THE PLAN OF THE CAMPAIGN.
The count returned the young man's affectionate pressure, but shook his head sorrowfully and remained silent.
"Why do you not answer me?" the captain asked him. "Do you doubt my willingness to be of service to you?"
"It is not that," the count said sadly. "I know that your heart is noble and generous, and that you will not hesitate to come to my aid."
"Whence arises this hesitation, then?"
"Friend," the count answered with a melancholy smile, "I reproach myself at this moment for having come to find you."
"For what reason?"
"Need I tell you? This land you cultivate, only a few years back, was a virgin forest, serving as a lurking place for wild beasts: now, thanks to your labour and intelligence, it has been metamorphosed into a fertile and cultivated plain; numerous flocks feed in your prairies; the desolation and neglect of this frontier have disappeared to make room for the incessant toil of civilisation. This colony of Guetzalli, founded with so much trouble, bedewed with so much blood, prospers, and is beginning to repay amply the toil and perspiration it cost you. The day is at hand when, stimulated by your example, other colonists will come to join you, and, by aiding you to repulse the Indios Bravos into their impenetrable deserts, will for ever protect the Mexican frontiers from the depredations of the savages, and restore to this magnificent country its pristine splendour.
"Well?" the captain remarked.
"Well," the count continued, "is it fitting for me, a stranger, a man to whom you owe nothing, to drag you into a contest without any probable issue—to mix you up in a quarrel which does not concern you, and in which you have everything to lose, so that tomorrow the land you have, after so many efforts, torn from desolation, should fall back into its primitive barbarism? In a word, my friend, I ask myself by what title and by what right I should drag you down in my fall."
"By what title and right? I will tell you," the young captain said nobly. "We are here six thousand leagues from our country, on the extreme limits of the desert, having no protection to hope, or help to seek, other than from ourselves. At such a distance from their country all Frenchmen must consider each other as brothers, and be responsible for each other. All must resent an insult offered to a Frenchman. It is because we are few in number, and consequently exposed to the insults of our enemies, that we ought to defend one another, and demand that justice should be done us. By acting thus we not only protect our own honour, but defend our country, and guard from any insult that title of Frenchmen of which we are justly proud."
"You speak well, captain," Valentine interrupted him. "Your words are those of a man of heart. It is abroad that patriotism must be strong and inflexible. We have no right to allow wretched enemies to lower that national honour which our brothers in France have intrusted to us; for each of us here represents our beloved country, and must at his risk and peril make it be respected by all, no matter under what circumstances."
"Yes," the captain answered quickly, "the Mexican Government, by insulting the Count de Prébois Crancé, by breaking all its engagements with him, and betraying him in so cowardly a fashion, has not insulted a Frenchman, an individual, or nameless adventurer, but the whole of France. Well, France must reply to it, and, by heavens! we will pick up the glove thrown to us. We will fight to avenge our honour; and if we succumb, we shall have fallen nobly in the arena, and believe me, gentlemen, our blood will not have been shed in vain: our country will pity while admiring us, and our fall will create us avengers. Besides, my dear count," he added, "you are in no way a stranger to the colony of Guetzalli; for did you not lend us the support of your arm and your counsels under critical circumstances? It is our turn now, and we shall only pay our debts after all."
The count could not refrain from smiling.
"Well," he said with emotion, "be it so: I accept your generous devotion. Any further resistance would not only be ridiculous, but might appear in your eyes ungrateful."
"Very good," the captain said gaily; "we are now beginning to understand each other. I was certain that I should end by convincing you."
"You are a charming companion," the count retorted; "it is impossible to resist you."
"By Jove! you arrive at the very moment to obtain speedy help."
"How so?"
"Just imagine that two days later you would not have found me at home."
"Impossible!"
"Did you not notice, on your arrival, the wagons and carts arranged in one of the courts you crossed?"
"I did."
"I was on the point of starting, at the head of eighty picked men, to go and work certain mines we have heard about."
"Ah, ah!"
"Yes; but for the present the expedition will remain in statu quo, for the band I intended to lead into the desert will join you, or at least I presume so."
"What! you presume so?"
"Yes, because I cannot dispose of the band, or change the object of the expedition, without the general assent."
"That is true," said the count; and his features grew solemn.
"But do not feel alarmed," the captain continued; "we shall easily obtain that assent when the colonists know what interests I propose to serve."
"May Heaven grant it!"
"I guarantee success. You have, I suppose, all the stores necessary for entering on a campaign?"
"Nearly so; but I regret to say that all my arrieros have deserted me, and left my camp furtively."
"The deuce! and naturally they took their mules with them?"
"All, without exception; and this renders it very embarrassing to move my baggage and draw my guns."
"Good, good! We will provide for all that. I have here, as you saw, excellent wagons; I am also well supplied with mules; and there are in the colony men perfectly capable of leading them."
"You will render me no slight service."
"I hope to render you others far greater than that."
The three men had returned to the room in which the conference with Colonel Suarez had taken place. The captain struck the bell, and a peon entered.
"This evening, after oración, at the end of the day's labour, the colonists will assemble in the patio to hear an important communication I have to make to them," he said.
The domestic bowed.
"Bring the dinner," the captain added. Then, turning to his guests, he said, "I presume you will dine with me, for you cannot start again before tomorrow?"
"That is true. Still we expect to be off before sunrise."
"Where is your camp?"
"At the mission of Nuestra Señora de los Ángeles."
"That is close by."
"Oh! some thirty leagues at the most."
"Yes, and the position is very strong. You do not intend, though, to stay there long?"
"No; I mean to strike a heavy blow."
"You are right: you must cause the terror of your name to precede you."
At this moment the peons brought in the dinner.
"To table, gentlemen," the captain said.
The meal was, as might be expected in this extreme frontier, excessively frugal. It was only composed of venison, maize tortillas, red beans, and pimiento, the whole washed down with pulque, mezcal, and Catalonian refino, the strongest spirit in the known world. The guests had a true hunter's appetite; that is to say, they were nearly dead of hunger, for the count and Valentine had eaten nothing for thirty hours. Hence they vigorously attacked the provisions placed before them.
The peons had retired immediately after bringing in the dinner, so as to leave the party full liberty for conversation. Hence, so soon as the rough edge was taken off their appetite, the discussion was begun again exactly where it left off, which always occurs with men whose minds are preoccupied by any difficult project.
"So," the captain asked, "war is decidedly declared between you and the Mexican Government?"
"Without remedy."
"Although the cause you sustain is just, as you are fighting for the maintenance of a right, still you will inscribe something on the banner you display?"
"Of course. I inscribe the only thing which can guarantee me the protection of the people through whom I pass, and make the oppressed and the malcontents flock to me."
"Hum! what is it?"
"Only four words."
"And they are?"
"Independencia de la Sonora."
"Yes, the idea is a happy one. If a particle of nobility and generosity is left in the hearts of the inhabitants of this unhappy country (which, however, I confess to you I greatly doubt), those four words will suffice to produce a revolution."
"I hope so, without daring to count on it. You know, like myself, the Mexican character—a strange composite of all good and bad instincts, about which it is impossible to form a decided opinion."
"Why, my dear count, the Mexicans are like every people that has been for a long time enslaved. After remaining children for ages, they grew too fast, and had the pretension of being men, when they scarcely began to comprehend their emancipation, or were in a position to derive any benefit from it."
"Still we will attempt to galvanise them. The revolutionary race is, perhaps, not completely extinct in this country, and what remains will be sufficient to enkindle the sacred flame in the hearts of all."
"What do you intend to do?"
"Hasten onwards, so as not to let myself be attacked, which always implies inferiority, if not timidity."
"That is true."
"How many men do you expect to be able to give me?"
"Eighty horsemen, commanded by myself, as I told you."
"Thanks! But when will these horsemen (who, by the way, will be very useful to me, as I possess so few at the moment) be able to join me?"
"This evening they will be granted you, and in two days they will reach the mission."
"Could you send off the mules, wagons, and muleteers tomorrow with me?"
"Certainly."
"Very good. I will set out at once for Magdalena: it is a large pueblo, commanding the two roads from Ures and Hermosillo."
"I know it."
"Proceed there direct, for that will save a loss of time."
"Agreed. I shall arrive there at the same time as yourself, which will be the more easy as I shall send off my baggage to your head quarters."
"Very good."
"You intend, then, to act energetically?"
"Yes; I mean to try a grand stroke. If I succeed in taking one of the three capitals of Sonora I shall have gained the campaign."
"Such an enterprise is surely rash."
"I know it; but in my position I dare not calculate consequences—boldness alone can and must save me.
"You are right, and I will not add a word. But now let us proceed to the meeting, for our men are assembled. In their present temper I am certain that the request I am about to make of them will be granted without difficulty."
They went out. As the captain had announced, all the colonists were assembled in the courtyard, broken up into scattered groups, eagerly discussing the reasons which caused their assemblage. When the captain appeared, accompanied by his two friends, silence was immediately established, curiosity closing the mouths of the most talkative.
The Count de Prébois Crancé was known to most of the colonists: his appearance was consequently hailed with sympathetic greetings, for each retained in his memory the recollection of the services he had rendered when Guetzalli was so rudely assailed by the Apaches. The captain cleverly availed himself of this goodwill, on which he had, indeed, built, in order to explain his request clearly to the colonists, while accounting for the causes which obliged the count to come and seek allies at Guetzalli.
The men would not have been the hearty adventurers they really were, had they received such a request coldly. Seduced, as was natural, by the strangeness and even the temerity of the enterprise proposed to them, they consented to range themselves under the count's banner with enthusiastic shouts and delight. The first expedition projected, and for which all the preparations had been made, was completely forgotten, and the only question was the enfranchisement of Sonora. Had the count asked for two hundred men, he would certainly have obtained them on the spot without the slightest difficulty.
Captain de Laville, delighted at the prodigious success he had achieved, warmly thanked his comrades, both in the count's name and his own, and immediately began getting ready to start. The wagons were carefully inspected to see that they were all in order, and were then laden with all the articles requisite for the coming campaign. At about an hour before sunrise all was ready for starting; the wagons were loaded, and horses attached; the mules, carefully selected, were intrusted to steady men.
Louis and Valentine mounted; the captain accompanied them about a league from the company; and then they parted, agreeing to meet again three days later at La Magdalena.
Mules and wagons progress very slowly in Mexico, where there are in reality no roads, and where you are generally forced to cut a path with the axe. Louis and his foster brother, whose presence was imperatively demanded at the mission, felt in despair at this slowness. In this extremity the count resolved to leave the caravan, and push on ahead. In consequence they left the arrieros, after recommending the greatest diligence to them, and burying their spurs in their horses' flanks, set out at full speed for the mission.
The American horses, descended from the old Arabs of the conquerors of New Spain, have several incontestable advantages over ours. In the first place they are temperate: a little alfalfa in the morning, after washing their mouths out, enables them to go a whole day without food, drink, or rest. These horses seem indefatigable, and, indeed, they have only one pace—the gallop; and at the end of the day, after going twenty leagues at that pace, they have not turned a hair, and do not display the slightest fatigue.
As our two horsemen were mounted on crack steeds, they reached the mission in a comparatively very short period. At the first barricade a man was waiting for them: it was Curumilla.
"Someone is waiting for you," he said. "Come."
They followed him, asking each other with a glance what reason could be so important as to draw such a long sentence from Curumilla.