A Cottage of the old Californian kind--in other words, a _rancho_; one
of the humblest of these humble dwellings--the homes of the
Spanish-American poor. It is a mere hut, thatched with a species of
sea-shore grass, the "broombent" seen growing in the sand-dunes near by.
For it is by the sea, or within sight of it; inconspicuously placed by
reason of rugged rocks, that cluster around, and soar up behind, forming
a background in keeping with the rude architectural style of the
dwelling. From the land side it is only approachable by devious and
difficult paths, known but to a few familiar friends of its owner.
From the shore, equally difficult, for the little cove leading up to it
would not have depth sufficient to permit the passage of a boat, but for
a tiny stream trickling seaward, which has furrowed out a channel in the
sand. That by this boats can enter the cove is evident from one being
seen moored near its inner end, in front of, and not far from, the
hovel. As it is a craft of the kind generally used by Californian
fishermen--more especially those who chase the fur-seal--it may be
deduced that the owner of the hut is a seal-hunter.
This is his profession reputedly; though there are some who ascribe to
him callings of a different kind; among others, insinuating that he
occasionally does business as a _contrabandista_.
Whether true or not, Rafael Rocas--for he is the owner of the hut--is
not the man to trouble himself about denying it. He would scarce
consider smuggling an aspersion on his character; and indeed, under old
Mexican administration, it would have been but slight blame, or shame,
to him. And not such a great deal either under the new, at the time of
which we write, but perhaps still less. Compared with other crimes then
rife in California, contrabandism might almost be reckoned an honest
calling.
But Rafael Rocas has a repute for doings of a yet darker kind. With
those slightly acquainted with him it is only suspicion; but a few of
his more intimate associates can say for certain that he is not
disinclined to a stroke of road robbery or a job at housebreaking; so
that, if times have changed for the worse, he has not needed any change
to keep pace with them.
It is the day on which the British frigate sailed from San Francisco
Bay, and he is in his hut; not alone, but in the company of three men,
in personal appearance altogether unlike himself. While he wears the
common garb of a Californian fisherman--loose pea-coat of coarse canvas,
rough water-boots, and seal-skin cap--they are attired in costly
stuffs--cloaks of finest broadcloth, _jaquetas_ of rich velvet, and
_cahoneras_, lashed with gold lace, and gleaming with constellations of
buttons.
Notwithstanding their showy magnificence, the seal-hunter, smuggler, or
whatever he may be, does not appear to treat his guests with any
obsequious deference. On the contrary, he is engaged with them in
familiar converse, and by his tone and gestures, showing that he feels
himself their equal.
Two of the individuals thus oddly consorting are already well known to
the reader--the third but slightly. The former are Francisco de Lara
and Faustino Calderon; the latter is Don Manuel Diaz, famed for his
fighting cocks. The first two have just entered under Rocas' roof,
finding the cockfighter already there, as De Lara predicted.
After welcoming his newly arrived guests in Spanish-American fashion,
placing his house at their disposal--"_Mia casa a la disposition de
Vms_,"--the seal-hunter has set before them a bottle of his best
liquor--this being _aguardiente_ of Tequila. They have taken off their
outer apparel--cloaks and hats--and are seated around a small deal
table, the only one the shanty contains--its furniture being of the
scantiest and most primitive kind.
Some conversation of a desultory nature has passed between them; but
they have now entered on a subject more interesting and particular, the
keynote having been struck by De Lara. He opens by asking a question:
"Caballeros! do you want to be rich?"
All three laugh, while simultaneously answering:
"_Carramba_! Yes."
Diaz adds:
"I've heard many an idle interrogatory; but never, in all my life, one
so superfluous as yours; not even when there's twenty to one offered
against a staggering cock."
Rocas inquires:
"What do ye call rich, Don Francisco?"
"Well," responds the Creole, "say sixty thousand dollars. I suppose
you'd consider that sufficient to bestow the title?"
"Certainly," rejoins Rocas; "not only the title, but the substantial and
real thing. If I'd only the half of it, I'd give up chasing seals."
"And I cock fighting," put in Diaz; "that is, so far as to look to it
for a living; though I might still incline to have a main for pastime's
sake. With sixty thousand dollars at my back, I'd go for being a grand
ganadero, like friend Faustino here, whose horses and horned cattle
yield him such a handsome income."
The other three laugh at this, since it is known to all of them that the
ganadero has long since got rid both of his horses and horned cattle.
"Well, gentlemen," says De Lara, after this bit of preliminary
skirmishing, "I can promise each of you the sum I speak of, if you're
willing to go in with me in a little affair I've fixed upon. Are you
the men for it?"
"Your second question is more sensible than the first, though equally
uncalled for--at least so far as concerns me. I'm the man to go in for
anything which promises to make me the owner of sixty thousand dollars."
It is Diaz who thus unconditionally declares himself Calderon endorses
it by a declaration of like daring nature. The seal-hunter simply nods
assent, but in a knowing manner. For he is already acquainted with De
Lara's design; knows all about it; being, in fact, its real originator.
"Now, Don Francisco! let's know what you're driving at?" demands Diaz,
adding: "Have you struck a _veta_, or discovered a rich _placer_? If
so, we're ready for either rock-mining or pan-washing, so long as the
labour's not too hard. Speak out, and tell us what it is. The thought
of clutching such a pretty prize makes a man impatient."
"Well, I'll let you into the secret so far--it is a _veta_--a grand gold
mine--a very _bonanza_--but one which will need neither rock-crushing
nor mud-cradling. The gold has been already gathered; and lies in a
certain place, all in a lump; only waiting transport to some other
place, which we can select at our leisure."
"Your words sound well," remarks Don Manuel.
"Wonderful well," echoes Rocas, with assumed surprise.
"Are they not too good to be true?" asks Diaz.
"No. They're true as good. Not a bit of exaggeration, I assure you.
The gold only wants to be got at, and then taken."
"Ah! there may be difficulty about that?" rejoins the doubting Diaz.
"Do you expect to finger sixty thousand _pesos_ without taking the
trouble to stretch out your hand?"
"Oh, no. I'm not so unreasonable. For that I'd be willing to stretch
out both hands, with a knife in one, and a pistol in the other."
"Well, it's not likely to need either, if skilfully managed. I ask you
again, are you the men to go in for it?"
"I'm one," answers Diaz.
"And I another," growls Rocas.
"I'm not going to say nay," assents Calderon, glancing significantly at
the questioner.
"Enough!" exclaims De Lara; "so far you all consent to the partnership.
But before entering fully into it, it will be necessary to have a more
thorough understanding, as also a more formal one. Are you willing to
be bound, that there shall be truth between us?"
"We are!" is the simultaneous response of all three.
"And fidelity to the death!"
"To the death."
"_Bueno_! But we must take an oath to that effect. After which, you
shall know what it's for. Enough now to say it's a thing that needs
swearing upon. If there's to be treason, there shall be perjury also.
Are you ready to take the oath?"
They signify assent unanimously.
"To your feet, then!" commands the chief conspirator. "It will be more
seemly to take it standing."
All four spring up from their chairs, and stand facing the table.
De Lara draws a dagger and lays it down before him. The others have
their stilettos too--a weapon carried by most Spanish Californians.
Each exhibits his own, laying it beside that already on the table.
With the four De Lara forms a cross--Maltese fashion, and then standing
erect, Diaz opposite, Rocas and Calderon on either flank--he repeats in
firm, solemn voice, the others after him:
"_In the deed we this day agree to do, acting together and jointly, we
swear to be true to each other--to stand by one another, if need be, to
the death; to keep what we do a secret from all the world; and if any
one betray it, the other three swear to follow him wherever he may flee,
seek him wherever he may shelter himself, and take vengeance upon him,
by taking his life. If any of us fail in this oath, may we be accursed
ever after. Amen_!"