BRAVING THE STORM
"A hurricane in midsummer in the temperate zone. A raging ocean, named
Pacific. A non-combatant admiral commanding a fighting fleet. What a
diabolical combination!"
"Add, the hurricane is piling water on the swelling tides at Half Moon
Bay. Soon, the Cyane, willy, nilly, deserts her sand-banks," was
Señora Valentino's doleful contribution.
"And the Yankee commodore flies his flag over Monterey, appending the
province to Yankeedom. Blast it all! I'd give a kingdom----" He
paused.
"'For a horse,' does your Shakespeare say?" smiling a little. "There
is only one thing left. If the mountain does not come to Mohammed,
then Mohammed must go to the mountain."
"Señora, put out in a small boat to the flagship, you mean? It would
be futile, and surely end in death. Now, let us go to the top of the
hill."
A bluff thickly wooded with scrub oak had sheltered them. Their
sure-footed horses nimbly climbed a precipitous path zigzagging to the
summit.
"See, señora. Look, if you can."
They were on Point Lobos crest, overhanging San Francisco Bay, with
Yerba Buena village straggling along the harbor line.
Grit and sand whistled through the air, biting the skin, choking the
throat and stinging the eyes. With arched backs and drooping heads
their mounts met the storm. A hundred invisible angry hands buffeted
the man and woman thus inquisitively breasting the humor of the
elements.
The wind lessened, as wearied by too great exertion. The spiteful
sand-drive ceased. Dimly at first, then plainly, yellow dunes
hummocked into sight. Speaking the fury of a half hemisphere of water
rose the crescendo of the surf.
Through the thinning haze they peered toward the west. There was the
sea. Miles away, under bare poles, save here and there a strip of
canvas, struggled the English fleet, each ship face to the gale, the
spyglass showed them, now rising on beam end; now sliding prow
downward; then teetering and dancing.
"Señora, Fairbanks dares not enter the harbor. It is equally
impossible for me to get out to him. The storm is rising again. We
must return to the village."
Gusts of wind pursued them as they hastened over yielding sand and wild
strawberry-plot, or broke through scrub-brush and tree-growth.
Pitiless dust-clouds drove them again from the open to the protection
of a bluff.
They started out once more.
"Captain," in half-stifled voice, "this is the third day Fairbanks's
vessels have stood there performing antics. No?"
"Yes, señora, and the third day we have been in Yerba Buena waiting for
Fairbanks to keep his tryst with us. A hundred times we have gone over
this. I feel greatly to blame that I consented to bring you out into
this simoon again to-day. What good?"
"But, think you, to-morrow is highest tide. If Commodore Billings's
sloop-of-war floats, no hurricane keeps him from blockading Monterey.
Yes, and the guns of Colonel Barcelo could not prevent him from seizing
castle and city."
"Fairbanks should be shot!"
"Captain, had Barcelo been kept in ignorance as to the spoils of office
his latent patriotism might still be slumbering; but your English
truthfulness was too much for even a wise diplomat like yourself."
"I was a fool! an inexcusable fool! But who would have thought the
Comandante capable of such vim and sudden action? Besides, señora,
there was Brown. He stirred up quite a kettle of fish in his own way."
"True. But Fairbanks put in, notwithstanding Brown, and would have
occupied the city, had his reception been more cordial."
"Yes, yes."
"Of course both circumstances worked hand in hand. Doubtless, neither
by itself would have deterred Fairbanks. In any event, it's no use
repining."
"You are very kind, señora. Curse it all anyway!" After several
moments in which neither spoke, Farquharson continued: "Well, Brown;
good old Brown. He's a mighty decent fellow, true to his colors, and
fights as fair as the rest of us."
They halted their horses. Beneath them, a little to the right, was a
group of cabins belonging to fisher folk, smoke arising from the
chimneys, telling of warmth and crude comfort inside. The boats of the
habitants, high drawn up, were securely fastened to their moorings.
The wind roared and hissed and fumed. The señora and the Captain
seemed not to heed it. They were looking, straight-eyed, out to the
lashing sea whereon lay their hopes and their fears.
"Captain, your friend Brown found his way to Fairbanks's ship. No?"
"Yes, Brown--tumbled--on board."
Their horses were side by side, yet Farquharson's voice sounded muffled
through the howling wind.
"Ah! tumbled. Yes. Still, he gained the Admiral's ear. No?"
"Fate threw the game in Brown's favor, and against us."
"Fate causes the daring one to win; the laggard, to lose. Is it not
so?" raising her shoulders and waving a hand, with the grace of the
Latin and the art of a beautiful woman.
The spirit of the air paused again.
"Señora, if you mean, by any chance, that I should send a boat out,
why, only a madman would go. Besides Comandante Pacheco would permit
no boat to leave the presidio; and the alcalde would do the same for
Yerba Buena village."
Time passed. The señora suddenly spurred her horse. The startled
animal leaped forward. "Come, Captain, let us go to town," she called,
already several lengths ahead.
They rode persistently on till they reached a small shed far down where
they stopped for rest.
"Perdition on this inactivity! If we could only do something--anything
to fill in the time in this dead little hole."
"Yes, Captain," in a detached voice.
"I have a suggestion. My good hostess, Señora Ramon, showed me
yesterday a chess-board most remarkable in workmanship, brought by the
señor her husband from Spain years ago. They spend many evenings over
the game, she tells me. Let us borrow the board and its men and while
away a few hours. At least with these we can have the satisfaction of
planning--and executing--our own maneuvers. I wish we had done this
before, instead of indulging in useless, nerve-wracking vigils."
"Thank you, Captain, but I--I shall be otherwise engaged this
afternoon."
"I understand, señora. You do, truly, need a good rest. Excuse me for
my thoughtlessness. I know you are worn out. I believe, now that I
think of it, I'll follow your example, go to my quarters and turn in
for a time myself."
After partaking of a warm luncheon which her friend Señora Aguirre had
prepared, the señora went to her room. In the home of Señor Ramon, at
the other end of the village, the Captain settled himself for a siesta.
Not so the señora. Tying her hair closely, she put on a long, thick
cloak which she carefully buttoned, placing the hood on her head and
well down over her ears; lastly, a veil around her face. Then she
wrote a short note.
Opening a window she dropped lightly to the ground, keeping under the
eaves till the rear of the house was reached. As swiftly as would a
boy she ran to the stable and ordered the sleepy groom to give her an
untired horse. She was soon off, vying with the wind in speed,
ignoring, in her eagerness, both storm and cutting sand.
She came to the cabins near which she and the Captain had been standing
not two hours ago. Taking the first house at hand she unceremoniously
opened the door. The surprised occupants, a man and woman, with three
nearly grown sons, started from various attitudes of inertia and
excitedly greeted the lady.
"Quick! Quick!" she said. "A boat at once! I must reach those ships
out there before the night falls."
"Never, señora. It would mean the life of anyone attempting it."
"No, no! Come! Let us be off! Quick!" hastily opening a small
chamois bag. Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, one hundred dollars in
gold she counted out. "It is all yours, if you will but come."
The youngest of the sons would do as she wished, if the father and
brothers would join. They would not. Yet she urged. The wailing of
the woman of the family offset any progress she might have made with
the men.
A large diamond ring which the señora always wore, day or evening,
gleamed insinuatingly into her eyes. She caught its message. Hastily
removing it she held it out:
"This and the gold, as well, shall be yours. See, it is worth a
fortune. Come, be quick! A boat!"
"But we shall drown! We shall drown!"
"I tell you no," and before they realized what they were doing they
were out of the house, the señora pulling at the ropes which confined
one of the largest of the little cluster of vessels.
The boat was soon at the edge of the water. The señora jumped in. The
men, half dazed, followed. They bent to the oars, the señora's
commands accompanied by the weeping vociferations of the fisher-wife
and mother. The other cabins had now emptied themselves, and men,
women, and children united in the hue and cry. It was too late.
Despite the handicap of wind and wave the sturdy craft was well out,
under the compelling influence of the señora's determination.
Time after time they were on the verge of overturning. Time after time
huge billows challenged them. Again, the men wearied almost to
exhaustion, would have given up the oars, to drift as they would, had
not the señora, her eyes flaming, threatened them with all the terrors
of an inferno; or as the mood changed, pleading with them with the
earnestness of a Paul.
They passed the shadows of Point Lobos and fared out across the bar to
the open sea. Here the storm king's fury was at focus, the incoming
and outgoing seas forming a rip tide. The boat twisted, pitched,
tossed; was flung around and around. Wave upon wave rolled over them.
By some trick of fortune they were not hurled into the ocean.
The father and eldest son bent all their iron strength to the oars;
while the others baled out the boat with might and main, the señora
aiding energetically.
"Now, broad-backed father and mighty son, another stroke, and another!"
With the incision of steel her voice pierced the roar of the tempest,
in words of encouragement. "Another stroke and we're head on again.
Grande, hombres! She's empty of water now, and lighter to row.
Adelante!"
Slowly over surge and sea-trough they crawled.
Just as they appeared to be getting a little the best of the situation
a tremendous rush of water caught the boat, whirled it about and bore
it harborward at terrific rate. Before the storm it sped, back to the
lea of Point Lobos hills. Here the fishermen regained control.
"Madre de Dios!" exclaimed the father. "Over in one of those coves
we'll find shelter where we can wait a while, till we can get back
home."
"Point Lobos arroyo is here. We can land," said one of the sons.
"Hombres, turn the boat and sail out to the ships," Señora Valentino
spoke.
"No," from the father, decisively. "Neither your money nor your jewel
can give life to the drowned."
"Father mine," from the youngest son, "why not go out again?"
"Silly fool! Go out and be food for fish? No."
"Ah! the youth is willing to face the dangers. A woman laughs at them.
Yet the most skilled boatman of Yerba Buena is afraid! A pretty story
to be told around the net mending on the beach. A pretty story! No?"
The man grunted.
"Five hundred other gold pesos, if you reach the ships. Why not be
rich, enjoy life, and leave fishing to others?"
The Mexican grunted again, "No."
"Turn about. I warn you," resolution burning her words.
"No, I shall not. Death awaits if I do."
Her hand rose suddenly. The man looked into the barrel of a pistol
which the señora pointed steadily at him. "Death awaits, if you do
not!"
"Huh!" growled the father, "your powder's wet and your pistol good for
nothing. You can't fool me."
She fired the pistol into the air; drew a second weapon from beneath
her cloak and pointed it in level aim.
"The next shot will not go wild. Turn back, I say; else I crook my
finger, ever so slightly, and you die, a coward! Your name a byword
among fishermen!"
The man said nothing. Pride, and desire of gain spoke urgently; but,
he knew the temper of an angry sea. On the other hand--that pistol
barrel glinting so unpleasantly; and the eye of the
señora--darkening--threatening. What a will that white woman has! Her
hand was tightening--her finger beginning to press the trigger.
"Out to sea, boys!" he cried, suddenly, gripping the oars. "Get to
work with your paddles. All together! Now!"
Once more they made the bar. The wind had veered from west to north.
A tiny sail, close-reefed, was raised. The boat flew southward along
the coast, just outside the whitening edge of breakers. The fleet lay
to the right, but their only hope of reaching the flagship was not in
direct course, but in wide sweep out to sea, then to circle back toward
the west.
The afternoon wore away. The sun dipped below the water's edge.
Leagues out of sight of either land or warships had they come.
The sail was reefed yet closer. Father and sons tugged on the tiller
rope. The rudder, square across the course, brought the boat head to
wind which was again blowing westward.
The little craft cavorted like a bucking broncho; then wheeled, and
dashed homeward again. A sudden gust tore her canvas from its cordage.
The men sprang to the oars, and mightily fought the sea until the boat
was once more in the teeth of the gale.
They were in their element now. Many a night had these fishermen lain
out on the sea when unforeseen storm made entering the harbor perilous.
Crossing the bar against an ocean's fury was one thing; to toss, boat
to windward, safe from treacherous rocks, for a night or longer, was
quite another matter.
"Señora," spoke the father, "with our sail we could have reached your
ships by time of dark. We cannot with the oars. There's nothing to do
but lie here. When morning comes we'll row you to where you wish to
go."
The stars crept out and kept watch over the heaving craft. The waves
hurled spray against the backs of the oarsmen, of which they took no
notice, except as the father would occasionally direct one of his sons
to bale out the water.
Señora Valentino, who had sat for hours through repeated drenchings,
shook with the cold. She was in the stern of the boat facing the
others. Through the dimness they saw her crouching, elbows on knees,
her body quivering, her teeth chattering.
Their rude chivalry awoke. The father spoke to one of the sons, who
searched in the locker till he found a skin which had been rubbed over
with seal oil. The lady wrapped herself in it.
The storm abated, and the cold increased correspondingly. The señora
drew the coat more tightly about her. After a while she slept.
The fishermen began talking in low tones.
"Five hundred pesos," from the eldest son, "besides the one hundred in
hand! We can buy the store of Manuel Lopez, and sell the fish that
others catch."
"Five hundred pesos," from the youngest. "Is there that much money in
the world? I wonder why the señora is so anxious to get on board the
ships?"
"Past finding out are the ways of white people," the father replied.
"Long have I ceased to try to understand them."
"I think," the boy continued, "that she must have a lover there."
"Quién sabe? If it is a lover I'll think he'll find she possesses
spirit. Santa Maria! If all women had half as much, children, I'd bid
you never marry."
"She is most generous with money," in way of defense from the second
son.
"Money flies into the Spaniard's pocket, and out again. They care
nothing for it. But this one," nodding to the sleeping woman, "would
have killed us to-day if she had not been given her way."
"We've been calling her 'señora.' I believe we should have said
'señorita,'" came from the eldest son.
"I think so too; and I'm sure it's her lover she is going to meet out
there," returned the youngest son.
"Anyway, she's very young, and very handsome."
"Handsome is that handsome does," retorted the father.
"But she makes our fortune for us; and she took the risk in coming here
the same as we," reminded the middle son.
The wind spent itself finally in a few rampant whirls. The boat
commenced to rock in even motion. The boys worked industriously with
the baling pails.
The father took from the locker two or three fishnets. These he
bunched together and placed on the bottom of the vessel near where the
lady was sitting. He touched her on the shoulder. "Awake, señora.
The wind has gone down, and we'll no longer ship water. I've made you
quite a good bed from these fishnets. You can lie here and sleep till
morning."
"Thank you, hombre," as she snuggled down on the improvised bed.
"We usually have aguardiente, but none's left in the locker this trip.
Only by chance did we have that coat you're wearing."
"I'm very comfortable, I shall be as warm as if I were at home in my
own room," she laughed. "Thank you, again, very, very much."
"These summer nights pass quickly. It is morning before we know."
Hers was the sleep of exhaustion.
The rattle of oars in rowlocks awakened her. The men were no longer
merely holding to the wind, but were pulling vigorously. She felt the
boat urge forward with each stroke. She raised herself a little and
looked over the gunwale. There was darkness everywhere, save when the
starlight flashed thinly on some wave-roof.
"A good part of the night is spent, lady," the father said. "The
currents begin to run as usual, now that the storm is past. I'm
beating to the windward of your ships. You may as well go back to
sleep."
After two hours or so he called to her. "Which ship is it that you
want, señora?"
She looked about. Morning had come.
"Ah! the reenforcements are here," to herself. "Our Admiral has now
eleven men-of-war." Then to the boatman: "That vessel on the left, the
large one flying two flags. Sabe?"
"Si, señora."
The Mexicans plied their oars yet more diligently.
Miles slipped away.
"Boat, ahoy!" called the lookout on the flagship.
"Ship, ahoy!" in reply from the señora. "I'm coming on board with a
message for the Admiral."
Without warning a fragment of storm-beaten sea, tearing toward the
harbor, caught alike fisher-boat and man-of-war.
"Fend off, men! Fend off! Our suction'll swamp you," shouted the
lookout to the fishermen.
Oars were useless against the onrush.
The leaning masts of the warship overhung the struggling fisher-boat,
wheeled upward, then away. Into the maelstrom drew the little craft.
Sailors under hurried orders scurried about the decks of the listing
man-of-war. Ropes whisked over the sides down to the water which was
overclouded by foam and spray.
"The little chap's sunk!" sounded from the man-of-war.
"No, she ain't. 'Ere's a taut rope. Belike she's fast."
Figures clinging to the boat, upturned, were bobbing about in the
settling mist.
"She's fast to our line, nose aloft like a hooked fish!" from the decks.
"There's a H'english girl on board!" shouted the look out. "Didn't ye
'ear 'er yell?"
Sailors, ropes knotted under their arms, were dropped to the sea by
their fellows.
"Them's Mexicans," sputtered a big salt rolling over the taffrail with
his burden. "I've a Mex. kid 'ere, I fancy."
An elderly man, uniform gold-braided and gold-laced, came up.
The supposed Mexican lad threw off the enveloping folds of the oiled
coat. Jauntily, hand raised as if in salute, Señora Valentino stepped
forth, apparently as fresh as ever in her life, despite her dripping
and clinging garments.
"Come on board, sir!"
"My God! Señora Valentino!"
"At your service, Admiral Fairbanks," with an exaggerated curtsy.
Sailors and marines backed away.
"Madam, what has happened?"
"Too little, sir. Much must happen, and at once," her eyes holding his.
"First, hot blankets and the doctor's draughts, good lady."
"I require neither. A change of clothing would be acceptable, but----"
lifting her hands deprecatingly.
"Not so impossible as you might think. The cabin that was my wife's
will supply your needs, I'm sure. She left her keys with me when she
went ashore at the Cape. The dispatch-boat which sent me flying here
at an hour's notice left her no time to get her belongings. When you
have made ready we'll confer; that is, after you have seen Doctor
Bartlett."
* * * * *
"Señora Valentino," the Admiral had broken in, "Mr. Blair, our
chaplain, the man of many tongues, learned from the men with you your
experiences of yesterday and last night."
"So, señor?"
"The risk you took in coming to me speaks better your conviction that I
should take Monterey than could any word of yours. But, why has
Colonel Mendoza not been mentioned to me either by you or Captain
Farquharson? Why not?"
"Señor Mendoza speaks much these days of democracy and fair play. Yet,
both democracy and fair play demand that the minority accepts the
decision of the majority. Why should we have mentioned Mendoza? He
stands almost alone. As to Governor Barcelo----"
"Do not speak to me of Governor Barcelo! Only by threats of summary
court-martial did I prevent my captains from bombarding the capital the
other day." The Admiral sprang excitedly from his chair.
"Wait a moment, Admiral, if you will."
He was again seated.
"Colonel Barcelo sends word to you through me that he has satisfied his
honor, and that you are at liberty to occupy Monterey, for all of him.
He has taken all his troopers to his hacienda eight leagues away in the
country."
"When he fired on me, then, it was merely by way of shotted salute?" in
sarcasm.
"Nothing more, practically."
"Señora, a world war might easily start here."
"Admiral, a world peace might begin here at your word. The United
States cares nothing for this territory. Two vessels only have
they--worn and old--in their Pacific squadron. They even call their
flagship 'the lumber wagon,' by way of jesting. California is the
balance weight of Texas and Oregon. The province calls to you. Peace
calls to you. Else the future sees dispute and war over province and
empire treasure-trove.
"Admiral Fairbanks, this is the hour, and you are the man. If you
fail, and, later, the shadows of war darken these shores, then must you
answer at the bar of conscience and humanity. I have risked my own
life, and forced the poor Mexicans with me to risk theirs, that I might
plead with you."
The commander looked earnestly at the woman.
"Admiral, consider the tremendous potentialities that await your
inaction."
He studied the floor in deep thought.
"Now is the supreme moment, Admiral Fairbanks."
The Admiral arose, looked out the window, walked back to his desk, put
his hands in his pocket, then clasped them behind him; once more went
to the window, and back again; took a speaking-tube off its hook. "How
are those Mexicans getting along in the cockpit, Doctor? Good. Have
they breakfasted? Each one enough for three, you say? Good."
He sat quiet a moment. Arising, he came in front of the señora, lines
of firmness marking his face.
"Too many times have the shadows of war darkened our world history.
Her gracious Majesty, our young Queen Victoria, ever counsels to work
in the interest of peace. Never have I had wish other than this.
Señora Valentino, what you say strikes home. I shall invest Monterey
to-morrow."
A marine rapped at the door. He saluted and gave a message.
"The Calliope signals that Padre Osuna wishes to speak with Admiral
Fairbanks."
"Ah! she must have picked up the padre at San Diego," from the señora.
"The high wind has returned him north in double-quick time."
"Let us go on deck, señora. The Calliope and three others came up
coast last night and knew us by our lights."
A ship's boat was approaching bearing the Franciscan. As it swung
under the bow of the flagship the friar seized a rope and, hand over
hand, as adept as a sailor, he reached the side of the señora and the
Admiral.
After a few words of greeting the padre, noting Señora Valentino's
questioning look, announced: "I have traveled from Monterey to San
Diego. The southland is crying aloud for English rule," directing his
words to the Admiral.
"In the interest of peace, Padre Osuna, I shall take Monterey
to-morrow," from Fairbanks.
After a few minutes in conversation the señora said: "Señora Padre, I
have boat and men here," pointing to the place where the Mexicans were
sitting on their inverted craft. "Will you not go with me to Yerba
Buena?"
"I will, señora, and my thanks are yours."
Sailors raised the boat on davits and lowered it to the water. The
fishermen joyfully turned home, the padre and the señora conversing
quietly in the stern.
"That bloomin' Mexican has a lot o' money bulgin' under 'is belt," one
tar remarked to another, as they watched the fish-boat making for shore.
"Haw! haw! haw!" laughed a third. "You should 'a seen Dickie this
mornin'. Somebody sings out, 'There's a H'english gal aboard.' 'No
such thing,' says Dickie, comin' over the side and spittin' water like
a sperm w'ale, 'they're h'all black Mex., an' 'e a 'oldin' the purtiest
w'ite gal I ever see h'all the time. Haw! haw!" slapping Dickie's
shoulder. Then, in different tones: "Admiral's signalin' a-plenty.
Wonder w'at h'it's all about."
The señora, the padre and the Mexicans made Yerba Buena safely, and
found the little town in uproar over the astounding escapade of a
señora who had persuaded good, sane fishermen to go with her to sure
death.
Father and sons escaped from congratulating friends to the seclusion of
their cot where, with the mother, they rejoiced over their good
fortune. Not only were they safe after an experience over which Yerba
Buena was to talk for a decade, but that most wealthy señor the ships'
treasurer had given each ten gold sovereigns for himself, besides
paying the sire the one hundred sovereigns promised by the señora.
Señora Valentino was indefatigable as well as intrepid. Soon, with the
friar and Farquharson, she was dashing on horseback down the peninsula
toward Monterey.
"So you read my note to Señora Aguirre," she remarked to Farquharson.
"I did, and learned of your purpose to go out to the fleet. Finding at
the Mexican settlement that you had actually put this purpose into
effect I got a boat and was just pushing off to follow you when a
provost marshal placed me under arrest. Confound him! as if I didn't
have a right to do as I pleased, stormy or not! And that blasted
comandante held me at the presidio till your return."
"Then you also were coming to the flagship? No?"
"Señora, I never dreamed you would think of such a thing as going out
there by yourself. I've never felt so small in my life. It would be a
relief if I was lying at the bottom of the harbor."
"Not so, Captain. It was a mad thing, my venturing forth; but, you
know, when a woman wills she will. So, no fault in you, Captain mine.
Pray think no more of it. As we ride along I'll tell you more of my
meeting with Fairbanks after I--tumbled on board his vessel."
They reached the high ground near the Laguna de las Mercedes, two
leagues beyond Mission Dolores. A deep-voiced exclamation from Padre
Osuna, accompanied by a full-arm gesture, directed their attention to
the right. The ocean, as if making amends for violent temper of the
past days, lay in unruffled mood before them. The eleven vessels of
the fleet, spread white against sapphire arc, were sailing to the south.
Farquharson's eyes, an admiring light in them, sought the señora.
"Señora, Fairbanks is really going to Monterey!"
She inclined her head.
"You are a wonderful woman. I have said this before. I say it now
with double emphasis."
The three halted and watched the fleet.
"Come, let us ride on," from the señora, impatient at delay.
"Well," remarked Farquharson, "Barcelo has spiked the castle guns, and
skedaddled. The Yankee's flagship is stuck in the mud, with her
consort, the Cyane. I wonder what the deuce will keep that old
dunderhead, Fairbanks out of Monterey now!"