THE CATASTROPHE.
Several days had elapsed since the fall of the _presidio_ of San
Lucar. The pueblo had been given up to pillage, with refinements of
barbarity impossible to describe. Only the principal buildings had been
spared, thanks to the measures employed by the Tigercat, who to save
the immense treasures they contained, had allotted them to the most
powerful _sachems_ of the tribes who followed him.
The old freebooter had established his headquarters in the former
dwelling of Don Torribio Quiroga, which the latter had gracefully ceded
to him. Doña Hermosa and her father had resumed possession of their own
mansion.
The town, with none but Indians for inhabitants, had a mournful aspect:
no more commerce; no more cheerful songs; nothing left of the careless
spirit of gaiety which formerly animated the Mexican colony. Here and
there in the open streets lay corpses, battled for by the birds of
prey, festering, and infecting the atmosphere. In a word, the whole
scene afforded the spectacle of that desolation which accompanies a war
of extermination between two races who have been foes for centuries.
About a week after the events we have described in the preceding
chapter, three persons were assembled, about ten o'clock in the
morning, in a room in Don Pedro de Luna's house, and were talking in
low tones. These three persons were, Don Pedro himself, Doña Hermosa,
and the worthy _capataz_ Luciano Pedralva, who, huddled up in the
fantastical costume of a _vaquero_, looked like a monstrous robber,
exciting bursts of laughter from Ña Manuela, who was seated, on the
watch, at a window. Every time she looked at him, she broke into
a fresh laugh, to the indignation of the _capataz_, who voted his
disguise at the devil.
"Well as we have agreed," said Don Pedro, "you must put on your pumps,
Luciano, and prepare for the dance."
"And it is to take place today?"
"It must, my good friend. It seems to me that we live in singular
times, and in a very singular country. I have seen many revolutions,
but this beats them all."
"As for me," said Doña Hermosa, "it seems consistent enough from an
Indian point of view."
"Very possible, my dear. I am not going to enter into a discussion with
you; but you must confess that a month ago we were far from expecting
such a prompt re-establishment of the Apache power on these frontiers."
"You know, Don Pedro, I understand none of these matters; only it
appears to me that the Tigercat is not very magnanimous for a man about
to become a sovereign."
"What do you mean by that, Luciano?"
"I mean what everyone ought to mean. The letter he sent Don Fernando
the day before yesterday is explicit enough; for in it he tells him,
shortly and sharply, that if he is found in the colony five days after
its receipt, he will have him hanged."
"If he can catch him!" said Doña Hermosa hastily.
"That is understood," replied the _capataz_.
"What is there in that to astonish you, Luciano?" said Don Pedro. "By
Heavens! What extraordinary things I have witnessed in my life! I
myself know a score of people to whom the same threats have been made,
and who are yet alive and well."
"It is all one; but, in spite of that, I do not like it."
"But this is all foreign to our matter. You will return to the
hacienda, Don Luciano; and remember my advice."
"Trust to me, señor. But I have something else to say."
"Say what you will, my good friend; but lose no time."
"I am dreadfully anxious about Don Estevan," replied the _capataz_, in
a voice so low that it could not reach Ña Manuela's ears; "for six days
he has disappeared, and we hear no tidings of him."
Doña Hermosa smiled slyly. "Estevan is not the man to lose himself
without leaving a trail," said she. "Tranquilize yourself: at the
proper time you will see him again."
"So much the better, señorita; for he is a man to be relied on."
"Don Torribio!" suddenly exclaimed Manuela.
"Indeed!" said the _capataz_; "Then it is time for me to vanish."
"Follow me quickly;" cried the _mayor domo's_ mother.
The _capataz_ bent reverently before Doña Hermosa and Don Pedro, and
left the room with Manuela.
The door by which they went out had hardly closed upon them, when
another opened, and Don Torribio entered. He wore a superb Indian
dress; his forehead was lined with care, and his looks were sad. He
bowed to Doña Hermosa, cordially grasped the hand of Don Pedro, and
took his seat at a mute sign from the lady.
After the interchange of a few common-place words, the daughter of the
hacendero, whom Don Torribio's downcast demeanour disquieted more than
she liked to evince, turned gracefully towards him, and said, with an
assumption of interest which was admirably acted:
"What ails you, Don Torribio? You look sad. What bad news have you
received?"
"None, señorita; though I thank you for the interest you take in
my affairs. Were I ambitious, I should feel content; for all my
aspirations have been realised. In receiving your hand, a few days
hence, the dream of my whole life will be fulfilled. You see,
señorita," he added, with a mournful smile, "that I allow you to peer
into the depths of my heart."
"I am thankful for what you say; but, Don Torribio, you were not thus a
few days ago. Something must have--"
"Nothing personal, I assure you. But the nearer the time comes for the
ceremony of taking possession of the territories we have won back,
the greater discouragement masters me. I can by no means approve the
determination of the Tigercat to have himself officially declared an
independent sovereign; it is a folly I cannot comprehend. The Tigercat
knows better than any one how impossible it is to maintain himself
here. The Apaches, brave as they are, will never be able to hold their
own against the disciplined force the Mexican Government will despatch
against us, as soon as they hear of this outbreak."
"Is it impossible to induce the Tigercat to change his purpose?"
"It is. I have tried every means to show him the insanity of his
project. He will listen to nothing. The man has an object in view known
to himself alone; the wish he loudly proclaims--to regenerate the race
of redskins--is a mere pretext."
"You shock me, Don Torribio! If this is the case, why not give him up?"
"Can I do so? Am I not already a renegade? Shall I confess to you,
señorita? Although every thing seems prosperous,--although the future
seems to have nothing but smiles for me,--yet, for the last few days,
an invincible despondency has crept over me. Everything looks dark, and
I feel world worn. In a word, I have a foreboding that I am on the eve
of a terrible misfortune."
Doña Hermosa cast a piercing glance at him, which he did not observe.
"Banish these mournful thoughts," said she, with emphasis; "henceforth
your fate is settled; nothing can alter it."
"I believe so; but, you know, señorita, mischance may come between the
cup and the lip."
"Come, come, Don Torribio!" said Don Pedro gaily; "Let us to breakfast.
It is the last repast you will share with us before the ceremony of
taking possession. Is it still to be today?"
"It is!" replied Don Torribio, offering his hand to Doña Hermosa, to
lead her into another room, where a splendid meal was prepared.
At first they were very silent; the guests seemed ill at ease; but
by degrees the efforts of Doña Hermosa and her father to cheer Don
Torribio succeeded in breaking the ice, and the conversation became
more lively. Yet it was easily seen that Don Torribio had a hard
struggle to repel the thoughts that rose to his lips, and to condemn
them to silence.
Towards the close of the repast, the chief turned to Doña Hermosa.
"Señorita," he said, "tonight my future will be settled. In taking
part, as an Indian chief, in the ceremony of today, I shall throw down
the gauntlet to my countrymen, by giving them to understand that I
openly join the cause of the redskins; and that what they at first
supposed to be an Indian raid grew, thanks to the Tigercat and me, into
the rising of a whole nation. I know the pride of the whites! Unable
to utilise the immense territories they possess, they will still never
leave us in peaceful enjoyment of the heritage we have carved out for
ourselves at the point of our lances. The Mexican Government will wage
a war of destruction upon us. Can I depend upon you?"
"Before answering, Don Torribio, I must demand a clearer explanation."
"And you shall have it. Reprisals are what the Spaniards most dread in
an Indian insurrection; that is to say, a massacre of the whites. My
carriage with a Mexican would be a gage of peace from us to them--a
pledge for the future security of their commerce, and the observance
of the relations to be established between us. Our path is marked out,
however the chiefs of the tribes may object. Neither the Tigercat nor I
will deviate from it a hair's breadth. Señorita, I address this frank
and loyal question to you: Will you grant me your hand?"
"Why should you press so grave a matter at such a moment, Don
Torribio?" was her answer "Are you not sure of me?"
Don Torribio Quiroga frowned. "Always the same reply," he said. "Child,
you are playing with the lion! If I had not been your shield these ten
days past, you would have been slain ere now. Do you fancy me ignorant
of your petty machinations, or ensnared by your childish calculations?
You are playing for life or death, silly one; you are caught yourself
in the net you spread for me. You are in my power! It is for me to
dictate my conditions. Tomorrow you will espouse me; the heads of your
father and of Don Fernando shall answer for your compliance!" Seizing
a crystal vase of water, he filled his glass, and emptied it at a
draught; while Doña Hermosa gazed at him with a strange expression in
her eyes. "In an hour," said he, dashing the glass to pieces on the
table, "you will attend the ceremony. You shall be beside me. I will it
so!"
"I will be there!" she said quietly.
"Farewell!" he exclaimed, in a husky voice; and, casting another glance
at her, he left the room. The girl rose hastily, seized the vase, and
emptied its contents, murmuring: "Don Torribio! Don Torribio! thou hast
thyself told me, that between cup and lip stood death!"
"Now for the finishing stroke!" said Don Pedro
At a sign from his daughter, he went out upon the terrace, and placed
two stands, filled with flowers, close to the balustrade. This appeared
to be a signal; for they had hardly been moved a minute, when Manuela
hastily entered the room, saying, "He is here!"
"Let him come!" said Don Pedro and his daughter.
Don Estevan made his appearance.
The hacendero, having charged Manuela to be on the watch, carefully
closed the doors, seated himself close to the _mayor domo_, and said in
a whisper, "What news have you brought, Estevan?"
* * * * *
The grand square of the _pueblo_ presented an unusual spectacle that
day; a large stage, covered with a crimson velvet carpet, had been
erected in the centre. On the stage stood a mahogany _butaca_; another
armchair, lower and less decorated, was placed on the right, and
several forms were arranged in a semicircle behind the two seats.
At twelve o'clock precisely, when the sun at its zenith was pouring
down its vertical rays, five shots, fired from a gun at regular
intervals, thundered through the _pueblo_. Instantly the different
Apache tribes, constituting the Tigercat's army, debouched by the
several approaches to the square, headed by the principal _sachems_ in
their robes of ceremony.
These warriors were few in number, forming an effective force of
fifteen hundred men; for, according to Indian custom, the booty,
immediately after the fall of the _presidio_, had been sent under a
strong escort to the villages, and the greater number of the redskins
had dispersed, to return to their _atepelts_. Those who stayed behind
were tried and faithful braves, devoted heart and soul to the Tigercat.
The latter, after the total defeat of the Mexicans, deemed it useless
to retain a larger force about him, particularly as the first signal
would bring back the others to his standard.
As fast as the tribes reached the square, they ranged themselves in
good order on three of its sides, leaving the fourth open, which was
presently occupied by a body of two hundred _vaqueros_, who, like the
redskins, halted motionless on the spot assigned to them--with this
difference: that the Indians were on foot, and without arms, except the
_machetes_ at their girdles; while the _vaqueros_ were mounted, and
armed to the teeth.
A very few lookers-on, English, French, or Germans, who had remained
in the town after its occupation, showed their pale and frightened
faces at the windows of the houses in the square. Indian women,
huddled together in disorder behind the warriors, stretched their heads
inquisitively over the shoulders of the latter, in order to catch a
glimpse of the proceedings. The centre of the square remained void.
In front of the stage, and at the foot of a rude altar, shaped like a
table, with a deep groove in it, and surmounted by an image of the sun,
stood the great _amantzin_ of the Apaches, surrounded by five sorcerers
of inferior grade. All had their arms crossed on their breasts, and
their eyes cast on the ground.
When everyone had fallen into his place, five more guns were fired.
Then a brilliant cavalcade came curveting into the square. At its head
rode the Tigercat, with haughty air and fiery eye, holding in his hand
the _totem_, and having on his right Don Torribio, who carried the
sacred calumet. Behind followed Don Pedro, his daughter, and several of
the principal townspeople.
The Tigercat dismounted, ascended the stage, and placed himself in
front of the principal seat, but did not sit down. Don Torribio, having
assisted Doña Hermosa from her horse, took his place before the second
chair. The features of the former, usually so pale, were now inflamed,
and his hollow eyes seemed red with incessant vigils. He ceaselessly
wiped the moisture from his brow, and appeared a prey to agitating
emotions, which would break forth in spite of his efforts to control
them.
Doña Hermosa had placed herself behind her father, at a short distance
from the stage. She, too, seemed to suffer from secret agitation. She
was pale, her lips were contracted, and occasionally a nervous tremor
made her limbs tremble, and a feverish flush passed over her face,
which, however, soon resumed its former pallor. She kept her eyes
resolutely fixed on Don Torribio.
The Apache _sachems_ grouped themselves at the foot of the platform,
which they surrounded completely.
A third time the cannon roared. Then the sorcerers stepped to one side,
disclosing to the view a man firmly bound, who lay on the ground in the
midst of them.
The _amantzin_ addressed the multitude: "Listen to me, all you who
hear me. You know why we are here assembled: our great father, the
Sun, has smiled at our success. The Wacondah has fought on our side,
according to the promise of our illustrious chief. This _atepelt_ is
now ours. The chief elected by ourselves to command and defend us is
the Tigercat. In his name and our own we now offer to the Master of
life the sacrifice most agreeable to him, in order that he may still
continue his almighty protection. Sorcerers, bring hither the victim!"
The _amantzins_ seized the unhappy wretch they guarded, and laid him
upon the altar. He was a Mexican, taken prisoner at the capture of the
old _presidio_. The pulquero, in whose house one of the first scenes of
this story was laid, had, from avarice, refused to quit his miserable
_pulquería_, and had fallen into the hands of the redskins.
In the meantime, Don Torribio felt his strength gradually deserting
him. His eyes grew more bloodshot, his ears were stunned, his temples
throbbed violently, and he was obliged to support himself by one of the
arms of his seat.
"What ails you?" said Doña Hermosa.
"I know not," he replied; "the heat--agitation, perhaps: I am choking.
But it is nothing."
The _pulquero_, extended on the altar, had been stripped of his
garments. The wretch uttered shouts of terror. The _amantzin_
approached him, brandishing his knife.
"It is horrible," cried Doña Hermosa, hiding her face in her hands.
"Silence!" said Don Torribio; "the sacrifice must be completed."
The sorcerer, heedless of the cries of the victim coolly examined him
to find the right place for the blow; while the miserable prisoner,
with eyes unnaturally distended, gazed at him with an expression of
fear impossible to describe. Suddenly the _amantzin_ raised the knife,
and, thrusting it into the chest of his victim, laid it open the whole
length of the ribs. The wretched man uttered a horrible cry. Then
the sorcerer plunged his hand into the gaping breast of the victim,
and tore out the palpitating heart; while his assistants carefully
collected the blood that was flowing in torrents. The sufferer writhed
in agony, still making superhuman efforts to break his bonds.
While this was doing, the _sachems_ in a body ascended the stage, and
seating the Tigercat on the _butaca_, raised him on their shoulders,
shouting enthusiastically "Long live the conqueror of the palefaces,
the great _sachem_ of the Apaches!"
The sorcerers meanwhile sprinkled the crowd with the blood of the
sacrifice; and the redskins, frenzied with excitement, rent the air
with deafening clamour.
"At last," said the Tigercat proudly, "I have kept my promise: I have
driven the palefaces from this country for ever."
"Not yet," exclaimed Don Pedro, in cutting tones; "look hither."
A sudden change had indeed come over the scene. The _vaqueros_, up to
this time impassive spectators, suddenly charged, the unarmed Indians:
Mexican troops fell upon them from all the entrances to the square: and
all the windows were manned by whites armed with muskets, who poured
down a pitiless fire on the redskins.
In the centre of the square were Don Fernando Carril, Luciano Pedralva,
and Don Estevan, who mercilessly rode in upon the Indians, shouting:
"Down with them! Down with them! Slay! Slay!"
"_¡Caray!_" exclaimed Don Torribio, waving the _totem;_ "What horrible
treachery is this?" He rushed forward to fly to the side of the
redskins; but he tottered--a dark veil obstructed his sight--and he
sank on his knees. "God!" cried he, "What has happened to me?"
"You are dying," whispered Don Estevan in his ear; "that is what is
happening." And he seized him fiercely by the arm.
"You lie, dog!" said Don Torribio, trying to release himself. "I will
go and help my brothers."
"Your brothers are slain, as you intended to have slain tomorrow Don
Pedro, Doña Hermosa, Don Fernando, and myself. Die, wretch, with rage
at seeing your treachery meet its reward! I have given you _leche de
palio_[1] to drink; you are poisoned."
"Ah!" said he despairingly, and dragging himself on his knees to the
edge of the platform; "Woe to me; woe; God is just."
In the square the Mexicans were making a horrible carnage. "Remember
Don José de Kalbris," they cried; "revenge Major Barnum!"
It was no battle; it was a fearful butchery. Several of the chiefs,
flying before Don Fernando, Luciano, and Don Estevan, threw themselves
upon the stage as a last place of refuge.
"Ha!" shouted Don Torribio, with a bound like a jaguar, seizing Don
Fernando by the throat; "At least I shall not die unavenged." A moment
of terrible anxiety ensued. "No," he continued, quitting his grasp on
his foe, and falling backwards, "it would be the act of a coward. My
life belongs to this man; he won it from me."
The bystanders could not repress a cry of admiration. Don Fernando
coolly raised his rifle to his shoulder, and discharged its contents
point-blank into the breast of the man stretched at his feet.
"Thus perish all traitors!" he cried.
"Great God!" freely exclaimed Don Torribio, by a supreme effort rising
to his knees, and looking up to heaven with an expression of sublime
hope irradiating his features,--"Great God, I thank Thee! Thou hast
forgiven me!" One last smile of unutterable happiness glided over his
face; he fell back and expired.
Meanwhile Doña Hermosa had disappeared. When the Tigercat, who had been
fighting like a lion in the midst of the fray, perceived that all was
lost, and nothing but flight could save him from the fate to which the
Mexicans had doomed him, should he fall into their hands, he rallied
around him a handful of his bravest warriors, seized Doña Hermosa,
regardless of her cries and prayers, threw her across his saddle,
spurred his horse into the thickest of the _mêlée_, cut his passage
through, and, followed by his faithful braves, succeeded in getting out
of the town and gaining the prairie.
It was too late for pursuit when the Mexicans became aware of his
flight; the old freebooter was already beyond their reach, carrying his
prey with him, like an eagle bearing a lamb in his talons.
[1] Literally, milk from a pall; poison.