Читать книгу The Gold-Seekers: A Tale of California - Gustave Aimard - Страница 6

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A great deal has been written about the cool and inhospitable way in which Spanish and Sicilian landlords receive the travellers whom Providence sends them; but it is evident to us that those who write in such wise are not acquainted, even by hearsay, with the mesoneros or Mexican hosts. Were it so, they would doubtlessly, at their own risk and peril, have rehabilitated those worthy fellows, to discharge the whole weight of their indignation on the huéspedes of New Spain.

It is a justice to render to the Spanish and Sicilian landlords, that if they are utterly unable to satisfy in any way the exigencies of travellers, by giving the latter the provisions they demand, still they greet them with so affable a countenance, and veil their refusal under such an exquisite politeness, that in nine cases out of ten the traveller is compelled to allow that he was himself to blame for not laying in the necessary provisions, and therefore sups on apologies.

In Mexico things are very different. On the few high roads formerly constructed by the Spaniards, and which the neglect of the different governments that succeeded them has left in such a state that they will soon disappear completely, there stand, at long distances from each other, vast buildings which resemble fortresses, for they are nearly all surrounded by embattled and loopholed walls. These buildings are the mesones, or inns.

The interior is composed, first, of an enormous court, with a noria, or well, intended to water the horses. Corrals for the beasts of burden occupy the four corners of this yard. In a separate building are the travellers' cuartos; that is to say, miserable dens furnished only with a frame of oak, covered with a cowhide, which serves as a bed. These cuartos are numbered, and all open on long corridors. Each traveller is obliged to bring with him the indispensable bedding, for the host only supplies the alfalfa for the horses' provender, and water from the noria.

It was about ten at night when Colonel Guerrero arrived at the door of the mesón of San Juan, which was hermetically closed. Upon the repeated blows dealt by one of the servants, a wicket pierced in the wall, about two paces from the gate, at length opened; an ill-tempered face was visible, and a rough voice shouted,—

"Who dares to make such a disturbance at the gate of so honest and respectable a mesón as this?"

"Travellers have arrived, Don Cristoval Saccaplata," the colonel answered. "Come, open quickly, for we have made a long journey, and are tired."

"Hum! They all say the same thing," the host growled. "What do I care for that? I shall not open, it is too late; so go your way, and Heaven protect you!"

And he prepared to close the wicket.

"One moment. Confound you!" the colonel shouted, "you will not let us bivouac in front of your door? That would not be at all honourable for you."

"Bah! A night is soon passed," the host replied with a grin; "besides, you can go on to the mesón del Salto: they will open to you there."

"Don't you know that is eight miles off?"

"Of course I do."

"Come, open, Señor Saccaplata: you would not have the barbarity to leave us out here?"

"Why not?"

"Because, if you do open, you will be rewarded in a way which you will not repent of."

"Yes, yes, all travellers are the same; they make plenty of promises so long as they are outside; but once in, they are not in a hurry to untie their purse-strings."

"That will not be the case with us."

"How do I know?" the huésped said, shrugging his shoulders. "My house is full; I have no room left."

"We will find some, dear Saccaplata."

"Halloh! Who are you, pray, who know me so well? Maybe you are one of those caballeros de la noche who have been ransacking the country for some time past."

"You are mistaken grossly, and I will prove it to you," the colonel answered, anxious to cut short this open-air conversation. "Take that first," he said, throwing two ounces through the wicket; "and now, to prevent any misunderstanding, know that I am Don Sebastian Guerrero."

The worthy landlord was only sensible to one argument—that which the colonel had so judiciously employed to overcome his resistance. He stooped, picked up the two ounces, which disappeared in a second, and again addressing the travellers, but this time with a tone which he strove to render more amiable,—

"Come," he said, "I must e'en do what you wish, I am too good-hearted. You have provisions, I hope?"

"We have everything we require."

"All the better, for I could not have supplied you. Do not be impatient; I am coming down."

He disappeared from the wicket, and within five minutes could be heard unbarring the door, growling fearfully the while. The travellers then entered the yard of the mesón. The huésped had lied like the true landlord he was; he only had in the house two or three muleteers with their animals, and three travellers, who, by their dress, seemed to be hacenderos from the vicinity.

"Halloh!" Don Sebastian shouted, "someone to take my horse."

"If you begin in that way we shall not be friends long," the huésped said in the sharp tone he had previously employed. "Here, everyone, big or little, waits on himself, and attends to his own horse."

The colonel was far from being of a patient temper. If he had previously endured the host's insolence, it was solely because it was impossible to chastise him; but that reason no longer existed. Sharply dismounting, he drew his pistols from his holsters, thrust them in his belt, and walking boldly toward Señor Saccaplata, seized him by the collar and shook him roughly.

"Listen, master rogue!" he said to him. "A truce to your insolence, and wait on me, unless you would repent it."

The host was so amazed at this brusque way of replying to him, and this assault on his inviolability, that for a moment he remained dumb through confusion and wrath. His face became crimson, his eyes rolled, and he at length shouted in a strangled voice,—

"Help! Help me! Such an insult! By the body of Christ, I will not overlook it! Leave my house at once!"

"I shall not go," the colonel answered peaceably, but firmly; "and you will attend to me immediately."

"Oh! We shall see that. Here, help, Pedro, Juan, Jacinto! Come, all of you, and on to these rascals!"

Seven or eight servants rushed from the corrals at the sound of their master's voice, and ranged themselves behind him.

"Very good," the colonel said, raising his pistols. "I'll blow out the brains of the first scamp who moves a step toward me with bad intention."

We need not say that the peons remained motionless, as if they had suddenly been changed into blocks of granite. One of the colonel's servants had assisted Doña Angela from her horse, and accompanied her to a cuarto, in which he installed her; then he returned in all haste to his master's side, foreseeing that his co-operation would be speedily needed.

The courtyard of the mesón offered a most singular aspect at this moment by the light of the torches of ocote wood, passed through iron rings along the walls. On one side stood the host and his servants; on the other, Don Sebastian's four footmen, with their hands on their weapons, and the guitar player, with his jarana on his back, and his hands folded on his chest; a little on one side, the travellers and arrieros previously arrived; and in the centre, alone, with his pistols in his hand, the colonel, with frowning brow and flashing eyes.

"Enough of this, scoundrel!" he shouted. "For a long time you have been plundering and insulting the travellers whom Providence sends to you. By heavens! If you do not on the instant demand my pardon for your insolence, and if you do not serve me with all that politeness I have a right to demand from you, I will inflict on you, upon the spot, a correction which you will remember your life long."

"Take care what you are about, my master," the huésped answered ironically. "You see that I have men to help me. If you do not decamp at once, all the worse for you. I have witnesses, and the juez de letras shall decide."

"Good heavens!" the colonel shouted, "that is too much, and removes all my scruples. The scoundrel threatens me with the law. Level your pieces, men, and fire on the first who stirs!"

The domestics obeyed. Don Sebastian then seized the host, despite his cries and desperate resistance, and in a second had him down on the ground.

"I believe I shall do a service to all the travellers whom their evil star may in future bring to this den," he continued, "by punishing this scamp as he deserves."

The witnesses of this scene—peons, arrieros, or travellers—had not made a move to help the host. It was evident that all, for certain reasons, were in their hearts pleased with what was happening to him. Not one of them would have dared to take on himself the responsibility of such an act; but as there was someone ready to do so, they were careful not to offer the slightest obstacle to him. By the peremptory order of the colonel, the poor landlord was fastened by two of his own servants to the long pole of the noria, and debarred from making the slightest movement.

"Now," the colonel continued, "each of you take a reata, and thrash him till he confesses himself conquered, and consents to do what I ask of him."

Despite their feigned repugnance, the host's two peons were compelled to obey the colonel; for his orders were supported by four rifles and two pistols, whose gaping muzzles were directed point blank at them. To honour the truth, we must confess that, either through terror or for some other cause, the two peons conscientiously performed their duty.

The host howled like a bull. He was mad with rage, and writhed like a viper in the bonds which he tried in vain to break. The colonel stood stoically by his side, only asking him from time to time, ironically, how he liked his arguments, and if he would soon make up his mind to yield. Human strength has limits which it cannot pass. In spite of all his fury and obstinacy, the host was forced to confess to himself, aside, that he had to do with a man more obstinate than he was, and that, if he did not wish to die under the lash, he must resolve to endure the humiliation imposed on him.

"I surrender," he said, in a voice broken as much by anger as by pain.

"Already!" the colonel remarked coldly. "Pooh! I fancied you braver. Why, you have hardly received thirty lashes. Stop, you fellows, and unfasten your master!"

The peons eagerly obeyed. When free, the host tried to rise, but his strength failed him, and he fell back on the ground, where he lay for several moments powerless to move. At length he made a desperate effort, and picked himself up. His face was pale; his features were contracted; an abundant perspiration stood on his temples, which throbbed as if ready to burst; he had a buzzing in his ears; and tears of shame poured from his eyes. He took a few tottering steps toward the colonel.

"I am at your orders, caballero," he said, bowing his head humbly. "Speak: what must I do?"

"Good!" the latter remarked. "Now you are reasonable; you are much better so. Give some provender to my horses, and assist my servants to wait on me."

"Pardon, caballero!" the huésped said. "Will you allow me to say two words to you?"

The colonel smiled contemptuously.

"To what end? I know them, and I will repeat them myself. You wish to warn me that, obliged to yield to superior force, you have done so, but you will avenge yourself on the first opportunity. Is not that it?"

"Yes," he muttered in a hollow voice.

"Very well; you are quite at liberty to do so, master host; but take your precautions, for I warn you that, if you miss me, I shall not miss you. So now wait on me, and make haste."

And, shrugging his shoulders, the colonel turned his back on him with a smile of disdain.

The host watched him depart with a hateful expression, which imparted something hideous to his face; and when he saw that the colonel was out of the yard, he shook his head twice or thrice, muttering to himself,—

"Yes, I will avenge myself, demon, and sooner than you imagine."

After this aside, he composed his face and attended to his household duties with an activity and apparent indifference that caused his servants to be thoughtful, for they knew his rancorous character. Still he did not complain; he made no allusion to the cruel punishment he had undergone, but, on the contrary, waited on the travellers with an attention and politeness they had not been accustomed to prior to this unlucky day; and they took advantage of the change, while keeping on their guard.

Still nothing apparently happened to justify their suspicions—all went on calmly: the travellers retired to bed one after the other; then the host made his round to assure himself that all was in order, and retired to the room reserved for his private use.

The colonel had already been asleep some hours, and was in a deep sleep, from which he was suddenly aroused by a noise he heard at his door.

"Who's there?" he asked.

"Silence!" someone answered outside. "Open; it is a friend."

"Friend or foe, tell me who you are, that I may know with whom I have to deal."

"I am," the voice made answer, "the man you met on the road."

"Hem! What do you want with me? Why are you not asleep at this hour, instead of coming to rouse me?"

"Open, in Heaven's name! I have important news to tell you."

The colonel hesitated for a moment, but soon reflecting that this man, to whom he had done no harm, could have no motive, for being his enemy, he decided on getting up. Still, through prudence, he cocked one of his pistols, which he had placed by his side on retiring to bed, and went to open the door. The stranger walked in quickly, and closed it after him.

"Speak low," he said hurriedly. "Listen to me: the host is forming some scheme against you."

"I suspect it," the colonel said, who, while speaking, had lit a candle; "but whatever he may do, I am out of his reach, and the scoundrel will be crushed if he attack me."

"Who knows?" the stranger said.

"Come, you know something positive. Have I any plot to fear inside the house?"

"I do not think so."

"Tell me what you have discovered, then."

"I will do so; but in the first place, as I am a total stranger to you, allow me to tell you my name."

"For what good?"

"No one knows what may happen in this world: it is useful to be able to distinguish one's friends from one's enemies."

"Speak; I am listening."

"You nearly guessed the truth. Under my starving appearance I conceal a certain monetary value. My name is Don Cornelio Mendoza. I am a student. I had at Guadalajara an aunt, who, on dying, appointed me her heir. I am carrying with me in my belt one hundred and fifty gold ounces, and in my portfolios bills for an equal amount payable at San Blas. You see that I am not so poor as I appear to be. But the road between the two cities is long and dangerous, and I assumed this disguise to escape the robbers, if that be possible."

"Very good, Don Cornelio: you can now, if you please, change your attire, for I hope that we shall pursue our journey together."

"With all my heart; but if it make no difference, I will retain my lepero dress provisionally."

"As you please; but now to the fact. What have you to tell me?"

"Not much, but yet enough to put us on our guard. Our landlord, after making his round and assuring himself that everyone had retired, woke up one of his servants, the very one who thrashed him with such good will."

"Yes, I remember that rogue's face."

"Very good. After calling him into his room, he remained shut up with him for ten minutes; then he opened a window, the peon leaped out on the highway, and ran off at full speed."

"Oh, oh!" the colonel said.

"The landlord looked after him till he disappeared, then muttered several words I could not understand, excepting one name, which, thanks to Heaven, reached my ear."

"What was it?"

"El Buitre (the Vulture)."

"Hum! Is that all?"

"Yes."

"It does not teach me much; but how did you learn all this? The landlord did not make you his confidant, I suppose?"

"No, not a bit in the world. I became his confidant in spite of himself, and in the most natural way. My cuarto is just over his room. I heard him open a window, and I listened."

"Yes, but unfortunately you heard nothing."

"Yes, a name."

"But a name which has no meaning for us."

"On the contrary, it is of enormous significance."

"How so?"

"The famous leader of the salteadores, whose band has been desolating the province for a year, is called El Buitre. Do you now understand?"

"Body o' me!" the colonel shouted, as he jumped up hurriedly, "I rather think I do understand."