A STRANGE LEGEND.
We will now return to the Jaguar, whom we left departing from the
pulqueria, and proceeding at the head of his bold companions toward the
fort of the Point. But, before going further, in order to make the
reader understand the almost insurmountable difficulties which the
Jaguar would meet with on the audacious expedition he was attempting, we
ask leave to tell him the legend current about this fortress, a legend
which has survived to this day, in all its quaint simplicity.
The European traveller who visits for the first time Texas, and all the
coasts of Southern America generally, experiences a feeling of
indefinable sorrow at the sight of these gloomy and sinister shores,
which have witnessed so many accidents, and against which the dark waves
of the Pacific break with mysterious murmurs. All, in fact, disposes to
reverie in these poetic countries: the sky, which resembles a plate of
red-hot iron; the lofty denuded cliffs, whose capricious outline looks
as if it had been cut out by some artistic giant of past ages, and
bearing at times on their proud crests the still imposing ruins of an
old palace of the Incas, or a teocali, whose massive walls are lost in
the clouds--the ancient lurking places of those ferocious priests of the
Sun, who made all tremble around them, and raised their bloody titles
both afloat and ashore. Before the conquest, at the time when the
descendants of Quetzalcoatl, or the Serpent covered with feathers,
peacefully reigned in these countries, the thick walls of the teocalis
stifled many a groan, concealed and authorised many a crime.
Of all the stories told us in our last journey through Texas, about
these mournful abodes scattered over the country, we will only relate
one, which has reference to the narrative we have undertaken to tell.
It was a short while after the daring expedition, during which Columbus,
while seeking a new road to India, had found America again; the fever of
discovery had affected every imagination; each, with his eyes fixed on
the New World, which had sprung up as if by magic, rushed toward these
unknown regions with all that feverish activity we have seen suddenly
rekindled with reference to the Californian placers.
Among the adventurers who went to try their fortunes, some were only
urged by the hope of making discoveries, while others, on the contrary,
only obeyed the thirst for gold, and renewed, on another stage, the
fabulous exploits of the Scandinavians--those bold kings of the sea,
whose life was a continued combat. Among these men was one who had made,
with the unfortunate De La Salle, that unlucky expedition, during which
he crossed over the whole of Texas. This adventurer, however, Don
Estevan de Sourdis by name, caring little for the unprofitable
adventures the brave Frenchman undertook, secretly quitted his Chief
with the vessel he commanded, and sailed quietly along the coasts of the
new land so recently discovered.
The idea was excellent, and the profits were great: in a few months the
adventurer's vessel was filled with riches, more or less honourably
acquired. Still, for reasons best known to himself, Don Estevan felt no
desire to return to France. He therefore resolved to seek a spot where
it would be possible for him to build a fortress capable of protecting
him, and serve him as a secure retreat against the pirates who traversed
these seas in the same way as he did; he therefore began carefully
exploring the Texan coast, in order to find a suitable spot to carry out
his plans.
Accident led him to the mouth of the Rio Trinidad, a few miles from the
spot where Galveston was built at a later date, in a wild and
uninhabited country, whose appearance attracted him at the first glance.
Like the old pirate he was, the Count admired the magnificent block of
granite that commanded the entrance of the bay he had put into; and,
seeing the importance of a citadel built on this rock, and the power it
would eventually give his family, he resolved to form his nest there.
When his choice was made, the pirate had his vessel drawn ashore, camped
with his men at the foot of the rock, and began reflecting on the means
of carrying out his bold scheme. A good many things troubled him--in the
first place, where should he procure the stones necessary for such an
edifice; and if the stones were found, where should he get the masons to
put them together.
Count Estevan de Sourdis and his comrades were excellent
sailors--killing, pillaging, and ravishing conscientiously each time
that the opportunity offered itself; but, as a general rule, they were
very poor masons, and nothing of architects. And then again, supposing
the stones were found, squared, and brought to the foot of the rock,
how were they to be raised to the top? This was really the
insurmountable difficulty; and any other than the bold pirate would have
renounced the execution of a plan which he recognised as impossible.
But the Count was obstinate; he said to himself with a certain show of
reason, that the greater the difficulties to overcome, the stronger and
better protected from attack his castle would be.
In consequence, far from recoiling, he armed his people with iron
crowbars, and began forming in the rock a path which wound round it and
was to finish at the summit. This path, three feet wide at the most, was
so steep and abrupt, that the slightest false step sufficed to hurl
those who ventured on it down an abyss, at the bottom of which they were
crushed to death. After a year of superhuman toil, the path was formed,
and the count, scaling it on his horse, at the risk of breaking his neck
one hundred times, planted his banner on the top of the rock, with a
shout of pride and joy.
Another cry answered his, but it was so ironical and mocking that the
old pirate, whose nerves were as hard as cords, and who had never
trembled in his life, felt a shudder of terror run over all his limbs;
his hair stood erect in horror, and an icy perspiration beaded on his
temples.
The Count turned round; a man wrapped in a large black cloak, and with a
red plumed hat on his head, was standing by his side. The man's face was
ashy, his eyes glistened with a gloomy fire, and his parched up lips
grimaced a mournful smile. The Count regarded him for a moment with
surprise; but as, after all, he was a brave sailor who feared nothing in
the world, he asked the stranger, in a firm voice, who he was, and how
he happened to be at this spot. To these two questions the unknown
answered politely that he had heard say that the Count de Sourdis was
seeking an architect capable of building him a strong and handsome
castle, and that he had come to treat with him. The chieftain bowed
courteously, and the following dialogue took place between the speakers.
"Do you not think, master," the pirate said, "that this spot is
excellently chosen for the place I meditate?"
"Excellency," the stranger replied, "you could not have found a better
site all along the coast."
The pirate smiled proudly.
"Yes," he said, "and when my castle is built, no one will be able to
assail it."
"Oh, of course."
"Look here," he continued, making the stranger a sign to follow him,
"this is what I propose doing."
And walking round the plateau, he described the plan in its fullest
details: the stranger approved of it by nodding his head and smiling his
crafty smile. In the meanwhile time was passing: for about an hour day
had given way to night, and gloom had gradually invaded the rock; the
pirate, carried away by the irresistible attraction a man ever feels in
ventilating his ideas, specially to a person who seems to approve of
them, continued his demonstrations without noticing that the darkness
had grown too dense for the person he was addressing to derive great
profit from what he was saying; at length he turned to the stranger.
"Well," he asked him, "what do you think of it?"
"It is perfect," the other answered.
"Is it not?" the Chief asked, with an air of conviction.
"Yes, but--"
"Ah," said the pirate, "there is a but then?"
"There is always one," the stranger objected judiciously.
"That is true," the old pirate muttered.
"You are aware that I am an architect?"
"You told me so."
"Well, I have made a plan too."
"Indeed, indeed!"
"Yes, if you will permit me, Excellency, I shall have the honour of
submitting it to you."
"Do so, my dear fellow, do so," the Chief said with a condescending
smile, for he was convinced in his heart that his plan was the better of
the two.
"Directly."
"But I have an idea."
"What is it?"
"Why, it is rather dark, and in order to judge of your plan--"
"A light would be necessary, I suppose you mean, Excellency."
"Why yes," the pirate replied, "I fancy it would prove useful."
"Pray do not put yourself out of the way," said the stranger, "I will
procure one."
With the greatest possible coolness, he took off the feather that
adorned his hat, and stuck it in the ground, when it suddenly burst into
a flame, just as if it had been a torch. The Count was astounded at this
marvel, but as, after all, he was a good Christian, and he was beginning
to distrust his companion considerably, he mechanically prepared to
cross himself. But the stranger eagerly caught hold of his arm.
"Let us lose no time, Excellency," he said.
And drawing a roll of parchment from under his cloak he unrolled and
laid it before the pirate, who was in extasies at the magnificent plan
he saw.
"What do you, think of that, Excellency?" the architect said, in a
sweet, bitter voice.
"Sublime!" he exclaimed, transported with admiration.
"You are a judge," the other answered, "this is what I propose doing."
And in his turn he began entering into the most minute details, to which
the old sailor listened with gaping mouth and flashing eyes, never
leaving off looking at the splendid fortress drawn on the parchment.
When the architect ceased speaking, the pirate was so confounded by all
he had heard, that he remained for a moment stunned, and tried in vain
to restore the regular flow of his thoughts.
"Well," he at last asked with a certain shade of incredulity, which
involuntarily betrayed itself in his voice, "do you fancy yourself
capable of carrying out such a masterpiece?"
"Nothing is easier."
"But we have no building stones."
"I will find them."
"I have no masons."
"I will procure them."
"But iron, wood--in a word, all the articles necessary for such a
building, how to procure them?"
"I will take it on myself."
"But it will cost me a tremendous sum," said the Count, pressingly, for
fear was more and more overpowering him.
"Pooh!" the stranger said, carelessly, and thrusting out his lower lip
in disdain, "less than nothing, a trifle."
"And how long will you require to finish my fortress as it stands on the
parchment?"
"Wait," the other said, calculating on his fingers, and scratching his
forehead like a man who is seeking the solution of a difficult problem;
"it is about nine o'clock, I think?"
"About," the Count said, not at all understanding the stranger's
meaning.
"Well! By sunrise all will be ready, and you can take possession of your
new residence."
"What, why, you must be the demon!" the Count exclaimed in utter
stupefaction.
The stranger rose, bowed to the pirate courteously, and answered him
with great politeness and a most gentlemanly manner.
"In person, Excellency. On my honour," he added, "I never could leave a
worthy man in a difficulty. I was affected by your perplexity, and
resolved to come to your aid."
"You are most kind," the old sailor muttered mechanically, not knowing
what he was saying.
"That is my motive," said the other, with a modest bow.
"Thanks; and you ask me--"
"I have told you already--a mere trifle."
"Still----"
"We shall come to an agreement; besides, I am too much of the gentleman
to treat you as a greenhorn. Still, to keep things straight, just sign
this simple agreement."
"Pardon me; but I cannot read. I can sign nothing; besides, you can
easily understand that I am not at all desirous to give you my soul."
"Come, Excellency," said Mephistopheles, "you can hardly suppose that I
have any intention of taking you in?"
"What?
"Hang it all! Your soul has been mine for a long time, and I do not
require your authorization to take it."
"Nonsense," said the worthy pirate, who was quite rebuffed, "do you
think our Lord will not look twice before condemning a man of my sort?"
"Not the least in the world," the demon continued good-humouredly; "so
reassure yourself. It is not that I intend to ask of you."
"Speak, then; and, on the word of a gentleman adventurer, I will grant
it."
"Done!" said Satan, graciously stretching out his hand.
"Done!" the pirate replied.
"Come, that is settled. Well, you will surrender to me the first living
creature you address in the morning when you wake. You see that I am not
exigent, for I might have charged you much more dearly."
Don Stephen made a face, for the first person he was in the habit of
addressing in the morning was his daughter.
"Do you hesitate?" the demon asked in a sub-acid voice.
The pirate sighed. The conditions seemed hard, still he must accept
them.
"No, I don't," he said; "it is a bargain."
"Very good; now leave me to my work."
"As you please," the pirate answered, and prepared to go down; but,
suddenly reflecting, he added, "Tell me, can you not do me a service?"
"With pleasure."
"During our conversation night has fallen; it is as black as in your
domains, and I am frightfully afraid of breaking my neck in going down
to the plain."
"Do you wish to rest?"
"Yes; the day has been fatiguing, and I am desirous of sleep."
"All right; nothing is easier."
"Then, I shall have my castle tomorrow?"
"At sunrise I promised it."
"Thanks; and now, if you will help me----"
"Certainly; hold on."
And the demon, seizing the tail of the horse on which the pirate was
mounted, whirled the animal round his head, and then hurled it into
space. The pirate, slightly stunned by the rapidity of his flight, fell
without the slightest injury at the entrance of his tent; he immediately
dismounted, and prepared for bed.
His boatswain's mate was waiting to help him in taking off his harness.
The Count threw himself anxiously on his couch, but though he might
close his eyes and turn and roll in every direction, sleep shunned him.
The mate, who was lying in the doorway of the tent, was also awake, but
through another motive; he fancied he saw strange lights running along
the rock; he heard the sound of hammers and crowbars, stone being sawn,
and the creaking of pullies--in a word, those thousand rumours produced
by masons, carpenters, and blacksmiths, when at work.
The poor sailor, not knowing to what he should attribute what he fancied
he saw and heard, rubbed his eyes to assure himself that he was not
asleep, and then thrust his fingers in his ears--fearing, for good
reasons, that it must all be an illusion. At length, unable to doubt any
longer, he resolved to inform his Captain, and entered his tent.
As we have said, the Count was not asleep. He rose in haste, and
followed his boatswain's mate; then, as he placed the utmost confidence
in this worthy man, who had served him for twenty years, he did not
hesitate to tell him what had passed between him and the devil, and what
he had himself promised, adding, in the most insinuating tone he could
assume, that he counted on the mate's attachment to prevent his daughter
entering the tent the next morning, as she was accustomed to do, and to
find some means of getting him out of the scrape.
On hearing this avowal, and the proof of confidence that accompanied it,
the boatswain's mate became anxious; he was very fond of his Chief, for
he had risked his life twenty times for him; but the worthy sailor was a
Breton and excellent Christian, and was not at all desirous of placing
himself under the claws of Messire Satanas for an affair that did not at
all concern him. Still, after a few moments' reflection, his face
brightened and reassumed its ordinary look of careless gaiety, and he
said with a laugh:
"Go and sleep, my Lord; tomorrow it will be day. After all, the demon
may not be so crafty as he looks."
The pirate, comforted by the joyous air of his boatswain's mate, felt
more tranquil; he returned to his couch, and speedily fell asleep. The
sailor passed the whole night in prayer, and when the dawn began to
suffuse the sky with white tints, he went to the kennel, fetched a poor
mangy dog dying in a corner, thrust it into the tent, and letting fall
the curtain, waited for what would happen. The poor brute was no sooner
at liberty than it leaped into its master's bed and began licking his
face.
"May the demon take thee, accursed animal!" the pirate shouted, awaking
with a start, and furious at having been thus disturbed in his sleep.
A fearful blast shook the tent, a terrible yell was heard, and the dog
disappeared. The demon fled, all abashed, with the scurvy booty he had
secured. Messire Satanas had worked, however, conscientiously: a
formidable fortress now rose haughtily on the crest of the rock which on
the previous evening had been naked and deserted. The Count was
delighted, and took possession of his castle the same day.
Still, what the demon had stated about his soul put a flea in the ear of
the worthy seigneur; and hence, without loss of time, he occupied
himself about his salvation. His first care was to establish a town near
the fortress, to which he attracted, by promises, adventurers from all
countries; then he sought a monk capable of liberating him from all his
sins; and it is probable that he found one, added the worthy Franciscan
who narrated this legend to us, in which he firmly believed, for Count
Estevan de Sourdis died in a state of grace, after leaving the greater
portion of his property to the clergy, founding two monasteries, and
building three churches. In short, the ex-pirate made a fool of the
demon to the end.
Without attaching to this legend the perfect belief of the man who told
it us, still we were struck with admiration at the sight of the immense,
perpendicular block of granite, on the crest of which the castle boldly
stands, perched there like a vulture's nest, and we were compelled to
allow that the means employed to build it seemed to us entirely
incomprehensible.
It was this fortress that the Jaguar had resolved to carry by surprise.
The task, if not impossible, was at the least very difficult, and it
needed all the audacious rashness of the young Chief merely to conceive
the thought of undertaking it.
The night was dark; heavy clouds laden with electricity coursed across
the sky, and by intercepting the moonbeams rendered the gloom denser
still. The conspirators passed silently through the deserted streets of
the town like a legion of phantoms. They went on thus for a long time,
with watchful eye and finger on the rifle trigger, ready to fire at the
slightest suspicious sound; but nothing disturbed their march to the
seashore, which they reached after making a thousand windings, in order
to foil the spies who might have attempted to follow them in the
darkness. The spot where they were was a small sandy creek, sheltered on
all sides by tall cliffs; here, at a word from the Jaguar, they halted,
for the difficulties of the expedition were about to begin. The young
Chief assembled his comrades round him.
"Caballeros," he then said, in a low voice, "we are proceeding to the
fort of the Point, which we must carry before sunrise; listen to me
attentively, and remember my instructions, in order that during the
expedition we may be exposed to no misunderstanding, which, in our
present situation, would not only be mortal to us, but cause our
comrades, who on their side are attempting a hazardous enterprise, to
lose all the fruit of their labours."
The conspirators drew nearer in order to hear better. The swell died,
at their feet with a hollow murmur, and out at sea could be seen the
wares raised by the north-east wind, which would probably rise into a
tempest within an hour. The Jaguar continued--
"The fort of the Point is impregnable, or, at least, passes as such; I
have resolved to deprive it of the haughty boast, and for that purpose
have counted on you, comrades. Owing to the opinion the Mexicans have of
the strength of this citadel, they have considered it unnecessary to
keep up a numerous garrison there, convinced as they are that its
position will defend it, and that it is impossible to carry it, save by
treachery. The garrison, therefore, is only composed of thirty soldiers,
commanded by a lieutenant; it is small, and yet enormous; small, if we
force them into a hand-to-hand fight; enormous, if we are compelled to
remain at a distance. On the land side, the granite rock on which the
fort is built is so perpendicular that we could not hope to ascend
beyond one half of it; for, excepting the path cut in the rock, which is
defended at regular distances by barricades, escalading is
impracticable. We cannot, therefore, think of attacking it on that side.
But the sea is left to us, if the land fails us; if we can succeed in
landing on the narrow strip of earth which is left uncovered at low
water for about an hour at the foot of the fortress, it is probable that
we shall succeed in our enterprise; for it will never occur to the
garrison that any attempt to attack them by sea will be made on such a
night as this. That is not all--we must reach that strip of land, and
speedily too; the sea is beginning to ebb, and the moment is favourable.
This is what I propose doing."
The conspirators, collected round their Chief, paid the most earnest
attention to his words. It was for them a question of life or death.
"Now, my companions," the Jaguar continued, "we have no boat in which to
reach the base of the fort; the sound of oars striking against the
thowls would give the alarm, excite the suspicion of the garrison, and
reveal our presence; we must, therefore, cross by swimming; but it is
nearly a league to go; the tide runs out fast, and we shall have to
cross it at right angles; moreover, the night is dark, and the sea
rough. I will only remind you of the sharks and tintoreras we run a risk
of meeting on the way. You see, comrades, that it is a rude affair, and
it is certain that we shall not all reach the sand strip. Some of us
will remain on the road; but what matter, so long as we succeed? You are
brave men, so I have preferred to speak openly with you, and allow you
to see all the danger, than deceive you, for a peril if known is half
overcome."
In spite of all their courage, the conspirators felt a spasm at their
hearts; still not one of them hesitated, for they had freely offered
their lives as a sacrifice; besides, they had now gone too far to
recoil; they must proceed at all risks. We must say, in praise of the
conspirators, that of all the perils enumerated by the Jaguar, only one
really alarmed them. What they most feared was the meeting with the
tintorera.
We will explain to the reader, who is probably ignorant of the fact,
what this dangerous animal is, which possesses the privilege of
producing goose flesh in the bravest man, on the mere mention of its
name. The seas of Mexico, and especially the coasts, swarm with
dangerous fish, among which the shark holds a very honourable place.
But, though it be so dangerous, the Mexican pearl diver, who are mostly
Indians, care little for it, and bravely fight it, when the opportunity
offers. Still, there is a special sort they are extraordinarily afraid
of, and that is the tintorera.
The tintorera is a shark of the largest size, and owes its name to a
peculiarity that reveals its presence at a considerable distance. Holes
placed near the snout of the fish distil a gluey matter, which spreads
over its whole body, and renders it brilliant as fireflies. These
phosphoric gleams are the most splendid on stormy nights, when the wind
moans and the thunder growls. The same phenomenon is produced on dark
nights; the denser the gloom, the more vivid is the furrow traced by the
tintorera. This animal, fortunately, is nearly blind, and, consequently,
cannot follow its prey by sight. They are also compelled to turn their
belly completely up on seizing their prey. In the pearl islands of the
Mexican coast there are several Indian and half-breed divers, who are
not at all afraid of fighting them, and who frequently succeed in
killing them.
"Now," the Jaguar continued, after allowing his comrades some minutes
for reflection, "it is time for us to get ready. Listen to me. We are
about to attempt a surprise, and must therefore act accordingly. Let us
leave here our firearms, which would not only be useless, but might
prove dangerous, if a shot were fired imprudently and revealed our
presence; hence each will undress, only keeping on his trousers, and
carrying his dagger between his teeth; that will be sufficient, as
further clothing would only embarrass us in our long swim."
The night grew more and more dark; the sea moaned sadly, under the
impulse of the _coromuel_, which was beginning to blow in gusts; the
sea wolves howled in the darkness; the _gaviota_ groaned sadly on the
top of the rocks; and from time to time the lamantine, as if jealous to
add its mournful moan to the sinister sounds of night, mingled with the
sharp sighs of the wind its accents, melancholy and plaintive as those
of a soul in pain;--all, is short, foreboded a tempest. The hour was
well chosen for a deed of darkness.
The first emotion passed, the conspirators, galvanized, so to speak, by
the firm and confident accent of their Chief, bravely made up their
minds without observation or murmur. They threw down their weapons and
arms, and silently ranged themselves on the beach, only awaiting the
order to dash into the sea. The Jaguar, with fixed eye and frowning
brow, remained motionless for some minutes, doubtless thinking of the
immense responsibility he assumed in devoting to a probable death so
many men who placed their hopes and confidence in him. At length he made
a powerful effort over himself, a sigh escaped from his overladen
breast, and, turning to his comrades, who were calmly awaiting the order
to start, which would probably be a sentence of death to the majority,
he said in a hollow voice--
"Brothers, let us pray!"
All knelt down, and the Jaguar offered up a prayer. His powerful voice
was mingled with the howls of the wild beasts and the crash of the
tempest; his companions repeated the sentences after him, with the faith
of primitive souls, who regard the belief transmitted to them by their
ancestors as the only true one.
It was at once a touching and terrible spectacle offered by these
simple-minded, lion-hearted men, piously kneeling on this deserted shore
in the black night, while the tempest raged around them, preparing
themselves by prayer for the sacrifice of their life--alone in the
gloom, without the dazzling prestige of a brilliant sun and thousands of
spectators, but compelled to lay down their lives, and know no reward in
this world.
When the prayer was ended, all rose to their feet. They felt stronger;
as God would henceforth be on their side, what had they to fear?--they
had made Him their accomplice. The Jaguar was the last to rise; his brow
was serene, but a febrile ardour caused his eyes to flash; he believed
in the success of his enterprise. After assuring himself that all his
comrades were ready, he ordered--
"Take your daggers between your teeth: Heaven protects us. Forward,
brothers, and long live liberty!"
"Long live liberty!" the conspirators shouted.
A dull sound was heard, as they dashed simultaneously into the sea.