Gustave Aimard
The Freebooters: A Story of the Texan War

CHAPTER XXI.
A STRANGE LEGEND

We will now return to the Jaguar, whom we left departing from the pulqueria, and proceeding at the head of his bold companions toward the fort of the Point. But, before going further, in order to make the reader understand the almost insurmountable difficulties which the Jaguar would meet with on the audacious expedition he was attempting, we ask leave to tell him the legend current about this fortress, a legend which has survived to this day, in all its quaint simplicity.

The European traveller who visits for the first time Texas, and all the coasts of Southern America generally, experiences a feeling of indefinable sorrow at the sight of these gloomy and sinister shores, which have witnessed so many accidents, and against which the dark waves of the Pacific break with mysterious murmurs. All, in fact, disposes to reverie in these poetic countries: the sky, which resembles a plate of red-hot iron; the lofty denuded cliffs, whose capricious outline looks as if it had been cut out by some artistic giant of past ages, and bearing at times on their proud crests the still imposing ruins of an old palace of the Incas, or a teocali, whose massive walls are lost in the clouds – the ancient lurking places of those ferocious priests of the Sun, who made all tremble around them, and raised their bloody titles both afloat and ashore. Before the conquest, at the time when the descendants of Quetzalcoatl, or the Serpent covered with feathers, peacefully reigned in these countries, the thick walls of the teocalis stifled many a groan, concealed and authorised many a crime.

Of all the stories told us in our last journey through Texas, about these mournful abodes scattered over the country, we will only relate one, which has reference to the narrative we have undertaken to tell.

It was a short while after the daring expedition, during which Columbus, while seeking a new road to India, had found America again; the fever of discovery had affected every imagination; each, with his eyes fixed on the New World, which had sprung up as if by magic, rushed toward these unknown regions with all that feverish activity we have seen suddenly rekindled with reference to the Californian placers.

Among the adventurers who went to try their fortunes, some were only urged by the hope of making discoveries, while others, on the contrary, only obeyed the thirst for gold, and renewed, on another stage, the fabulous exploits of the Scandinavians – those bold kings of the sea, whose life was a continued combat. Among these men was one who had made, with the unfortunate De La Salle, that unlucky expedition, during which he crossed over the whole of Texas. This adventurer, however, Don Estevan de Sourdis by name, caring little for the unprofitable adventures the brave Frenchman undertook, secretly quitted his Chief with the vessel he commanded, and sailed quietly along the coasts of the new land so recently discovered.

The idea was excellent, and the profits were great: in a few months the adventurer's vessel was filled with riches, more or less honourably acquired. Still, for reasons best known to himself, Don Estevan felt no desire to return to France. He therefore resolved to seek a spot where it would be possible for him to build a fortress capable of protecting him, and serve him as a secure retreat against the pirates who traversed these seas in the same way as he did; he therefore began carefully exploring the Texan coast, in order to find a suitable spot to carry out his plans.

Accident led him to the mouth of the Rio Trinidad, a few miles from the spot where Galveston was built at a later date, in a wild and uninhabited country, whose appearance attracted him at the first glance. Like the old pirate he was, the Count admired the magnificent block of granite that commanded the entrance of the bay he had put into; and, seeing the importance of a citadel built on this rock, and the power it would eventually give his family, he resolved to form his nest there.

When his choice was made, the pirate had his vessel drawn ashore, camped with his men at the foot of the rock, and began reflecting on the means of carrying out his bold scheme. A good many things troubled him – in the first place, where should he procure the stones necessary for such an edifice; and if the stones were found, where should he get the masons to put them together.

Count Estevan de Sourdis and his comrades were excellent sailors – killing, pillaging, and ravishing conscientiously each time that the opportunity offered itself; but, as a general rule, they were very poor masons, and nothing of architects. And then again, supposing the stones were found, squared, and brought to the foot of the rock, how were they to be raised to the top? This was really the insurmountable difficulty; and any other than the bold pirate would have renounced the execution of a plan which he recognised as impossible.

But the Count was obstinate; he said to himself with a certain show of reason, that the greater the difficulties to overcome, the stronger and better protected from attack his castle would be.

In consequence, far from recoiling, he armed his people with iron crowbars, and began forming in the rock a path which wound round it and was to finish at the summit. This path, three feet wide at the most, was so steep and abrupt, that the slightest false step sufficed to hurl those who ventured on it down an abyss, at the bottom of which they were crushed to death. After a year of superhuman toil, the path was formed, and the count, scaling it on his horse, at the risk of breaking his neck one hundred times, planted his banner on the top of the rock, with a shout of pride and joy.

Another cry answered his, but it was so ironical and mocking that the old pirate, whose nerves were as hard as cords, and who had never trembled in his life, felt a shudder of terror run over all his limbs; his hair stood erect in horror, and an icy perspiration beaded on his temples.

The Count turned round; a man wrapped in a large black cloak, and with a red plumed hat on his head, was standing by his side. The man's face was ashy, his eyes glistened with a gloomy fire, and his parched up lips grimaced a mournful smile. The Count regarded him for a moment with surprise; but as, after all, he was a brave sailor who feared nothing in the world, he asked the stranger, in a firm voice, who he was, and how he happened to be at this spot. To these two questions the unknown answered politely that he had heard say that the Count de Sourdis was seeking an architect capable of building him a strong and handsome castle, and that he had come to treat with him. The chieftain bowed courteously, and the following dialogue took place between the speakers.

"Do you not think, master," the pirate said, "that this spot is excellently chosen for the place I meditate?"

"Excellency," the stranger replied, "you could not have found a better site all along the coast."

The pirate smiled proudly.

"Yes," he said, "and when my castle is built, no one will be able to assail it."

"Oh, of course."

"Look here," he continued, making the stranger a sign to follow him, "this is what I propose doing."

And walking round the plateau, he described the plan in its fullest details: the stranger approved of it by nodding his head and smiling his crafty smile. In the meanwhile time was passing: for about an hour day had given way to night, and gloom had gradually invaded the rock; the pirate, carried away by the irresistible attraction a man ever feels in ventilating his ideas, specially to a person who seems to approve of them, continued his demonstrations without noticing that the darkness had grown too dense for the person he was addressing to derive great profit from what he was saying; at length he turned to the stranger.

"Well," he asked him, "what do you think of it?"

"It is perfect," the other answered.

"Is it not?" the Chief asked, with an air of conviction.

"Yes, but – "

"Ah," said the pirate, "there is a but then?"

"There is always one," the stranger objected judiciously.

"That is true," the old pirate muttered.

"You are aware that I am an architect?"

"You told me so."

"Well, I have made a plan too."

"Indeed, indeed!"

"Yes, if you will permit me, Excellency, I shall have the honour of submitting it to you."

"Do so, my dear fellow, do so," the Chief said with a condescending smile, for he was convinced in his heart that his plan was the better of the two.

"Directly."

"But I have an idea."

"What is it?"

"Why, it is rather dark, and in order to judge of your plan – "

"A light would be necessary, I suppose you mean, Excellency."

"Why yes," the pirate replied, "I fancy it would prove useful."

"Pray do not put yourself out of the way," said the stranger, "I will procure one."

With the greatest possible coolness, he took off the feather that adorned his hat, and stuck it in the ground, when it suddenly burst into a flame, just as if it had been a torch. The Count was astounded at this marvel, but as, after all, he was a good Christian, and he was beginning to distrust his companion considerably, he mechanically prepared to cross himself. But the stranger eagerly caught hold of his arm.

"Let us lose no time, Excellency," he said.

And drawing a roll of parchment from under his cloak he unrolled and laid it before the pirate, who was in extasies at the magnificent plan he saw.

"What do you, think of that, Excellency?" the architect said, in a sweet, bitter voice.

"Sublime!" he exclaimed, transported with admiration.

"You are a judge," the other answered, "this is what I propose doing."

And in his turn he began entering into the most minute details, to which the old sailor listened with gaping mouth and flashing eyes, never leaving off looking at the splendid fortress drawn on the parchment. When the architect ceased speaking, the pirate was so confounded by all he had heard, that he remained for a moment stunned, and tried in vain to restore the regular flow of his thoughts.

"Well," he at last asked with a certain shade of incredulity, which involuntarily betrayed itself in his voice, "do you fancy yourself capable of carrying out such a masterpiece?"

"Nothing is easier."

"But we have no building stones."

"I will find them."

"I have no masons."

"I will procure them."

"But iron, wood – in a word, all the articles necessary for such a building, how to procure them?"

"I will take it on myself."

"But it will cost me a tremendous sum," said the Count, pressingly, for fear was more and more overpowering him.

"Pooh!" the stranger said, carelessly, and thrusting out his lower lip in disdain, "less than nothing, a trifle."

"And how long will you require to finish my fortress as it stands on the parchment?"

"Wait," the other said, calculating on his fingers, and scratching his forehead like a man who is seeking the solution of a difficult problem; "it is about nine o'clock, I think?"

"About," the Count said, not at all understanding the stranger's meaning.

"Well! By sunrise all will be ready, and you can take possession of your new residence."

"What, why, you must be the demon!" the Count exclaimed in utter stupefaction.

The stranger rose, bowed to the pirate courteously, and answered him with great politeness and a most gentlemanly manner.

"In person, Excellency. On my honour," he added, "I never could leave a worthy man in a difficulty. I was affected by your perplexity, and resolved to come to your aid."

"You are most kind," the old sailor muttered mechanically, not knowing what he was saying.

"That is my motive," said the other, with a modest bow.

"Thanks; and you ask me – "

"I have told you already – a mere trifle."

"Still – "

"We shall come to an agreement; besides, I am too much of the gentleman to treat you as a greenhorn. Still, to keep things straight, just sign this simple agreement."

"Pardon me; but I cannot read. I can sign nothing; besides, you can easily understand that I am not at all desirous to give you my soul."

"Come, Excellency," said Mephistopheles, "you can hardly suppose that I have any intention of taking you in?"

"What?

"Hang it all! Your soul has been mine for a long time, and I do not require your authorization to take it."

"Nonsense," said the worthy pirate, who was quite rebuffed, "do you think our Lord will not look twice before condemning a man of my sort?"

"Not the least in the world," the demon continued good-humouredly; "so reassure yourself. It is not that I intend to ask of you."

"Speak, then; and, on the word of a gentleman adventurer, I will grant it."

"Done!" said Satan, graciously stretching out his hand.

"Done!" the pirate replied.

"Come, that is settled. Well, you will surrender to me the first living creature you address in the morning when you wake. You see that I am not exigent, for I might have charged you much more dearly."

Don Stephen made a face, for the first person he was in the habit of addressing in the morning was his daughter.

"Do you hesitate?" the demon asked in a sub-acid voice.

The pirate sighed. The conditions seemed hard, still he must accept them.

"No, I don't," he said; "it is a bargain."

"Very good; now leave me to my work."

"As you please," the pirate answered, and prepared to go down; but, suddenly reflecting, he added, "Tell me, can you not do me a service?"

"With pleasure."

"During our conversation night has fallen; it is as black as in your domains, and I am frightfully afraid of breaking my neck in going down to the plain."

"Do you wish to rest?"

"Yes; the day has been fatiguing, and I am desirous of sleep."

"All right; nothing is easier."

"Then, I shall have my castle tomorrow?"

"At sunrise I promised it."

"Thanks; and now, if you will help me – "

"Certainly; hold on."

And the demon, seizing the tail of the horse on which the pirate was mounted, whirled the animal round his head, and then hurled it into space. The pirate, slightly stunned by the rapidity of his flight, fell without the slightest injury at the entrance of his tent; he immediately dismounted, and prepared for bed.

His boatswain's mate was waiting to help him in taking off his harness. The Count threw himself anxiously on his couch, but though he might close his eyes and turn and roll in every direction, sleep shunned him. The mate, who was lying in the doorway of the tent, was also awake, but through another motive; he fancied he saw strange lights running along the rock; he heard the sound of hammers and crowbars, stone being sawn, and the creaking of pullies – in a word, those thousand rumours produced by masons, carpenters, and blacksmiths, when at work.

The poor sailor, not knowing to what he should attribute what he fancied he saw and heard, rubbed his eyes to assure himself that he was not asleep, and then thrust his fingers in his ears – fearing, for good reasons, that it must all be an illusion. At length, unable to doubt any longer, he resolved to inform his Captain, and entered his tent.

As we have said, the Count was not asleep. He rose in haste, and followed his boatswain's mate; then, as he placed the utmost confidence in this worthy man, who had served him for twenty years, he did not hesitate to tell him what had passed between him and the devil, and what he had himself promised, adding, in the most insinuating tone he could assume, that he counted on the mate's attachment to prevent his daughter entering the tent the next morning, as she was accustomed to do, and to find some means of getting him out of the scrape.

On hearing this avowal, and the proof of confidence that accompanied it, the boatswain's mate became anxious; he was very fond of his Chief, for he had risked his life twenty times for him; but the worthy sailor was a Breton and excellent Christian, and was not at all desirous of placing himself under the claws of Messire Satanas for an affair that did not at all concern him. Still, after a few moments' reflection, his face brightened and reassumed its ordinary look of careless gaiety, and he said with a laugh:

"Go and sleep, my Lord; tomorrow it will be day. After all, the demon may not be so crafty as he looks."

The pirate, comforted by the joyous air of his boatswain's mate, felt more tranquil; he returned to his couch, and speedily fell asleep. The sailor passed the whole night in prayer, and when the dawn began to suffuse the sky with white tints, he went to the kennel, fetched a poor mangy dog dying in a corner, thrust it into the tent, and letting fall the curtain, waited for what would happen. The poor brute was no sooner at liberty than it leaped into its master's bed and began licking his face.

"May the demon take thee, accursed animal!" the pirate shouted, awaking with a start, and furious at having been thus disturbed in his sleep.

A fearful blast shook the tent, a terrible yell was heard, and the dog disappeared. The demon fled, all abashed, with the scurvy booty he had secured. Messire Satanas had worked, however, conscientiously: a formidable fortress now rose haughtily on the crest of the rock which on the previous evening had been naked and deserted. The Count was delighted, and took possession of his castle the same day.

Still, what the demon had stated about his soul put a flea in the ear of the worthy seigneur; and hence, without loss of time, he occupied himself about his salvation. His first care was to establish a town near the fortress, to which he attracted, by promises, adventurers from all countries; then he sought a monk capable of liberating him from all his sins; and it is probable that he found one, added the worthy Franciscan who narrated this legend to us, in which he firmly believed, for Count Estevan de Sourdis died in a state of grace, after leaving the greater portion of his property to the clergy, founding two monasteries, and building three churches. In short, the ex-pirate made a fool of the demon to the end.

Without attaching to this legend the perfect belief of the man who told it us, still we were struck with admiration at the sight of the immense, perpendicular block of granite, on the crest of which the castle boldly stands, perched there like a vulture's nest, and we were compelled to allow that the means employed to build it seemed to us entirely incomprehensible.

It was this fortress that the Jaguar had resolved to carry by surprise. The task, if not impossible, was at the least very difficult, and it needed all the audacious rashness of the young Chief merely to conceive the thought of undertaking it.

The night was dark; heavy clouds laden with electricity coursed across the sky, and by intercepting the moonbeams rendered the gloom denser still. The conspirators passed silently through the deserted streets of the town like a legion of phantoms. They went on thus for a long time, with watchful eye and finger on the rifle trigger, ready to fire at the slightest suspicious sound; but nothing disturbed their march to the seashore, which they reached after making a thousand windings, in order to foil the spies who might have attempted to follow them in the darkness. The spot where they were was a small sandy creek, sheltered on all sides by tall cliffs; here, at a word from the Jaguar, they halted, for the difficulties of the expedition were about to begin. The young Chief assembled his comrades round him.

"Caballeros," he then said, in a low voice, "we are proceeding to the fort of the Point, which we must carry before sunrise; listen to me attentively, and remember my instructions, in order that during the expedition we may be exposed to no misunderstanding, which, in our present situation, would not only be mortal to us, but cause our comrades, who on their side are attempting a hazardous enterprise, to lose all the fruit of their labours."

The conspirators drew nearer in order to hear better. The swell died, at their feet with a hollow murmur, and out at sea could be seen the wares raised by the north-east wind, which would probably rise into a tempest within an hour. The Jaguar continued —

"The fort of the Point is impregnable, or, at least, passes as such; I have resolved to deprive it of the haughty boast, and for that purpose have counted on you, comrades. Owing to the opinion the Mexicans have of the strength of this citadel, they have considered it unnecessary to keep up a numerous garrison there, convinced as they are that its position will defend it, and that it is impossible to carry it, save by treachery. The garrison, therefore, is only composed of thirty soldiers, commanded by a lieutenant; it is small, and yet enormous; small, if we force them into a hand-to-hand fight; enormous, if we are compelled to remain at a distance. On the land side, the granite rock on which the fort is built is so perpendicular that we could not hope to ascend beyond one half of it; for, excepting the path cut in the rock, which is defended at regular distances by barricades, escalading is impracticable. We cannot, therefore, think of attacking it on that side. But the sea is left to us, if the land fails us; if we can succeed in landing on the narrow strip of earth which is left uncovered at low water for about an hour at the foot of the fortress, it is probable that we shall succeed in our enterprise; for it will never occur to the garrison that any attempt to attack them by sea will be made on such a night as this. That is not all – we must reach that strip of land, and speedily too; the sea is beginning to ebb, and the moment is favourable. This is what I propose doing."

The conspirators, collected round their Chief, paid the most earnest attention to his words. It was for them a question of life or death.

"Now, my companions," the Jaguar continued, "we have no boat in which to reach the base of the fort; the sound of oars striking against the thowls would give the alarm, excite the suspicion of the garrison, and reveal our presence; we must, therefore, cross by swimming; but it is nearly a league to go; the tide runs out fast, and we shall have to cross it at right angles; moreover, the night is dark, and the sea rough. I will only remind you of the sharks and tintoreras we run a risk of meeting on the way. You see, comrades, that it is a rude affair, and it is certain that we shall not all reach the sand strip. Some of us will remain on the road; but what matter, so long as we succeed? You are brave men, so I have preferred to speak openly with you, and allow you to see all the danger, than deceive you, for a peril if known is half overcome."

In spite of all their courage, the conspirators felt a spasm at their hearts; still not one of them hesitated, for they had freely offered their lives as a sacrifice; besides, they had now gone too far to recoil; they must proceed at all risks. We must say, in praise of the conspirators, that of all the perils enumerated by the Jaguar, only one really alarmed them. What they most feared was the meeting with the tintorera.

We will explain to the reader, who is probably ignorant of the fact, what this dangerous animal is, which possesses the privilege of producing goose flesh in the bravest man, on the mere mention of its name. The seas of Mexico, and especially the coasts, swarm with dangerous fish, among which the shark holds a very honourable place. But, though it be so dangerous, the Mexican pearl diver, who are mostly Indians, care little for it, and bravely fight it, when the opportunity offers. Still, there is a special sort they are extraordinarily afraid of, and that is the tintorera.

The tintorera is a shark of the largest size, and owes its name to a peculiarity that reveals its presence at a considerable distance. Holes placed near the snout of the fish distil a gluey matter, which spreads over its whole body, and renders it brilliant as fireflies. These phosphoric gleams are the most splendid on stormy nights, when the wind moans and the thunder growls. The same phenomenon is produced on dark nights; the denser the gloom, the more vivid is the furrow traced by the tintorera. This animal, fortunately, is nearly blind, and, consequently, cannot follow its prey by sight. They are also compelled to turn their belly completely up on seizing their prey. In the pearl islands of the Mexican coast there are several Indian and half-breed divers, who are not at all afraid of fighting them, and who frequently succeed in killing them.

"Now," the Jaguar continued, after allowing his comrades some minutes for reflection, "it is time for us to get ready. Listen to me. We are about to attempt a surprise, and must therefore act accordingly. Let us leave here our firearms, which would not only be useless, but might prove dangerous, if a shot were fired imprudently and revealed our presence; hence each will undress, only keeping on his trousers, and carrying his dagger between his teeth; that will be sufficient, as further clothing would only embarrass us in our long swim."

The night grew more and more dark; the sea moaned sadly, under the impulse of the coromuel, which was beginning to blow in gusts; the sea wolves howled in the darkness; the gaviota groaned sadly on the top of the rocks; and from time to time the lamantine, as if jealous to add its mournful moan to the sinister sounds of night, mingled with the sharp sighs of the wind its accents, melancholy and plaintive as those of a soul in pain; – all, is short, foreboded a tempest. The hour was well chosen for a deed of darkness.

The first emotion passed, the conspirators, galvanized, so to speak, by the firm and confident accent of their Chief, bravely made up their minds without observation or murmur. They threw down their weapons and arms, and silently ranged themselves on the beach, only awaiting the order to dash into the sea. The Jaguar, with fixed eye and frowning brow, remained motionless for some minutes, doubtless thinking of the immense responsibility he assumed in devoting to a probable death so many men who placed their hopes and confidence in him. At length he made a powerful effort over himself, a sigh escaped from his overladen breast, and, turning to his comrades, who were calmly awaiting the order to start, which would probably be a sentence of death to the majority, he said in a hollow voice —

"Brothers, let us pray!"

All knelt down, and the Jaguar offered up a prayer. His powerful voice was mingled with the howls of the wild beasts and the crash of the tempest; his companions repeated the sentences after him, with the faith of primitive souls, who regard the belief transmitted to them by their ancestors as the only true one.

It was at once a touching and terrible spectacle offered by these simple-minded, lion-hearted men, piously kneeling on this deserted shore in the black night, while the tempest raged around them, preparing themselves by prayer for the sacrifice of their life – alone in the gloom, without the dazzling prestige of a brilliant sun and thousands of spectators, but compelled to lay down their lives, and know no reward in this world.

When the prayer was ended, all rose to their feet. They felt stronger; as God would henceforth be on their side, what had they to fear? – they had made Him their accomplice. The Jaguar was the last to rise; his brow was serene, but a febrile ardour caused his eyes to flash; he believed in the success of his enterprise. After assuring himself that all his comrades were ready, he ordered —

"Take your daggers between your teeth: Heaven protects us. Forward, brothers, and long live liberty!"

"Long live liberty!" the conspirators shouted.

A dull sound was heard, as they dashed simultaneously into the sea.