ON THE ROAD.
Mexico, considering its size, is one of the least populated countries
in the world. With but few exceptions, the old Spanish colonies,
since they have proclaimed their independence and become free
republics, having been constantly engaged in war with each other, or
in overthrowing the government they themselves elected, have seen all
the ties attaching families to the soil broken in turn. Foreigners, no
longer finding the necessary safety for their speculations in countries
incessantly troubled by revolutions, have gone away. Trade has been
annihilated; commerce has fallen into a state of atrophy; and the
population has frightfully decreased, with such rapidity, that sensible
men, who sought a remedy for this incurable evil, called emigration to
the help of these states, which nothing can galvanise, and which only
possess a factitious existence.
Unfortunately, the Hispano-American race is essentially haughty and
jealous. Poor fellows, who let themselves be seduced by the brilliant
promises made them, and who consented to cross the sea to settle in
this country, found, on their arrival, and especially in Mexico, an
ill-disguised hatred and contempt, which was displayed in all classes
of society by ill will and aversion. Hence, being disgusted by their
reception, and recognising the slight trust they could place in the
promises of the men who had summoned them, they hastened to leave a
country in which they had only found unjust prejudices and deplorable
ill faith, and went to ask of the United States the protection refused
them by those who had so pressingly summoned them.
Mexico, in spite of a certain varnish of civilization, the last
reminiscence of the Spanish occupation, which may still be found in
the large cities and their environs, is, therefore, in reality plunged
into a state of barbarism relatively greater than it was fifty years
ago. The Pacific States, especially, being less frequently visited
by strangers, and left, as it were, to themselves, have retained a
peculiar physiognomy, whose picturesque savageness and rough manners
would cause the tourist's heart to beat with joy, if ever a tourist
ventured into these countries; but which inspire an involuntary fear,
justified, however, by everything the traveller, forced to visit this
land on business, witnesses.
In Europe and all civilized countries, the means of transport are
numerous and convenient, but in Mexico only one is known--the horse. In
the Central States, and those which run along the Atlantic seaboard,
some towns possess diligences, which change horses at the _tambos_,
a species of inn, where the travellers stop to pass the night. But
these _tambos_ and _mesones_, which possess a great resemblance to
the Sicilian hostelries and Spanish ventas, supply absolutely nothing
to the guests they shelter, excepting a roof, reduced to its simplest
expression; that is to say, the traveller is compelled to take his
bed with him, in addition to provisions, if he does not wish to sleep
wrapped up in his cloak.
In spite of the numberless disagreements which the uncomfortable
mode of progressing from one place to another entails, the traveller
derives one advantage from it--that of not being exposed, in a fickle
atmosphere like that of Mexico, where after burning days the nights
are chilly, to the attacks of the climate. In the Pacific States,
matters are no longer thus; the traveller who proceeds from one town to
another is forced to do so on horseback, without any hope of finding
for a distance of sixty or eighty leagues the smallest inn, or even
most wretched rancho, where he can shelter himself from wind and rain
at nightfall. At sunset he camps where he is in the open air, and
begins his journey again on the morrow Still, as Providence has been
in its wisdom careful to give an equal amount of good and evil, the
robbers, salteadores, and brigands of every description, who infest all
the roads in the interior, on which they reign as masters, plundering
travellers in open day and assassinating them with the most perfect
impunity, are rarely found in Sonora. In this country the roads in this
respect enjoy a relatively complete security, except when the Indians
have risen, or a fresh _pronunciamiento_ has let bands of revolted
soldiers loose on the country. These fellows have no scruple about
imitating professional robbers, and killing and plundering people,
whose unlucky stars have exposed them to their tender mercies.
José Paredes, though he had in reality only fifty leagues to go, a
distance which in most European countries is comfortably performed
in a railway carriage in a few hours, was obliged, on account of the
bad state of the roads, and the indispensable precautions he had
to take, to remain at least four days on the road before reaching
Hermosillo. This journey, which would have been very painful to any
man accustomed to the ease and luxuries of life, was only a pleasure
trip for the worthy majordomo, a real Centaur, whose life was spent
on horseback--who slept more frequently in the open air than under a
roof, and whose powerful constitution rendered him insensible to the
annoyances inseparable from a journey made under such conditions. The
Mexicans have two expressions which admirably depict the class of men
to whom the majordomo belonged; they call them _Jinetes_ and _Hombres
de a Caballo_.
José Paredes, then, rode along jauntily on his horse, at one moment
carelessly smoking a husk cigarette, at another humming a _jarabe_
or a _seguedilla_, while keeping his eye and ear on the watch, and
his finger prudently laid on the trigger of his gun, which was placed
across his saddle-bow. His second day's ride was drawing to a close;
he had left Arispe far behind him, which town he had passed through
without stopping longer than he required to lay in fresh provisions and
forage for his horse.
The sun was rapidly declining on the horizon; a rather powerful wind
blew in gusts, raising clouds of dust, which blinded the horseman and
formed a thick fog round him, in the midst of which he almost entirely
disappeared. Although, as we have said, the day was drawing to a close,
the heat was stifling, the sky had assumed a livid appearance; yellow
clouds gradually collected in the horizon and were rapidly brought
up by the wind. The birds whirled in the air, uttering shrill and
discordant cries; sharp noises and shrill whistlings rose from among
the rocks that on both sides flanked the narrow ravine the majordomo
was now following, and large drops of rain fell on the calcined soil,
which easily imbibed them. The horse pricked its ears, shook its head,
and snorted in terror. All presaged one of those storms which it is
only possible to witness in these regions--veritable cataclysms which
rend and uproot the largest trees, force streams from their beds, and
overthrow the soil, as if the earth were struggling wildly beneath the
grasp of those horrible convulsions of Nature, which completely change
within a few hours the aspect of the country over which they have swept
with the fury of the African simoom.
"Hum!" José Paredes muttered to himself, as he took an anxious glance
along the road; "If I am not greatly mistaken, within an hour we shall
have one of the most tremendous _cordonazos_ that has been seen for
some time. That will be most agreeable for me, and my position will
not fail to be most amusing. Confound the temporal! Why could it not
have waited for another eight-and-forty hours?"
The majordomo lost no time in vain lamentation. The situation in which
he found himself was really critical: he knew that if the temporal
surprised him on this ravine, he would have enormous difficulties
to overcome in escaping its violence. He therefore resolved at all
hazards to attempt the greatest efforts in getting out of the scrape.
Minutes were precious; hesitation was impossible, and he must form a
decision at once. José Paredes was a resolute man, long accustomed
only to reckon on his courage, strength, and energy, to get him out
of difficult situations; he therefore carefully wrapped himself in
his zarapé, pulled his hat down over his forehead, and, bending over
his horse's neck, dug his spurs, while crying, sharply, one word:
"Santiago!" a cry employed in this country to excite horses. The noble
animal, astonished that its master should deem it necessary to employ
spurs to give it ardour, gave a snort of passion, and started at a
headlong pace.
In the meanwhile the clouds had completely covered the blue sky; the
atmosphere was gradually growing darker; the sunbeams had lost their
heat; the horse still dashed on, rendered furious by the incessant
prick of the spurs, which the majordomo dug into his panting flanks.
At length Paredes uttered a cry of joy, for he had reached the end of
the ravine, and before him extended a vast plain, bordered by tall
mountains in the horizon. These mountains the majordomo wanted to
reach, for there alone had he chance of safety. Although his position
had greatly improved after leaving the ravine, it was still extremely
difficult, if the storm were to burst before he had succeeded in
crossing the plains, which afforded him no shelter to brave the
tornado. Hence, the traveller, after exploring the neighbourhood with a
rapid glance, and assuring himself that he had no hope of escaping the
tempest, and the barren sandy plain which was only traversed by a few
streams, repeated his cry of "Santiago," and set out on his mad ride
once more.
As always happens, and as anyone who has studied the admirable instinct
of the horse can certify, the noble animal the majordomo rode seemed
to have identified itself with its master. Through the effort of
that magnetic current, whose power is no longer doubted, it appeared
to understand that their common safety depended on its efforts; and
it literally devoured the space, darting across the plain with the
fantastic rapidity of the spectre steed of the German ballad.
All at once a vivid flash broke through the clouds, followed by a
tremendous thunderclap. The horse gave a start of terror, but quickly
checked by its rider, started again through the torrents of rain which
were beginning to fall. Night bad suddenly set in; the sun, veiled by
the clouds, had become invisible, and it was in condemned obscurity
that the majordomo was compelled to attempt the supreme efforts on
which life or death depended. Still, Paredes was not discouraged,
and his will seemed to grow fearless in the struggle; while sitting
firmly in the saddle, like a granite statue, with contracted brows
and eyes looking ahead, as if constantly trying to pierce the gloom,
and exciting his horse with spur and voice, his features were as calm
and impassive as if he were merely in one of the thousand ordinary
accidents of his adventurous life in the desert. In the meanwhile the
tempest had changed into a fearful hurricane, and raged with extreme
fury. The unchained winds whistled violently, dashing the rain, and
upraising masses of mud, which flew along the ground.
An ill-omened swashing made the unhappy traveller, who was surprised by
the tornado, understand that the streams were beginning to overflow and
inundate the plain. By the vivid flashes which uninterruptedly followed
each other, the majordomo could see all around large grey pools of
water, which constantly widened and enclosed him in an incessantly
contracting circle; distant sounds borne by the breeze heightened his
apprehensions. An hour more, he felt, and the plains would only form
one vast lake, in the midst of which he would infallibly perish. Warned
by that instinct which never deceives them, the wild beasts had left
their lairs, and were flying madly, while uttering hoarse roars of
terror. When a flash lit up the horizon, Paredes could see indistinct
forms pass by his side, which were no other than the dangerous denizens
of the prairie. All was overthrown and confounded. The swash of the
water was mingled with the artillery of the thunder and the howling of
the wind. But the horse still galloped on straight ahead, sustained by
the very terror which maddened it and spurred it on better than the
sharpest knife could have done.
Suddenly the majordomo uttered a cry of terror and anger, drew himself
up, and pulled bridle with such strength that the horse stopped short
on his trembling legs. He fancied he had heard the distant sound of a
bell. When an inundation comes, the hacenderos have all their bells
rung, in order to warn straggling travellers and tell them of a place
of refuge. The majordomo listened; in a few seconds a sound, faint as
a sigh, reached the ear. The practised hunter was not mistaken; it
was really the expiring sound of a bell that reached him, and the
sound, came from a direction diametrically opposite to the one he was
following. In the darkness he had left his track; he was lost in the
midst of an entirely submerged country without chance of help. In spite
of his indomitable bravery the majordomo felt an internal horror; an
icy perspiration stood on his forehead, and he shook all over. At this
supreme moment the man had but one terrible thought that he would bear
with him to the tomb the fortune entrusted to him by his master, and on
which the future of his children perhaps depended. Paredes felt burning
tears start from his eyes, and a choking sob from his bosom. He cared
little for life; he would gladly have sacrificed it for his master; but
the thought of dying thus, and completing his master's ruin, caused
him indescribable grief. For some minutes this lion-hearted man, this
bold wood ranger, who had faced without blenching the most terrible
dangers, felt weaker than a child. But this prostration only lasted a
short time, and a reaction quickly took place; ashamed of the passing
despondency to which he had yielded, the majordomo became the firmer
when all seemed to abandon him, and resolved to sustain the insensate
struggle till he drew his last breath.
Rendered stronger by his energetic resolution, the majordomo, whose
arteries were beating as if about to burst, passed the back of his band
over his eyes, addressed to Heaven that mental prayer which the most
intrepid men find in their hearts at the supreme moment when life or
death only hangs by a thread; and, instead of going on, he waited for
a flash, by which he could examine his position, and decide the new
course he had to take. He had not to wait long; almost immediately a
flash shot athwart the sky. Paredes uttered a cry of joy and surprise:
he had seen, a few paces from him on his right, a rather tall hill,
on the top of which he fancied he noticed a horseman, motionless and
upright as an equestrian statue.
With that coolness which powerful men alone possess in critical
circumstances, the majordomo, although he felt that the water was
rapidly encircling him, and was almost up to his horse's girths, would
not leave anything to chance. Fearing he had been deceived by one of
those optical illusions, so frequent when the senses are overexcited,
he resolved to wait for a second flash, and kept his eyes fixed on the
spot where the hill must be, which he fancied he must have seen as in
a dream. All at once, at the moment when the desired flash lit up the
darkness, a voice, that overpowered the roar of the tempest, reached
his ear:
"Courage! Keep straight on," he heard.
The majordomo uttered a cry of delight, which resembled a yell; and,
lifting his horse with his bridle and knees, he dashed toward the hill,
pursued by the seething waters which were powerless to arrest him; and,
after an ascent that lasted scarce ten minutes, he fell fainting into
the arms of the man whose summons had saved him. From this moment he
had nothing to fear: an inundation could not reach the top of the hill
where he had found such a providential refuge.