THE ENVOY.
The election over, all, in appearance, returned to the old routine, or
at least seemed to re-assume its normal condition. Still it was not so.
The Count de Lhorailles, in dying, had borne with him the hopes of the
adventurers, whom he had only kept together through his resolute and
enterprising character. With his fall, matters began to change, and
difficulties spring up.
The Mexican authorities, in whom the indomitable will of the count had
alone inspired an apparent kindness toward the colonists, whom they
had never liked to see establish themselves on the territory of the
Republic, no longer apprehending the vengeance of the man they had
learned to fear while learning to know him, very gently and craftily
inaugurated a system of minor annoyances, which was already beginning to
render the position of the French difficult, and would soon cause it to
be intolerable, unless the latter employed an energetic remedy for this
state of things, which grew hourly worse. On the other hand, though the
colony was so remote from the seaboard, rumours of what was going on
in the rest of the world reached it at intervals. Emigrants in troops
passed through Guetzalli: all were proceeding to California, for that
was the promised land at the moment.
All these emigrants--gambusinos, or Mexican adventurers--only dreamed
of inexhaustible placers and mines of immense wealth. The gold
fever--that horrible malady which the English so well stigmatised by
energetically calling it the "metallic gold fever"--was at its height.
From all corners of the world, Europeans, Asiatics, Africans, Americans,
Polynesians, adventurers of every description, settled like swarms of
ill-omened locusts on this country, which was destined to prove fatal to
them, and swallow them up after unheard-of sufferings.
In this impious crusade of the vilest appetites the watchword was
"Gold--gold!" These men, who abandoned country, family, everything, in
a word, had only one desire--to amass gold. It was a hideous sight.
And these bands succeeded each other at the colony, with their eyes
obstinately fixed on the horizon, and only replying two words to the
questions asked them: "California--placers." In order to conquer this
metal king all means would be good to them: nothing would check them.
They were ready for anything--to commit the most odious crimes, the most
infamous treachery, the most ignoble acts of cowardice.
Unfortunately for the colonists, the adventurers who passed near their
abode all belonged to the most ignorant, corrupted, and ferocious
classes of Mexico. In spite of themselves, the Frenchmen, whose object
had been, at the outset, to work the mines, felt the desire aroused in
them to return to the Eldorado they had left, and demand their share
of the spoil. A man, however strong he may be, cannot with impunity
hear the word "gold" constantly buzzing in his ears. In the strange
connection of these four letters there is an immense attractive power,
which sharpens up avarice, and arouses all the evil instincts.
The colonists of Guetzalli were honest and frank adventurers. The
majority had quitted Europe with the desire of enriching themselves
rapidly in that mysterious country about which they heard such marvels.
Subdued by the ascendency the count had managed to acquire over them,
they had tacitly accepted the position made for them, and, by the aid
of habit, had gradually come, not to forget their past desires, but to
consider them as mocking chimeras and unrealisable dreams. The events
which afterwards happened in the colony, and the golden halo suddenly
spread abroad by California, gave a body to these dreams, and enkindled
their covetousness to the highest pitch.
Charles de Laville followed with a shudder the progress of this moral
disorganisation of the colony. He understood in his heart that the enemy
he must conquer, in order to become once more master of his companions,
was that old adventurous leaven which still fomented in their hearts,
and caused them to hate the calm and peaceful life they led, instead
of that agitated existence, with its strange interludes, to which they
secretly aspired, perhaps without suspecting it themselves. For it is a
singular anomaly in the human heart that these men, who wished for gold
at any price, who coveted it with unequalled frenzy, and who, to possess
it, braved the most terrible perils, and suffered the most horrible
misery, did not care for it when they possessed it, but regarded it with
disdain, and threw it uncounted on the tables of the gambling houses,
or of places still more infamous. It might be said that the gold so
painfully amassed burned their fingers, and they were anxious to get rid
of it. And that was true, especially in the case of the French. Gold
with them had no value except in proportion to the difficulties they met
with in acquiring it. True adventurers in the fullest sense of the term,
what they loved was not the gold for itself, but the struggles it cost
them, and the energy and courage they must expend in its research.
Charles was thoroughly acquainted with the character of the men he
commanded He knew that, in order to keep them with him, it would be
sufficient to supply an outlet for this superabundance of sap, this
vivacity of imagination, which filled the hearts and heads of these
extraordinary men. But how to obtain this result? What means should
he employ? Charles racked his brains in vain: the spark did not
strike--there was no light he could throw on the matter.
About this time two Frenchmen, who had formed part of the count's
last expedition, and who were believed long ago dead, reappeared at
Guetzalli. Great was the amazement of all on seeing them, although so
haggard, half naked, and scarce able to stand; but still greater grew
that amazement when, two days after their return, on finding themselves
slightly recovered, owing to the kind attentions shown them, and able to
speak, they commenced the incredible narrative of their adventures.
What had happened to them may be told in fewer words than the men
employed. The frightful hurricane that assailed the count's band had
surprised them some distance from the spot where their companions had
taken refuge, and rendered it impossible to rejoin them. They sheltered
themselves as well as they could during the tempest; but when it was
over, they perceived, to their horror, that every trace, every footmark,
had disappeared.
Before them, behind them, and around them extended the desert, gloomy,
naked, and desolate. As far as their eye could reach they perceived
on all sides sand---sand everywhere and always. Then they believed
themselves lost; despair took possession of them; and they fell back on
the ground, resolved to await death, which would doubtless soon arrive
to put an end to their misery. They remained thus side by side, with
drooping heads and lacklustre eyes, in that state of complete apathy
which seizes on the strongest men after great catastrophes, suspends in
them the inward feeling of self, and interrupts their thoughts.
How long did they remain in this condition? They were unable to tell.
They no longer lived, they no longer felt--they vegetated. They were
suddenly aroused from this extraordinary listlessness by the appearance
of a band of Apache Indians, who galloped round them, uttering ferocious
yells, and brandishing their long lances with an air of defiance and
menace. The Indians seized them, as they were incapable of offering the
slightest resistance, and led them to one of their villages, where they
kept them in a state of the most disgraceful and humiliating slavery.
But the energy of the two adventurers, for an instant crushed, soon
gained the mastery again over their hearts. With extreme patience,
skill, and dissimulation they made the preparations for their flight. We
will not enter into any details as to the manner in which they succeeded
in escaping from the watchfulness of their guardians, and managed at
length to reach the colony by a roundabout road, crushed with fatigue,
and half dead with hunger, but arrive at once at the most important
point in their narrative.
These men declared to the colonists that the village to which the
Apaches led them was built within gunshot of a placer of incalculable
value--that this placer was extremely easy to work, as the gold was on
the surface. As a proof of their veracity they showed several nuggets
of the finest gold, which they had managed to secure, and pledged
themselves to lead to this placer, which was not more than ten days'
journey from the colony, any of the adventurers who would consent to
take them as guides, assuring them that they would be amply rewarded for
their toil and fatigue by the rich harvest they would obtain.
This recital greatly interested the colonists. Charles de Laville, in
particular, lent a lively attention to it. He made the men repeat their
story several times, and they did not once vary from their original
statement. The captain had at length found the means he had been vainly
searching so long. Now he was certain not only that his comrades would
not abandon him, but that they would obey him blindly in all that he
thought proper to order them. The same day he informed the colonists
that he was preparing an expedition to go in search of the placer,
dislodge the Indians, and work it for the profit of all the paction.
The news was received with transports of joy, and de Laville immediately
began carrying out his plan. Although the number of colonists had
greatly diminished (for frequent desertions had taken place), still
Guetzalli counted nearly two hundred colonists. It was of the utmost
importance to the gold-seekers to keep up the colony, as the only place
whence they could obtain provisions when at the mine; for, as we have
said, Guetzalli, as the advanced post of civilisation, had been founded
on the extreme limit of the desert. This position, chosen originally in
order to oppose the Indians more effectually, and stop their periodical
incursions upon the Mexican territory, became precious in the present
instance, through the facility it afforded the adventurers for supplying
themselves with all they needed without having recourse to strangers;
and this enabled them also to keep the discovery of the placer secret,
at any rate long enough, owing to the distance of the _pueblos_ from
the frontier, to render it impossible for the Mexican Government to
interpose and demand the lion's share, according to its usual custom.
The captain did not wish to strip the colony thoroughly, for he must
leave it in a respectable position, and safe from a sudden attack on
the part of the Apaches and Comanches, those implacable foes of the
white men, ever on the watch, and ready to profit by their slightest
oversight. De Laville therefore decided that the expedition should
be composed of eighty well-mounted and well-armed men, and that the
others should remain behind to protect the colony. Still, to avoid any
dissension or jealousy among his comrades, the captain declared that
lots should decide who were to go in search of the placer.
This expedient, which rendered everybody equal, was warmly approved,
and they proceeded to draw lots. The process was extremely simple: the
name of each adventurer was written on a roll of paper and thrown into
a vessel, whence a boy drew them one by one. Of course the eighty names
that came out first would be the members of the expedition. Thus, as the
arrangement was most simple, and at the same time perfectly fair, no one
had a right to complain.
All was done as was agreed. Chance, as so frequently happens, favoured
the captain by selecting the most energetic and enterprising men.
Then all eagerly prepared for the departure; that is to say, they
collected provisions of every description, got together mules, and made
the tools required for working the mine. Still, in spite of all the
activity displayed by the captain, nearly a month elapsed ere all was in
readiness.
The frightful catastrophe to which the Count de Lhorailles had fallen
a victim in the great Del Norte desert, which the adventurers would
have to cross in going to the placer, was a serious warning to de
Laville to act with the utmost prudence, and leave nothing to chance.
Hence, without listening in the slightest degree to the impatient
insinuations of his comrades, who urged him to press on the departure
of the expedition, he watched with the most scrupulous attention the
construction of the carts intended to convey the provisions, and allowed
no detail, however trifling, to escape his careful eye; for he knew that
the loss of an hour in the desert, produced by the breaking of a screw,
a tire, or a trace, might cause the death of the men placed under his
orders.
At last all was ready, and the day for starting settled. Within
forty-eight hours the expedition would leave Guetzalli, when, at about
five in the evening, just as the captain, after giving a final glance at
the wagons already loaded and arranged in the courtyard, was about to
re-enter his house, the sentry on the isthmus announced the arrival of a
stranger. As soon as the captain felt assured that it was a white man,
and that he wore the uniform of a Mexican field officer, he ordered his
admission to the colony. The barrier was at once raised, and the colonel
(for he wore the insignia of that rank) entered Guetzalli, followed by
two lanceros, who served as his escort, and a mule bearing his baggage.
The captain advanced to meet him. The colonel dismounted, threw the
reins to a lancero, and bowed politely to the captain, who returned the
salute with equal courtesy.
"With whom have I the honour of speaking?" he asked the stranger.
"I am," the latter answered, "Colonel Vicente Suarez, aide-de-camp to
General Don Sebastian Guerrero, Governor-General of the province of
Sonora."
"I am delighted, Señor Don Vicente, at the chance afforded me of making
jour acquaintance. You must be fatigued with the long journey you have
had to this place, so I trust you will not refuse to accept some modest
refreshment."
"I accept most gladly, caballero," the colonel answered with a bow; "the
more so because I have ridden so fast that I have scarce rested a minute
since leaving Pitic."
"Ah! you come from Pitic?"
"As the bird flies. I have been only four days covering the ground."
"Hum! you must be terribly fatigued in that case, for it is a long
distance, and, as you did me the honour to inform me, you have travelled
very rapidly. Be kind enough to follow me."
The colonel bowed in reply, and the captain introduced him into a room
where refreshments of every description had been prepared.
"Sit down, Don Vicente," the captain said as he drew forward a chair.
The colonel fell back into the butaca offered him with a sigh of
satisfaction, whose meaning only those who have ridden thirty leagues
at a stretch can understand. For some minutes the conversation between
the captain and his guest was interrupted, for the colonel ate and
drank with an avidity which, judging from the well-known sobriety of the
Mexicans, proved that he had fasted a long time. De Laville examined him
thoughtfully, asking himself mentally what reason was so important as to
induce Don Guerrero to send a colonel to Guetzalli, and spite of himself
he felt a vague uneasiness weighing on his heart. At length Don Vicente
drank a glass of water, wiped his mouth, and turned to the captain.
"A thousand pardons," he said, "for having behaved so unceremoniously to
you; but now I will confess to you that I was almost dead of inanition,
having eaten nothing since eight o'clock last evening."
The captain bowed.
"You do not, of course, intend to return this evening?" he asked him.
"Pardon me, caballero, if it be possible, I shall start again in an
hour."
"So soon?"
"The general ordered me to make the greatest speed."
"But your horses are half dead."
"I count on your kindness to supply me with fresh ones."
Horses were plentiful at the colony: there were more than the colonists
could use, and hence de Laville would have found no difficulty in
granting the colonel's request. Still his guest's manner seemed so
little natural, and he fancied he detected something so mysterious
about him, that he felt his alarm increased, and said,--
"I do not know, colonel, whether, in spite of my lively desire to be
agreeable to you, it will be possible for me to fulfil your request; for
horses are extremely scarce here at this moment."
The colonel made a sign of annoyance.
"_Caramba!_" he said, "that would vex me greatly."
At this moment a peon discreetly opened the door, and handed the captain
a paper, on which a few words were written in pencil. The young man,
after apologising, opened the paper and quickly read it.
"Oh!" he suddenly exclaimed, as he crumpled the paper in his hands with
considerable agitation, "he here! What can be the matter?"
"Eh?" the colonel said curiously, who had not understood the meaning of
this sentence spoken in French.
"Nothing," the other answered; "a mere personal matter." Then turning to
the peon, he said, "I am coming."
The peon bowed and left the room.
"Colonel," de Laville continued, addressing his guest, "permit me to
leave you for an instant."
And without waiting for a reply he left the room hurriedly, closing the
door carefully after him. This brusque departure totally discountenanced
the colonel.
"Oh!" he muttered, repeating in Spanish, though unconsciously, what the
captain had said in French. "What can be the matter?"
As he was a true Mexican, fond of knowing everything, and, above all,
of discovering anything people wished to keep secret from him, he rose
gently, walked to the window, pulled the mosquito curtain aside, and
looked out curiously into the yard. But it was labour in vain: the
courtyard was deserted. He then returned on tiptoe to his seat, and
began carelessly rolling a papelito, while muttering half aloud,--
"Patience! The man who knows how to wait always gains his end. I shall
obtain the clue to this mystery sooner or later."
This aside having doubtlessly consoled him for the disappointment he had
experienced, he philosophically lit his cigarette, and soon disappeared
in the midst of a dense cloud of smoke which issued from his mouth and
nostrils simultaneously. We will leave the worthy colonel enjoying this
amusement at his ease, and follow de Laville, in order to explain to the
reader the meaning of the exclamation that escaped from him on reading
the paper which the peon so unexpectedly handed to him.