The horsemen, so oddly commented upon, have just emerged from the
suburbs of San Francisco, taking the road which leads southward along
shore.
Both are garbed in grand style, in the national costume of that country,
which, in point of picturesqueness is not exceeded by any other in the
world.
They wear the wide trousers (_calzoneras_), along the outer seams lashed
with gold lace, and beset with filigree buttons; the snow-white drawers
(_calzoncillas_) here and there puffing out; below, _botas_ and spurs--
the last with rowels several inches in diameter, that glitter like great
stars behind their heels. They have tight-fitting jackets of velveteen,
closed in front, and over the bosom elaborately embroidered; scarfs of
China crape round their waists, the ends dangling adown the left hip,
terminating in a fringe of gold cord; on their heads _sombreros_ with
broad brim, and band of bullion--the _toquilla_. In addition, each has
over his shoulders a _manga_--the most magnificent of outside garments,
with a drape graceful as a Roman _toga_. That of one is
scarlet-coloured, the other sky-blue. Nor are their horses less grandly
bedecked. Saddles of stamped leather, scintillating with silver studs--
their cloths elaborately embroidered; bridles of plaited horse-hair,
jointed with tags and tassels; bits of the Mamaluke pattern, with
check-pieces and curbs powerful enough to break the jaw at a jerk.
The steeds thus splendidly caparisoned are worthy of it. Though small,
they are of perfect shape--pure blood of Arabian sires, transmitted
through dams of Andalusia. They are descended from the stock
transported to the New World by the _Conquistadores_; and the progenitor
of one or other may have carried Alvarado or Sandoval--perhaps Cortez
himself.
The riders are both men of swarthy complexion, with traits that tell of
the Latinic race. Their features are Spanish; in one a little more
pronounced than the other. He who wears the sky-coloured cloak has all
the appearance of being Mexican born. The blood in his veins giving the
brown tinge to his skin, is not Moorish, but more likely from the
aborigines of California. For all this, he is not a true _mestizo_;
only one among whose remote ancestry an Indian woman may have been
numbered; since the family-tree of many a proud Californian has sprung
from such root. He is of medium size, with figure squat and somewhat
square, and sits his horse as though he were part of the animal. If
seen afoot his legs would appear bowed, almost bandied, showing that he
has spent the greater part of his life in the saddle. His face is flat,
its outline rounded, the nose compressed, nostrils agape, and lips thick
enough to suggest the idea of an African origin. But his hair
contradicts this--being straight as needles, and black as the skin of a
Colobus monkey. More like he has it from the Malays, through the
Californian Indian--some tribes of which are undoubtedly of Malayan
descent.
Whatever the mixture in his blood, the man is himself a native
Californian, born by the shores of San Francisco Bay, on a _ganaderia_,
or grazing estate. He is some twenty-six or seven years of age, his
name Faustino Calderon--"Don" by ancestral right, and ownership of the
aforesaid _ganaderia_.
He in the scarlet _manga_, though but a few years older, is altogether
different in appearance, as otherwise; personally handsomer, and
intellectually superior. His features better formed, are more purely
Spanish; their outline oval and regular the jaws broad and balanced; the
chin prominent; the nose high, without being hooked or beaked; the brow
classically cut, and surmounted by a thick shock of hair, coal-black in
colour, and waved rather than curling. Heavy moustaches on the upper
lip, with an imperial on the under one--the last extending below the
point of the chin--all the rest of his face, throat, and cheeks, clean
shaven. Such are the facial characteristics of Don Francisco de Lara,
who is a much larger, and to all appearance stronger, man than his
travelling companion.
Calderon, as said, is a gentleman by birth, and a _ganadero_, or
stock-farmer, by occupation. He inherits a considerable tract of
pasture-land, left him by his father--some time deceased--along with the
horses and horned cattle that browse upon it. An only son, he is now
owner of all. But his ownership is not likely to continue. He is fast
relinquishing it, by the pursuit of evil courses--among them three of a
special kind: wine, women, and play--which promise to make him bankrupt
in purse, as they already have in character. For around San Francisco,
as in it, he is known as _roue_ and reveller, a debauchee in every
speciality of debauch, and a silly fellow to boot. Naturally of weak
intellect, and dissipation has made it weaker.
Of as much moral darkness, though different in kind, is the character of
Don Francisco de Lara--"Frank Lara," as he is familiarly known in the
streets and saloons. Though Spanish in features, and speaking the
language, he can also talk English with perfect fluency--French too,
when called upon, with a little Portuguese and Italian. For, in truth,
he is not a Spaniard, but only so by descent, being a Creole of New
Orleans--that cosmopolitan city _par excellence_--hence his philological
acquirements.
Frank Lara is one of those children of chance, wanderers who come into
the world nobody knows how, when, or whence; only, that they are in it;
and while there, performing a part in accordance with their mysterious
origin--living in luxury, and finding the means for it, by ways that
baffle conjecture.
He is full thirty years of age; the last ten of which he has spent on
the shores of San Francisco Bay. Landing there from an American
whaling-vessel, and in sailor costume, he cast off his tarry "togs," and
took to land-life in California. Its easy idleness, as its lawlessness,
exactly suited his natural inclinations.
Similar inclinings and pursuits, at an early period brought him and
Calderon in contact; and certain relations have been established between
them; in other words, they have become united in a business
partnership--a _bank_; of that species known as "_monte_" bank.
Since the discovery of the gold _placers_, the streets of San Francisco
have been crowded with men mad after the precious metal; among them some
who do not desire to undergo the toil of sifting it out of sand, or
washing it from river-mud. They prefer the easier, and cleaner, method
of gathering it across the green baize of a gambling table.
To accommodate such gentry, Francisco de Lara has established a _monte_
bank, Faustino Calderon being his backer. But though the latter is the
moneyed man, and has supplied most of the cash to start with, he does
not show in the transaction. He is only as the sleeping partner; De
Lara, with less reputation at stake, being the active and ostensible
one.
As yet Faustino Calderon has not come within the category of the
professional gamester, and respectability does not repel him. His
dissipated habits are far from exceptional, and his father's good name
still continues to throw its _aegis_ over him. Under it he is eligible
to Californian society of the most select kind, and has the _entree_ of
its best circles.
And so also Don Francisco de Lara--in a different way. Wealth has
secured him this; for although anything but rich, he has the repute of
being so, and bears evidence of it about him. He is always stylishly
and fashionably attired; his shirt of the finest linen, with diamond
studs sparkling in its front. Free in dispensing gratuities, he gives
to the poor and the priests--finding this last kind of largess a good
speculation. For, in California, as in other Catholic countries, the
dispenser of "Peter's Pence" is sure of being held in high estimation.
Frank Lara so dispenses with a liberal hand; and is therefore styled
"Don" Francisco--saluted as such by the sandalled monks and
shovel-hatted priests who come in contact with him.
In addition to all, he is good-looking and of graceful deportment,
without being at all a dandy. On the contrary he carries himself with
earnest air, calm and cool, while in his eyes may be read the
expression--_noli me tangere_. A native of New Orleans, where duels
occur almost daily, he is up in the _art d'escrime_; and since his
arrival in California has twice called out his man--on the second
occasion killing him.
_Escroc_ as the French might call him; "blackleg" in the English
vocabulary; "sport" in American phrase, Frank Lara is a man with whom no
one who knows him likes to take liberties.
Such are the two men whom Inez Alvarez has facetiously styled types of
Californian "chivalry," while Carmen Montijo has more correctly
described them as typical of its "villainy." And yet to make call on
this very Inez, and this same Carmen, the gentlemen so differently
designated are now on their way!