Читать книгу Port O' Gold - Louis J. Stellman - Страница 23

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Yerba Buena was in an uproar. Sanchez' capture of Alcalde Bartlett and his party had brought home with a vengeance the war which hitherto was but an echo from far Mexico. Now the peaceful pueblo was an armed camp. Volunteers rode in from San Jose, San Juan and other nearby pueblos, asking for a chance to "fight the greasers." All the ranches of the countryside buzzed with a martial ardor. Vaqueros, spurred with jangling silver-mounted harness, toward Francisco Sanchez' stronghold in the Santa Clara hills to battle with the "gringo tyrants."

Commander Hull of the "Warren" had sent a hundred sailors and marines from his sloop, post haste, to quell the rebellion. Couriers rode to and fro between his headquarters in the custom house and the punitive expedition under Captain Ward Marston which was scouting the Santa Clara plains in search of the enemy.

Even now the battle waged, no doubt, for Marston that morning reported a brush with the enemy, had asked for reinforcements. Hull had sent post haste a pack of ill assorted and undrilled adventurers from among the new arrivals. That was 9 o'clock and now the sun had passed its noon meridian--with no courier.

William Leidesdorff came strolling up, his expression placid, smiling as always. He was warm from toiling up the hill and paused, panting, hat in hand, to mop his brow with a large red 'kerchief.

"Ha! Commander!" he saluted. "And how goes it this morning?"

Hull glanced at him half irritated, half amused. One could never quite be angry at this fellow nor in tune with him. Leidesdorff, with his cherubic grin, his plump, comfortable body, the close-cropped hair, side whiskers and moustache, framing and embellishing his round face with an ornate symmetry, was like a bearded cupid. Hull handed him the latest dispatch. "Nothing since then, confound it!" he said gloomily.

"Ah, well," spoke Leidesdorff, with unction, "one should not be alarmed. What is that cloud of dust on the horizon? A courier perhaps."

It proved to be Samuel Brannan, dusty and weary, with dispatches from Captain Ward which Hull almost snatched from his hand. A group of men and women who had watched his arrival, gathered about asking questions. Nathan Spear spoke first. He had been too ill to join the Americans, but had furnished them horses and arms. "How goes it with our 'army,' Sam?" he asked.

"None too well," said Brannan. "Those greasers can fight and they've a good leader. Everyone of them would die for Sanchez. And everyone's a sharpshooter. For a time they amused themselves this morning knocking off our hats--it rather demoralized the recruits."

Hull, with an imprecation, crushed the dispatch and turned to Brannan. "We must have more men and quickly," he announced. "Ward asks for instant reinforcements. … Can you recruit--say fifty--from your colony?"

"Impossible," said Brannan, shortly. "I have sent all who can ride or manage a rifle." He came a little closer and regarded the commander steadily. "Did Ward write anything about a parley?" he inquired.

"Yes," said Hull. "He indicates that peace might be arranged if I will give a guarantee against further horse or cattle commandeering."

"May I suggest that such a course is wise--and just?"

"Damn it, sir! You'd have me treat with these--these brigands!" the other shouted. "Never. They've defied the United States by laying violent hands on an official. They've wounded two of my marines."

He turned to the crowd which had assembled. "Do you hear that? Two Americans wounded. Five held in captivity--including your alcalde. Shall we stand that passively? Shall we let the enemy dictate terms?"

"No, no!" a voice shouted. "Fight to the last ditch. Kill the greasers. Hang them to a tree. I'm with you, horse and gun. Who else?"

"I, I, I," a score made answer. They pressed forward. "Who's to lead us?" asked the first speaker.

Brannan stepped forward but Commander Hull raised a protesting hand. "I shall send a corporal of marines from the Warren. You will rest your horse, since I cannot spare you a fresh mount, and hold yourself in readiness to act as a courier, Mr. Brannan." He summoned an orderly and sent him to the Warren with an order to Corporal Smith. Meanwhile the volunteers assembled in the square, thirty-four in all; men of half a dozen nationalities. One giant Russian loomed above them, a Goliath on a great roan horse. And near him, to accentuate the contrast, an elderly moustached, imperialed Frenchman on a mare as under-sized and spirited as himself.

Brannan and Leidesdorff watched them galloping down the camino ten minutes later under the guidance of a smart young corporal.

"I trust it will soon be over," said the former. "I saw Benito Windham riding beside Sanchez in the battle today."

The Senorita Inez' head was high that afternoon when McTurpin came upon her suddenly in the patio of the Windham hacienda. She rose haughtily. "Senor, this intrusion is unpardonable. If my brother was within call--" McTurpin bowed low. There was a touch of mockery in his eye. "It is about your brother that I've come to talk with you, Miss Inez."

The girl's hand sought her breast. "Benito! He is not--" Words failed her.

"No, not dead--yet," McTurpin answered.

"God in Heaven! Tell me," said the girl, imploringly! "He is wounded? Dying?" McTurpin took a seat beside her on the rustic bench. "Benito isn't dead--nor wounded so far as I know. But," his tone held an ominous meaning, "it might be better if he were."

"I--I do not understand," said Inez, staring.

"Then let me make it clear." McTurpin struck a fist against his palm. "Your brother is American. Very well. And what is an American who takes up arms against his country?"

The girl sprang up. "It is a lie. Benito fights for freedom, justice only--"

"That is not the view of our American Commander," McTurpin rose and faced her. "The law of war is that a man who fights against his country is a traitor." His eyes held hers hypnotically. "When this revolt is over there will be imprisonment or pardon for the Spanish-Californians. But Benito will be hanged."

Inez Windham swayed. One hand grasped at the bench-back for support; the other clutched her bodice near the throat. "Benito," she said almost in a whisper. Then she turned upon McTurpin furiously. "Go," she cried. "I do not believe you. Go!"

But McTurpin did not stir. "It is the law of nations," he declared, "no use denying it, Miss Windham."

"Why did you come to tell me this? To torture me?"

"To save you--and your brother?"

"How?" she asked fiercely.

"I have influence with Alcalde Bartlett." The gambler smiled. "He owes me--more than he can pay. But if that fails … " he turned toward her eagerly, "I have means to accomplish his escape."

"And the price," she stammered. "There is a price, isn't there?"

His gaze met hers directly, "You, little Inez."