There was no performance after all in the Presidio square that night,
for the bear brought in from the hills to do honor to the Russians died
of excitement, and it rained besides. Rezanov made the storm his
excuse for not dining and dancing as usual at the house of the
Commandante. But the relations between the Presidio and the Juno
during the next few days were by no means strained. Davidov and
Khostov were always with the Spanish officers, drinking and card
playing, or improving their dancing and Spanish with the girls, whose
guitars were tuned for the waltz day and night. The dignitaries met as
usual and conversed on all topics save those paramount in the minds of
each. Nevertheless, there were three significant facts as well known
to Rezanov as had they been aired to his liking.
He had sought an interview with Father Abella, and tactfully ignoring
the question of his marriage, had persuaded that astute and influential
priest to make the proposition regarding his cargo that Concha had
suggested. The priest, backed by his three coadjutors, had made it,
and been repulsed with fury. From another quarter Rezanov learned that
during his absence little else was discussed in the house of the
Commandante save his formidable matrimonial project, and the supposed
designs to his country. Troops had been ordered from the south to
reinforce the San Francisco garrisons, and were even now massed at
Santa Clara, within a day's march of the bay.
About a mile from the Presidio and almost opposite the Juno's anchorage
were six great stone tubs sunken in the ground and filled by a spring
of clear water. Here, once a week, the linen, fine and heavy, of Fort
and Presidio was washed, the stoutest serving women of households and
barracks meeting at dawn and scrubbing for half a day. Rezanov had
watched the bright picture they made--for they wore a bit of every hue
they could command--with a lazy interest, which quickened to thirst
when he heard that they were the most reliable newsmongers in the
country. In every Presidial district was a similar institution, and
the four were known as the "Wash Tub Mail." Many of the women were
selected by the tyrants of the tubs for their comeliness, and each had
a lover in the couriers that went regularly with mail and official
instructions from one end of the Californias to the other. All
important news was known first by these women, and much was discussed
over the tubs that was long in reaching higher but no less interested
circles; and domestic bulletins were as eagerly prized. The sailor
that brought this information to Rezanov was a good-looking and
susceptible youth, already the victim of an Indian maiden from the
handsome tribe in the Santa Clara Valley, and sister of Dona Ignacia's
Malia. Rezanov furnished him with beads and other trinkets and was at
no disadvantage thereafter.
There was nothing Rezanov would have liked better than to see a Russian
fleet sail through the straits, but he also knew that nothing was less
likely, and that from such rumors he should only derive further
annoyance and delay. Two of his sailors deserted at the prospect of
war, and his hosts, if neutral, were manifestly alert. Luis and
Santiago had been obliged to go to Monterey for a few days, and there
was no one at the Presidio in whom Rezanov could confide either his
impatience to see Concha or at the adjournment of his more prosaic but
no less pressing interests. These two young men had been with him
almost constantly since his arrival, and demonstrated their friendship
and even affection unfailingly; but there was no love lost between
himself and Gervasio. This young hidalgo had the hauteur and intense
family pride of Santiago without his younger brother's frank
intelligence and lingering ingenuousness. With all the superiority and
inferiority, he had made himself so unpopular that his real kindness of
heart atoned for his absurdities only with those that knew him best.
Rezanov was not one of these nor aspired to be. Like all highly
seasoned men of the world, he had no patience with the small vanities
of the provincial, and although diplomatically courteous to all, in his
present precarious position, he had taken too little trouble to
conciliate Gervasio to find him of use in the absence of his friends.
At the end of three days Rezanov had forgotten his cargo, and would
have sent the Juno to the bottom for ten minutes alone with Concha. He
had been on fire with love of her since the moment of his actual
surrender, and he was determined to have her if there were no other
recourse but elopement. All his old and intense love of personal
freedom had melted out of form in the crucible of his lover's
imagination. That he should have doubted for a moment that Concha was
the woman for whom his soul had held itself aloof and unshackled was a
matter for contemptuous wonder, and the pride he had taken in his keen
and swift perceptive faculties suffered an eclipse. Mind and soul and
body he was a lover, a union unknown before.
On the fourth morning, his patience at an end, he was about to leave
the Juno to demand a formal interview with Don Jose when he saw Luis
and Santiago dismount at the beach and enter the canoe always in
waiting. A few moments later they had helped themselves to cigarettes
from the gift of the Tsar and were assuring Rezanov of their
partisanship and approval.
"We were somewhat taken aback at the first moment," Luis admitted.
"But--well, we are both in love--Santiago no less than I, although I
have had these six long years of waiting and am likely to have another.
And we love Concha as few men love their sisters, for there is no one
like her--is it not so, Rezanov? And we quite understand why she has
chosen you, and why she stands firm, for we know the strength of her
character. We would that you were a Catholic, but even so, we will not
sit by and see her life ruined, and we have called to assure you that
we shall use all our influence, every adroit argument, to bring our
parents to a more reasonable frame of mind. They have already risen
above the first natural impulse of selfishness, and would consent to
the inevitable separation were you only a Catholic. I have also talked
with the Governor--we arrived at midnight--and he flew into a terrible
temper--the poor man is already like a mad bull at bay--but if my
father yielded, he would--on all points. This morning I shall ride
over and talk with Father Abella, who, I fancy, needs only a little
extra pressure--you may be sure Concha has not been idle--to yield; and
for more reasons than one. I shall enlist Father Uria and Father de la
Cueva as well. They also have great influence with my parents, and as
they return to San Jose in two days to prepare for the visit of the
most estimable Dr. Langsdorff, there is no time to lose. I shall go
this morning. One more cigarito, senor, and when that treaty is drawn
remember the conversion of your brother to Russian tobacco."
Rezanov thanked him so warmly, assured him with so convincing an
emphasis that with his fate in such competent hands his mind was at
peace, that the ardent heart of the Californian exulted; Rezanov, with
his splendid appearance, and typical of the highest civilizations of
Europe, had descended upon his narrow sphere with the authority of a
demigod, and he not only thirsted to serve him, but to fasten him to
California with the surest of human bonds.
As he dropped over the side of the ship, Rezanov's hand fell lightly on
the shoulder of Santiago.
"I can wait no longer to see your sister," he whispered, mindful of the
sterner responsibilities of the older brother. "Do you think you
could--"
Santiago nodded. "While Luis is at the Mission I shall go to my cousin
Juan Moraga's. You will dine with us at the Presidio, and I shall
escort you back to the ship."