Vagabond Life in Mexico

by Gabriel Ferry

"That cry saved my life. As soon as I felt that we ran the risk of getting crushed to pieces without being able to defend ourselves, I jumped among the branches that stopped our passage, and, on seeing the immense stone which they had pushed into the river, I raised a great shriek. The rascals, fancying from the cry that I was mortally wounded, decamped as quickly as they could. Once out of the water, I followed the course of the river, knowing that you could not be far off. I was right, as you see. We shall now resume our journey. As for you, Señor Calros, who are so impatient to revenge yourself upon Campos, I have hit on a more expeditious plan than the one we are now following. I have some friends in the village in which Campos lives. We shall go and visit them; and in two hours all your wishes shall be fully satisfied."

The arrival of the pilot had brought back to Calros's mind all that boiling impatience which his exhaustion of body had alone kept under. He would not listen to a halt. A short discussion then arose as to whether we should continue our journey by land or water. Ventura was of opinion that we ought still to make use of the boat and reascend the river, as we should probably fall in with no more enemies, and the force of the current had very likely removed all obstacles to our passage. We therefore took our places in the skiff without loss of time, Calros and Ventura pulling, and I between the two rowers, glad at finding that, from my inexperience in rowing, I should not be expected to give any assistance, and would be at full liberty to admire the glorious landscape that unfolded itself before our eyes, bathed in the first light of dawn.

The river, so dark and sombre the night before, seemed now to smile in the sunlight. Light vapors arose from the surface of the water, drawn up by the heat, which had taken the place of the coolness of the evening before. Numerous aquatic plants covered its surface, and the furrow which our boat cut in passing through them soon closed up again, leaving not a trace of our presence. No sound was heard save the working of the oars in the row-locks, and a green woodpecker tapping with long, regular strokes the trunk of a dead tree.

My companions were quite indifferent to the glorious beauty of this solitude. I must confess, however, that I allowed myself to be distracted from the contemplation of these charms to listen to the conversation of the two men, which was becoming more and more animated. Besides relating the grievances which he had endured from Campos, the pilot, in the course of his narrative, caused a chord to vibrate in the heart of the chivalrous lover of Doña Sacramenta. Calros was painfully surprised on learning that Julian, his antagonist in the fandango at Manantial, was his rival. Julian, being the pilot's friend, had no secrets from him. His passion for Sacramenta dated from the time when the parents of the young girl lived in another village called Medellin, before they had come to reside at Manantial. After the departure of Sacramenta for Manantial, Julian had not lost all hope of seeing her again, and of winning her affections. Old Josefa, the woman whose son Campos had killed, and who was seeking every where an avenger for her son's murder, had been often invited from Manantial to Medellin for the purpose of exercising the black art, in which she was considered an adept. It was through her that Julian received news of Sacramenta, and the old crone had even promised to exert her influence with the girl in his favor, if he succeeded in putting her on the traces of her son's murderer. This condition Julian had been able to fulfill through the friendship of the pilot, as the latter, by his ancient relations with Campos, was well aware of all this wretch's crimes. Julian had thus informed her that Campos was her son's murderer, and that the pilot Ventura would lend her a hand in securing him. Josefa had, on her side, kept her word. She had used all her influence with Sacramenta in Julian's favor, "and was successful," said the pilot, with an arch smile, "since the amorous Jarocho had been invited to attend the fête of Manantial by the young girl herself, to challenge, in her honor, the bravest champion in the village." The pilot did not know that the old crone Josefa, in her eagerness to have her son avenged, had likewise excited the passion of Calros, in order that she might make him more eager in the search after Campos. Calros and I could alone complete the revelations of Ventura. I did not say a single word, however, because I feared to excite the Jarocho's jealousy still more by untimely consolation, and because I knew that his soul was torn by violent and contending emotions. The pilot, seeing us both sunk in thought, turned to Calros and said,

"Now, when I think of it, it was you that challenged my friend Julian. It was you that was victor in the combat held in honor of the fair Sacramenta. Well, shall I tell you? Julian confessed to me that, even after his defeat, he had not entirely lost hope; so much so that he is talking about quitting Medellin, and you will perhaps see him some of these days quietly settled in Manantial."

"Are you sure of what you say?" asked Calros, in an altered tone.

"Has my good friend Julian ever deceived me?" answered the pilot. "Trust me, he is not a man that is under the influence of illusions. If he never come to Manantial, it is because he will have the best of reasons for staying away."

This was rather much, and Calros asked him no more questions. With eyes fixed mechanically on the water around him, the poor fellow plied his oar with a kind of feverish energy. His body was with us, but his mind had fled away to the woods of Manantial.

We had now gone as far as we could on the river, which had now dribbled down to a mere streamlet, flowing between low banks. Upon one side fields of green sugar-cane, waving in the wind, stretched to the foot of a chain of hills which rose at a short distance from the stream.