Cambiaso’s trial--His execution--His character--Garcia--My interview
with him--The officer saved by Garcia--His wife’s gratitude--Mr.
Duer’s kindness--Mr. Dunn--Captain Avalos--Conclusion.
During the time that I had been occupied in endeavoring to obtain a
recognition of my claims from the Chilian government, the trial of
Cambiaso, Garcia, and the other ringleaders among the rebels, had been
going on at Valparaiso.
Cambiaso’s trial was not public, and I was not called in during its
course; consequently I could know but little of it. I attended the
execution myself, painful as the sight was to me, from a strange
desire which I had to see the last of men who had caused me so much
suffering, and from a wish to know how they would meet their fate.
Cambiaso was led out heavily ironed, and therefore little could be
judged of the state of his feelings from his bearing or appearance; but
he certainly showed no positive cowardice.
I have sometimes thought, in reflecting on the intercourse I had with
him, and the traits of character he manifested, that he had naturally
fine abilities, which, under a different training and different
circumstances, might have led him through a brilliant course. He had,
however, a fatal vanity, which was constantly a stronger temptation to
him than his principles of right were able to withstand. Much of his
cruelty seemed to me to arise from a sort of bravado, and a desire to
impress his followers with a great idea of his power and his courage.
I came to this conclusion from noticing that his words were always
more cruel than his actions, and yet that his threats did not seem to
be uttered under the influence of passion; on the contrary, they were
delivered in a grandiloquent manner which sometimes would have made
me feel inclined to laugh, if the subjects had not generally been too
serious for a joke.
His personal vanity was also very great; and, indeed, he had some
excuse for it, for he was certainly a very handsome man. His dress
was always very gaudy--sometimes blue, with gilt trimmings, sometimes
green--always with two epaulets, and he went constantly armed. I have
called him cowardly, but perhaps in that I have done him injustice. It
is possible that what seemed cowardice to me, was only the workings
of a sensitive conscience; and that his shunning the eye of those
with whom he talked was from a sense of guilt; his punishment may
have already begun in his remorse. There were certainly two or three
slight indications of this during our intercourse; for instance, he was
constantly promising me reparation for the wrongs he had done me, “when
we should reach port,” or “when general Cruz should come into power;”
and after each new crime he seemed to harden himself against the
recollection of it by some drunken frolic with the men, or some unusual
display. I cannot forget that my situation made it almost impossible
for me to judge him with impartiality; and how difficult it is in any
situation for one man to judge of the temptations of another, or of
what may be urged in his excuse.
Cambiaso had a wife living near San Carlos, but I was told that she was
not a woman of good character, and that he had separated from her. I
hope he had no children to inherit the disgrace attached to his name.
Garcia was not acquitted by the court martial, on the ground of his
being compelled to follow Cambiaso from fear of his life, and in
consideration of various acts of humanity which he had performed, and
which were repeated by the rebels themselves, but held for a second
trial. After his first trial, I called upon him, and found his sister
with him. She was evidently a lady, and I understood that his family
were among the most respectable in Valparaiso. He received me very
politely--even kindly--and congratulated me on my escape; at the same
time thanking me for some kindnesses which I had been able to show him
during his imprisonment on the Florida.
While I was in Valparaiso, I saw (in his prison,) the officer whose
life was spared through Garcia’s interference. He was obliged to have
his second trial, and as his wife visited him daily, he asked me to
come and see him again, saying that she wanted to thank me for my
sympathy on the night that he was condemned by Cambiaso. These marks of
gratitude for slight favors made me feel that no men are so far wrong
that some good feeling does not often show itself, when occasion calls
it out; and that the saying which I have heard somewhere, that “the
difference between the best good man and the worst bad man in this
world is not nearly so great in the eyes of God as it is in our eyes,”
is perhaps very true.
In this narrative, I have endeavored to speak impartially of every one
whom I have had occasion to mention; and in cases where I have had
occasion to record wrongs done to me, I have endeavored to give only
a plain, straightforward narrative of facts, without allowing my own
feelings to bias me more than must needs be.
In regard to the salvage question, I cannot but feel that I have been
treated unjustly, both by the Chilian government and by the British
officers at Valparaiso; but I have endeavored to state the facts as
they occurred, leaving the judgment of the case with my countrymen.
I am glad to take occasion here to thank Mr. Duer, not only for the
assistance which he rendered me, in the way of his office, but for the
kindness and sympathy which I received from him; for the ready interest
which he showed in my affairs; and for the activity with which he
followed up my claims.
There are those to whom the reading of this narrative will bring great
pain, because it will bring vividly before their minds the sad fate of
a dear relative. I refer to the friends of Mr. Shaw. To them I can only
offer my deep sympathy, and the assurance that Mr. Shaw was to me not
simply a companion, but a deeply valued friend, and that my grief for
him was lasting and deep.
To Mr. Dunn and captain Avalos I render my thanks for supporting me in
maintaining my authority on the Florida, and for the kindness which
they showed me after I reached Valparaiso.
Last of all, let me render thanks to that Providence which has rescued
me from so many and such great dangers, and restored me to my family
and friends, when I had so much reason to despair of ever meeting them
again.
I have given this narrative to the public from the thought that my
adventures and escapes would not be without their interest to my
countrymen; and that the plain, unpretending narrative of a sea-faring
man from their own shores, would show to landsmen what they sometimes
suffer who “go down to the sea in ships.”
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Text in italics is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
FOOTNOTES:
[A] Six months in Italy. By George S. Hillard.