COFFEE PLANT IN BLOSSOM.
The tragedy came on in this way: Sebastian Hurtado, one of Lara's principal officers, had brought with him his wife, Lucia Miranda, a Spanish lady of much beauty and purity of soul. During the frequent visits which Mangora, the cacique of the Timbuez, paid to the fort, he saw this lady and became enamoured of her charms, so deeply that he could not conceal the evidence of his love.
Miranda was not long in observing the ardent looks of the Indian chief and in understanding their significance, and the discovery filled her with dread and alarm. Knowing how important it was for the commandant to keep on good terms with this powerful chief, and fearing that she might be sacrificed to this policy, she did her utmost to keep out of his sight, and also to guard against any surprise or violence, not knowing to what extremes the passion of love might lead an Indian.
Mangora, on his part, laid covert plans to get the fair lady out of the fort, and with this in view[pg 111] pressed Hurtado to pay him a visit and bring his wife with him. This the Spaniard was loath to do, for Miranda had told him of her fears, and he suspected the Indian's design. With a policy demanded by the situation, he declined the invitations of the chief, on the plea that a Castilian soldier could not leave his post of duty without permission from his commander, and that honor forbade him to ask that permission except to fight his enemies.
The wily chief was not duped by this reply. He saw that Hurtado suspected his purpose, and the removal of the husband seemed to him a necessary step for its accomplishment. While seeking to devise a plan for this, he learned, to his great satisfaction, that Hurtado and another officer, with fifty soldiers, had left the fort on an expedition to collect provisions, of which a supply was needed.
Here was the opportunity which the treacherous chief awaited. It not only removed the husband, but weakened the garrison, the protectors of the wife in his absence. Late one day the chief placed four thousand armed men in ambush in a marsh near the fort, and then set out for it with thirty others, laden with provisions. Reaching the gates, he sent word to Lara that he had heard of his want of food, and had brought enough to serve him until the return of Hurtado and his men. This show of friendship greatly pleased Lara. He met the chief with warm demonstrations of gratitude, and insisted on entertaining him and his followers.
So far the scheme of the treacherous Indian had[pg 112] been successful. The men in the marsh had their instructions and patiently awaited the fixed signals, while the feast in the fort went on till the night was well advanced. When it broke up the Spaniards were given time to retire; then the food-bearing Indians set fire to the magazines, and the ambushed savages, responding to the signal, broke into the fort and ruthlessly cut down all the Spaniards they met. Those who had gone to bed were killed in their sleep or slain as they sprang up in alarm. The governor was severely wounded, but had strength enough to revenge himself on the faithless Mangora, whom he rushed upon and ran through the body with his sword. In a moment more he was himself slain.
At the close of the attack, of all the Spaniards in the fort only the women and children remained alive—spared, no doubt, by order of the chief. These consisted of the hapless Miranda, the innocent cause of this bloody catastrophe, four other women, and as many children. The weeping captives were bound and brought before Siripa, the brother of Mangora, and his successor as cacique of the tribe.
No sooner had the new chief gazed on the woman whom his brother had loved, her beauty heightened in his eyes by her grief and woe, than a like passion was born in his savage soul, and he at once ordered his men to remove her bonds. He then told her that she must not consider herself a captive, and solicited her favor with the gentleness and address that love can implant in the breast of the savage as[pg 113] well as of the son of civilization. Her husband, he told her, was a forlorn fugitive in the forests of a hostile country; he was the chief of a powerful nation and could surround her with luxuries and wealth. Could she hesitate to accept his love in preference to that of a man who was lost to her.
These persuasions excited only horror and anguish in the soul of the faithful wife. Her love for her husband was proof against all that Siripa could say, and also against the fear of slavery or death, which might follow her rejection of his suit. In fact, death seemed to her a smaller evil than life as the wife of this savage suitor, and she rejected his offers with scorn and with a bitter contempt which she hoped would excite his rage and induce him to put her to instant death.