REZANOV

I

As the little ship that had three times raced with death sailed past

the gray headlands and into the straits of San Francisco on that

brilliant April morning of 1806, Rezanov forgot the bitter

humiliations, the mental and physical torments, the deprivations and

dangers of the past three years; forgot those harrowing months in the

harbor of Nagasaki when the Russian bear had caged his tail in the

presence of eyes aslant; his dismay at Kamchatka when he had been

forced to send home another to vindicate his failure, and to remain in

the Tsar's incontiguous and barbarous northeastern possessions as

representative of his Imperial Majesty, and plenipotentiary of the

Company his own genius had created; forgot the year of loneliness and

hardship and peril in whose jaws the bravest was impotent; forgot even

his pitiable crew, diseased when he left Sitka, that had filled the

Juno with their groans and laments; and the bells of youth, long still,

rang in his soul once more.

"It is the spring in California," he thought, with a sigh that curled

at the edge. "However," life had made him philosophical; "the moments

of unreasonable happiness are the most enviable no doubt, for there is

neither gall nor satiety in the reaction. All this is as enchanting

as--well, as a woman's promise. What lies beyond? Illiterate and

mercenary Spaniards, vicious natives, and boundless ennui, one may

safely wager. But if all California is as beautiful as this, no man

that has spent a winter in Sitka should ask for more."

In the extent and variety of his travels Rezanov had seen Nature more

awesome of feature but never more fair. On his immediate right as he

sailed down the straits toward the narrow entrance to be known as the

Golden Gate, there was little to interest save the surf and the masses

of outlying rocks where the seals leapt and barked; the shore beyond

was sandy and low. But on his left the last of the northern mountains

rose straight from the water, the warm red of its deeply indented

cliffs rich in harmony with the green of slope and height. There was

not a tree; the mountains, the promontories, the hills far down on the

right beyond the sand dunes, looked like stupendous waves of lava that

had cooled into every gracious line and fold within the art of

relenting Nature; granted ages after, a light coat of verdure to clothe

the terrible mystery of birth. The great bay, as blue and tranquil as

a high mountain lake, as silent as if the planet still slept after the

agonies of labor, looked to be broken by a number of promontories,

rising from their points far out in the water to the high back of the

land; but as the Juno pursued her slanting way down the channel Rezanov

saw that the most imposing of these was but the end of a large island,

and that scattered near were other islands, masses of rock like the

castellated heights that rise abruptly from the plains of Italy and

Spain; far away, narrow straits, with a glittering expanse beyond;

while bounding the whole eastern rim of this splendid sheet of water

was a chain of violet hills, with the pale green mist of new grass here

and there, and purple hollows that might mean groves of trees crouching

low against the cold winds of summer; in the soft pale blue haze above

and beyond, the lofty volcanic peak of a mountain range. Not a human

being, not a boat, not even a herd of cattle was to be seen, and

Rezanov, for a moment forgetting to exult in the length of Russia's

arm, yielded himself to the subtle influence abroad in the air, and

felt that he could dream as he had dreamed in a youth when the courts

of Europe to the boy were as fabulous as El Dorado in the immensity of

ancestral seclusions.

"It is like the approach to paradise, is it not, Excellency?" a

deferential voice murmured at his elbow.

The plenipotentiary frowned without turning his head. Dr. Langsdorff,

surgeon and naturalist, had accompanied the Embassy to Japan, and

although Rezanov had never found any man more of a bore and would

willingly have seen the last of him at Kamchatka, a skilful dispenser

of drugs and mender of bones was necessary in his hazardous voyages,

and he retained him in his suite. Langsdorff returned his polite

tolerance with all the hidden resources of his spleen; but his

curiosity and scientific enthusiasm would have sustained him through

greater trials than the exactions of an autocrat, whom at least he had

never ceased to respect in the most trying moments at Nagasaki.

"Yes," said Rezanov. "But I wonder you find anything to admire in such

unportable objects as mountains and water. I have not seen a living

thing but gulls and seal, and God knows we had enough of both at Sitka."

"Ah, your excellency, in a land as fertile as this, and caressed by a

climate that would coax life from a stone, there must be an infinite

number of aquatic and aerial treasures that will add materially to the

scientific lore of Europe."

"Humph!" said Rezanov, and moved his shoulder in an uncontrollable

gesture of dismissal. But the spell of the April morning was broken,

although the learned doctor was not to be the only offender.

The Golden Gate is but a mile in width and the swift current carried

the Juno toward a low promontory from the base of which a shrill cry

suddenly ascended. Rezanov, raising his glass, saw that what he had

taken to be a pile of fallen rocks was a fort, and that a group of

excited men stood at its gates. Once more the plenipotentiary on a

delicate mission, he ordered the two naval officers sailing the ship to

come forward, and retired to the dignified isolation of the cabin.

The high-spirited young officers, who would have raised a gay hurrah at

the sight of civilized man had it not been for the awe in which they

held their chief, saluted the Spaniards formally, then stood in an

attitude of extreme respect; the Juno was directly under the guns of

the fort.

One of the Spaniards raised a speaking trumpet and shouted:

"Who are you?"

No one on the Juno, save Rezanov, could speak a word of Spanish, but

the tone of the query was its own interpreter. The oldest of the

lieutenants, through the ship's trumpet, shouted back:

"The Juno--Sitka--Russian."

The Spanish officer made a peremptory gesture that the ship come to

anchor in the shelter given by an immense angle of the mainland, of

which the fort's point was the western extreme. The Russians, as

befitted the peaceful nature of their mission, obeyed without delay.

Before their resting place, and among the sand hills a mile from the

beach, was a quadrangle of buildings some two hundred feet square and

surrounded by a wall about fourteen feet high and seven feet thick.

This they knew to be the Presidio. They saw the officers that had

hailed them gallop over the hill behind the fort to the more ambitious

enclosure, and, in the square, confer with another group that seemed to

be in a corresponding state of excitement. A few moments later a

deputation of officers, accompanied by a priest in the brown habit of

the Franciscan order, started on horseback for the beach. Rezanov

ordered Lieutenant Davidov and Dr. Langsdorff to the shore as his

representatives.

The Spaniards wore the undress uniform of black and scarlet in which

they had been surprised, but their peaked straw hats were decorated

with cords of gold or silver, the tassels hanging low on the broad

brim; their high deer-skin boots were gaily embroidered, and bristled

with immense silver spurs. The commanding officer alone had invested

himself with a gala serape, a square of red cloth with a bound and

embroidered slit for the head. Leading the rapid procession, his left

hand resting significantly on his sword, he was a fine specimen of the

young California grandee, dark and dashing and reckless, lithe of

figure, thoroughbred, ardent. His eyes were sparkling at the prospect

of excitement; not only had the Russians, by their nefarious

appropriation of the northwestern corner of the continent and a recent

piratical excursion in pursuit of otter, inspired the Spanish

Government with a profound disapproval and mistrust, but a rumor had

run up the coast that made every sea-gull look like the herald of a

hostile fleet. This was young Arguello's first taste of command, and

life was dull on the northern peninsula; he would have welcomed a

declaration of war.

Davidov and Langsdorff had come to shore in one of the JUNO'S canoes.

The conversation was held in Latin between the two men of learning.

"Who are you and whence come you?" asked the priest.

Langsdorff, who had been severely drilled by the plenipotentiary as to

text, replied with a profound bow: "We are Russians engaged in

completing the circumnavigation of the globe. It was our intention to

go directly to Monterey and present our official documents, as well as

our respects, to your illustrious Governor, but owing to contrary winds

and a resultant scarcity of provisions, we were under the necessity of

putting into the nearest harbor. The Juno is navigated by Lieutenant

Davidov and Lieutenant Khovstov, of the Imperial Navy of Russia; by

gracious permission associated with the Marine of the Russo-American

Company." He paused a moment, and then swept out his trump card with a

magnificent flourish: "Our expedition is in command of His Excellency,

Privy Counsellor and Grand Chamberlain Baron Rezanov, late Ambassador

to the Court of Japan, Plenipotentiary of the Russo-American Company,

Imperial Inspector of the extreme eastern and northwestern American

dominions of His Imperial Majesty, Alexander the First, Emperor of all

the Russias, whose representatives in these waters he is."

The Spaniards were properly impressed as the priest translated with the

glibness of the original; but Arguello, who announced himself as

Commandante ad interim of the Presidio of San Francisco during the

absence of his father at Monterey, nodded sagely several times, and

then held a short conference in Spanish with the interpreter. The

priest turned to the Russians with a smile as diplomatic as that which

Rezanov had drilled upon the ugly ingenuous countenance of his medicine

man.

"Our illustrious Governor, Don Jose Arrillaga, received word from the

court of Spain, now quite two years ago, of the sailing in 1803 from

Kronstadt of the ships Nadeshda and Neva, in command of Captain

Krusenstern and Captain Lisiansky, the former having on board the

illustrious Ambassador to Japan, the Privy Counsellor and Chamberlain

de Rezanov. It was expected that these ships would touch at more than

one of His Most Holy Catholic Majesty's vast dominions, and all

viceroys and gobernador proprietarios were alike instructed to receive

the exalted representatives of the mighty Emperor of Russia with

hospitality and respect. But we cannot understand why his excellency

comes to us so late and in so small a ship, rather than in the state

with which he sailed from Europe."

"The explanation is simple, my father. The original ships, from a

variety of circumstances, were, upon our arrival at Kamchatka, at the

conclusion of the embassy to Japan, under the necessity of returning at

once to Europe. His Imperial Majesty, Alexander the First, ordered the

Chamberlain and plenipotentiary, the representative of imperial power

in the Russo-American possessions, to remove to the Juno for the

purpose of visiting the Kurile and Aleutian Islands, Kadiak and the

northwestern coast of America." The Tsar had never heard of the Juno,

but as Rezanov was practically his august self in these far-away

waters, there was enough of truth in this statement to appease the

conscience of a subordinate.

The Spaniards were satisfied. Lieutenant Arguello begged that the

emissaries would return to the ship and invite the Chamberlain and his

party to come at once to the Presidio and do it the honor to partake of

the poor hospitality it afforded. An officer galloped furiously for

horses.

A few moments later they were still more deeply impressed by the

appearance of their distinguished visitor as he stood erect in the boat

that brought him to shore. In full uniform of dark green and gold

lace, with cocked hat and the splendid order of St. Ann on his breast,

Rezanov was by far the finest specimen of a man the Californians,

themselves of ampler build than their European ancestors, had ever

beheld. Of commanding stature and physique, with an air of highest

breeding and repose, he looked both a man of the great world and an

intolerant leader of men. His long oval face was thin and somewhat

lined, the mouth heavily moulded and closely set, suggestive of sarcasm

and humor; the nose long, with arching and flexible nostrils. His eyes,

seldom widely opened, were light blue, very keen, usually cold. Like

many other men of his position in Europe, he had discarded wig and

queue and wore his short fair hair unpowdered.

It was a singularly imposing but hardly attractive presence, thought

young Arguello, until Rezanov, after stepping on shore and bowing

formally, suddenly smiled and held out his hand. Then the

impressionable Spaniard "melted like a woman," as he told his sister,

Concha, and would have embraced the stranger on either cheek had not

awe lingered to temper his enthusiasm. But Rezanov never made a

stauncher friend than Louis Arguello, who vowed to the last of his days

that the one man who had fulfilled his ideal of the grand seigneur was

he that sailed in from the North on that fateful April morning of 1806.