Stronghand: or, The Noble Revenge

CHAPTER XI

ON THE ROAD

Mexico, considering its size, is one of the least populated countries in the world. With but few exceptions, the old Spanish colonies, since they have proclaimed their independence and become free republics, having been constantly engaged in war with each other, or in overthrowing the government they themselves elected, have seen all the ties attaching families to the soil broken in turn. Foreigners, no longer finding the necessary safety for their speculations in countries incessantly troubled by revolutions, have gone away. Trade has been annihilated; commerce has fallen into a state of atrophy; and the population has frightfully decreased, with such rapidity, that sensible men, who sought a remedy for this incurable evil, called emigration to the help of these states, which nothing can galvanise, and which only possess a factitious existence.

Unfortunately, the Hispano-American race is essentially haughty and jealous. Poor fellows, who let themselves be seduced by the brilliant promises made them, and who consented to cross the sea to settle in this country, found, on their arrival, and especially in Mexico, an ill-disguised hatred and contempt, which was displayed in all classes of society by ill will and aversion. Hence, being disgusted by their reception, and recognising the slight trust they could place in the promises of the men who had summoned them, they hastened to leave a country in which they had only found unjust prejudices and deplorable ill faith, and went to ask of the United States the protection refused them by those who had so pressingly summoned them.

Mexico, in spite of a certain varnish of civilization, the last reminiscence of the Spanish occupation, which may still be found in the large cities and their environs, is, therefore, in reality plunged into a state of barbarism relatively greater than it was fifty years ago. The Pacific States, especially, being less frequently visited by strangers, and left, as it were, to themselves, have retained a peculiar physiognomy, whose picturesque savageness and rough manners would cause the tourist's heart to beat with joy, if ever a tourist ventured into these countries; but which inspire an involuntary fear, justified, however, by everything the traveller, forced to visit this land on business, witnesses.

In Europe and all civilized countries, the means of transport are numerous and convenient, but in Mexico only one is known – the horse. In the Central States, and those which run along the Atlantic seaboard, some towns possess diligences, which change horses at the tambos, a species of inn, where the travellers stop to pass the night. But these tambos and mesones, which possess a great resemblance to the Sicilian hostelries and Spanish ventas, supply absolutely nothing to the guests they shelter, excepting a roof, reduced to its simplest expression; that is to say, the traveller is compelled to take his bed with him, in addition to provisions, if he does not wish to sleep wrapped up in his cloak.

In spite of the numberless disagreements which the uncomfortable mode of progressing from one place to another entails, the traveller derives one advantage from it – that of not being exposed, in a fickle atmosphere like that of Mexico, where after burning days the nights are chilly, to the attacks of the climate. In the Pacific States, matters are no longer thus; the traveller who proceeds from one town to another is forced to do so on horseback, without any hope of finding for a distance of sixty or eighty leagues the smallest inn, or even most wretched rancho, where he can shelter himself from wind and rain at nightfall. At sunset he camps where he is in the open air, and begins his journey again on the morrow Still, as Providence has been in its wisdom careful to give an equal amount of good and evil, the robbers, salteadores, and brigands of every description, who infest all the roads in the interior, on which they reign as masters, plundering travellers in open day and assassinating them with the most perfect impunity, are rarely found in Sonora. In this country the roads in this respect enjoy a relatively complete security, except when the Indians have risen, or a fresh pronunciamiento has let bands of revolted soldiers loose on the country. These fellows have no scruple about imitating professional robbers, and killing and plundering people, whose unlucky stars have exposed them to their tender mercies.

José Paredes, though he had in reality only fifty leagues to go, a distance which in most European countries is comfortably performed in a railway carriage in a few hours, was obliged, on account of the bad state of the roads, and the indispensable precautions he had to take, to remain at least four days on the road before reaching Hermosillo. This journey, which would have been very painful to any man accustomed to the ease and luxuries of life, was only a pleasure trip for the worthy majordomo, a real Centaur, whose life was spent on horseback – who slept more frequently in the open air than under a roof, and whose powerful constitution rendered him insensible to the annoyances inseparable from a journey made under such conditions. The Mexicans have two expressions which admirably depict the class of men to whom the majordomo belonged; they call them Jinetes and Hombres de a Caballo.

José Paredes, then, rode along jauntily on his horse, at one moment carelessly smoking a husk cigarette, at another humming a jarabe or a seguedilla, while keeping his eye and ear on the watch, and his finger prudently laid on the trigger of his gun, which was placed across his saddle-bow. His second day's ride was drawing to a close; he had left Arispe far behind him, which town he had passed through without stopping longer than he required to lay in fresh provisions and forage for his horse.

The sun was rapidly declining on the horizon; a rather powerful wind blew in gusts, raising clouds of dust, which blinded the horseman and formed a thick fog round him, in the midst of which he almost entirely disappeared. Although, as we have said, the day was drawing to a close, the heat was stifling, the sky had assumed a livid appearance; yellow clouds gradually collected in the horizon and were rapidly brought up by the wind. The birds whirled in the air, uttering shrill and discordant cries; sharp noises and shrill whistlings rose from among the rocks that on both sides flanked the narrow ravine the majordomo was now following, and large drops of rain fell on the calcined soil, which easily imbibed them. The horse pricked its ears, shook its head, and snorted in terror. All presaged one of those storms which it is only possible to witness in these regions – veritable cataclysms which rend and uproot the largest trees, force streams from their beds, and overthrow the soil, as if the earth were struggling wildly beneath the grasp of those horrible convulsions of Nature, which completely change within a few hours the aspect of the country over which they have swept with the fury of the African simoom.

"Hum!" José Paredes muttered to himself, as he took an anxious glance along the road; "If I am not greatly mistaken, within an hour we shall have one of the most tremendous cordonazos that has been seen for some time. That will be most agreeable for me, and my position will not fail to be most amusing. Confound the temporal! Why could it not have waited for another eight-and-forty hours?"

The majordomo lost no time in vain lamentation. The situation in which he found himself was really critical: he knew that if the temporal surprised him on this ravine, he would have enormous difficulties to overcome in escaping its violence. He therefore resolved at all hazards to attempt the greatest efforts in getting out of the scrape. Minutes were precious; hesitation was impossible, and he must form a decision at once. José Paredes was a resolute man, long accustomed only to reckon on his courage, strength, and energy, to get him out of difficult situations; he therefore carefully wrapped himself in his zarapé, pulled his hat down over his forehead, and, bending over his horse's neck, dug his spurs, while crying, sharply, one word: "Santiago!" a cry employed in this country to excite horses. The noble animal, astonished that its master should deem it necessary to employ spurs to give it ardour, gave a snort of passion, and started at a headlong pace.

In the meanwhile the clouds had completely covered the blue sky; the atmosphere was gradually growing darker; the sunbeams had lost their heat; the horse still dashed on, rendered furious by the incessant prick of the spurs, which the majordomo dug into his panting flanks. At length Paredes uttered a cry of joy, for he had reached the end of the ravine, and before him extended a vast plain, bordered by tall mountains in the horizon. These mountains the majordomo wanted to reach, for there alone had he chance of safety. Although his position had greatly improved after leaving the ravine, it was still extremely difficult, if the storm were to burst before he had succeeded in crossing the plains, which afforded him no shelter to brave the tornado. Hence, the traveller, after exploring the neighbourhood with a rapid glance, and assuring himself that he had no hope of escaping the tempest, and the barren sandy plain which was only traversed by a few streams, repeated his cry of "Santiago," and set out on his mad ride once more.

As always happens, and as anyone who has studied the admirable instinct of the horse can certify, the noble animal the majordomo rode seemed to have identified itself with its master. Through the effort of that magnetic current, whose power is no longer doubted, it appeared to understand that their common safety depended on its efforts; and it literally devoured the space, darting across the plain with the fantastic rapidity of the spectre steed of the German ballad.

All at once a vivid flash broke through the clouds, followed by a tremendous thunderclap. The horse gave a start of terror, but quickly checked by its rider, started again through the torrents of rain which were beginning to fall. Night bad suddenly set in; the sun, veiled by the clouds, had become invisible, and it was in condemned obscurity that the majordomo was compelled to attempt the supreme efforts on which life or death depended. Still, Paredes was not discouraged, and his will seemed to grow fearless in the struggle; while sitting firmly in the saddle, like a granite statue, with contracted brows and eyes looking ahead, as if constantly trying to pierce the gloom, and exciting his horse with spur and voice, his features were as calm and impassive as if he were merely in one of the thousand ordinary accidents of his adventurous life in the desert. In the meanwhile the tempest had changed into a fearful hurricane, and raged with extreme fury. The unchained winds whistled violently, dashing the rain, and upraising masses of mud, which flew along the ground.

An ill-omened swashing made the unhappy traveller, who was surprised by the tornado, understand that the streams were beginning to overflow and inundate the plain. By the vivid flashes which uninterruptedly followed each other, the majordomo could see all around large grey pools of water, which constantly widened and enclosed him in an incessantly contracting circle; distant sounds borne by the breeze heightened his apprehensions. An hour more, he felt, and the plains would only form one vast lake, in the midst of which he would infallibly perish. Warned by that instinct which never deceives them, the wild beasts had left their lairs, and were flying madly, while uttering hoarse roars of terror. When a flash lit up the horizon, Paredes could see indistinct forms pass by his side, which were no other than the dangerous denizens of the prairie. All was overthrown and confounded. The swash of the water was mingled with the artillery of the thunder and the howling of the wind. But the horse still galloped on straight ahead, sustained by the very terror which maddened it and spurred it on better than the sharpest knife could have done.

Suddenly the majordomo uttered a cry of terror and anger, drew himself up, and pulled bridle with such strength that the horse stopped short on his trembling legs. He fancied he had heard the distant sound of a bell. When an inundation comes, the hacenderos have all their bells rung, in order to warn straggling travellers and tell them of a place of refuge. The majordomo listened; in a few seconds a sound, faint as a sigh, reached the ear. The practised hunter was not mistaken; it was really the expiring sound of a bell that reached him, and the sound, came from a direction diametrically opposite to the one he was following. In the darkness he had left his track; he was lost in the midst of an entirely submerged country without chance of help. In spite of his indomitable bravery the majordomo felt an internal horror; an icy perspiration stood on his forehead, and he shook all over. At this supreme moment the man had but one terrible thought that he would bear with him to the tomb the fortune entrusted to him by his master, and on which the future of his children perhaps depended. Paredes felt burning tears start from his eyes, and a choking sob from his bosom. He cared little for life; he would gladly have sacrificed it for his master; but the thought of dying thus, and completing his master's ruin, caused him indescribable grief. For some minutes this lion-hearted man, this bold wood ranger, who had faced without blenching the most terrible dangers, felt weaker than a child. But this prostration only lasted a short time, and a reaction quickly took place; ashamed of the passing despondency to which he had yielded, the majordomo became the firmer when all seemed to abandon him, and resolved to sustain the insensate struggle till he drew his last breath.

Rendered stronger by his energetic resolution, the majordomo, whose arteries were beating as if about to burst, passed the back of his band over his eyes, addressed to Heaven that mental prayer which the most intrepid men find in their hearts at the supreme moment when life or death only hangs by a thread; and, instead of going on, he waited for a flash, by which he could examine his position, and decide the new course he had to take. He had not to wait long; almost immediately a flash shot athwart the sky. Paredes uttered a cry of joy and surprise: he had seen, a few paces from him on his right, a rather tall hill, on the top of which he fancied he noticed a horseman, motionless and upright as an equestrian statue.

With that coolness which powerful men alone possess in critical circumstances, the majordomo, although he felt that the water was rapidly encircling him, and was almost up to his horse's girths, would not leave anything to chance. Fearing he had been deceived by one of those optical illusions, so frequent when the senses are overexcited, he resolved to wait for a second flash, and kept his eyes fixed on the spot where the hill must be, which he fancied he must have seen as in a dream. All at once, at the moment when the desired flash lit up the darkness, a voice, that overpowered the roar of the tempest, reached his ear:

"Courage! Keep straight on," he heard.

The majordomo uttered a cry of delight, which resembled a yell; and, lifting his horse with his bridle and knees, he dashed toward the hill, pursued by the seething waters which were powerless to arrest him; and, after an ascent that lasted scarce ten minutes, he fell fainting into the arms of the man whose summons had saved him. From this moment he had nothing to fear: an inundation could not reach the top of the hill where he had found such a providential refuge.

CHAPTER XII

A CONVERSATION BY NIGHT

The majordomo's fainting fit, caused rather by the moral struggle he had sustained than by the physical fatigue he had endured, was not of any duration: when he re-opened his eyes, he was alone on the top of the hill. He threw off the furs and blankets laid over him, to protect him, doubtless from the icy cold of the night, and looked curiously round him. The tempest was still raging, but it had lost a great deal of its violence. The rain had ceased: the deep blue sky was gradually becoming studded with twinkling stars, which shed an uncertain light, and gave the landscape an aspect of strange and desolate wildness. The wind blew furiously, and formed waves on the seething top of the waters, which had now almost risen to the spot where the majordomo lay. A few yards from its master, his horse was quietly grazing; it was eating the young tree shoots, and the tall close grass that covered the ground like a thick carpet of verdure. Another horse was browsing close by.