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The Free Lances: A Romance of the Mexican Valley
Chapter Thirty Six
The Pedregal
Interesting as is the Mexican Valley in a scenic sense, it is equally so in the geological one; perhaps no part of the earth’s crust of like limited area offering greater attractions to him who would study the lore of the rocks. There he may witness the action of both Plutonic and Volcanic forces, not alone in records of the buried past, but still existing, and too oft making display of their mighty power in the earthquake and the burning mountain.
There also may be observed the opposed processes of deposition and denudation in the slitting up of great lakes, and the down wearing of hills by tropical rain storms, with the river torrents resulting from them.
Nor is any portion of this elevated plateau more attractive to the geologist than that known as “El Pedregal”; a tract lying in its south-western corner, contiguous to the Cerro de Ajusco, whose summit rises over it to a height of 6,000 feet and 13,000 above the level of the sea.
It is a field of lava vomited forth from Ajusco itself in ages long past, which, as it cooled, became rent into fissures and honey-combed with cavities of every conceivable shape. Spread over many square miles of surface, it tenders this part of the valley almost impassable. No wheeled vehicle can be taken across it; and even the Mexican horse and mule – both sure-footed as goats – get through it with difficulty, and only by one or two known paths. To the pedestrian it is a task; and there are places into which he even cannot penetrate without scaling cliffs and traversing chasms deep and dangerous. It bristles with cactus, zuccas, and other forms of crystalline vegetation, characteristic of a barren soil. But there are spots of great fertility – hollows where the volcanic ashes were deposited – forming little oases, into which the honest Indian finds his way for purposes of cultivation. Others less honest seek refuge in its caves and coverts, fugitives from justice and the gaols – not always criminals, however, for within it the proscribed patriot and defeated soldier oft find an asylum.
In the four individuals who had now entered there was all this variety, if he who directed their movements was what the Condesa Almonté described him. In any case, he appeared familiar with the place and its ways, saying to Kearney, as they went on —
“No thanks to me for knowing all about the Pedregal. I was born on its edge; when a boy bird-nested and trapped armadilloes all over it. Twisted as this path is, it will take us to a spot where we needn’t fear any soldiers following us – not this night anyhow. To-morrow they may, and welcome.”
Their march was continued, but not without great difficulty, and much exertion of their strength. They were forced to clamber over masses of rock, and thread their way through thickets of cactus, whose spines, sharp as needles, lacerated their skins. With the coupling-chains still on, it was all the more difficult to avoid them.
Luckily, they had not far to go before arriving at the place where their conductor deemed it safe to make a stop. About this there was nothing particular, more than its being a hollow, where they could stand upright without danger of being seen from any of the eminences around. Descending into it, Rivas said —
“Now, Don Florencio, you can finish the little job you were interrupted at, without much fear of having to knock off again.”
At which he raised the chain, and held it rested on something firmer than the cushion of a carriage. So placed, the file made better progress, and in a short time the link was cut through, letting them walk freely apart.
“Caballero!” exclaimed the Mexican, assuming an attitude as if about to propose a toast; “may our friendship be more difficult to sever than that chain, and hold us longer together – for life, I hope.”
Kearney would not have been a son of Erin to refuse reciprocating the pretty compliment, which he did with all due warmth and readiness.
But his work was not over. Rock and Zorillo had yet to be uncoupled; the former, perhaps, longing to be delivered more than any of the four. He had conceived a positive disgust for the hunchback; though, as already said, less on account of the creature’s physical than moral deformity, of which last he had ample evidence during the short while they were together. Nor had it needed for him to understand what the latter said. A natural physiognomist, he could read in Zorillo’s eyes the evil disposition of the animal from which he drew his name.
As Kearney approached him with the file, the Texan raising his foot, and planting it on a ledge of rock, said —
“Cut through thar, Cap – the link as air nixt to my ankle-clasp.”
This was different to what had been done with the other, which had been severed centrally. It was not intended to take off the whole of the chains yet. The Mexican said there was no time for so much filing; that must be done when they got farther on.
“Yer see, Cap,” added Rock, giving a reason for the request, “’fore it’s all over, who knows I mayn’t need full leg freedom ’ithoot any hamper? So gie the dwarf the hul o’ the chain to carry. He desarve to hev it, or suthin’ else, round his thrapple ’stead o’ his leg. This chile have been contagious to the grist o’ queer company in his perambulations roun’ and about; but niver sech as he. The sight of him air enough to give a nigger the gut ache.”
And in his quaint vernacular he thus rambled on all the time Kearney was at work, his rude speech being an appropriate symphony to the rasping of the file.
He at the other end of the coupling-chain lay squatted along the ground, saying not a word, but his eyes full of sparkle and mischief, as those of an enraged rattle-snake. Still, there was fear in his face; for though he could not tell what was being said, he fancied it was about himself, and anything but in his favour. He was with the other three, but not of them; his conscience told him that. He was in their way, too; had been all along, and would be hereafter. What if they took into their heads to rid themselves of him in some violent manner? They might cut his throat with one of the knives he had seen them make such dexterous use of! Reflecting in this fashion, no wonder he was apprehensive.
Something was going to be done to him different from the rest, he felt sure. After the chain had been got apart the other three drew off to a distance, and stood as if deliberating. It must be about himself.
And about him it was – the way to dispose of him.
“I hardly know what we’re to do with the little beast,” said Rivas. “Leave him here loose we daren’t; he’d slip back again, good as certain, and too soon for our safety. If we tie him he will cry out, and might be heard. We’re not far enough away. Oiga! They’re beating up the cover we’ve just come out of. Yes; they’re in the chapparal now!”
It was even so, as could be told by the occasional call of a bugle sounding skirmish signals.
“Why not tie and gag him, too?” asked Kearney.
“Sure we could do that. But it wouldn’t be safe either. They might find their way here at once. But if they didn’t find it at all, and no one came along – ”
“Ah! I see,” interrupted the Irishman, as the inhumanity of the thing became manifest to him. “He might perish, you mean?”
“Just so. No doubt the wretch deserves it. From all I’ve heard of him, he does richly. But we are not his judges, and have no right to be his executioners.”
Sentiments not such as might have been expected from the lips of a bandit!
“No, certainly not,” rejoined Kearney, hastening to signify his approval of them.
“What do you think we should do with him, Rock?” he added, addressing himself to the Texan, who quite comprehended the difficulty.
“Wal’, Cap; ’t ’ud be marciful to knock him on the head at onc’t, than leave him to gasp it out with a stopper in his mouth; as ye say the Mexikin thinks he mout. But thar ain’t no need for eyther. Why not toat him along? Ef he should bother us I kin heist him on my back, easy enuf. A ugly burden he’d be, tho’ ’tain’t for the weight o’ him.”
The Texan’s suggestion was entertained, no other course seeming safe, except at the probable sacrifice of the creature’s life. And that none of them contemplated for a moment. In fine, it was determined to take him on.
The colloquy now coming to an end, Rivas and the Irishman caught up the pieces of chain still attached to their ankles, each making the end of his own fast round his wrist, so as not to impede their onward march. This done, they all moved on again, the Mexican, of course, foremost, Kearney at his heels. After him, Cris Rock, chain in hand, half leading, half-dragging the dwarf, as a showman might his monkey.
In this way there was no danger of his betraying them. He could shout and still have been heard by those behind. But an expressive gesture of the Texan admonished him that if he made a noise, it would be the last of him.
Chapter Thirty Seven
A Suspicion of Connivance
“Suspicious, to say the least of it! If a coincidence, certainly the strangest in my experience, or that I’ve ever heard of. A score of other carriages passing, and they to have chosen that one of all! Carrai! it cannot have been chance – improbable – impossible!”
So soliloquised the Chief Magistrate of Mexico, after receiving a report of what had occurred in the Callé de Plateros. He had as yet only been furnished with a general account of it; but particularising the prisoners who had escaped, with their mode of making off, as also whose carriage they had seized upon. He had been told, also, that there were two ladies in it, but needed not telling who they were.
All this was made known by a messenger who came post-haste to the Palace, soon after the occurrence. He had been sent by Colonel Santander, who could not come himself; too busy getting the Hussars into their saddles for the pursuit – for he it was who led it. And never did man follow fugitives with more eagerness to overtake them, or more bitter chagrin in their flight.
Not much, if anything, less was that of Santa Anna himself, as he now sat reflecting over it. He, too, had seen the two Texans with Rivas in the sewers; the latter a well-known enemy in war, and, as he late believed, a dangerous rival in love. He had glanced exultingly at him, with the thought of that danger past. The rebel proscribed, and for years sought for, had at length been found; was in his power, with life forfeit, and the determination it should be taken. That but a short hour ago, and now the doomed man was free again!
But surely not? With a squadron of cavalry in pursuit, canon booming, bells ringing, every military post and picket for miles round on the alert, surely four men chained two and two, conspicuous in a grand carriage, could not eventually get off.
It might seem so; still the thing was possible, as Santa Anna had reason to know. A man of many adventures, he had himself more than once eluded a pursuing enemy with chances little better.
He sat chewing the cud of disappointment, though not patiently, nor keeping all the time to his chair. Every now and then he rose to his feet, made stumping excursions round the room, repeatedly touched the bell, to inquire whether any news had been received of the fugitive party.
The aide-de-camp in attendance could not help wondering at all this, having had orders to report instantly whatever word should be brought in. Besides, why should the great Generalissimo be troubling himself about so small a matter as the escape of three or four prisoners, seeming excited as if he had lost a battle.
The cause of this excitement the Dictator alone knew, keeping it to himself. He was still in the dark as to certain details of what had transpired, and had sent for the governor of the Acordada, who should be able to supply them.
Meantime he went about muttering threats against this one and that one, giving way to bitter reflections; one bitterest of all, that there had been a suspicion of connivance at the escape of the prisoners. But to this there was a sweet side as well; so some words uttered by him would indicate.
“Ah, Condesa! You may be clever – you are. But if I find you’ve had a hand in this, and it can be proved to the world, never was a woman in a man’s power more than you’ll be in mine. Title, riches, family influence, all will be powerless to shield you. In the cell of a prison where I may yet have the pleasure of paying you a visit, you won’t be either so proud or so scornful as you’ve shown yourself in a palace this same day. Veremos– we shall see.”
“Don Pedro Arias.”
It was an aide-de-camp announcing the Governor of the Acordada.
“Conduct him in.”
Without delay the prison official was ushered into the presence, looking very sad and cowed-like. Nor did the reception accorded him have a restoring influence; instead, the reverse.
“What’s all this I hear?” thundered out the disposer of punishments and of places; “you’ve been letting your prisoners bolt from you in whole batches. I suppose by this time the Acordada will be empty.”
“Excellentissimo! I am very sorry to say that four of them – ”
“Yes; and of the four, two of them you had orders to guard most strictly – rigorously.”
“I admit it, Sire, but – ”
“Sirrah! you needn’t waste words excusing yourself. Your conduct shall be inquired into by-and-by. What I want now is to know the circumstances – the exact particulars of this strange affair. So answer the questions I put to you without concealment or prevarication.”
The gaol-governor, making humble obeisance, silently awaited the examination, as a witness in the box who fears he may himself soon stand in the dock.
“To begin: why did you send those four prisoners out with the chain-gang?”
“By order of Colonel Santander, Sire. He said it was your Excellency’s wish.”
“Humph! Well, that’s comprehensible. And so far you’re excusable. But how came it you didn’t see to their being better guarded?”
“Sire, I placed them in charge of the chief turnkey – a man named Dominguez – whom I had found most trustworthy on other occasions. To-day being exceptional, on account of the ceremonies, he was pressed to take drink, and, I’m sorry to say, got well-nigh drunk. That will explain his neglect of duty.”
“It seems there were two ladies in the carriage. You know who they were, I suppose?”
“By inquiry I have ascertained, your Excellency. One was the Countess Almonté the other Don Luisa Valverde, as your Excellency will know, the daughter of him to whom the equipage belonged.”
“Yes, yes. I know all that. I have been told the carriage made stop directly opposite to where these men were at work. Was that so?”
“It was, Sire.”
“And have you heard how the stoppage came about?”
“Yes, Excellentissimo. The horses shied at something, and brought the wheels into a bank of mud. Then the cochero, who appears to be a stupid fellow, pulled them up, when he ought to have forced them on. While they were at rest the four forzados made a rush, two right into the carriage, the other two up to the box; one of these last, the big Tejano, getting hold of the reins and whip, and driving off at a gallop. They had only one sentry to pass in the direction of San Francisco. He, like Dominguez, was too far gone in drink, so there was nothing to stop them – except the guards at the garitas. And, I am sorry to say, the sergeant at El Nino Perdita let them pass through without so much as challenging. His account is that, seeing the carriage belonged to one of your Excellency’s Ministers, he never thought of stopping it, and should not. Why should he, Sire?”
This touch of obsequious flattery seemed to mollify the Dictator’s wrath, or it had by this otherwise expended itself, as evinced by his rejoinder in a more tranquil tone. Indeed, his manner became almost confidential.
“Don Pedro,” he said, “I’m satisfied with the explanation you give, so far as regards your own conduct in the affair. But now, tell me, do you think the ladies who were in the carriage had anything to do with the drawing up of the horses? Or was it all an accident?”
“Will your Excellency allow me a moment to reflect? I had thought something of that before; but – ”
“Think of it again. Take time, and give me your opinion. Let it be a truthful one, Don Pedro; there’s much depending on it.”
Thus appealed to, the gaol-governor stood for a time silent, evidently cudgelling his brains. He made mental review of all that had been told him about the behaviour of the young ladies, both before they were turned out of the carriage and after. He was himself aware of certain relations, friendly at least, supposed to exist between one of them and one of the escaped prisoners, and had thought it strange, too, that particular equipage being chosen. Still, from all he could gather, after ample inquiry, he was forced to the conclusion that the thing was unpremeditated – at least on the part of the ladies.
This was still his belief, after reflecting as he had been enjoined to do. In support of it he stated the facts as represented to him, how the Señoritas had been forced from their carriage, almost pitched into the street, their costly dresses dirtied and damaged, themselves showing wildest affright. Still, this was strange, too, on the part of the Condesa; and, in fine, Don Pedro, after further cross-questioning, was unable to say whether there had been connivance or not.
After giving such an unsatisfactory account of the matter he was dismissed, rather brusquely; and returned to the Acordada, with an ugly apprehension that instead of continuing governor of this grand gaol, with a handsome salary and snug quarters, he might ere long be himself the occupant of one of its cells, set apart for common prisoners.
Chapter Thirty Eight
The Report of the Pursuer
With unappeased impatience the Dictator awaited the return of the pursuing party, or some news of it. The last he in time received at first hand from the lips of its leader, who, after nightfall, had hastened back to the city and reported himself at the Palace.
“You have taken them?” interrogated Santa Anna, as the Hussar officer, no longer in a glitter of gold lace, but dim with sweat and dust, was ushered into his presence.
He put the question doubtingly; indeed, from the expression of Santander’s face, almost sure of receiving a negative answer. Negative it was —
“Not yet, Sire; I regret to say they are still at large.”
The rejoinder was preceded by a string of exclamatory phrases, ill becoming the Chief of the State. But Santa Anna, being a soldier, claimed a soldier’s privilege of swearing, and among his familiars was accustomed to it as any common trooper. After venting a strong ebullition of oaths, he calmed down a little, saying —
“Give me a full account of what you’ve seen and done.”
This was rendered in detail, from the time of the pursuit being entered upon till it had ended abortively, by the coming on of night.
Chancing to be in the Maza, the Colonel said, when word reached him of what had occurred in the Callé de Plateros, he made all haste to pursue with a squadron of Hussars. Why he took so many, was that he might be able to send a force along every road, in case it should be necessary.
He found the escapados had gone out by El Nino Perdido, the sergeant on guard there allowing them to go past.
“See that he be put under arrest!”
“He’s under arrest now, your Excellency. I had that done as I was returning.”
“Proceed with your relation!”
Which Santander did, telling how he had followed the fugitive party along the San Angel Road, and there met a troop of Lancers from Chapultepec. Some field-labourers had seen a carriage turn off towards Coyoacan; and taking that route he soon after came up with it. It was stopped on the roadside: empty, horses gone, the harness strewed over the ground hacked and cut; the cochero strapped to one of the wheels, and gagged with the handle of his whip!
When the man was released he could tell nothing more than that the four had mounted his horses, a pair upon each, and galloped off across the country, on a sort of bridle path, as if making for the San Antonio Road.
Turning in that direction, Santander soon discovered that they had entered into a tract of chapparal; and while this was being searched for them, the unharnessed horses were observed rushing to and fro in frenzied gallop, riderless of course. When caught, it was seen why they were now excited, one of them having its ear slit, the blood still dropping from the wound.
The chapparal was quartered in every direction; but he soon came to the conclusion it was no use searching for them there.
“Carramba!” interrupted his listener; “of course not I know the place well. And if you, Señor Colonel, were as well acquainted with that chapparal, and what lies alongside it, as one of those you were after, you’d have dropped the search sooner. You needn’t tell me more; I can guess the finish; they got off into the Pedregal.”
“So it would seem, your Excellency.”
“Seem! So it is, por cierto. And looking for them there would be so much lost time. Around your native city, New Orleans, there are swamps where the runaway slave manages to hide himself. He’d have a better chance of concealment here, among rocks, in that same quarter you’ve just come from. It’s a very labyrinth. But what did you afterwards? You may as well complete your narrative.”
“There is not much more to tell, Sire; for little more could we do. The darkness came on, as we discovered they had taken to the rocks.”
“You did discover that?”
“Yes, your Excellency. We found the place where they had gone up over a sort of cliff. There were scratches made by their feet, with a branch broken off one of the cactus plants; some of the sewer mud, too, was on the rock. But there was no path, and I saw it would be useless carrying the pursuit any further till we should have the light of morning. I’ve taken every precaution, however, to prevent their getting out of the Pedregal.”
“What precautions?”
“By completely enfilading it, Sire. I sent the Lancers round by San Geromino and Contreras; the Hussars to go in the opposite direction by San Augustin. They have orders to drop a picket at every path that leads from it, till they meet on the other side.”
“Well, Señor Colonel, your strategy is good. I don’t see that you could have done better under the circumstances. But it’s doubtful whether we shall be able to trap our foxes in the Pedregal. One of them knows its paths too well to let night or darkness hinder his travelling along them. He’ll be through it before your pickets can get to their stations. Yes; and off to a hiding-place he has elsewhere – a safer one – somewhere in the Sierras. Confound those Sierras with their caverns and forests. They’re full of my enemies, rebels, and robbers. But I’ll have them rooted out, hanged, shot, till I clear the country of disaffection. Carajo! I shall be master of Mexico, not only in name, but deeds. Emperor in reality!”
Excited by the thought of unrestrained rule and dreams of vengeance – sweet to the despot as blood to the tiger – he sprang out of his chair, and paced to and fro, gesticulating in a violent manner.
“Yes, Señor Colonel!” he continued in tone satisfied as triumphant. “Other matters have hindered me from looking after these skulking proscripts. But our victory over the Tejanos has given me the power now, and I intend using it. These men must be recaptured at all cost – if it take my whole army to do it. To you, Don Carlos Santander, I entrust the task – its whole management. You have my authority to requisition troops, and spend whatever money may be needed to ensure success. And,” he added, stepping close to his subordinate, and speaking in a confidential way, “if you can bring me back Ruperto Rivas, or his head so that I can recognise it, I shall thank you not as Colonel, but as General Santander.”
The expression upon his face as he said this was truly Satanic. Equally so that on his to whom the horrid hint was given. Alike cruel in their instincts, with aims closely corresponding, it would be strange if the fugitive prisoners were not retaken.
