The Indian Chief: The Story of a Revolution

by Gustave Aimard

The election over, all, in appearance, returned to the old routine, or at least seemed to re-assume its normal condition. Still it was not so. The Count de Lhorailles, in dying, had borne with him the hopes of the adventurers, whom he had only kept together through his resolute and enterprising character. With his fall, matters began to change, and difficulties spring up.

The Mexican authorities, in whom the indomitable will of the count had alone inspired an apparent kindness toward the colonists, whom they had never liked to see establish themselves on the territory of the Republic, no longer apprehending the vengeance of the man they had learned to fear while learning to know him, very gently and craftily inaugurated a system of minor annoyances, which was already beginning to render the position of the French difficult, and would soon cause it to be intolerable, unless the latter employed an energetic remedy for this state of things, which grew hourly worse. On the other hand, though the colony was so remote from the seaboard, rumours of what was going on in the rest of the world reached it at intervals. Emigrants in troops passed through Guetzalli: all were proceeding to California, for that was the promised land at the moment.

All these emigrants—gambusinos, or Mexican adventurers—only dreamed of inexhaustible placers and mines of immense wealth. The gold fever—that horrible malady which the English so well stigmatised by energetically calling it the "metallic gold fever"—was at its height. From all corners of the world, Europeans, Asiatics, Africans, Americans, Polynesians, adventurers of every description, settled like swarms of ill-omened locusts on this country, which was destined to prove fatal to them, and swallow them up after unheard-of sufferings.

In this impious crusade of the vilest appetites the watchword was "Gold—gold!" These men, who abandoned country, family, everything, in a word, had only one desire—to amass gold. It was a hideous sight. And these bands succeeded each other at the colony, with their eyes obstinately fixed on the horizon, and only replying two words to the questions asked them: "California—placers." In order to conquer this metal king all means would be good to them: nothing would check them. They were ready for anything—to commit the most odious crimes, the most infamous treachery, the most ignoble acts of cowardice.

Unfortunately for the colonists, the adventurers who passed near their abode all belonged to the most ignorant, corrupted, and ferocious classes of Mexico. In spite of themselves, the Frenchmen, whose object had been, at the outset, to work the mines, felt the desire aroused in them to return to the Eldorado they had left, and demand their share of the spoil. A man, however strong he may be, cannot with impunity hear the word "gold" constantly buzzing in his ears. In the strange connection of these four letters there is an immense attractive power, which sharpens up avarice, and arouses all the evil instincts.

The colonists of Guetzalli were honest and frank adventurers. The majority had quitted Europe with the desire of enriching themselves rapidly in that mysterious country about which they heard such marvels. Subdued by the ascendency the count had managed to acquire over them, they had tacitly accepted the position made for them, and, by the aid of habit, had gradually come, not to forget their past desires, but to consider them as mocking chimeras and unrealisable dreams. The events which afterwards happened in the colony, and the golden halo suddenly spread abroad by California, gave a body to these dreams, and enkindled their covetousness to the highest pitch.

Charles de Laville followed with a shudder the progress of this moral disorganisation of the colony. He understood in his heart that the enemy he must conquer, in order to become once more master of his companions, was that old adventurous leaven which still fomented in their hearts, and caused them to hate the calm and peaceful life they led, instead of that agitated existence, with its strange interludes, to which they secretly aspired, perhaps without suspecting it themselves. For it is a singular anomaly in the human heart that these men, who wished for gold at any price, who coveted it with unequalled frenzy, and who, to possess it, braved the most terrible perils, and suffered the most horrible misery, did not care for it when they possessed it, but regarded it with disdain, and threw it uncounted on the tables of the gambling houses, or of places still more infamous. It might be said that the gold so painfully amassed burned their fingers, and they were anxious to get rid of it. And that was true, especially in the case of the French. Gold with them had no value except in proportion to the difficulties they met with in acquiring it. True adventurers in the fullest sense of the term, what they loved was not the gold for itself, but the struggles it cost them, and the energy and courage they must expend in its research.

Charles was thoroughly acquainted with the character of the men he commanded He knew that, in order to keep them with him, it would be sufficient to supply an outlet for this superabundance of sap, this vivacity of imagination, which filled the hearts and heads of these extraordinary men. But how to obtain this result? What means should he employ? Charles racked his brains in vain: the spark did not strike—there was no light he could throw on the matter.

About this time two Frenchmen, who had formed part of the count's last expedition, and who were believed long ago dead, reappeared at Guetzalli. Great was the amazement of all on seeing them, although so haggard, half naked, and scarce able to stand; but still greater grew that amazement when, two days after their return, on finding themselves slightly recovered, owing to the kind attentions shown them, and able to speak, they commenced the incredible narrative of their adventures.

What had happened to them may be told in fewer words than the men employed. The frightful hurricane that assailed the count's band had surprised them some distance from the spot where their companions had taken refuge, and rendered it impossible to rejoin them. They sheltered themselves as well as they could during the tempest; but when it was over, they perceived, to their horror, that every trace, every footmark, had disappeared.