Galveston is built on the small sandy islet of St. Louis, which almost closes up the mouth of the Rio Trinidad. At that time the houses were low, mostly built of wood, and surrounded by gardens planted with fragrant trees, which impregnated the atmosphere with delicious odours.
Unfortunately there is one thing that cannot alter—the climate and the nature of the soil. The suffocating heat that almost continually prevails in the town corrodes the earth and changes it into an impalpable dust, in which you sink up to the knees, and which, at the least breath of air, penetrates into the eyes, mouth, and nostrils; myriads of mosquitoes, whose stings are extremely painful; and, above all, the bad quality of the water, which the inhabitants collect with great difficulty in plank reservoirs during the rainy season, and which the sun renders boiling—these grievous occurrences, especially for Europeans, render a residence at Galveston insupportable, and even most dangerous.
The Texans themselves so greatly fear the deadly influence of this climate that, during the torrid heat of summer, rich persons emigrate by hundreds to the mainland, so that the town, which becomes almost suddenly deserted by this momentary departure, assumes a look of sad desolation which is painful to behold.
About four in the afternoon, at the moment when the rising sea breeze began to refresh the atmosphere, a little Indian canoe, made of beech bark, left the mainland, and vigorously impelled by two men supplied with wide sculls, proceeded toward the city and pulled alongside the plank quay, which served at that time as the landing place. So soon as the canoe was stationary, a third person, carelessly reclining in the stern sheets, rose, looked round him as if to recognise the spot where he was; then, taking a spring, he landed on the quay. The canoe immediately turned round, though not a syllable had been exchanged between the scullers and the passenger they had brought.
The latter then pulled his hat over his eyes, wrapped himself carefully in the folds of a wide zarapé of Indian fabric and striking colour, and proceeded hastily towards the centre of the city. After a walk of a few minutes the stranger stopped in front of a house, whose comfortable appearance and well-tended garden showed that it belonged to a person who, if not rich, was in easy circumstances. The door was ajar; the stranger pushed it, entered, and closed it after him; then, without any hesitation, like a man sure of what he was about, he crossed the garden, in which he met nobody, entered the passage of the house, turned to the right, and found himself in a room modestly, though comfortably furnished.
On reaching this room the stranger fell into a butaca with the air of a tired man delighted to rest after a long journey, took off his zarapé, which he placed on the equipal, threw his hat upon it, and then, when he had made himself comfortable, he rolled a husk cigarette, struck a light with a gold mechero he took from his pocket, lit his papelito, and was soon surrounded by a dense cloud of bluish and fragant smoke, which rose above his head and formed a species of halo.
The stranger threw his body back, half closed his eyes, and fell into that gentle ecstasy which the Italians call the dolce far niente, the Turks, kief, and for which we northerns, with our more powerful constitutions, have found no name, for the simple reason that we do not know it.
The stranger had reached about the half of his second cigarette when another person entered the room. This man, who did not appear to take the slightest notice of the previous arrival, behaved, however, precisely as he had done: he also took off his zarapé, reclined on a butaca, and lit up a cigarette. Presently the garden sand creaked beneath the footsteps of a third visitor, followed immediately by a fourth, and then by a fifth; in short, at the end of an hour twenty persons were assembled in this room. They all smoked with apparent carelessness, and since their arrival had not exchanged a syllable.
Six o'clock struck from a clock standing on a sideboard. The last stroke of the hour had scarce ceased vibrating ere the company, as if by common agreement, threw away their cigars, and rose with a vivacity that certainly was little to be expected after their previous carelessness. At the same moment a secret door opened in the wall, and a man appeared on the threshold.
This man was tall, elegant, and aristocratic, and appeared to be young. A half-mask of velvet concealed the upper part of his face; as for his attire, it was exactly similar to that of the other persons in the room, but a brace of long pistols and a dagger were passed through the girdle of red China crape which was wound tightly round his waist. At the appearance of the stranger a quiver ran, like an electric current, through the lines of visitors. The masked man, with head erect, arms crossed on his chest, and body haughtily thrown back, gave his audience a glance, which could be seen flashing through the holes in the velvet.