The Gold-Seekers: A Tale of California

"Then he told you all?"

"Yes, papa. As I knew the desire you felt to know your liberator, I wished to surprise you by letting you find him at the moment you least expected. Unfortunately chance has thwarted all my plans, and destroyed my combinations."

"That was right, niña, for it will teach you not to have any secrets from your father. But console yourself, my child; we will find him again, and then he must allow us to express our gratitude to him, which time, far from lessening, has only heightened."

The young lady, without saying anything further, returned pensively to her seat. The general turned to Valentine.

"It is now our turn, caballero. You are the owner of the herd of cattle?"

"Yes, general; but I am not the only one."

"Who are your partners?"

"Don Louis and the caballero here present."

"Very good. Do you wish to dispose of your cattle advantageously?"

"It is my intention."

"How many head have you?"

"Seven hundred and seventy."

"And you are taking them – ?"

"To San Francisco."

"Caramba! That is a tough job."

"We purpose hiring peons to drive the animals."

"But if you could find a purchaser here?"

"I should prefer it."

"Well, I want cattle: most of mine have been stolen by the Apaches – those infernal plunderers! If you consent we will strike a bargain. Your herd suits me. My mayordomo has seen it, and I will buy it in the lump."

"I wish nothing better."

"We say seven hundred and seventy head, I think?"

"Yes."

"At twenty-five piastres apiece: that makes 19,250 piastres, if I am not mistaken. Does that suit you?"

"No, general," Valentine replied firmly.

Don Sebastian looked at him in amazement.

"Why so?" he said.

"Because I should rob you."

"Hum! That is my business."

"That is possible, general; but it is not mine."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that cattle are sold, one with the other, at eighteen piastres in San Francisco, and I cannot sell them for twenty-five here."

"Nonsense! I fancy I know the value of ganado as well as any man; and I offer you the price your herd is worth."

"No, general, it is not worth it, and you know it as well as I do," the hunter objected resolutely. "I thank you for your generosity, but I cannot accept it: my friend would be angry with me for making such a bargain."

"Then you refuse?"

"I do."

"It is perfectly novel for a merchant to refuse to gain a profit on his wares."

"Pardon me, general, I do not refuse an honest profit; but I will not rob you, that is all."

"On my word, you are the first man I ever knew to look at trade in that light."

"Probably, general, because you have never had dealings with a Frenchman."

"I must yield. What do you ask for the beasts?"

"Nineteen piastres per head, which, I assure you, will give me a very handsome profit."

"Be it so. That makes – ?"

"Fourteen thousand six hundred and thirty piastres."

"Very good. If that will suit you, I will give you an order for that sum on Messrs. Torribi, Dellaporta, and Co., at Guaymas."

"That will do admirably."

"You hear, captain, the herd is ours?"

"Good! This night it will start for the hacienda."

"When do you propose leaving, señores?"

"As soon as our business is settled here, general. We are anxious to rejoin our friend."

"In an hour the bill of exchange will be ready."

Valentine bowed.

"Still," the general continued, "you will be good enough to tell Don Louis that I regard myself as his debtor, and if ever he come to Sonora I will prove it."

"Possibly he may soon arrive," the hunter replied, with a side glance at Doña Angela, who blushed.

"I hope so; and now, gentlemen, I am at your service. If I can be of any use to you, remember that you can always apply to me."

"Receive my thanks, general."

After exchanging a few more words they parted. In passing Doña Angela, Valentine bowed respectfully.

"Don Louis still has your reliquary," he muttered in so low a voice that she guessed the words rather than heard them.

"Thank you," she answered; "you are kind."

"She loves Louis," Valentine said to himself as he returned to the cuarto, accompanied by Don Cornelio.

"The man is a fool to refuse a profit of 5000 piastres," the general said to Don Isidro so soon as he found himself alone with him.

"Perhaps so," the latter replied thoughtfully; "but I fancy he is an enemy."

The general shrugged his shoulders contemptuously, not deigning to attach the slightest importance to this insinuation.

The same evening Valentine and his two companions left San José, and proceeded toward Guaymas, without seeing Doña Angela or the general again.

CHAPTER XII

CONVERSATION

During the few thousand years since the world on which we vegetate issued from the hands of the Creator, many revolutions have taken place, many extraordinary facts have been accomplished. How many nations have succeeded each other, rising and falling in turn, disappearing without even leaving a trace, after traversing history like dazzling meteors, and then going out eternally in the night of ages!

But of all the strange facts of which the memory has been preserved, none in our opinion can be compared with what we have seen accomplished under our own eyes, with extraordinary audacity and success, during about three-quarters of a century.

Adventurers bursting from every quarter of the globe – some impelled by the fanaticism of religious faith, others by a spirit of adventure, others again, and the large majority, urged on by wretchedness – after landing as pilgrims on the American shores, asking shelter from the poor and innocent inhabitants of those hospitable countries, and purchasing for a song fertile estates, gradually congregated, expelled the first possessors of the soil, founded cities and ports, built arsenals, and one day shaking off the yoke of the mother country under whose ægis they had timidly sought shelter, constituted themselves an independent state, and founded that colossus, with feet of clay, body of gold, and head of mud, which is called the United States of America.

Humble at the outset, this poor Republic, singing in a loud voice the words, "Liberty and Fraternity!" – words whose noble and grand significance it never comprehended – displaying a rigid tolerance, an exaggerated virtue and puritanism, stepped insidiously into the councils of the European powers, climbed cunningly up to the thrones of sovereigns, and, beneath the mask of disinterestedness, gained acceptance from all. Suddenly, when the favourable moment arrived, the United States rose and assumed a haughty posture. They who had laid down in their Act of Independence that they would never consent to any aggrandisement, said in a domineering voice to Europe, surprised and almost terrified by such audacity, "This quarter of the globe is ours. We are a powerful nation. You must henceforth settle with us."

Unfortunately for themselves, in uttering these proud words, the Northern Americans did not believe them. On the one hand they were perfectly aware of their weakness; and, on the other, they knew very well that a multitude of individuals collected from all sides, without any tie of family or language among them, cannot form a people – that, is to say, a nation – in one century, not even in two.

Still, to be just and impartial to the United States, we must allow that their inhabitants possess to a supreme degree that feverish ardour which, if well directed, produces great results.

It is evident that these bold adventurers are accomplishing, though they little suspect it, a providential mission. What it is no one can say, themselves least of all. These men who stifle on the frontiers, which their population, though daily increasing, cannot fill; who aspire continually to leap over the barriers which other nations oppose to them; who only dream of the unknown, and are perpetually gazing at the distant horizon – these men, in whose ear a secret voice constantly murmurs, as to the Jew of the legend, "Onward, onward!" – these men are destined, ere long, to play a grand, glorious, and noble part in modern civilisation, if the profound egotism that undermines, and the thirst for gold which devours them, does not kill in them those regenerating virtues with which they are unconsciously endowed; and if, forgetting the spirit of conquest and desire for further aggrandisement, they draw more closely together the ties between the several states, and practise among themselves that liberty and fraternity of which they talk so jactantly abroad, but know so little at home.

No people equals the Americans in the art of founding towns. In a few days, on the spot where a virgin forest full of mystery and shadow stood, they lay out streets, build houses, light gas; and in the midst of these streets and squares, created as if by enchantment, the forest trees are not yet dead, and a few forgotten oaks flourish with a melancholy air.

It is true that many of these towns, improvised for the exigencies of the moment, are frequently deserted as rapidly as they were built; for the North American is the true nomadic race. Nothing attaches it to the soil: convenience alone can keep it at any given spot. It has none of those heart affections, none of those memories of childhood or youth, which induce us often to endure suffering in a place rather than quit it for others where we should be comparatively much better off. In a word, the American has no home, that word so endearing to Europeans. To him the most agreeable and comfortable abode is that where he can pile dollar on dollar with the greatest facility.

San Francisco, that city which now counts more than 60,000 inhabitants, and in which all the refinements of luxury can be found, is an evident proof of the marvellous facility with which the Americans improvise towns. We can remember bartering, scarce fifteen years back, with Flat-head Indians, beneath the shade of secular trees, on sites where splendid edifices now rise. We have fished alone in this immense bay, the finest in the world, which is at present almost too small to hold the innumerable vessels that follow each other in rapid succession.

At the period of our story San Francisco was not yet a city in the true acceptation of the word. It was a conglomeration of huts and clumsy cabins built of wood, and which afforded some sort of shelter to the adventurers of every nation whom the gold fever cast on its shores, and who only stopped there long enough to prepare for proceeding to the mines, or throw into the bottomless abysses of the gambling houses the nuggets they had collected with so much difficulty and suffering.

The police were almost non-existing: the stronger man made the law. The knife and revolver were the última ratio, and lorded it over this heterogeneous population, composed of the worst specimens the five parts of the globe could throw up.

A population incessantly renewed, never the same, lived in this Hades, a prey to that constant and fatal intoxication which the sight of that terrible metal called gold produces in even the strongest-minded men.

Still, at the period of which we are writing, the first fury of the race to the placers had somewhat cooled down. Owing to the impulse given by a few resolute men, gifted with lofty intellects and generous hearts, the normal life was beginning to be gradually organised; the bandits no longer daringly held the top of the causeway, honest men could at length breathe and raise their heads, all foreboded better days, and the dawn of an era of order, peace, and tranquillity had arrived.

About two months after the events we narrated in our preceding chapter we will lead the reader to a charming house built a little out of the throng, as if the inhabitants had sought to isolate themselves as much as possible; and after introducing him into a room modestly furnished with a few common chairs and a table, on which lay a large map of Mexico, we will listen to the conversation of the two men who were leaning over this map.

One of them is already well known to us, for he is the Count Louis; the other was a man of middle age, with a fine and intelligent face, whose eye sparkled with boldness and frankness; his manners were also very elegant. He appeared to be a Frenchman; at least he was talking in that language. At the moment we joined them the two gentlemen were inserting black-headed pins into certain districts of the map spread out before them.

"I am perfectly of your opinion, my dear count," the stranger said as he rose: "that road is the most direct, and at the same time the safest."

"Is it not?" Louis answered.

"Without any doubt. But tell me – you are quite resolved to disembark at Guaymas?"

"That is the most favourable point."

"I ask you that question, my dear countryman, because I have written to our representative in that town."

"Well?" the count said quickly, rising in his turn.

"All goes well; at least he tells me so in his letter."

"He has answered you?"

"Courier for courier. The Mexican authorities will see your arrival with the greatest pleasure; a barrack will be prepared for your men, and the principal posts of the town intrusted to them. You are expected with the most lively impatience."

"All the better, for I confess to you that I feared much annoyance in that quarter: the Mexicans have such a singular character, that one never knows how to deal with them."

"What you say is perfectly true, my friend; but remember that your position is an exceptional one, and can in no possible manner cause umbrage to the authorities of the town. You are the owner of a placer of incalculable richness, situated in a country where you will have continually to apprehend attacks from the Indians; you will, therefore, only pass through Guaymas."

"Literally so; for I declare to you that I shall set out with the least possible delay for the mine."

"Another thing, too: most of the men whose hatred or envy you might have occasion to fear are shareholders in the company you represent. If they show you any ill will, or try to impede your operations, they will carry on the war at their own expense, and naturally will be the first punished."

"That is true."

"And then you have no political object: your conduct is clearly laid down. Your desire is to find gold."

"Yes, and to insure a happy and independent position for the brave men who accompany me."

"What more noble task could you undertake?"

"So you are satisfied, sir?"

"I could not be more so, my dear count. Everything smiles on you: the company is definitively formed at Mexico."

"I knew that before. During my stay in that city I drew up the plans and prepared everything; besides, I believe I can reckon on the friends we have there."

"I believe so too. Did not the President of the Republic himself seem to adopt your views?"

"Enthusiastically."

"Very good. Now, in Sonora, the governor, with whom you will have alone to deal, is one of our largest shareholders, so you have nothing to fear in that quarter."

"Tell me, sir, do you know our representative at Guaymas?"

At this question a cloud passed over the stranger's forehead.

"Not personally," he answered, after a certain degree of hesitation.

"Then you can give me no information about him? You understand that it is important for me to know the character of the man with whom I shall doubtlessly enter into permanent relations, and from whom I shall be compelled to ask protection in certain difficult circumstances, such as may occur at any moment."

"That is true, my dear count. As you observe, you know not in what position accident may place you; it is, therefore, necessary that I should instruct you, so listen to me."

"I am giving you the most earnest attention."

"Guaymas, as you are very well aware, is of very slight importance to our nation in a commercial point of view. During the whole year not a dozen ships bearing our flag put in there. The French Government, therefore, considered it useless to send a French agent to that town, and acted like most of the powers – it selected one of the most respectable merchants in Guaymas, and made him its representative."

"Ah, ah!" the count said thoughtfully; "then our consular agent in that port is not a Frenchman?"

"No; he is a Mexican. It is unlucky for you; for I will not hide from you that our countrymen have several times complained of not obtaining from him that protection which it is his duty to give them. It seems, too, that this man is wonderfully greedy for gain."

"As far as that is concerned I do not alarm myself at all."

"The rest need not trouble you either. The Mexicans generally are not bad. They are children – that is all. You will easily master this man by talking to him firmly, and not yielding an inch of what you consider your right."

"Trust to me for doing that."

"There is nothing else to be done."

"Thanks for this precious information, which I shall profit by, be assured, at the proper time and place. What is his name?"

"Don Antonio Mendez Pavo; but, before your departure, I will give you a letter for him, which I am sure will prevent your having any vexatious disputes with the fellow."

"I accept with great pleasure."

"And now another point."

"Go on."

"Are your enlistments completed?"

"Nearly so; I only need ten more men at the most."

"You are organising your expedition in a military manner?"

"I wished to avoid it, but that is impossible, owing to the Indian tribes through which we must pass, and with whom we shall have doubtlessly a tussle."

"You may expect it."

"So you see, my dear sir, I take my precautions in consequence."

"You act wisely. What will be the strength of your company?"

"Two hundred and fifty to three hundred men at the outside."

"You are right: a larger force would arouse the susceptibility of the Mexicans, and perhaps cause them alarm as to the purity and loyalty of your intentions."

"That is what I wish to avoid at any price."

"Are your men French?"

"All. I do not wish to have any men with me on whose devotion I cannot calculate. I should be afraid, by mixing strangers among my fellows, that I might relax those family ties so necessary for the success of an expedition like mine, and which can be easily established among men all belonging to the same nation."

"That is extremely logical."

"And then," the count went on, "I only enlist old soldiers or sailors, all men accustomed to military discipline, and who are familiar with the use of arms."

"Then your organisation is terminated?"

"Nearly so, as I told you."

"All the better. In spite of the pleasure I feel in your delightful society, I should like to see you at work already."

"Thank you, but that will not be long first: the vessel is chartered, and if nothing happen to derange my plans, I shall say good-by to you within a week. You know that, in an affair like this, speed is the great point."

"Success depends, above all, on celerity and decision."

"I shall be deficient in neither, be assured."

"Above all, do not forget to take with you two or three men you can trust, and who are thoroughly acquainted with the country you are about explore."

"I have with me two wood rangers, from whom the desert has no secrets."

"You can trust in them?"

"As in myself."

"Bravo! I feel a presentiment that we shall succeed."

"Heaven grant it! For my part, I will do all to deserve it."

The stranger took his hat.

"Ah, ah! I have been here a long time, and forget that people may be waiting for me at the office. I must leave you, my dear count."

"Already?"

"Needs must. Shall I see you this evening?"

"I cannot promise. You know that I am not my own master either, especially at this moment."

"That is true; still try to come."

"I will."

"That's right. Good-by till I see you again."

The two men shook hands affectionately, and the stranger departed.

So soon as he was alone the count bent again over the map, which he studied carefully: it was not till night had completely set in that he gave up his task.

"How is it," he said to himself thoughtfully, "that Valentine has not yet arrived? He should have been here."

As he finished this monologue he heard a rap at the door.

CHAPTER XIII

PREPARATIONS

The period at which our story happens was a happy time for desperate enterprises and filibustering expeditions.

In fact, the political commotions that had overthrown Europe some time previously had brought to the surface, and set in motion, a great number of those unprincipled men, whose sole object is to secure from the revolutions that desolate their country very lucrative, if not very honourable, positions, and for whom anarchy is the sole safety valve.

But, after the first convulsions inseparable from a revolution, when the popular effervescence began gradually to cool down, and the overflowing waters returned to their bed – in a word, when society, wearied of paltry struggles sustained for no avowable motives, and merely kept up to satisfy the disgraceful ambition of a few men of no value, understood that the re-establishment of order was the sole path of salvation, all those individuals who had for a season played a part more or less important found themselves cast on the pavement of the towns without resources; for, with that improvidence inherent in their natures, squandering day by day the favours which blind fortune had lavished on them, they had kept nothing for bad times, convinced as they were that the state of things they had produced would last for ever.

For a few months they struggled, not courageously, but obstinately, against adversity, seeking by every means to recapture the prey which they had so foolishly allowed to slip from their grasp. But they were soon compelled to allow that times had changed, that their hour was past, and that the ground which had hitherto maintained them was sinking hourly beneath their feet, and threatened to swallow them up.

Their position was becoming critical. It was impossible for them to resume their humble and peaceful avocations, and return to that nothingness from which a mad caprice of chance had drawn them. The idea did not even occur to them. They had tasted luxury and honour; they could not and would not work again: pride and sloth imperiously forbade it.

Cincinnatus has never found an imitator in history, and that is the reason why his memory has been so preciously kept up by all to the present day. The men of whom we are speaking were far from being like Cincinnatus, though they in so far resembled the Roman Dictator that they claimed to govern nations.

What was to be done?

Fortunately Providence, whose ways are incomprehensible, watched over them.

The discovery of the rich placers of California, the news of which had been almost stifled under the blow of the terrible European political commotions, suddenly returned to the surface, and in a short time assumed a considerable extension. The most extravagant stories circulated about the incalculable riches that lay almost on the ground in the soil of the new Eldorado. Then all the vagabond imaginations began to ferment. All eyes were fixed on America, and the birds of prey that wanted a booty in Europe rushed with a loud cry of joy toward that unknown land, where they fancied they should find in a few days all the joys with which they had been gorged, and which they hoped this time to satisfy.

Unfortunately, in California, as elsewhere, the first condition for acquiring wealth is incessant, permanent, and regular labour.

On landing in America numerous poignant deceptions awaited the adventurers. The mines, indeed, existed – they were rich; but the gold they contained could only be extracted with great difficulty, great fatigue, and, above all, great expense – three impossibilities which our gold-seekers could not overcome.

Many perished either of want, or of a violent death through pot-house quarrels, or through the change of climate, to which they had not the time to grow accustomed. Those who survived, wan and ragged, displayed their starving faces in all the bad places of San Francisco, ready to do anything for the smallest sum of money that would lull their wolfish appetite.