes, raisedin hideous simulation of the broken crest of a ghostly wave. Oneither side, as far as the eye could reach, the hollow empty visionextended--the interminable desert stretched and panted before them.
"It's the jumping-off place, I reckon," said Crosby, "and they'vebrought us here to show us how small is our chance of getting away.But," he added, turning towards the plateau again, "what are they doingnow? 'Pon my soul! I believe they're going off--and leaving us."
The others turned as he spoke. It was true. The dragoons were coollygalloping off the way they came, taking with them the horses theAmericans had just ridden.
"I call that cool," said Crosby. "It looks deuced like as if we were tobe left here to graze, like cattle."
"Perhaps that's their idea of a prison in this country," said Banks."There's certainly no chance of our breaking jail in that direction,"he added, pointing to the desert; "and we can't follow them withouthorses."
"And I dare say they've guarded the pass in the road lower down," saidWinslow.
"We ought to be able to hold our own here until night," said Brace, "andthen make a dash into Todos Santos, get hold of some arms, and join theladies."
"The women are all right," said Crosby impatiently, "and are bettertreated than if we were with them. Suppose, instead of maundering overthem, we reconnoitre and see what WE can do here. I'm getting devilishlyhungry; they can't mean to starve us, and if they do, I don't intend tobe starved as long as there is anything to be had by buying or stealing.Come along. There's sure to be fruit near that old chapel, and I sawsome chickens in the bush near those huts. First, let's see if there'sany one about. I don't see a soul."
The little plateau, indeed, seemed deserted. In vain they shouted; theirvoices were lost in the echoless air. They examined one by one the fewthatched huts: they were open, contained one or two rude articles offurniture--a bed, a bench, and table--were scrupulously clean--andempty. They next inspected the chapel; it was tawdry and barbaric inornament, but the candlesticks and crucifix and the basin for holy waterwere of heavily beaten silver. The same thought crossed their minds--theabandoned mine at the roadside!
Bananas, oranges, and prickly-pears growing within the cactus-hedge ofthe chapel partly mollified their thirst and hunger, and they turnedtheir steps towards the long, rambling, barrack-looking building, withits low windows an
d red-tiled roof, which they had first noticed. Here,too, the tenement was deserted and abandoned; but there was evidence ofsome previous and more ambitious preparation: in a long dormitory offthe corridor a number of scrupulously clean beds were ranged againstthe whitewashed walls, with spotless benches and tables. To the completeastonishment and bewilderment of the party another room, fitted up as akitchen, with the simpler appliances of housekeeping, revealed alarder filled with provisions and meal. A shout from Winslow, who hadpenetrated the inner courtyard, however, drew them to a more remarkablespectacle. Their luggage and effects from the cabins of the Excelsiorwere there, carefully piled in the antique ox-cart that had evidentlythat morning brought them from Todos Santos!
"There's no mistake," said Brace, with a relieved look, after a hurriedsurvey of the trunks. "They have only brought our baggage. The ladieshave evidently had the opportunity of selecting their own things."
"Crosby told you they'd be all right," said Banks; "and as forourselves, I don't see why we can't be pretty comfortable here, and allthe better for our being alone. I shall take an opportunity of lookingaround a bit. It strikes me that there are some resources in thiscountry that might pay to develop."
"And I shall have a look at that played-out mine," said Crosby; "if it'sbeen worked as they work the land, they've left about as much in it asthey've taken out."
"That's all well enough," said Brace, drawing a dull vermilion-coloredstone from his pocket; "but here's something I picked up just now thatain't 'played out,' nor even the value of it suspected by those fellows.That's cinnabar--quicksilver ore--and a big per cent. of it too; and ifthere's as much of it here as the indications show, you could buy up allyour SILVER mines in the country with it."
"If I were you, I'd put up a notice on a post somewhere, as they doin California, and claim discovery," said Banks seriously. "There's noknowing how this thing may end. We may not get away from here for sometime yet, and if the Government will sell the place cheap, it wouldn'tbe a bad spec' to buy it. Form a kind of 'Excelsior Company' amongourselves, you know, and go shares."
The four men looked earnestly at each other. Already the lost Excelsiorand her mutinous crew were forgotten; even the incidents of themorning--their arrest, the uncertainty of their fate, and the fact thatthey were in the hands of a hostile community--appeared but as trivialpreliminaries to the new life that opened before them! They suddenlybecame graver than they had ever been--even in the moment of peril.
"I don't see why we shouldn't," said Brace quickly. "We started out todo that sort of thing in California, and I reckon if we'd found such aspot as this on the Sacramento or American River we'd have been content.We can take turns at housekeeping, prospect a little, and enter intonegotiations with the Government. I'm for offering them a fair sum forthis ridge and all it contains at once."
"The only thing against that," said Crosby slowly, "is the probabilitythat it is already devoted to some other use by the Government. Eversince we've been here I've been thinking--I don't know why--that we'vebeen put in a sort of quarantine. The desertion of the place, the halfhospital arrangements of this building, and the means they have takento isolate us from themselves, must mean something. I've read somewherethat in these out-of-the-way spots in the tropics they have a placewhere they put the fellows with malarious or contagious diseases. Idon't want to frighten you boys: but I've an idea that we're in a sortof lazaretto, and the people outside won't trouble us often."