Confessions Of Con Cregan, the Irish Gil Blas

Neither my bodily energy nor my habiliments favored me in escaping from this ditch; but I did rescue myself at last, and then, remembering that I must reach some place of refuge before day broke, I set out over the moor, my only pilotage being the occasionally looking back at the lights of the hospital, and, in sailor-fashion, using them as my point of departure. When creeping along the walks of the Lazaretto, I was barely able to move; and now, such a good ally is a strong “will,” I stepped out boldly and manfully.

As I walked on, the night cleared, a light fresh breeze dissipated the vapor, and refreshed me as I went, while overhead, myriads of bright stars shone out, and served to guide me on the trackless waste. If I often felt fatigue stealing over me, a thought of the Lazaretto and its fearful inmates nerved me to new efforts. Sometimes so possessed did I become with these fears that I actually increased my speed to a run, and thus, exerting myself to the very utmost, I made immense progress, and ere day began to break, found myself at the margin of the moor, and the entrance to a dense forest, which I remembered often to have seen of a clear evening from the garden of the Lazaretto. With what gratitude did I accept that leafy shade, which seemed to promise me its refuge! I threw my arms around a tree, in the ecstasy of my delight, and felt that now indeed I had gained a haven of rest and safety. By good fortune, too, I came upon a pathway: a small piece of board nailed to a tree bore the name of a village; but this I could not read in the half light; still, it was enough that I was sure of a beaten track, and could not be lost in the dense intricacies of a pine-forest.

The change of scene encouraged me to renewed exertion. And I began to feel that, so far from experiencing fatigue, each mile I travelled supplied me with greater energy, and that my strength rose each hour as I left the Lazaretto farther behind me.

“Ah, Con, my boy, fortune has not taken leave of you yet!” said I, as I discovered that my severe exercise, far from being injurious, as I had feared, was already bringing back the glow of health to my frame, and spirit to my heart.

There is something unspeakably calming in the solitude of a forest, unlike the lone sensations inspired by the sea or the prairie; the feeling is one of peaceful quietude. The tempered sunlight stealing through the leaves and boughs entangled; the giant trunks that tell of centuries ago; the short, smooth, mossy turf through which the tiny rivulet runs without a channel; the little vistas opening like alleys, or ending in some shady nook, bower-like and retired, – fill the mind with a myriad of pleasant fancies. Instead of wandering forth over the immensity of space, as when contemplating the great ocean or the desert, the heart here falls back upon itself, and is satisfied with the little world around it.

Such were my reveries as I lay down beneath a tree, at first to muse, and then to sleep; and such a sleep as only a weary foot-traveller knows, who, stretched under the shade of a spreading tree, lies dreamless and lost. It must have been late ere I awoke; the sunlight came slanting obliquely through the leaves, and bespoke the decline of day. I rose. At first my limbs were stiff and rigid, and my sensations those of debility; but after a little time my strength came back, and I strode along freely. Continuing the path, I came, after about three hours’ fast walking, to a little open spot in the wood, where the remains of a hut and the charred fragments of firewood indicated a bivouac. Some morsels of black bread strewn about, and a stray piece of dried venison, argued that the party who had left them had but recently quitted the spot. Very grateful for the negligent abundance of their waste, I sat down, and, by the aid of a little spring, – the reason, probably, of the selection of the spot for a halt, – made a capital supper, some chestnuts that had fallen from the trees furnishing a delicious dessert. Night was fast closing in, and I resolved on passing it where I was, the shelter of the little hut being too tempting a refuge to relinquish easily. The next morning I started early, my mind fully satisfied that I was preceded by some foot party, the path not admitting of any other, with whom, by exertion, I should be perhaps able to come up. I walked from day to dawn with scarcely an interval of rest, but, although the tracks of many feet showed me my conjecture was right, I did not succeed in overtaking them. Towards evening I again came upon their bivouac-ground, which was even more abundantly provided than the preceding one. They appeared to have killed a buck; and though having roasted an entire side, had contented themselves with some steaks off the quarter. Upon this I feasted luxuriously, securing a sufficient provision to last me for the next two or three days.

In this way I continued to travel for eight entire days, each successive one hoping to overtake the party in advance, and, if disappointed in this expectation, well pleased with the good luck that had supplied me so far with food, and made my journey safe and pleasant; for it was both. A single beast of prey I never met with, nor even a serpent larger than the common green snake, which is neither venomous nor bold; and as for pleasure, I was free. Was not that alone happiness for him who had been a prisoner among the “Léperos” of Bexar?

On the ninth day of my wandering, certain unmistakable signs indicated that I was approaching the verge of the forest: the grass became deeper, the wood less dense; the undergrowth, too, showed the influence of winds and currents of air. These, only appreciable by him who has watched with anxious eyes every little change in the aspect of Nature, became at last evident to the least observant in the thickened bark and the twisted branches of the trees, on which the storms of winter were directed. Shall I own it? My heart grew heavy at these signs, boding, as they did, another change of scene. And to what? Perhaps the bleak prairie, stretching away in dreary desolation! Perhaps some such tract of swampy moor, where forests once had stood, but now, lying in mere waste of rottenness and corruption; “clearings,” as they are called, the little intervals which hard industry plants amid universal wildness, I could not hope for, since I had often heard that no settlers ever selected these places, to which access by water was difficult, and the roads few and bad. What, then, was to come next? Not the sea-coast, —that must be miles away to the eastward; not the chain of the Rocky Mountains, – they lay equally far to the west.

While yet revolving these thoughts, I reached the verge of the wood; and suddenly, and without anything which might apprise me of this singular change, I found myself standing on the verge of a great bluff of land overlooking an apparently boundless plain. The sight thus unexpectedly presented of a vast prairie – for such it was – was overwhelming in its intense interest. My position, from a height of some seven or eight hundred feet, gave me an uninterrupted view over miles and miles of surface. Towards the far west, a ridge of rugged mountains could be seen; but to the south and east, a low flat horizon bounded the distance. The surface of this great tract was covered for a short space by dry cedars, apparently killed by a recent fire; beyond that, a tall, rank grass grew, through which I could trace something like a road. This was, as I afterwards learned, a buffalo-trail, these animals frequently marching in close column when in search of water. The sun was setting as I looked, and gilded the whole vast picture with its yellow glory; but as it sunk beneath the horizon, and permitted a clearer view of the scene, I could perceive that everything – trees, grass, earth itself – presented one uniform dry, burnt-up appearance.

Not a creature of any kind was seen to move over this great plain; not a wing cleaved the air above; not a sound broke the stillness beneath. It was a solitude the most complete I ever conceived, – grand and imposing! How my heart sank within me as I sat and looked, thinking I was there alone, without one creature near me, to linger out, perhaps, some few days or hours of life, and die unseen, un-watched, uncared for! And to this sad destiny had ambition brought me! Were it not for the craving desire to become something above my station, to move in a sphere to which neither my birth nor my abilities gave me any title, and I should be now the humble peasant, living by my daily labor in my native land, my thoughts travelling in the worn track those of my neighbors journeyed, and I neither better nor worse off than they.

And for this wish – insensate, foolish as it was – the expiation is indeed heavy. I hid my head within my hands, and tried to pray, but I could not. The mind harassed by various conflicting thoughts is not in the best mood for supplication. I felt like the criminal of whom I had once read, that, when the confessor came to visit him the night before his execution, seemed eager and attentive for a while, but at last acknowledged that his thoughts were centred upon one only theme, – escape! “To look steadfastly at the next world, you must extinguish the light of this one;” and how difficult is that! – how hard to close every chink and fissure through which hope may dart a ray, – hope of life, hope of renewing the struggle in which we are so often defeated, and where even the victory is without value!

“Be it so,” sighed I, at last; “the game is up!” and I lay down at the foot of a rock to die. My strength, long sustained by expectation, had given way at last, and I felt that the hour of release could not be distant. I drew my hand across my eyes, – I am ashamed to own there were tears there – and just then, as if my vision had been cleared by the act, I saw, or I thought I saw, in the plain beneath, the glittering sparkle of flame. Was it the reflection of a star, of which thousands were now studding the sky, in some pool of rain-water? No! it was real fire, which now, from one red spark, burst forth into a great blaze, rolling out volumes of black smoke which rose like a column into the air.

Were they Indians who made it, or trappers? or could it be the party in whose track I had so long been following; and, if so, by what path had they descended? Speculation is half-brother to Hope. No sooner had I begun to canvass this proposition than it aroused my drooping energies, and rallied my failing courage.

I set about to seek for some clew to the descent, and by the moonlight, which was now full and strong, I detected foot-tracks in the clayey soil near the verge of the cliff. A little after I found a narrow pathway, which seemed to lead down the face of the bluff. The trees were scratched, too, in many places with marks familiar to prairie travellers, but which to me only betokened the fact that human hands had been at work upon them. I gained courage by these, which at least I knew were not “Indian signs,” no more than the foot-tracks were those of Indian feet.

The descent was tedious, and often perilous; the path, stopping abruptly short at rocks, from which the interval to the next footing should be accomplished by a spring, or a drop of several feet, was increased in danger by the indistinct light. In the transit I received many a sore bruise, and ere I reached the bottom my flannel drapery was reduced to a string of rags which would have done no credit to a scarecrow.

When looking from the top of the cliff, the fire appeared to be immediately at its foot; but now I perceived it stood about half a mile off in the plain. Thither I bent my steps, half fearing, half hoping, what might ensue. So wearied was I by the fatigue of the descent, added to the long day’s journey, that even in this short space I was often obliged to halt and take rest. Exhaustion, hunger, and lassitude weighed me down, till I went along with that half-despairing effort a worn-out swimmer makes as his last before sinking.

A more pitiable object it would not be easy to picture. The blood oozing from my wound, re-opened by the exertion, had stained my flannel dress, which, ragged and torn, gave glimpses of a figure reduced almost to a skeleton. My beard was long, adding to the seeming length of my gaunt and lantern jaws, blue with fatigue and fasting. My shoes were in tatters, and gave no protection to my bleeding feet; while my hands were torn and cut by grasping the rocks and boughs in my descent. Half-stumbling, half-tottering, I came onward till I found myself close to the great fire, at the base of a mound – a “Prairie roll,” as it is called – which formed a shelter against the east wind.

Around the immense blaze sat a party, some of whom in shadow, others in strong light, presented a group the strangest ever my eyes beheld. Bronzed and bearded countenances, whose fierce expression glowed fiercer in the ruddy glare of the fire, were set off by costumes the oddest imaginable.

Many wore coats of undressed sheepskin, with tall caps of the same material; others had ragged uniforms of different services. One or two were dressed in “ponchos” of red-brown cloth, like Mexicans, and some, again, had a kind of buff coat studded with copper ornaments, – a costume often seen among the half-breeds. All agreed in one feature of equipment, which was a broad leather belt or girdle, in which were fastened various shining implements, of which a small pickaxe and a hammer were alone distinguishable where I stood. Several muskets were piled near them, and on the scorched boughs of the cedars hung a little armory of cutlasses, pistols, and “bowies,” from which I was able to estimate the company at some twenty-eight or thirty in number. Packs and knapsacks, with some rude cooking utensils, were strewn around; but the great carcase of a deer which I saw in the flames, supported by a chevaux-de-frise of ramrods, was the best evidence that the cares of “cuisine” did not demand any unnecessary aid from “casseroles.”

A couple of great earthen pitchers passed rapidly from hand to hand round the circle, and, by the assistance of some blackhead, served to beguile the time while the “roast” was being prepared.

Creeping noiselessly nearer, I gained a little clump of brushwood scarcely more than half-a-dozen paces off, and then lay myself down to listen what language they were speaking. At first the whole buzz seemed one unmeaning jargon, more like the tongue of an Indian tribe than anything else; but as I listened I could detect words of French, Spanish, and German. Eager to make out some clew to what class they might belong, I leaned forward on a bough and listened attentively. A stray word, a chance phrase, could I but catch so much, would be enough; and I bent my ear with the most watchful intensity. The spot I occupied was the crest of the little ridge, or “Prairie roll,” and gave me a perfect view over the group, while the black smoke rolling upwards effectually concealed me from them.

As I listened, I heard a deep husky voice say something in English. It was only an oath, but it smacked of my country, and set my heart a-throbbing powerfully. I lay out upon the branch to catch what might follow, when smash went the frail timber, and, with a cry of terror, down I rolled behind them. In a second every one was on his legs, while a cry of “The jaguars! the jaguars!” resounded on all sides. The sudden shock over, their discipline seemed perfect; for the whole party had at once betaken themselves to their arms, and stood in a hollow square, prepared to receive any attack. Meanwhile, the smoke and the falling rubbish effectually shut me out from view. As these cleared away, they caught sight of me, and truly never was a formidable file of musketry directed upon a more pitiable object. Such seemed their own conviction; for after a second or two passed in steady contemplation of me, the whole group burst out into a roar of savage laughter. “What is’t?” “It’s not human!” being the exclamations which, in more than one strange tongue, were uttered.

Unable to speak, in part from terror, in part from shock, I sat up on my knees, and, gesticulating with my hands, implored their mercy, and bespoke my own defencelessness. I conclude that I made a very sorry exhibition, for again the laughter burst forth in louder tones than before, when one, taking a brand of the burning firewood, came nearer to examine me. He threw down his torch, and, springing backward with horror, screamed out, a “lépero!” a “lépero!” In a moment every musket was again raised to the shoulder, and directed towards me.

“I’m not a lépero – never was!” cried I, in Spanish. “I’m a poor Englishman who has made his escape from the Lazaretto.” I could not utter more, but fell powerless to the earth.

“I know him; we were messmates,” cried a gruff voice. “Halt! avast there! don’t fire! I say, my lad, crawl over to leeward of the fire. There, that will do. Dash a bucket of water over him, Perez.”

Perez obeyed with a vengeance, for I was soaked to the skin, and at the same time exposed to the scorching glare of the great fire, where I steamed away like a swamp at sundown.

“A’n’t you Cregan, I say?” cried the same English voice which spoke before; “a’n’t you little Con, as we used to call you?”

“Yes,” said I, overjoyed by the recognition, without knowing by whom it was made, “I am the little Con you speak of.”

“Ah, I remembered your voice the moment I heard it,” said he. “Don’t you remember me?”

“Caramba!” broke in a savage-looking Spaniard; “we ‘re not going to catch a leprosy for the sake of your reminiscences. Tell the fellow to move off, or I’ll send a bullet through him.”

“And I ‘ll follow you.”

“And I; and I,” cried two or three more, who, suiting the action to the speech, threw back the pan of the flint-muskets to examine the priming.

“And shall I tell you what I ‘ll do?” said the Englishman. “I’ll lay the first fellow’s skull open with this hanger that fires a shot at him.”

“Will you so?” said a thin, athletic fellow, springing to his legs, and drawing a long, narrow-bladed knife from his girdle.

“A truce there, Rivas,” said another; “would you quarrel with the Capitan for a miserable lépero?”

“He’s not a Capitan of my making,” said Rivas, sulkily.

“I don’t care of whose making,” said the Englishman, in his broken Spanish; “I’m the leader of this expedition: if any one deny it, let him stand out and say so. If half a dozen of you deny it, come out one by one: I ask nothing better than to show you who’s the best man here.”

A low muttering followed this speech, but whether it were of admiration or anger, I could not determine. Meanwhile my own resolve was formed, as, gathering my limbs together, I rolled upon one knee and said, —

“Hear me for one instant, Señhors. It would be unworthy of you to quarrel about an object so poor and worthless as I am. Although not a lépero, I have made my escape from the Lazaretto, and travelled hither on foot, with little clothing and less food: an hour or two more will finish what fatigue and starving have all but accomplished. If you will be kind enough to throw me a morsel of bread, and give me time to move away, I’ll try and do it; or, if you prefer doing the humane thing, you ‘ll come a few paces nearer and send a volley into me.”

“I vote for the last,” shouted one; but, strange to say, none seconded his motion. A change had come over them, possibly by the very recklessness of my own proposal. At last one called out, “Creep away some fifty yards or so, and burn those rags of yours: we ‘ll give you something to wear instead of them.”

“Ay, just so,” said another; “the poor devil doesn’t deserve death for what he’s done.”

“That’s spoken like honest fellows and good comrades,” said the Englishman. “And now, my hearty, move down to leeward there, and put on your new toggery, and we ‘ll see if a hot supper won’t put some life in you.”

I could scarcely credit my own alacrity as this prospect of better days inspired me with fresh vigor; I recovered my feet at once, and, in something which I intended should resemble a trot, set out in the direction indicated, and where already a small bundle of clothes had been placed for my acceptance.

A piece of lighted charcoal and some firewood also apprised me of the office required at my hands, and which I performed with a most hearty good-will; and as I threw the odious rags into the flames, I felt that I was saying adieu to the last tie that bound me to the horrible Lazaretto of Bexar.

“Let him join us now,” said the Englishman; “though I think if the poor fellow has walked from Bexar, you might have been satisfied he could n’t carry the leprosy with him.”

“I’ve known it go with a piece of gun-wadding from Bexar to the Rio del Norte,” said one.

“I saw a fellow who caught it from the rind of a watermelon a lépero had thrown away.”

“There was a comrade of ours at Puerta Naval took it from sitting on the bench beside a well on the road where a lépero had been resting the day before,” cried a third.

“Let him sit yonder, then,” said the Englishman “You ‘re more afeard of that disease than the bite of a cayman; though you need n’t be squeamish, most of you, if it ‘a your beauty you were thinking of.”

And thus amid many a tale of the insidious character of this fell disorder, and many a rude jest on the score of precaution against it, I was ordered to seat myself at about a dozen or twenty paces distant, and receive my food as it was thrown towards me by the others, – too happy at this humble privilege to think of anything but the good fortune of such a meeting.

“Don’t you remember me yet?” cried the Englishman, standing where the full glare of the fire lit up his marked features.

“Yes,” said I, “you ‘re Halkett.”

“To be sure I am, lad. I ‘m glad you don’t forget me.”

“How should I? This is not the first time you saved my life.”

“I scarcely thought I had succeeded so well,” said he, “when we parted last; but you must tell me all about that to-morrow, when you are rested and refreshed. The crew here is not very unlike what you may remember aboard the yacht: don’t cross them, and you ‘ll do well with them.”

“What are they?” said I, eagerly.

“Gambusinos,” said he, in a low voice.

“Bandits?” whispered I, misconceiving the word.

“Not quite,” rejoined he, laughing; “though, I’ve no doubt, ready to raise a dollar that way if any one could be found in these wild parts a little richer than themselves;” with this, he commended me to a sound sleep, and the words were scarcely spoken ere I obeyed the summons.

Before day broke, I was aroused by the noise of approaching departure; the band were strapping on knapsacks, slinging muskets, and making other preparations for the march; Halkett, as their captain, carrying nothing beyond his weapons, and in his air and manner assuming all the importance of command.

The “Lépero,” as I was called, was ordered to follow the column at about a hundred paces to the rear; but as I was spared all burden, in compassion to my weak state, I readily compounded for this invidious position, by the benefits it conferred. A rude meal of rye-bread and cold venison, with some coffee, made our breakfast, and away we started; our path lying through the vast prairie I have already spoken of.

As during my state of “quarantine,” which lasted seven entire days, we continued to march along over a dreary tract of monotonous desolation, – nothing varying the dull uniformity of each day’s journey, save the chance sight of a distant herd of buffaloes, the faint traces of an Indian war-party, or the blackened embers of a bivouac, – I will not weary my readers by dwelling on my own reflections as I plodded on: enough, when I say they were oftener sad than otherwise. The uncertainty regarding the object of my fellow-travellers harassed my mind by a thousand odd conjectures. It was clear they were not merchants, neither could they be hunters, still less a “war-party,” – one of those marauding bands which on the Texan frontier of Mexico levy “black-mail” upon the villagers, on the plea of a pretended protection against the Indians. Although well armed, neither their weapons, their discipline, nor, still less, their numbers, argued in favor of this suspicion. What they could possibly be, then, was an insurmountable puzzle to me. I knew they were called Gambusinos, – nothing more. Supposing that some of my readers may not be wiser than I then was, let me take this opportunity, while traversing the prairie, to say in a few words what they were.