"I am so glad you are saved, Jerry," said I. These were the first words
I spoke after we had got hold of the life-buoy.
"But are we saved?" he exclaimed. "Will the ship be able to come back?
and if she does, will they see us, do you think?"
"They'll not desert us--of that we may be certain," I replied; and I
thought how heart-broken Captain Frankland would be when he found that
his son had fallen overboard and was in all probability lost. Strange
to say, I did not think at all of my own perilous position. I had gone
to save Jerry, and it seemed a matter of course that I must save him.
It must be remembered that our heads were very little above the level of
the water, and that although the sea had gone down considerably, we were
surrounded by masses of foam--now sinking into the trough, now rising to
the top of a wave. Our view, therefore, was very limited. We were
looking out eagerly for the ship through the thickening gloom. Happily,
when the life-buoy was let go, the trigger was pulled. This set off a
sort of blue light, which burned at the top, and which water could not
extinguish. We felt sure, therefore, that as long as that light
continued burning we should be seen by those on board. Our great dread
was that the light would go out before the ship could get back to us.
We strained our eyes in the direction of the ship. The thickening gloom
and mist were rapidly encircling her, and shrouding her from our sight.
"O Harry, Harry, she's going away, and they won't know where to look for
us!" cried Jerry. "Poor father, what will he do? and my carelessness
has brought you into this trouble, and poor Surley too. I wish you
hadn't jumped overboard for me."
"I'm very glad I did, for I don't think that you would have been alive
now if I had not," I answered; "and don't have any regrets about me--I
only did my duty, and I am sure that you would have done the same for
me. But I say, do you remember what Mr Brand talked about when we were
holding on by the bottom of the boat among the Falklands?"
"Yes, I do; something about our being summoned before many moments to
stand before the Judge of all the world," answered Jerry. "I've been
thinking of that just now."
"So have I," said I. "Well, it strikes me that if we thought about it
oftener we should be better prepared for the time when it does come.
Come it will, I know,--`as a thief in the night,' the Bible says. I'll
try and think more on the subject, so that when the moment does come I
may be ready."
Many people make resolutions as we did: how few keep them! It is
extraordinary that we should have been able to talk so much in the
position in which we were placed. As I was saying, we strained our eyes
gazing after the ship.
"Jerry," I exclaimed suddenly, "she has hove about--I am certain of it!
See, see! she is coming nearer!"
Breathlessly we watched. Even though the gloom was thickening, we could
discern that her bow was turned towards us. We shouted in our
eagerness--not to show where we were: there was no use in that, nor
could we have made ourselves heard; the light also from the life-buoy
was still burning brightly. On came the ship towards us. There was no
doubt about the matter.
"There's down with the helm!" cried Jerry. "They are going to heave
to--hurrah! hurrah!"
In another minute the ship lay hove-to a short distance to windward of
us. She looked like some huge dark spirit rising out of the ocean. We
knew that they must be lowering a boat, though we could not see it.
Then we shouted, to show that we were all right and in good heart. A
shout from the boat's crew was given in return, and a light was held up
to show us that help was coming. Over the waves it came dancing towards
us. In a few minutes more the boat was up to us, with Mr Brand at the
helm. Whenever any very important work was to be performed, I observed
the captain liked to intrust it to Cousin Silas.
"Take old Surley off first!" exclaimed Jerry. Manuel Silva, who had, it
appeared, insisted on coming, was about to help him in. "He has had
hard work to hold on, poor fellow." So Surley was taken into the boat,
and then I, for Jerry would not get in till the last; and then the
life-buoy was lifted in, and in a very short time we were all safe on
deck, and the ship once more steering towards the American coast.
We were earned below--that is to say, Jerry and I. The men took care of
Surley. We were put into our berths, and the doctor came to us, and we
were rubbed, and had some hot brandy and water; and then I, at all
events, felt all to rights. Jerry had been hurt by his fall, and it
took him much longer to recover. The captain went and sat by him; and
Jerry told me that he heard him offering up his thanks to our merciful
God for having restored his son to him. He then came and talked to me,
and told me how sorry he should have been had I been lost, and how
grateful he felt to me for having been the means of saving his son's
life. I do not know exactly what I said. I remember I told him what I
was sure of,--that Jerry would have done exactly the same for me. There
was this difference, that I could swim very well, and that Jerry could
swim very little, so that I deserved less thanks than he should have
done had he jumped in for me, considering that he would have run far
greater risk for my sake than I had done for his. The captain smiled
when I said this, but made no remark. He had always been kind to me,--
he was now kinder than ever; but this did not prevent him from taking
every means to make me a sailor, and to keep me to my duty, while at the
same time he afforded me every opportunity of seeing as much as possible
of the world through which we were passing.
Silva, as I before have said, by his quiet manners, readiness to lend a
hand when any work was going forward, and anxiety to be on good terms
with all, had completely won the good-will of everybody on board. He
was evidently a man of some attainments, and was more likely to have
been an officer than a man before the mast. With Jerry and me he was
apparently very frank. He told us how when a young lad he had been
turned adrift into the world to seek his fortune, without parents or any
one to care for him; and how he had battled on, picking up information
where he could, reading what books he could lay hands on, and laying in
a store of knowledge for future use.
"I have served on board vessels of every description. I've been on
board slavers, and merchant vessels, and men-of-war of several nations.
I've served with Lord Cochrane both in the Pacific and Atlantic; and for
a long time I was in an opium clipper in the China Seas; but, as you
know, lads, a rolling stone gathers no moss, and here I am, as poor as I
was when I first began life. However, there are plenty of ways by which
a man may make his fortune if he chooses, and I must find one of them
some of these days."
He spoke in a desperate, careless tone, as if he in reality cared very
little what became of him, or what he did. We had begun to feel a
strong liking for the man, and were now inclined to pity him sincerely.
I will not describe another gale which came on, and drove us away to the
southward and westward for several days, the wind shifting about so much
that we scarcely knew where we had got to. At length, when it had
moderated, so that an observation could be taken, we found that we were
on the coast of Mexico, not far from the harbour of Mazatlan, near the
entrance of the Gulf of California. The ship had been so battered about
during the gale, that the captain was glad of an opportunity of running
into harbour to repair damages, before proceeding to San Francisco,
where he could not expect to find workmen, and where, if he remained
long, his own crew might be tempted to desert. As we stood in for the
shore, a few barren rocks or small islands appeared in sight, and
running through, we found ourselves before a pretty little town, part of
it standing on the foot of a steep promontory, and partly on a sandy
bank which encircles a wide lagoon. This was Mazatlan. It is inhabited
by Mexican Spaniards. The first mate, Mr Renshaw, had not been on
shore during the voyage, so the captain insisted on his going with the
doctor and Jerry and me. We first went to an inn--a _meson_, as it was
called. It consisted of a quadrangular building, with a court-yard in
the centre, and a corridor running round it. All the rooms opened into
this corridor, and had no communication with each other. The corridor
was the general lounging-place; and at night many of the guests who
preferred air to privacy, slung their hammocks in it. Round the walls,
or on the pillars, they also hung up their saddles and other riding
gear. As to furniture, there is something like a bedstead, a wooden
elevation which keeps the sleeper from the floor; but chairs and tables
are luxuries seldom met with, while washhand-stands are things unheard
of--washing being but little in vogue among the travelling population.
We were fortunate in falling in with two Englishmen--that is to say,
one, Captain Driscoll, was an Irishman, who had been in the Mexican
service; and the other, Dr Dwyer, was a merchant. They knew the
country well, and were travelling towards Durango, the largest town in
the neighbourhood. They had with them two young men, sons of
_rancheroes_, as the Mexican cattle-farmers are called. They both lived
some way up the country, and as they also were bound to Durango, and had
speedily to return, it was arranged that we should all travel together.
With the addition of our new friends' two servants, we thus together
mustered ten persons. We were all of us well-armed, and not without
necessity: our friends told us that the country had lately been infested
by large bands of Comanche Indians, who had been driven away from the
borders of the United States, and had discovered that they were able to
carry on their depredations among the Mexicans almost with impunity.
"They are not likely to attack a well-armed party, and if they do, we
can give a good account of them." This account only the more excited
our interest, and we quite hoped that the Indians would attack us. When
we first went to the inn, we saw a large party on horseback just setting
out, we understood, in the same direction. They were all armed to the
teeth,--with pistols in their belts, some with swords by their sides,
and others with lances or rifles. They made a gay appearance on their
richly caparisoned steeds, with their broad-brimmed hats and feathers,
bright-coloured sashes, trousers open at the knees, with silver buttons
and loose jackets, with yellow boots and large silver spurs. They were
laughing loudly and talking; and as they flourished their spears and
rifles, they boasted how they would treat any Indians who might dare to
attack them. The doctor said he thought that it was a pity we had not
been ready to accompany them.
"Let them go alone," answered our friend; "I know those boasting
gentlemen too well to trust them. If attacked, they would leave all the
fighting to us. We shall be better off by ourselves." Our friends
provided horses and all necessaries for the journey, and in high spirits
we started, mounted on high Spanish saddles, from which it seemed
impossible that we could ever tumble off. I will not attempt to
describe the scenery in detail. It was hilly, and woody, and rocky,
with valleys and waterfalls; now and then we came to a plain with a wide
extent of open country, and then had to cross rocky ridges, and climb
lofty heights among crags and pine-trees; but nothing came amiss to us
or our horses. The young farmers had pressed us to stop a day at their
father's house, which was only a little out of the way. It was built in
the fashion of the inn I have described, surrounded by the
farm-buildings and pens for cattle. The father was a fine, hearty old
man, dressed in the ancient Spanish costume; and their mother and
sisters were kind, fresh-looking people, very unlike the
parchment-skinned, withered crones we had seen in the town. They gave
us for supper _tortillas_, which are thin cakes made of corn, and eggs,
and fried beans, and some other things, to which we did justice. The
next morning our friends asked us if we would like to see a hunt.
"Of what?" we asked.
"Of a bear," was the answer. "One has been seen in the neighbourhood,
and his destruction is resolved on."
"Oh, by all means!" we exclaimed, wondering in what way the bear was to
be hunted. "Let us go."
After an early breakfast, we set out on horseback, accompanied by
several men on foot carrying long poles. Each of the young rancheroes
had a long coil of rope round his saddle-bow, to which one end was
fastened--at the other was a running loop. This I found was a lasso--a
weapon (for so it may be called) in their hands of very formidable
character. The appearance the young rancheroes presented on horseback
was very picturesque. Their saddle-cloths and saddles were richly
worked, and the head-gear of their horses was adorned with gay tassels.
Round their own heads, and necks, and waists, they wore bright-coloured
handkerchiefs. Their jackets and trousers were made very loose, and
adorned with a profusion of silver buttons; while on their heels they
wore huge silver spurs, with rowels as large as the palm of a man's
hand. Two other rancheroes joined us. They had seen the hear, and
found out his haunts. We reached a wild, rugged country, with a few
trees in the valleys, and numerous large rocks jutting out in the sides
of the hills.
"The rancheroes say that the bear's cave is not far off from here,"
observed one of our English friends. "We must be prepared for him.
Keep by us and do as we do." Scarcely had he spoken when a loud growl
or snort was heard, and not a hundred yards from us a huge, grisly,
brown monster rushed out from behind a rook, showing his teeth, and
standing upon his hind-legs as if ready to fight. I had never seen a
more ferocious-looking monster. While we were looking at him he went
down on his fore-paws, and with a loud growl made a rush at us.
"Put spurs to your horses, and gallop down the valley, or he will be
upon us!" exclaimed our friends. We were not slow to follow this
advice. I looked round--the bear was following us. Fast as we went,
unwieldy as the monster looked, he came as rapidly after us. I could
not help thinking if one of our horses fell, what would become of the
rider. It was not unlikely either that one of us, especially the first
mate, who was not accustomed to ride, might tumble off. If so, the bear
would certainly kill him. On we went as fast as our horses' legs could
carry us. The bear was, notwithstanding this, gaining on us. I kept
alongside Jerry, so did the mate. Their horses could not go faster. I
wondered what had become of the rancheroes; I did not see them. Another
terrific growl was heard, and looking over my shoulder, I saw that the
bear had gained still more on us. He was not eighty paces from us.
Just then I saw Jerry pulling at his horse's bridle. He hauled away
lustily, but it was too late. Down went the poor animal over a big
stone, and away flew Jerry over his head. I shrieked with terror. How
could I help him? I turned round, hoping to divert the bear's
attention, but the monster took no notice of me, and made straight at
Jerry. At that moment, when I thought that it was all up with him, I
heard a loud _switch_, as if something were passing rapidly through the
air, and two of the rancheroes darted out from behind a cliff, having
thrown their lassoes over the bear's head and shoulders. Away they
galloped in an opposite direction to which he was going, till their
ropes were at their fullest tension, and then their horses drew up,
planting their feet firmly on the ground and dragging against the
astonished animal. Instead of seizing the prey he expected, he found
himself drawn up with a halter round his neck, and heating the air in a
vain endeavour to escape. When he found that he could make no head
against the two rancheroes, who were endeavouring to stop him, he turned
round in a fit of fury and endeavoured to overtake them. Keeping their
lassoes at full stretch, away they went before him; and if he stopped a
moment to try to get rid of the nooses, they gave him a jerk which made
him move on again. Jerry was, happily, not hurt by his fall, and having
caught his horse, the mate, and I helped him quickly to mount and to
overtake the rest of the party who were following the hunters. After
galloping along the valley for a quarter of a mile or so, the two other
rancheroes darted out from behind a rock, and whirling their lassoes
round their heads, cast them with unerring aim over the shoulders of the
bear, and then galloped away from him. The monster had now four lassoes
round him. Mighty as was his strength, and fierce as were his
struggles, he was in an instant brought to the ground. He bit, and
struggled, and snarled, or rather growled in vain; tighter and tighter
grew each noose till he was hauled over on his back. Some of the men on
foot, who had been hidden in the neighbourhood, rushed forward, and
threw their lassoes over his legs. He was now utterly helpless. Then
the men came with their long poles, with which they formed a sort of
litter, and off they carried poor Bruin in triumph. It was certainly
much pleasanter examining him now he was made fast than when he was at
liberty. We were told that his strength is so great that he can,
without difficulty, overcome the huge bison whom he meets with in the
plains. The doctor called him the _Ursus ferox_. His claws were long
and strong, his canine teeth of great size, and his eyes deeply sunk in
his head. We followed the huge prisoner in triumph till we came to a
road, when he was put on a cart and rumbled off to the farm. Thence he
was forwarded to Mazatlan, and very likely shipped off to some distant
part of the world.
On our way back to the rancho, we encountered a herd of wild cattle, one
of which the young rancheroes wished to capture. Off they set in
pursuit of a fine bull they had singled out from the herd. One of them
rode up on the right side of the animal about twenty feet off, the other
kept a little behind at about the same distance on the left side. Away
flew the noose of the right-hand man over the head of the beast; at the
same moment the ranchero behind cast his by a peculiar knack over the
left hind-foot, as the animal lifted it in running. The sudden jerk
brought him to the ground, and the other ends of the lassoes being
fastened to the saddles, the horses stood perfectly still, dragging away
with all their might in opposite directions. Their masters quietly
dismounted, and leaving their horses thus keeping the bull secure, they
leisurely approached him. They then secured his feet in such a way that
he could only just walk, and bent his head down to his legs, so that he
could not butt, and making him get up, led him away a prisoner. Several
were treated in the same way. We wonderfully enjoyed our day's
excursion.
The next morning by daybreak we set off to continue our journey. It was
very pleasant travelling. Sometimes Jerry and I rode together,
sometimes with the doctor or Mr Renshaw, and at others with our two
English friends, from whom we gained a good deal of information. From
all I heard, I should not at all like to live in Mexico. The
descendants of the fierce conquerors have become a most degenerate race,
without religion, without morality--each man ready to destroy his
neighbour for the sake of getting into his place. That object seems to
be the only end and aim of all their politics. As to patriotism, it
does not exist. The nearest approach to the sentiment is made by those
who wish for a settled government, that they may enjoy their property in
peace and quiet. The consequences of the constant change of government
are, that brigands abound, that the confines of the country are left
open to the depredations of the Red Indians, and that the army of the
state is left in a dreadfully disorganised condition--ill paid, ill fed,
ill clothed, and utterly unable to cope with the evils which beset them.
We stopped for a few hours at a ruined house to take our mid-day meal,
and then continued our journey. Soon after this we came to some
blackened walls which showed where a village once stood. We learned
from the rancheroes that only a few weeks before there existed on the
spot a pretty hamlet, with a contented and happy population of some
fifty persons or so. One morning, just as they were setting forth to
their work, the dreaded war whoop of the Indians was heard. Two or
three hundred Red Indian warriors, armed with spears, rifles, and round
shields, were seen galloping towards the devoted village. Some of the
people fled. All tried to flee, for so completely unprepared were they
that there was no time to make any defence. The women and children, as
they were overtaken, were indiscriminately slaughtered. The plunder
that was considered worth carrying off was collected, and then in
wantonness the village was set on fire. A few of the fugitives had at
length reached Durango with the tale of their misfortunes. Some troops
had been sent out with orders to exterminate the savages, but they took
very good care not to come near them, while the Indians indeed were
probably making a foray some two or three hundred miles away. At night
we reached a rancho, the owner of which was known to our friends. He
received us hospitably, slung hammocks for us in one of the corridors of
the house, and gave us the usual tortillas, and eggs, and beans for a
feast, in addition to some very fine beef. The evening of the next day
was approaching, when, as we were descending a hill, we saw in the plain
below us a number of horsemen galloping about. We were too far off to
make out what they were. The rancheroes gazed earnestly at them. Mr
Renshaw had a good glass with him.
"Why, there are red fellows on horseback, with spears and shields, but
without a rag on them," he exclaimed. "They seem to be fighting with
another set of fellows dressed as Spaniards, and, hang it, the latter
are turning heels and flying." The rancheroes seemed very much excited
all the time, and rode a little way down the hill, that they might
better see what was going on. They quickly turned round and beckoned to
us to join them. We did so, and soon saw that if we would save the
lives of the Mexicans, there was not a moment to be lost. Although
there were thirty of them, there were fully four times as many Indians.
It was not difficult to divine what had occurred. The Mexicans had been
taken by surprise, and instead of pulling up and keeping close together,
each man had galloped off in the hope of saving his own life, without
thinking of his companions. The Indians had thus got in among them, and
had already pierced several through with their long spears. Each Indian
warrior, however, as soon as he had killed or disabled a man, stopped to
take his scalp, and this gave time to some of the Mexicans once more to
unite and to present a better front to the enemy. The resistance they
were making, however, was very feeble, and as we galloped on we saw that
they had once more begun to break. The Indians had been so intent on
the attack that they had not perceived our approach, neither had the
Mexicans.
"Now, my friends," exclaimed our friend Captain Driscoll, who seemed as
if by right to take the command, "keep together, shoulder to shoulder,
and dash boldly in among those red villains. Cut them down, and pistol
them as best you can, shouting at the top of your voices. I know them
of old; they won't stand that. When they hear English voices they'll
run; they know what they are to get. Wait till I give the word,
though."
It was very exciting. Down the steep hill we dashed at full speed, our
horses seeming clearly to understand what we were about. Already
several more Mexicans had, through their cowardice, lost their lives.
We were within two hundred yards of the scene of strife. "Now's the
time!" shouted our leader. "Hurrah, hurrah! my lads! Give way, you red
scoundrels!" we all shouted at the top of our voices. The Indians,
hearing our cries, turned their heads, and seeing a large body of
horsemen coming down the road, and not knowing how many there might be
following, thought that it was high time for them to be off. Our
appearance, also, gave the Mexicans courage, and they charged more
manfully than they had done before.
"Wallop ahoo aboo, Erin gobragh!" sung out our leader, Captain Driscoll.
"Fly, ye red scoundrels; fly, or we will cut you into mince-meat!"
Whether the Indians understood what he said I do not know, but as he
suited the action to the word, wielding a pretty heavy Toledo, they took
his advice, and, disengaging themselves from the melee, urged their
horses to a rapid flight. We, however, were too close to them to allow
them to escape altogether with impunity, and three of them were knocked
off the backs of their steeds, two of whom were mortally wounded. A
third, I thought, was lead. He lay on the ground without moving, or
apparently breathing, his tomahawk still held in his death-grasp. The
cowardly Mexicans very soon put the other two poor wretches out of their
pain, by running them through and through with their lances. Two or
three of the heroes were in the act of charging the dead man, with the
intention of running him through, when up he sprung to his feet, and
away he went as quick almost, it seemed, as a flash of lightning after
his comrades! Several of our party gave chase after him, but though he
was on foot it appeared as if he would distance us. His leg, however,
had been wounded, and he had miscalculated his strength. His pace
slackened. Once or twice he stumbled; he felt that he could run no
more. He was a brave fellow, and was determined to die like a man, with
his face to his enemies. Flourishing his tomahawk above his head, he
uttered his war cry, and rushed desperately towards us. A Mexican's
lance struck him on the shoulder, and brought him to the ground. The
other Mexicans were about to despatch him, but Captain Driscoll sung out
in Spanish, "Spare his life; spare his life; we do not kill fallen
enemies;" and Jerry and I, impelled by the same feelings, threw
ourselves before him, and by signs showed that we had resolved to
protect him. The Indian seemed to comprehend what we were about, though
perhaps he thought we wanted to preserve his life only to torture him,
for he did not show that he was in any way obliged to us. The moment
the lance was withdrawn, he sprung up with his weapon in his hand, ready
to fight on; but one of the rancheroes threw his lasso over his
shoulders, and, with a jerk which, had it been round his neck, would
have dislocated it, brought him again to the ground.
"We will bring him along with us," said Captain Driscoll; "the poor
wretch has shown great courage, and deserves to live. Perhaps we may
learn from him something about his tribe."
The captive Indian was dragged along; and, finding that at present he
had no chance of escape, he came on quietly. No less than eight of the
Mexicans had lost their lives, so sudden had been the attack of the red
men, and most of the bodies had been deprived of their scalps. As it
was impossible to carry the corpses with us, and we had not time to bury
them, they were left to afford a banquet to the birds of the air and the
beasts of the forest--a common occurrence in this country. Some of
those who had run away now came back, and by degrees the whole party was
once more collected together. It was already late in the afternoon, and
we were anxious to find some place where we could rest for the night.
There was a village, we heard, at no great distance, and by riding
pretty hard we might reach it by nightfall. After what had occurred,
this we were all well disposed to do, for we could not tell at what
moment the Comanches, when they found that our numbers were smaller than
they had supposed, might come back and attack us. It was amusing to
hear the vapouring and boasting of the Mexicans, as our friends, with
their own comments, translated it to us. The greatest boasters were the
greatest cowards. Not one but could offer an excellent reason for
having run away. Several were going to procure help; others to get
behind the Indians, to attack them in the rear; others were heroically
making a diversion, to draw off their attention from their friends. It
was nearly dark when we reached the village, but not a sign of living
beings was there--no dog barked, no child's cheerful voice was heard,
not a cock crew. Alas! there were blackened roofs and walls, and
charred door-posts. The Indians had been there; all the inhabitants
must have been slain or had fled. We rode through the hamlet; not a
human being was to be found. One house--the largest in the place--had
escaped entire destruction. It had two stories; a ladder led to the
upper one. It would afford us shelter during the night, which gave
signs of being a tempestuous one. Behind the house were some sheds,
where our horses might be tethered. The first thing to be done was to
obtain food for them. It was more important that they should be fed
than that we should; so a party was sent out to cut grass, and soon
returned with a sufficiency. Most of the people had brought provisions,
as we likewise had done, and thus in that respect we were very well off.
Captain Driscoll, by tacit consent, was chosen to make the arrangements
for our security during the night. In the lower room was a large
hearth, on which a blazing fire was made, and by the light of it we ate
our somewhat frugal supper. We then all climbed up into the loft, and
the Mexicans, with their _scrapes_, and saddles, and saddle-cloths, soon
made themselves comfortable beds, and we imitated their example. The
Indian prisoner had been made to come up, and then they bound his arms
and legs, and he sat in one corner with a man to watch him. I had been
asleep some time, when I felt Jerry pulling at my arm. I looked up.
The light of the moon was streaming in through a gap in the roof, for
the storm which had threatened had passed off. Jerry put his finger to
his lips to impose silence, and pointed to the Indian. He was sitting
up; his hands were free, and he was busily employed in disengaging his
legs from the lashings which secured them. What to do I scarcely knew.
If the prisoner would go away without hurting any one, I thought it
would be the best thing that could happen. Then it occurred to me that
if he escaped he might give information to his friends of our
whereabouts, so I thought it would be best to stop him. I was on the
point of singing out, when up sprung the Indian, the long knife of his
sleeping guard in his hand. He was about to plunge it into the man,
when Jerry's and my shouts arrested his arm, and leaping down the
trap-hole at which the ladder was placed, before those who had been
aroused could catch hold of him, away he flew through the village.
Pursuit was instantly made, but before the foot of the ladder could be
reached, he was out of sight. Those who had gone after the Indian
returned looking very foolish; and the man who had charge of him was
soundly rated, but that was all that could be done. I found that the
same reason for apprehension was entertained by the party which had
occurred to me. However, after a time, the Mexicans got tired of
watching, and all lay down again in their places. I could not go to
sleep. I did not like the thought of that Indian escaping, and I
wondered that Captain Driscoll did not take more precautions to guard
against a surprise. I found that Jerry was awake, and when I told him
my ideas he agreed with me. We lay still for a little time, and then we
got up and looked out. The night was perfectly still and fine. We
fancied that if anybody were stirring we should not fail to hear. We
went back into the loft, and then found that Captain Driscoll was awake.
He asked us what we had been about. We told him our apprehensions. He
laughed, and replied, that after the drubbing we had given the red
rascals they would not venture to come near us.
"The Duke of Wellington tells us that we should never despise our
enemies, whoever they may be," I answered.
Captain Driscoll laughed. "The duke was not thinking of Red Indians,"
he observed. "Don't be alarmed, my boys, the thieves won't come."
Scarcely had he uttered the words, when there was a neighing, and
kicking, and stamping of horses' feet in the court-yard below us. We
looked out. The place was full of Red Indians!
"To arms! to arms!" shouted the captain. Everybody was instantly on
their feet. I found that he had more arrangements than I had fancied.
The Indians had got over the walls of the court-yard, but the gate was
so blocked up that they could not open it to get our horses through.
Their only outlet was through our house. The door leading to this was
instantly occupied by some of the Mexicans, while others ran their
rifles through all the crevices and holes in the walls, and began firing
away at the Indians. They, disappointed in their attempt to carry off
our horses, after ham-stringing several of them, leaped back over the
walls, exposing themselves as they did so to the rifles of the Mexicans.
Several were shot down, but the greater number made their escape. No
one attempted to follow them, however, for there could be no doubt that
a large party of them were in the neighbourhood, and that they would
very likely renew their attack on us. They did not disappoint us. In
less than a quarter of an hour the trampling of horses' hoofs was heard,
and through the gloom of night a large body of horsemen was seen
galloping up through the street of the ruined village. As they got
near, they gave vent to the most unearthly shrieks and cries, intending,
undoubtedly, to terrify us. Captain Driscoll was not, however, totally
unprepared for them. He had stationed the best marksmen of the party
behind the walls of the enclosure and at the windows of the house.
There was little time, however, to make the arrangements, but each man
seemed to know pretty well what he had to do. Not a shot was fired, not
a word was uttered. The Indians, expecting an easy victory, galloped
along the road, flourishing their lances, or holding their rifles ready
to fire as soon as any one appeared to fire at. They got close up to
the walls of the house, and there halted, fancying apparently that we
had already decamped. Some got off their horses, to examine the ground
for our trail.
"_Tira! tira_!--fire, my lads, fire!" shouted our leader in Spanish and
English. Every one of us obeyed the order, with such effect that fully
a dozen savages were knocked over, and many more wounded. We lost not a
moment in loading again. The savages, firing their rifles at us, rode
desperately up to the walls, as if intending to jump off their horses
and climb over them. Had they succeeded in so doing, they might have
overwhelmed us with their numbers. They were, however, received with
another volley, delivered with such good effect that their courage
failed them, and, wheeling about, they galloped away down the road as
fast as they could tear. Two Mexicans only were wounded, and not very
seriously. As may be supposed, no one went to sleep again that night;
and as soon as day broke we were all in our saddles, that we might reach
Durango before dark. We now proceeded with something like military
order, to avoid a surprise; for it was thought probable that the Indians
might have formed an ambush on the road, with the intention of attacking
us. In the afternoon, as we rode along, we caught sight of a body of
horsemen winding their way down a hill on the opposite side of the
valley. They might be Indians. Each man examined the lock of his
musket or rifle, and felt his side for his sword. They approached, and
we then saw that they were a troop of cavalry. They were very ragged,
and their horses were very miserable, and certainly they did not appear
as if they could contend with the well-mounted Indians we had
encountered. These Comanche Indians, as the Mexicans call them, succeed
in their forays by the rapidity of their movements. They will
accomplish a hundred miles in the day, driving several horses before
them. When one is tired, they mount another. If any are killed by
over-riding, their places can always be supplied from the nearest,
cattle estate. They strike terror among the widely-scattered
inhabitants of the borders; but there is no doubt, if they were bravely
and systematically opposed, they would be very quickly driven away, or
compelled to have recourse to more peaceable occupations for their
support Durango is a pretty little town, with white-washed, flat-roofed
houses, standing on a plain surrounded by high rugged hills, a
remarkable feature being the number and size of the American aloes which
grow in the neighbourhood. We put up at a _meson_, not remarkable for
its cleanliness or the luxury of its provisions, and were not sorry to
find ourselves once more in our saddles on our way back to Mazatlan. We
reached that place without any adventure; and the same evening, having
wished our kind friends, Captain Driscoll and Mr Dwyer, good-bye,
sailed for San Francisco, the wonderful port of the gold regions of
California.