Stronghand: or, The Noble Revenge
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"Oh, Ruiz," she said, in her melodious voice, and offering her hand and cheek simultaneously to the young man, "what a glorious sleep I have had."
"Really, sister," he exclaimed, kissing her, gladly, "you have slept well."
"That is to say," she continued, with a smile, "that at the convent I never passed so delicious a night, accompanied by such charming dreams; but it is true there were two of you to watch over my slumbers – two kind and devoted hearts, in whom I could trust with perfect confidence."
"Yes, sister; there were two of us."
"What?" she asked in surprise mingled with anxiety. "You were – What do you mean, Ruiz?"
"What I say; nothing else, dear sister."
"But I do not see the caballero to whom we have incurred so great an obligation. Where is he?"
"I cannot tell you, little sister. About two hours ago he mounted his horse and left me, telling me not to stir from here till his return."
"Oh, in that case I am quite easy. His absence alarmed me; but now that I know he will return – "
"Do you believe so?" he interrupted.
"Why should I doubt it?" she continued with some animation in her voice; "Did he not promise to return?"
"Certainly."
"Well! A caballero never breaks his pledged word. He said he would come, and he will come."
"Heaven grant it!" Don Ruiz muttered.
And he shook his head sadly, and gave a profound sigh. The maiden felt herself involuntarily assailed by anxiety. This persistency undoubtedly terrified her.
"Come, Ruiz," she said, turning very pale, "explain yourself. What has happened between this caballero and yourself?"
"Nothing beyond what you know, sister. Still, in spite of the man's promise, I know not why, but I fear. He is a strange, incomprehensible being – at one moment kind, at another cruel – changing his character, and almost his face, momentarily. He frightens and repels, and yet attracts and interests me. I am afraid he will abandon us, and fear that he will return. A secret foreboding seems to warn me that this man will have a great influence over your future and mine. Perhaps it is our misfortune that we have met him."
"I do not understand you, Ruiz. What means this confusion in your ideas? Why this stern and strange judgment of a man whom you do not know, and who has only done you kindness?"
At the moment when Don Ruiz was preparing to answer, the gallop of a horse became audible in the distance.
"Silence, brother!" she exclaimed, with an emotion she could not repress; "Silence, here he comes!"
The young man looked at his sister in amazement.
"How do you know it?" he asked her.
"I have recognised him," she stammered, with a deep blush. "Stay – Look!"
In fact, at this moment the shrubs parted, and Stronghand appeared in the open space. Don Ruiz, though surprised at the singular remark which had escaped his sister, had not time to ask her for an explanation. Without dismounting, Stronghand, after bowing courteously to the young lady, said, hurriedly —
"To horse! – To horse! Make haste! Time presses!"
Don Ruiz at once saddled his own horse and his sister's, and a few minutes later the two young people were riding by the hunter's side.
"Let us start!" the latter continued. "Cuerpo de Cristo, Caballero, I warned you that you were doing an imprudent action in liberating that villain. If we do not take care, we shall have him at our heels within an hour."
These words sufficed to give the fugitives wings, and they started at full gallop after the bold wood ranger. An hour elapsed ere a word was exchanged between the three persons; bent over the necks of their steeds they devoured the space – looking back anxiously from time to time, and only thinking how to escape the unknown dangers by which they felt themselves surrounded. About eight o'clock in the morning, Stronghand checked his horse, and made his companions a sign to follow his example.
"Now," he said, "we have nothing more to fear. When we have crossed that wood, which stretches out in front of us like a curtain of verdure, we shall see the Port of San Miguel, whose walls will offer us a certain shelter against the attacks of all the bandits of the desert, were there ten thousand of them."
"Last night I fancy that you spoke to me of a more distant post," Don Ruiz said.
"Yes; for I fancied San Miguel abandoned, if not in ruins. Before I gave you what might prove a fallacious hope, I wished to assure myself of the truth of the case."
"Do you believe that the Commandant will consent to receive us?" the young lady asked.
"Certainly, Señorita, for a thousand reasons. In the first place, the frontier posts are only established for the purpose of watching over the safety of travellers; and then, again, San Miguel is commanded by one of your relations – or, at any rate, an intimate friend of your family."
The young people looked at each other in surprise.
"Do you know this Commandant's name?" Don Ruiz asked.
"I was told it: he is Don Marcos de Niza."
"Oh!" Doña Mariana exclaimed, joyfully; "I should think we do know him: Don Marcos is a cousin of ours."
"In that case, all is for the best," the hunter answered, coldly. "Let us continue our journey; for there is a cloud of dust behind us that forebodes us no good, if it reaches us before we have entered the post."
The young people, without answering, resumed their gallop, crossed the wood, and entered the little fort.
"Look!" Stronghand said to Don Ruiz and his sister, the moment the gate closed upon them. They turned back. A numerous band of horsemen issued from the wood at this moment, and galloped up at full speed, uttering ferocious yells.
"This is the second time you have saved our lives, Caballero," Doña Mariana said to the partizan, with a look of gratitude.
"Why count them, Señorita?" he replied, with a sadness mingled with bitterness. "Do I do so?"
The maiden gave him a look of undefinable meaning, turned her head away with a blush, and silently followed her brother.
The Spaniards, whatever may be the opinion the Utopians of the old world express about their mode of civilization, and the way in which they treated the Indians of America, understood very well how to enhance the prosperity of the countries they had been endowed with by the strong arms of those heroic adventurers who were called Cortez, Pizarro, Bilboa, Alvadaro, &c., and whose descendants, if any by chance exist, are now in the most frightful wretchedness, although their ancestors gave a whole world and incalculable riches to their ungrateful country.
When the Spanish rule was established in America, the first care of the conquerors – after driving back the Indians who refused to accept their iron yoke into frightful deserts, where they hoped want would put an end to them – was to secure their frontiers, and prevent those indomitable hordes, impelled by hunger and despair, from entering the newly conquered country and plundering the towns and the haciendas. For this purpose they established along the desert line a cordon of presidios and military posts, which were all connected together, and could, in case of need, assist each other, not so much through their proximity – for they were a great distance apart, and scattered over a great space – but by means of numerous patrols of lanceros, who constantly proceeded from one post to the other.
At present, since the declaration of independence, owing to the neglect of the governments which have succeeded each other in this unhappy country, most of the presidios and forts no longer exist. Some have been burned by the Indians, who became invaders in their turn, and are gradually regaining the territory the Europeans took from them; while others have been abandoned, or so badly kept up, that they are for the most part in ruins. Still, here and there you find a few, which exceptionable circumstances have compelled the inhabitants to repair and defend.
As these forts were built in all the colonies on the same plan, in describing the post of San Miguel, which still exists, and which we have visited, the reader will easily form an idea of the simple and yet effective defence adopted by the Europeans to protect them from the surprises of their implacable and crafty foes.
The post of San Miguel is composed of four square pavilions, connected together by covered ways, the inner walls of which surround a courtyard planted with lemon trees, peach trees, and algarrobas. On this court opens the room intended for travellers, the barracks, &c. The outer walls have only one issue, and are provided with loopholes, which can only be reached by mounting a platform eight feet high and three wide. All the masonry is constructed of adobes, or large blocks of earth stamped and baked in the sun.
Twenty feet beyond this wall is another, formed of cactuses, planted very closely together, and having their branches intertwined. This vegetable wall, if we may be allowed the use of the expression, is naturally very thick, and protected by formidable prickles, which render it impenetrable for the half-clad and generally badly-armed Indians. The only entrance to it is a heavy gate, supported by posts securely bedded in the ground. The soldiers, standing at the loopholes of the second wall, fire in perfect shelter, and command the space above the cactuses.
On the approach of the Indians, when the Mexican Moon is at hand – that is to say, the invariable season of their invasions – the sparse dwellers on the border seek refuge inside San Miguel, and there in complete safety wait till their enemies are weary of a siege which can have no result for them, or till they are put to flight by soldiers sent from a town frequently fifty leagues off.
Don Marcos de Niza was a man of about forty, short and plump, but withal active and quick. His regular features displayed a simplicity of character, marked with intelligence and decision. He was one of those educated honest professional officers, of whom the Mexican army unfortunately counts too few in its ranks. Hence, as he thoroughly attended to his duties, and had never tried to secure promotion by intrigue and party manoeuvres, he had remained a captain for ten years past, without hope of promotion, in spite of his qualifications (which were recognised and appreciated by all) and his irreproachable conduct. The post he occupied at this moment as Commandant of the Blockhouse of San Miguel proved the value the Governor of the province set upon him; for the frontier posts, constantly exposed to the attacks of the Redskins, can only be given to sure men, who have long been accustomed to Indian warfare.
CHAPTER IV
THE POST OF SAN MIGUEL
As the dangerous honour of commanding one of the border forts like San Miguel is not at all coveted by the brilliant officers accustomed to clatter their sabres on the stones of the Palace in Mexico, it is generally only given to brave soldiers who have no prospect of promotion left to them.
Informed by a cabo, or corporal, of the names of the guests who thus suddenly arrived, the Captain rose to meet them with open arms and a smile on his lips.
"Oh, oh," he exclaimed, gleefully; "this is a charming surprise! Children, I am delighted to see you."
"Do not thank us, Don Marcos," Doña Mariana answered, smilingly. "We are not paying you a visit, but have come to ask shelter and protection of you."
"You have them already. ¡Rayo de Dios! Are we not relations, and very close ones, too?"
"Without doubt, cousin," Don Ruiz said; "hence, in our misfortune, it is a great happiness for us to come across you."
"Hilloh! You have something serious to tell me," the Captain continued, his face growing gloomy.
"So serious," the young man said, with a bow to the partizan, who stood motionless by his side, "that had it not been for the help of this caballero, in all probability we should be lying dead in the desert."
"Oh, oh; my poor children! Come, dismount and follow me; you must need rest and refreshment after such an alarm. Cabo Hernandez, take charge of the horses."
The corporal took the horses, which he led to the corral; and the young people followed the Captain, after having been kissed and hugged by him several times. Don Marcos pressed the hunter's hand, and made him a sign to follow them.
"There," he said, after introducing his guests into a room modestly furnished with a few butacas; "sit down, children; and when you have rested, we will talk."
Refreshments had been prepared on the table. While the young people enjoyed them, the Captain quitted them, and went with the hunter into another room. So soon as they were alone, the two men became serious, and the joy that illumined the Captain's face was suddenly extinguished.
"Well," he asked Stronghand, after making him a sign to sit down, "what news?"
"Bad," he answered, distinctly.
"I expected it," the officer muttered, with a sad toss of the head; "we must put on our harness again, and push out into the savannah, in order to prove to these bandits that we are able to punish them."
The hunter shook his head several times, but said nothing. The Captain looked at him attentively for some minutes.
"What is the matter, my friend?" he at length asked him, with growing anxiety; "I never saw you so sad and gloomy before."
"The reason is," he answered, "because circumstances have never been so serious."
"Explain yourself, my friend; I confess to you that you are really beginning to alarm me. With the exception of a few insignificant marauders, the borders have never appeared to me more quiet."
"It is a deceitful calm, Don Marcos, which contains the tempest in its bosom – and a terrible tempest, I, assure you."
"And yet our spies are all agreed in assuring us that the Indians are not at all thinking of an expedition."
"It proves that your spies betray you, that's all."
"Possibly so; but still, I should like some proof or sign."
"I ask for nothing better; I am enabled to give you the most positive information."
"Very good; that is the way to speak. I am listening to you."
"Before all, is your garrison strong?"
"I consider it large enough."
"Perhaps so: how many men have you?"
"Sixty or seventy, about."
"That is not enough."
"What! Not enough? The garrisons of blockhouses are never more numerous."
"In a time of peace, it may be so; but under present circumstances, I repeat to you, that they are not enough, and you will soon agree with me on that score. You must send off a courier, without the loss of a moment, to ask for a reinforcement of from one hundred and fifty to two hundred men. Do not deceive yourself, Captain; you will be the first attacked, and the attack will be a rude one. I warn you."
"Thanks for the hint. Still, my good friend, you will permit me not to follow it till you have proved to me that there are urgent reasons for doing so."
"As you please, Captain; you are the commandant of the post, and your responsibility must urge you to prudence. I will therefore abstain from making any farther observations on the subject which only concerns me very indirectly."
"You are annoyed, and wrongly so, my friend; the responsibility to which you refer demands that I should not let myself be led by vague rumours to take measures I might have cause to regret. Give me the explanation I expect of you; and, probably, when I know the imminence of the danger that threatens me, I shall follow your advice."
"I wish for nothing more than to satisfy you; so listen to me. What I have to tell you will not take long."
At this moment the room door opened and Corporal Hernandez appeared. The Captain, annoyed at being thus inopportunely disturbed, turned sharply round and angrily addressed the man —
"Well Corporal," he said, "what the fiend do you want now?"
"Excuse me, Captain," the poor fellow said, astounded at this rough greeting, "but the Lieutenant sent me."
"Well, what does the Lieutenant want? Speak! But be brief, if that is possible."
"Captain, the sentry has seen a large party of horsemen coming at full gallop towards the fort, and the Lieutenant ordered me to warn you."
"Eh," said the Captain, looking uneasily at the hunter, "were you in the right? and is this troop the vanguard of the enemy you threaten us with?"
"This troop," the hunter answered, with an equivocal smile, "has been following Don Ruiz and myself since the morning. I do not believe that these horsemen are Indians."
"What's the Lieutenant's opinion about these scamps?" the Captain asked the corporal.
"They are too far off yet, and too hidden by the dust they raise, Captain, for it to be possible to recognise them," the non-commissioned officer replied with a bow.
"That is true. We had better, I believe, go and look for ourselves. Will you come?"
"I should think so," the hunter said, as he seized his rifle, which he had deposited in a corner of the room; and they went out.
Don Ruiz and his sister were talking together, while doing ample justice to the refreshment placed at their disposal. On seeing the Captain, the young man rose and walked up to him.
"Cousin," he said to him, with a bow, "I hear that you are on the point of being attacked; and as it is to some extent my cause you are going to defend, for the bandits who threaten you at this moment are allies of those with whom I had a fight last night, pray allow me to fire a shot by your side."
"¡Viva Dios! Most heartily, my dear cousin," the Captain answered, gaily: "although these scoundrels are not worth the trouble. Come along!"
"That's a fine fellow!" the Captain whispered in the hunter's ear.
The latter made no answer. He contented himself with shrugging his shoulders, and turned away.
"Oh," Doña Mariana exclaimed, "Ruiz, what are you going to do? Stay with me, I implore you, brother!"
"Impossible, sister," the young man answered, as he kissed her; "what would our cousin think of me were I to skulk here when fighting was going on?"
"Fear nothing, Niña; I am answerable for your brother," the Captain said with a smile.
The girl sat down again sadly on the butaca from which she had risen, and the four men then left the room, and proceeded to the patio, or court. Here everybody was busy. The Lieutenant, an old experienced soldier, with a grey moustache and face furrowed by sabre cuts, and whose whole life had been spent on the borders, had not lost his time. While, by his order, Corporal Hernandez warned the Captain, he had ordered the "fall-in" to be beaten, had placed the best shots at the loopholes, and made all arrangements to avoid a surprise and give a warm reception to the enemy who advanced so daringly against the fort.
When the Captain set foot in the court, he stopped, embraced at a glance the wise and intelligent arrangements made by his Lieutenant, and a smile of satisfaction spread over his features.
"And now," he said to the hunter, "let us go and see who the enemy is with whom we have to deal."
"It is unnecessary; for I can tell you, Captain," the other replied; "they are the pirates."
"Pirates!" Don Marcos exclaimed in amazement. "What! Those villains would dare – "
"Alone, certainly not," Stronghand quickly interrupted him; "but with the certainty of being supported by the Indians, of whom they are only the vanguard, they will not hesitate to do so. However, unless I am greatly mistaken, their attack will not be serious; and their object is probably to discover in what state of defence the post is. Receive them, then, in such a way as to leave them no doubt on this head, and prove to them that you are perfectly on your guard; and this demonstration will without doubt be sufficient to send them flying."
"You are right," said the Captain. "Viva Dios! They shall have their answer, I promise you."
He then gave the Corporal an order in a low voice; the latter bowed, and went off hurriedly. For some minutes a deep silence prevailed in the fort. The moments that precede a contest bring with them something solemn, which causes the bravest men to reflect, and prepare for the struggle, either by a powerful effort of the will, or by mentally addressing a last and fervent prayer to Heaven.
All at once, horrible yells were heard, mingled with the furious galloping of many horses; and then the enemy appeared, leaning over the necks of their steeds, and brandishing their weapons with an air of defiance. When they came within pistol shot, the word to fire was given from the walls, and a general discharge burst forth like a clap of thunder.
The horsemen fell into confusion, and turned back precipitately and in the greatest disorder, followed by the Mexican bullets, which, directed by strong arms and sure eyes, made great ravages in their ranks at every step. Still, they had not fled so fast but that they could be recognised for what they really were – that is, pirates of the prairies. Half naked for the most part, and without saddles, they brandished their rifles and long lances, and excited their horses by terrific yells.
Two or three individuals, probably chiefs, with their heads covered by a species of turban, were noticeable through their ragged uniforms, doubtless torn off murdered soldiers; their repulsive dirt and ferocious appearance inspired the deepest disgust. No doubt was possible: these wretches were certainly whites and half-breeds. What a difference between these sinister bandits and the Apaches, Comanches, and Arapahoes – those magnificent children of nature, so careful in the choice of their weapons – so noble in their demeanour.
After a rather long race, they stopped to hold counsel, out of range of the firearms. They were at this moment joined by a second band, whose leader began speaking and gesticulating with the utmost excitement, pointing to the fort each moment with his rifle. The two bands, united, might possibly amount to one hundred and fifty horsemen.
After a rather long discussion, the pirates started again, and stopped at the very foot of the walls. Captain Niza, wishing to inflict a severe chastisement on them, had given orders not to fire, but to let them do as they pleased. Hidden by the thick cactus hedge, the bandits had suddenly become invisible; but the Mexicans, confiding in the strength of their position and the solidity of the posts and gates, felt no fear.
Reassured by the silence of the garrison, some thirty pirates, among whom were several of their chiefs, escaladed the great gate in turn, and rushed toward the second wall. Unluckily for the success of their plan, the wall was too lofty to be cleared in the same way; hence they scattered. Some sought stones and posts to beat in the second gate; while others tried, though in vain, to open the one they had so easily scaled.
The Mexicans could distinctly hear the pirates in the second enceinte explaining to their comrades the difficulty they experienced in penetrating into the fort, and they must force the gate, in order to allow a passage for those who remained outside. The latter then threw their reatas, which, caught upon the posts, were tightened by the combined efforts of the men and horses, and seemed on the point of pulling the gate off its hinges; but the posts held firmly, and were not even shaken by this supreme effort.
"What are you waiting for, Captain?" Don Ruiz whispered in the Commandant's ear. "Why do you not kill these vermin?"
"There are not enough yet in the trap," he answered, with a cunning look; "let them come."
In fact, as if the bandits had wished to obey the old soldier, some twenty more clambered over the gale, so that there were fifty of the pirates between the cactus and the stone wall. Encouraged by their numbers, which momentarily increased, they made a general assault. But, all at once, every loophole was lit up by a sinister flash, and the bullets began showering uninterruptedly on the wretches, who, through their own position, found it impossible to answer the plunging fire of the Mexicans. Recognising the fault they had committed, and the trap they had so stupidly entered, the pirates became demoralized, fear seized upon them, and they only thought of flight.
Then they dashed at the outer gate, to clamber over it and reach the plain; there the bullets dashed them down again – suffering from a desperation which was the greater because they had no help to hope for from their friends outside, whom, at the first check, they had heard start off at full speed; and consequently they felt they were lost.