A servant entered. "A message from the porter," she announced.
"Speak!" commanded her master.
"An orderly is at the door and requests to see Colonel Barcelo."
"Show him up here."
The soldier entered, saluted his commander and bowed to the women. "I have the honor to say the lookout at the castle reports ships entering the outer harbor."
"Coming, are they? Well, I shall let them see I am a soldier and a caballero; and, perhaps," moving his head from side to side, "that I am in command of the castle here. Clarinda, where is my new uniform? I shall appear in that, as befits the occasion."
The Colonel's wife, all a-flutter, took his arm and walked with him down the veranda stairs, Señora Valentino following.
The atmosphere of Monterey was tense with feeling that morning. By some telepathy news of the expected event had spread out from the capital. Hamlet, hacienda, and Indian rancheria were alike agog.
"Benito, the horses," called Barcelo, coming to the porte-cochere.
The acting governor made an imposing figure in his full colonel's regimentals. He mounted his horse with heavy dignity. "Wife, and sister Silvia, you ride with me."
They rode along the street to the public square. Already it bore resemblance to a fiesta day. Sidewalks were lined with men talking with lightninglike rapidity between puffs of their cigaritos. Peon and ranchero joined in the talk. Windows, verandas, roofs, even, were splendid in the vari-colored dress and headgear of the señora, señorita and peona. The whole world of Monterey became akin under stress of the greatest day it had ever known.
The Colonel endeavored to push rapidly through the square on his way to the castle. He was one of very many bent on the same errand. Carretas strained and squeaked in the press; horses snorted, reared, plunged; pedestrians risked life and limb by darting hither and thither, as opening presented.
"Out of the way! Out of the way!" Barcelo shouted after a little. "Here I am, only half way to the castle. Out of the way, I say! The Governor and his party are coming."
Two carretas going in opposite directions had locked wheels. The postilions were hurling curses and threats at each other; the occupants of the vehicles were screaming, while numerous fellow travelers were lavishly advising the best manner of breaking up the obstruction.
"Peste!" again from the Colonel. "Give way! Give way! Such drivers should be knocked senseless!"
Peons now seized the teams by the bridles; others pulled and tugged at the carretas until each was backed into freedom.
The stream of life once more toiled onward toward the castle. The Barcelos were carried on its bosom.
The old castle was built on a bluff overlooking Monterey harbor. Its black-mouthed guns had long gaped over the quiet of the land-locked waters, and its buttressed walls meant safety to padre, Indian neophyte, and Spanish hacendado.
The fort had been called "castle" by its builders when the flag of Spain waved over the Californias. Its appointments were mediæval. The moss-grown walls betokened decay; while the crumbling cement in the rock-ribbed abutments told the same story. Its ordnance was ranged to protect harbor and approaches. Moreover, it had protected them. Within the memory of the present generation two robber vessels had attempted to force entrance. The cannon thundered and one buccaneer boat laid her bones at the bottom of the bay; while the other, white flag at masthead, sued for mercy.
A long line of soldiers held the crowd at proper distance from the castle. The Colonel, with his wife and sister-in-law, made his way to the entrance, then along wide corridor and winding stair to the upper battlement.
Silently they looked out over the unheeding water. The surf murmured beneath them. The ocean nestled lazily against the horizon. Seabirds floated aimlessly in the air; or, with piercing cry, hurtled downward for the finny creatures below the surface of the swell.
Fishing smacks, ever ready to dare the roughest weather on prospect of full nets and ready market, now, careless of both, had found sheltered nooks whence to await the great happening. Other boats swayed at anchor near the beach.
"Major Silva," asked Barcelo of his second in command, "is our lookout sure he saw the fleet? I see nothing here."
"Absolutely certain, Colonel. His glass showed them plainly from the tower nearly an hour ago."
"Very well. See that mob out there doesn't push in any nearer."
The Major saluted and departed.
"The whole countryside seems to have pulled itself up by its boots and jumped into town; but as for that much-bragged of English fleet, there is not a sign. I, for one, don't believe it's coming. Bah!" blustered Barcelo.
"Comandante, the foreign consuls are at the gate," announced an orderly.
"Show them here."
The Comandante received them all with words and manner ceremoniously polite.
Glasses searched sky and water line, but in vain. Colonel Barcelo went from bastion to bastion calling to his side the gunners of each piece of artillery.
Chance sentences which had fallen here and there now thickened into connected conversation, as little groups were formed.
"Your words stirred up my brother-in-law this morning," Señora Valentino said in quick aside to Captain Farquharson, who had accompanied the consuls to the castle.
"It was the eleventh hour. He asked me a blunt question and I could do nothing but give him a plain answer. He cannot harm us."
"Fairbanks is not keen on this prize, Captain," moving her head thoughtfully.
Señora Barcelo came to her sister's side. "Silvia, look through this spyglass—over that ledge, then to where that thin scroll of fog dips down to the water."
Conversation ceased, and a dozen glasses scanned the spot.
A strip of white rose into sight, glanced in the sun, darkened, then gleamed like a sunflash on ice. To the left was another, then another. Suddenly, four more projected into plain view on the right.
"The fleet! The fleet!" chorused every side.
Breezes of late forenoon freshened over the harbor. Headland and sky line cleared of feathery mist.
The seven ships, every sail set, hove into full sight.
Captain Farquharson, resting his hands on a parapet, scrutinized eagerly the nearing men-of-war. His wish framed a thought which he believed Fairbanks's coming vitalized.
Thirty years ago Spain's nerveless hand fell from the Californias, leaving them to Mexico. Mexico's hold, feeble always, year by year had loosened. To-day would see the end.
His daydream grew.
The pushing, restless Saxon of Atlantic America, after overflowing the valley of the Mississippi, would not bring his civilization to the farthest West. Ford rivers, traverse deserts, fell forests as he might, at last he would meet a difficulty he could not surmount, the backfiring line of a civilization, virile as his own, wrought by the hand of his English cousin, and this day begun in the capital, Monterey. Another empire was about to come under Great Britain's sway.
"Señors!" Comandante Barcelo's voice, low and tense, broke the stillness.
Farquharson started from his reverie.
With bellying sails the fleet came scudding on, the dark hulls scarcely touching the water. Fairbanks's flagship was in the lead, her commander's pennant flinging from the foremast, the union jack streaming above. Back from the leader, in triangular spread, as wild fowl move, followed the others, three on a side.
"Señors, attention!" again from Barcelo. "Let us have understanding right here and now. You people have come here to-day to see a province pass from hand to hand, but," pointing to the cannon, "straight words from the throats of these jolly boys here shall speak a salute the aspiring English little expect. You, men of the consulate, go, tell your nations, California scorns any yoke."
"Nonsense!" cried Farquharson. "Our ships will batter this ramshackle to pieces in ten minutes."
Barcelo exploded a tremendous, "Huh!" then added, "No need keeps you here. The casemates are at your disposal."
"Perdition on your folly!" from the angry Englishman. "Why, man, I've faced death a score more times than you have fingers and toes, you insufferable ass!"
"Another word, and I'll clap you in irons!" was Barcelo's threat. Turning to the women he said, "It is time for the señoras to seek safety below."
"I shall remain here," from Señora Valentino.
"I shall stay, also," announced the Colonel's wife.
"Señoras, I insist that you go below—and at once! Orderly, take these ladies down immediately. As for you," turning to the men, "you can suit yourselves. Stay, if you will—if your noses itch for powder smoke."
Farquharson glowered at the Colonel, but did not speak. The surprised civilians hurriedly grouped themselves against a parapet.
The flagship stood in to the sheltered lea of the harbor. As a thing alive she ran. At each onward bound she raised her forefoot clear, then plunged nose-deep into the churning spray. Her bulging canvas gleamed against the distant background.
The Admiral and his officers were on the quarterdeck. Marines and man-o'-war's men swarmed aft.
"Make ready!" called Barcelo.
Each cannoneer stood by the priming of his piece, a lighted fuse spluttering in his hand.
"Fire!" shouted the Colonel, in voice so carrying that it reached the city square.
The old cannon mouths belched response.
Sheets of flame and smoke darted into the empty air. Over town and rolling land awoke a thousand echoes.
The fort shivered to its venerable foundation.
Across the harbor ricocheted the heavy shots, dotting a path straight to Fairbanks's ship. A school of flying fish these shots might have been, moistening their fins now and then, to show that water was their element. They dropped below the surface, as seeking rest, short of their destination a hundred yards.
"Elevate the muzzles of the guns!" yelled Barcelo. "Quick! the levers. Swing them in place! Bear down! Bear down, I tell you! Bring props. Now, get to work! Load again!"
Swabbers labored with might and main. Powder carriers came stumbling through the clinging smoke. Sinewy arms strained under the iron shot.
Seizing a ramrod, with his own hands the sooty and perspiring Colonel worked shoulder to shoulder with his men.
Signal flags arose, fluttered, fell, on the Admiral's vessel. Sailors swarmed through the rigging, like flies. Sails shortened, as by magic. Under lessened speed she swung until her length paralleled the water-front.
"Up with the white flag, Colonel Barcelo! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! For God's sake, give the order!" cried Farquharson. "She's ready for a broadside."
As he spoke he ran to the flagstaff. The consuls, storming and demanding, followed him, and made as if to lower the colors.
Barcelo halted them with drawn pistol. "Stand away! you squealing rats. I'll shoot the man who touches a halyard."
The Englishman stepped back; likewise, the others.
"O, our wives and children!" some one hoarsely cried.
"Comandante, for the love of God, bethink yourself!" remonstrated Farquharson.
"Sight those guns!" persisted Barcelo in a voice of thunder. "Now's your time! The ship's showing bottom like a dying fish. Hit the line, men, between air and water! Fire!"
Hill and valley again boomed in angry refrain. Over the bay skimmed the shot, true poised for distance, but scattering a course a quarter mile from the flagship's side.
Deck and port-hole of the great vessel frowned on the upstart who dared dispute the coming of the giant.
Away from the castle grounds in confusion tumbled the crowds that had so gayly come to enjoy a holiday.
Panic-stricken, Monterey held its breath, each instant seeing the next instant terrible in red destruction, to satisfy the Briton's vengeance.
Still the flagship swung, the circle widening, her cannon sullenly silent.
Helm hard down, she put about till Monterey lay astern. Her sails unfurled. Proud in the knowledge of her unused strength she spurned castle and capital and made majestically for the open sea.
One by one the warships wheeled and followed the leader, in triangular lines, as before.
The sea-breeze lifted from the castle the thick, black smoke-cloud. The gunners, begrimed and eager, held by their pieces.
Farquharson, white with suppressed rage, paced the battlement.
The consuls were gathered in knots of twos and threes.
Barcelo, grim and aloof, stood with folded arms and watched the departing fleet until the last speck dropped from sight.
On the way home, an hour later, Señora Valentino volunteered to the Colonel: "Well, the British ships have come—and gone."
"Yes—and I am still comandante," bluster reasserting itself. Then, to his wife: "That peon valet laid out my new uniform all right, but he gave me my old sword belt. There's simply no depending on the fellow."
CHAPTER XXV
BROWN TAKES A HAND AT DIPLOMACY
"The consummate sentimental bookworm! He hasn't gumption enough to manage a hedge school." Farquharson threw himself into a chair and crossed his legs, knocking over another chair in the process. It was in the house of the English consul.
"I haven't caught breath after the pandemonium this morning," returned the consul. "I'm glad to be back here alive."
"See here, Twickenham, you're a civilian, and have no stomach for fighting, and not to blame either; but Fairbanks is a fighting machine. It's his business to shoot and be shot at. Sentiment is out of place in a commander of a fleet. A plague on him! Barcelo flips a few birdshot out of a brace or two of pill boxes. The British nation bows. Well, you saw the farce this morning. By Jove! I'll have Fairbanks before the high court, to answer for his work—or lack of it." Farquharson was now nervously stepping up and down the room.
"I've had my signal-fires on the hills since noon, asking the Admiral to meet me. I want it to be on land, or anywhere off his ships. On neutral ground I'm free to call his conduct by the name it deserves. England has suffered humiliation to-day, and all because of him! The dolt!"
"I thought the ship would begin bombardment at once. I don't mind confessing that 'twas a dread time as far as I was concerned."
"Begin bombardment!" Farquharson paused in his walk. "Why didn't he blast the old fort into nothingness, and California would be ours. I'll wake him when I meet him."
"Hold on, Captain! If that blasting process of yours had gone on, we, personally, wouldn't possess California, or anything else, now."
"O, Twickenham! Well, you're not a fighting man. Besides, Admiral Fairbanks didn't know we were in the castle. Furthermore, there was safety enough in the subways, if we had minded to go there."
Again he threw himself into a chair, and began fuming anew. "Now, there's Señora Valentino! She left Europe, and all that this meant to the woman she is. She has come to this out-of-the-way place—worked hard! and conscientiously! And for what? By the way, the señora should be here. She sent word she's heard something important. She's five minutes overdue as it is."
"That clock is fast, Captain."
Farquharson looked at his watch. "Only two minutes fast." He was on his feet again. "What can have kept her!"
"O, sit down, Farquharson. Let's talk over this matter."
"Talk over the matter! That's just the trouble. It's talk, talk, talk!—and nothing done! Just wait till I meet Fairbanks! I'll——"
"Now, see here, Captain Farquharson. I'm only a business man, and I don't know anything about fighting, as you intimate. But, can't you and the señora bring Barcelo to some reasonable attitude in this affair? Have him and Admiral Fairbanks arrange an entente cordiale, so that Monterey will pass into our hands without a repetition of this morning's fusillade."
The consul's wife ushered in Señora Valentino.
"Friends, I have received news from Half Moon Bay," the señora announced, coming to the point at once, and waiving all greetings.
"Of Billings's fleet?"
"Yes. The sloop-of-war, the Cyane, went aground some time yesterday."
"How did the news come? Is it authentic?"
"It is, Captain. Alberto, the peon, brought me word. By day and night he hurried."
"Splendid, señora!"
"Commodore Billings has only one other vessel, and that is his flagship, the United States," added the señora.
"Billings isn't likely to try to force the harbor with a single boat. The Yankee's mishap is our opportunity."
"But the Cyane may float at highest tide which comes in a few days now."
The señora then added significantly: "The United States can care little for this territory, judging from the weakness of their Pacific fleet. We must press this on our reluctant Admiral."
"Yes, we'll have to coax him back into Monterey, as a mother leads a bashful child into company. But—that bumptious Barcelo! What has he to say of his conduct? California voted to come under our protection, he with the others. What, under heaven's name, prompted him?"
"The real man was to the fore this morning, Captain. His blustering second self was submerged."
"Second self submerged? Well! And did the cannonading in that rickety fort settle the dregs? My word! But what does he say of it all?"
"That his honor demanded the resistance."
"Then, why in the world didn't he think of that when he voted at the baile? Not bid us to gather our basket of eggs, only to throw a bowlder into the midst."
"The Colonel's mind was on cribbage that night rather than on the province."
"And the coming of the ships took his mind from cards to fighting," elevating his eyebrows.
"Disappointed ambition did that."
"Disappointed ambition? Señora, we gave him no assurance of office under our regime."
"No, but he cherished the desire, and importuned you this morning to confirm it."
"Well, he received his answer." The Captain's back stiffened.
"Yes, Captain Farquharson, and he gave us his. The soldier of other days awoke."
"I should say he did! I wish his popguns had shaken into Fairbanks some of that same spirit."
The señora rose to go. "A message will bring me, Captain, when you get in touch with the Admiral."
"I am expecting each moment to hear from him. At least he can use his guns to fire signals."
Both Farquharson and Twickenham attended the lady to the street.
The holiday appearance was gone from the capital. Many of the residents had taken themselves and their families out of the possible-danger zone. The others remained well within the shadow of their own rooftrees.
Farquharson's horse took him to the high ground back of the city. Reaching perpendicularly from a half dozen hills were thin pillars of signal smoke. Touching the upper air drafts they bent horizonward, and drifted slowly into nothingness.
"My smoke does its work all right, but Fairbanks's guns appear to be dumb. Drat the fellow!"
His glasses pointed out to sea. For a moment, by chance, it rested on the town below.
"Well, anyway Monterey will learn that every day isn't a fiesta day." He half chuckled.
Again he directed his attention to the smoke now ascending in fresh volume as peons replenished the fires. Again he swept the ocean with his spyglass.
A small boat was landing on the beach below the castle. The crew, waist-deep in water, was sliding it in, on the crest of a breaker. One man separated from the others and walked toward the town. The spyglass covered him, though Farquharson's thoughts were elsewhere.
"Why! Why!" in a moment, "it's old Brown. What's he been doing on a native fishing-boat?"
He shut his glass together; looked once more at the smoke columns, then cantered down the hill. He came on his former employee near the plaza.
"How do, Brown?"
"Fine, Cap'. How are you?"
"Glad to see you, Brown."
"Same here, Cap'. I'm powerful glad."
Farquharson and the Missourian gripped in cordial handshake.
"Brown, I just saw you leave that sailboat. Are you engaged in catching fish?"
Brown leaned against the Captain's horse, tangled his hand in its mane, crossed one foot over the other, and said: "Nary fishin', Cap'."
"Well, that's a deep-sea fishing-boat."
"I reckon. But I didn't fish none in that craft."
"Out for pleasure, then. Well, what have you been doing with yourself since I saw you last?"
Brown wagged his head.
"Cap', I signed up with you in Santa Fé on prospect of big game huntin' and adventure. Well, there's been no big game, but I'm meetin' adventure, at last."
"I'm much interested. I presume you were in this boat when the bombardment was going on this morning."
"Nope. Only met her a while back. Cap', you couldn't guess where I was this mornin'."
"Well," laughing, "as you would say, I reckon not."
Brown wagged his head once more, placed his back squarely against the horse, and announced impressively: "Cap'n Farquharson, this mornin' I was on the flagship of Admyral Fairbanks."
The Captain dropped the bridle-rein in his astonishment. The horse sidled away suddenly, and Brown nearly lost his equilibrium.
"Admiral Fairbanks's flagship!" incredulously. "Why, I thought you had taken service with Mendoza."
Brown recovered balance.
"Yes, Mr. Mendoza has hired me to work for him at Mission San José, and I was on Admyral Fairbanks's ship this mornin'."
"How in the name of common sense, man, can you reconcile the two things?"
"Well, Cap', let me say, there's some things I won't speak of, seein' they're political and we're on different sides."
"Never mind, Brown; tell me how you came to be with Fairbanks to-day."
"Well, Cap', yesterday mornin' a bunch of Injuns were rowin' me out to one of our warships, for what purpose I'll not say."
"All right, Brown. It was doubtless at Half Moon Bay. But never mind, go on."
"Well, Cap', whether it was or not, we got lost in the fog. Never saw so thick a fog. Couldn't see a rowlock."
"Yes, yes."
"Well, my Injuns rowed and rowed, and palavered, and what not. Then, they began cryin' and prayin'-like, and I understood we was lost. Hours went by. Waves began splashin' into the boat later, and I knew we had got out to sea. Innards felt awkward. Small boat's a mean place for seasickness."
"Brown, I mean no offense, but will you not tell me, in a few words, how you happened into Fairbanks's flagship?"
"Sure. Fine ship she is. You ever been on board, Cap'?"
Farquharson laughed.
"You are the same old Brown, I see. Now, forge ahead."
"Sure pop, Cap'. Injuns finally gave up, dropped oars and lay down in the bottom of the boat. I didn't blame 'em; fact there was as much sense in that as doin' anything else, under the circumstances."
The Englishman leaned on the pommel and waited resignedly.
"All suddenly the wind began to blow harder. Whew! but she came a-kitin'. Seen the same thing many a time on the Mississippi River. Boat pitched like a log fallin' down hill. Boss Injun grabbed the tiller, and howled jabber-talk at the others like all-possessed. Oarsmen got their paddles goin' in no time. Didn't think such quick work was in the critters."
"Brown—I'm—listening."
"All right, Cap'. I'll go on talkin'. Well, fog began clearin'. The Injuns took heart; put the boat about and started off for somewhere. First thing I knew, we were in trouble again. The ocean pitched wors'n before, though the wind had eased up. Soon, sir, our boat lifted clear of the water and dived down like a duck. Yes, sir!"
"Yes."
"Seems to me I went along on down for ten fathoms anyway. Awfullest commotion under there you ever heard of. All the time I was thinkin', yes, sir, thinking that as much as I wanted adventure I wasn't lookin' for it on the bottom of the ocean.
"Then, I began whirlin', till I didn't know anything. First I remember I was top of the waves once more, sort o' dazed like, and whippin' away from us, like a hurricane, was an all-fired big ship. She was just a-clippin' it, knots and knots per hour. You see, we'd been caught in her wash, and just naturally capsized."
"Yes, yes. It was the flagship, was it?"
"Certain, Cap', and neat work she did pickin' us up. I was floatin' on my back, tryin' to think, when a rowboat came along. A couple of sailors caught me by my midships and shirt collar. In no time I was across a thwart, head hangin' down, and the sea-water just boilin' out o' my mouth. Sooner than I could tell it every one of the Injuns was aboard and likewise bein' deprived of the water they'd swallowed.
"Well, the big boat slowed up and waited. Our rowboat was soon alongside, and we were hauled up."
"So, Fairbanks brought you to Monterey and dropped you on that fishing smack. Brown, I'm glad you've met with an adventure at last. The fleet was off the harbor when you left, was it not? The entire seven ships, I mean."
"Cap', the seven ships were out there all right. But I don't consider that capsizin' my real adventure. No, sir!"
"You met another mishap?" turning his bridle-rein, and looking at the signal smoke. "I hope it terminated as well for you as the first. What was it?"
"Nary mishap. Last night I had an interview with the Admyral."
Farquharson's attention quickly turned back to Brown. "An interview with Fairbanks?"
"Yes. And I had another this afternoon, a bunch of officers bein' present. I consider these interviews worthy of the name of adventure."
"Man, man, what are you talking about?"
"About interviews and adventures, Cap'. You were askin' about 'em. Do you mind my telling you, friend Cap', that you seem sort o' forgetful and absent-mindedlike? Guess I'll be goin'." The American made a move to depart and held out his hand to Farquharson.
"No, no, Brown, don't go. I'll pull my wits together. I'm more than interested. Your interviews appeared so big to me that I couldn't just catch it at first. Now, please tell me all about it."
"All right, Cap'. Since you're so interested I'll begin at the beginnin'. First, I and the Injuns were taken to a real nice place. Beds were there, and everything looked fine. A feller in uniform came 'round, the ship's doctor, and ordered me to 'get out o' those clothes.' My clothes were wet and uncomfortable, anyway, so I didn't mind 'em off, and off they came. He poked and pulled me most unmerciful. 'You're not hurt,' said he, when I'd got so mad I wouldn't have stood another poke. 'I'd have told you that in the beginnin',' I informed him. Then to another uniformed feller he called. 'Brandy for him, a full gill, and get him some dry clothes.' Well, the Injuns——
"Brown, let's come to that interview as soon as we can. Of course I would like to hear every particular, but time is rather short just now, and I do want to hear all about your talk with the Admiral."
Farquharson's horse caught his master's impatience and pranced around the American. Brown pivoted, keeping his face turned to the Captain.
"Now, see here, Cap', if I tell you it all, it's likely to rile you up. But it's no secret. I'd be willin' to tell it to anybody; and, between man and man, I'd rather you'd hear it from me than from somebody else. On the whole, I'm glad I've a chance to tell you, myself, bein' that we've been such good friends. 'Course, Cap', I'd be sorry to lose your friendship, but politics is politics, and I talked to the Admyral to boost my own side, which same side is the United States."
"Go on, Brown. I hope you will tell it all. I know very well which side you're on, and, as you say, 'Politics is politics!'"
"All right, just as you say, Cap'. A uniformed man brought me some clothes. He was chaplain. Nice, clever young feller he was. I soon got into them clothes. I engaged him in conversation, as to his place of residence, and so forth. Then he engaged me." Brown's language assumed company dress for the moment. He straightened up, took off his hat, and continued:
"The chaplain said to me, 'You're familiar with Monterey, are you?' 'Yes,' I said. 'I was 'round there considerable when I worked for Cap'n Farquharson.' Cap', he knew you like a book. Said I, 'The Cap'n is smart on politics, but his politics don't go in California.' 'Why not?' he asked me. 'We won't have it,' I said. 'Who?' he asked again. 'The American nation,' I said, 'represented by the American fleet, "Seenyore" Mendoza, and no end of Spanish big fellers. They're clear agen it, and so am I.'
"The chaplain perked up a good deal at this. I went on. '"Seenyore" Mendoza, my present employer, fought old Napoleon,' said I. 'The "Seenyore" came here, I reckon, to get rid of tyrants. He'll fight to the last ditch before he'll let any of 'em get in here, and I'm with him.'
"The young preacher looked some serious now. He went away after a while."
"Go on, Brown, please."
"All right, Cap'. The name of the Admyral's boat is the Vanguard, I forgot to say. Well, after supper the preacher came 'round again. 'The Admyral wants to see you,' he said."
"You went, of course; and what happened there?"
"I could see from the start the preacher was strong with the Admyral. 'Mr. Blair tells me you are familiar with Monterey,' the Admyral said. 'I'm pretty familiar,' I told him. The Admyral's room's fixed up fine, almost like Mr. Mendoza's parlor, only not so big. 'You're the Brown who was in Cap'n Farquharson's service for a time?' he asked knowin'-like. 'If you mean his employ, yes,' I said. 'I've heard the Cap'n speak of you as an honest feller,' he went on pleasant enough, but watchin' sharp's a cat at a mouse-hole. I remarked to him, 'I and all my folks are honest, makin' it a point to be square in money matters.'
"'You've quit Cap'n Farquharson's employ?' he asked. 'Yes,' I said. 'How was that?' said he. 'O, for reasons,' said I, and shut up like a clam. You see, Cap', he was askin' personal questions, which I don't allow no man, providin' I don't want to answer.
"In a minute he inquired casuallike, 'You're now in the employ of "Seenyore" Mendoza, is that it?' I replied very shortlike, 'I am,' and started to shut up like another clam, then I thought better of it and blurted out, 'The "Seenyore" is determined no king sets up in business 'round this part o' the world.'
"'Where does this "Seenyore" live?' asked the Admyral. 'At Mission San José,' I told him. 'Mission San José? How long?' 'Ever since he quit fightin' old Napoleon, I reckon,' I said. I tell you, that Admyral's eyes opened wide. 'Has the "Seenyore" a following in the province?' he asked.
"I was gettin' pretty mad about then. I told him about the riflemen Mr. Mendoza has drillin', and drillin', Spaniards, Injuns, and all.
"Well, the Admyral looked away and looked away. Then suddenly he asked, 'Describe Mendoza's appearance.' I pretty soon did. 'Yes, the same man,' he said.
"He was awful quiet for a minute, then he spoke out to himself like. 'Why has no one told me about Mendoza's activities here? He's a man to be taken into consideration. I knew him years ago.'
"Finally the Admyral said, 'I'll test it out. Sail into Monterey, just as we'd planned.'
"I spoke up, 'Monterey don't want you. If anybody says they do, it's politics. Mebbe you can shoot all these cannon at 'em tell they couldn't fight back any more, but just the same they don't want you.'
"The Admyral looked mighty queer. When I left he was still thinkin' and thinkin'.
"We sailed into Monterey harbor and out again, I still stayin' on the Admyral's boat, bein's I couldn't get off, the walkin' not bein' exactly what you'd call good.
"First thing I knew, I was in the Admyral's room a second time. A power of officers were there from the other ships. 'Repeat your statement of last night, if you will,' he asked of me. Well, I did. Then the Admyral spoke up, 'The man's words were verified this mornin' by the fort firin' on us.'
"The officers looked black as thunder. One big feller said, 'Reduce their defenses and invest the city at once.' the Admyral replied, 'I've no call to take Monterey, if she's unwillin', and I'll not do it.'
"Another officer spoke up, savage as the dickens. 'The honor of her Majesty's navy is assailed. Let the fleet take over the city!' 'Not while I'm commandin' the fleet,' put in the Admyral.
"They were talkin' when I left. Mebbe they're at it yet. The fishboat was waitin' for me and the Injuns. She skimmed through the waves like grease, and here I be."
"Confounded chicken-hearted cad!" the Captain exploded.
"How!" from Brown sharply.
"I refer to Fairbanks."
"Fine old gent. Even if his politics does differ from mine I'm not agen him as such."
Farquharson stared at the sea. "Well, your friend Fairbanks, the Admiral, has done what might be expected from him."
"I reckon you know him better'n I do."
"Brown, you have done devilish work." Farquharson's face turned on the other.
"Cap', if it's harm to you personal, I'm sorry. If it's to your side in politics, as I reckon it is, I'm all-fired glad."
The Captain continued looking at Brown for a minute. His frown faded. "You've had your adventure, old man, and you've hunted big game. Yes, by Jove! and bagged it too." A curious smile crept over his features.
"Well, I haven't got it with me, Cap'."
"Say, Brown, when you went out yesterday toward that warship of yours, did you see that the Cyane——"
"No, you don't, Cap'. That there's where secrets come in, secrets from you and your side."
"Boom! Boom!—Boom! Boom! Boom!—Boom! Boom!" sounded from the sea.
Farquharson listened intently.
The signal was repeated. "Boom! Boom!—Boom! Boom! Boom!—Boom! Boom!"
"Yerba—Buena—to-morrow," Farquharson muttered, anger clinching his teeth, as his horse, under a vicious jab of the spur, dashed forward and into the town, unceremoniously leaving Brown.
"Signaling, hey? Them cannons were boomers, all right. I've been noticing that smoke, back up on the hills, all the time I was talkin' to the Cap', and I expected to see or hear somethin' answer back."
He walked leisurely through the plaza and reached the city just in time to see Farquharson and Señora Valentino ride away in hurried gallop.
"Ah, ah! Simon J. Brown, get to work yourself. Find a horse and light out for the north."
CHAPTER XXVI
BRAVING THE STORM
"A hurricane in midsummer in the temperate zone. A raging ocean, named Pacific. A non-combatant admiral commanding a fighting fleet. What a diabolical combination!"
"Add, the hurricane is piling water on the swelling tides at Half Moon Bay. Soon, the Cyane, willy, nilly, deserts her sand-banks," was Señora Valentino's doleful contribution.
"And the Yankee commodore flies his flag over Monterey, appending the province to Yankeedom. Blast it all! I'd give a kingdom——" He paused.
"'For a horse,' does your Shakespeare say?" smiling a little. "There is only one thing left. If the mountain does not come to Mohammed, then Mohammed must go to the mountain."
"Señora, put out in a small boat to the flagship, you mean? It would be futile, and surely end in death. Now, let us go to the top of the hill."
A bluff thickly wooded with scrub oak had sheltered them. Their sure-footed horses nimbly climbed a precipitous path zigzagging to the summit.
"See, señora. Look, if you can."
They were on Point Lobos crest, overhanging San Francisco Bay, with Yerba Buena village straggling along the harbor line.
Grit and sand whistled through the air, biting the skin, choking the throat and stinging the eyes. With arched backs and drooping heads their mounts met the storm. A hundred invisible angry hands buffeted the man and woman thus inquisitively breasting the humor of the elements.
The wind lessened, as wearied by too great exertion. The spiteful sand-drive ceased. Dimly at first, then plainly, yellow dunes hummocked into sight. Speaking the fury of a half hemisphere of water rose the crescendo of the surf.
Through the thinning haze they peered toward the west. There was the sea. Miles away, under bare poles, save here and there a strip of canvas, struggled the English fleet, each ship face to the gale, the spyglass showed them, now rising on beam end; now sliding prow downward; then teetering and dancing.
"Señora, Fairbanks dares not enter the harbor. It is equally impossible for me to get out to him. The storm is rising again. We must return to the village."
Gusts of wind pursued them as they hastened over yielding sand and wild strawberry-plot, or broke through scrub-brush and tree-growth. Pitiless dust-clouds drove them again from the open to the protection of a bluff.
They started out once more.
"Captain," in half-stifled voice, "this is the third day Fairbanks's vessels have stood there performing antics. No?"
"Yes, señora, and the third day we have been in Yerba Buena waiting for Fairbanks to keep his tryst with us. A hundred times we have gone over this. I feel greatly to blame that I consented to bring you out into this simoon again to-day. What good?"
"But, think you, to-morrow is highest tide. If Commodore Billings's sloop-of-war floats, no hurricane keeps him from blockading Monterey. Yes, and the guns of Colonel Barcelo could not prevent him from seizing castle and city."
"Fairbanks should be shot!"
"Captain, had Barcelo been kept in ignorance as to the spoils of office his latent patriotism might still be slumbering; but your English truthfulness was too much for even a wise diplomat like yourself."
"I was a fool! an inexcusable fool! But who would have thought the Comandante capable of such vim and sudden action? Besides, señora, there was Brown. He stirred up quite a kettle of fish in his own way."
"True. But Fairbanks put in, notwithstanding Brown, and would have occupied the city, had his reception been more cordial."
"Yes, yes."
"Of course both circumstances worked hand in hand. Doubtless, neither by itself would have deterred Fairbanks. In any event, it's no use repining."
"You are very kind, señora. Curse it all anyway!" After several moments in which neither spoke, Farquharson continued: "Well, Brown; good old Brown. He's a mighty decent fellow, true to his colors, and fights as fair as the rest of us."
They halted their horses. Beneath them, a little to the right, was a group of cabins belonging to fisher folk, smoke arising from the chimneys, telling of warmth and crude comfort inside. The boats of the habitants, high drawn up, were securely fastened to their moorings.
The wind roared and hissed and fumed. The señora and the Captain seemed not to heed it. They were looking, straight-eyed, out to the lashing sea whereon lay their hopes and their fears.
"Captain, your friend Brown found his way to Fairbanks's ship. No?"
"Yes, Brown—tumbled—on board."
Their horses were side by side, yet Farquharson's voice sounded muffled through the howling wind.
"Ah! tumbled. Yes. Still, he gained the Admiral's ear. No?"
"Fate threw the game in Brown's favor, and against us."
"Fate causes the daring one to win; the laggard, to lose. Is it not so?" raising her shoulders and waving a hand, with the grace of the Latin and the art of a beautiful woman.
The spirit of the air paused again.
"Señora, if you mean, by any chance, that I should send a boat out, why, only a madman would go. Besides Comandante Pacheco would permit no boat to leave the presidio; and the alcalde would do the same for Yerba Buena village."
Time passed. The señora suddenly spurred her horse. The startled animal leaped forward. "Come, Captain, let us go to town," she called, already several lengths ahead.
They rode persistently on till they reached a small shed far down where they stopped for rest.
"Perdition on this inactivity! If we could only do something—anything to fill in the time in this dead little hole."
"Yes, Captain," in a detached voice.
"I have a suggestion. My good hostess, Señora Ramon, showed me yesterday a chess-board most remarkable in workmanship, brought by the señor her husband from Spain years ago. They spend many evenings over the game, she tells me. Let us borrow the board and its men and while away a few hours. At least with these we can have the satisfaction of planning—and executing—our own maneuvers. I wish we had done this before, instead of indulging in useless, nerve-wracking vigils."
"Thank you, Captain, but I—I shall be otherwise engaged this afternoon."
"I understand, señora. You do, truly, need a good rest. Excuse me for my thoughtlessness. I know you are worn out. I believe, now that I think of it, I'll follow your example, go to my quarters and turn in for a time myself."
After partaking of a warm luncheon which her friend Señora Aguirre had prepared, the señora went to her room. In the home of Señor Ramon, at the other end of the village, the Captain settled himself for a siesta. Not so the señora. Tying her hair closely, she put on a long, thick cloak which she carefully buttoned, placing the hood on her head and well down over her ears; lastly, a veil around her face. Then she wrote a short note.
Opening a window she dropped lightly to the ground, keeping under the eaves till the rear of the house was reached. As swiftly as would a boy she ran to the stable and ordered the sleepy groom to give her an untired horse. She was soon off, vying with the wind in speed, ignoring, in her eagerness, both storm and cutting sand.
She came to the cabins near which she and the Captain had been standing not two hours ago. Taking the first house at hand she unceremoniously opened the door. The surprised occupants, a man and woman, with three nearly grown sons, started from various attitudes of inertia and excitedly greeted the lady.
"Quick! Quick!" she said. "A boat at once! I must reach those ships out there before the night falls."
"Never, señora. It would mean the life of anyone attempting it."
"No, no! Come! Let us be off! Quick!" hastily opening a small chamois bag. Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, one hundred dollars in gold she counted out. "It is all yours, if you will but come."
The youngest of the sons would do as she wished, if the father and brothers would join. They would not. Yet she urged. The wailing of the woman of the family offset any progress she might have made with the men.
A large diamond ring which the señora always wore, day or evening, gleamed insinuatingly into her eyes. She caught its message. Hastily removing it she held it out:
"This and the gold, as well, shall be yours. See, it is worth a fortune. Come, be quick! A boat!"
"But we shall drown! We shall drown!"
"I tell you no," and before they realized what they were doing they were out of the house, the señora pulling at the ropes which confined one of the largest of the little cluster of vessels.
The boat was soon at the edge of the water. The señora jumped in. The men, half dazed, followed. They bent to the oars, the señora's commands accompanied by the weeping vociferations of the fisher-wife and mother. The other cabins had now emptied themselves, and men, women, and children united in the hue and cry. It was too late. Despite the handicap of wind and wave the sturdy craft was well out, under the compelling influence of the señora's determination.
Time after time they were on the verge of overturning. Time after time huge billows challenged them. Again, the men wearied almost to exhaustion, would have given up the oars, to drift as they would, had not the señora, her eyes flaming, threatened them with all the terrors of an inferno; or as the mood changed, pleading with them with the earnestness of a Paul.
They passed the shadows of Point Lobos and fared out across the bar to the open sea. Here the storm king's fury was at focus, the incoming and outgoing seas forming a rip tide. The boat twisted, pitched, tossed; was flung around and around. Wave upon wave rolled over them. By some trick of fortune they were not hurled into the ocean.
The father and eldest son bent all their iron strength to the oars; while the others baled out the boat with might and main, the señora aiding energetically.
"Now, broad-backed father and mighty son, another stroke, and another!" With the incision of steel her voice pierced the roar of the tempest, in words of encouragement. "Another stroke and we're head on again. Grande, hombres! She's empty of water now, and lighter to row. Adelante!"
Slowly over surge and sea-trough they crawled.
Just as they appeared to be getting a little the best of the situation a tremendous rush of water caught the boat, whirled it about and bore it harborward at terrific rate. Before the storm it sped, back to the lea of Point Lobos hills. Here the fishermen regained control.
"Madre de Dios!" exclaimed the father. "Over in one of those coves we'll find shelter where we can wait a while, till we can get back home."
"Point Lobos arroyo is here. We can land," said one of the sons.
"Hombres, turn the boat and sail out to the ships," Señora Valentino spoke.
"No," from the father, decisively. "Neither your money nor your jewel can give life to the drowned."
"Father mine," from the youngest son, "why not go out again?"
"Silly fool! Go out and be food for fish? No."
"Ah! the youth is willing to face the dangers. A woman laughs at them. Yet the most skilled boatman of Yerba Buena is afraid! A pretty story to be told around the net mending on the beach. A pretty story! No?"
The man grunted.
"Five hundred other gold pesos, if you reach the ships. Why not be rich, enjoy life, and leave fishing to others?"
The Mexican grunted again, "No."
"Turn about. I warn you," resolution burning her words.
"No, I shall not. Death awaits if I do."
Her hand rose suddenly. The man looked into the barrel of a pistol which the señora pointed steadily at him. "Death awaits, if you do not!"
"Huh!" growled the father, "your powder's wet and your pistol good for nothing. You can't fool me."
She fired the pistol into the air; drew a second weapon from beneath her cloak and pointed it in level aim.
"The next shot will not go wild. Turn back, I say; else I crook my finger, ever so slightly, and you die, a coward! Your name a byword among fishermen!"
The man said nothing. Pride, and desire of gain spoke urgently; but, he knew the temper of an angry sea. On the other hand—that pistol barrel glinting so unpleasantly; and the eye of the señora—darkening—threatening. What a will that white woman has! Her hand was tightening—her finger beginning to press the trigger.
"Out to sea, boys!" he cried, suddenly, gripping the oars. "Get to work with your paddles. All together! Now!"
Once more they made the bar. The wind had veered from west to north. A tiny sail, close-reefed, was raised. The boat flew southward along the coast, just outside the whitening edge of breakers. The fleet lay to the right, but their only hope of reaching the flagship was not in direct course, but in wide sweep out to sea, then to circle back toward the west.
The afternoon wore away. The sun dipped below the water's edge. Leagues out of sight of either land or warships had they come.
The sail was reefed yet closer. Father and sons tugged on the tiller rope. The rudder, square across the course, brought the boat head to wind which was again blowing westward.
The little craft cavorted like a bucking broncho; then wheeled, and dashed homeward again. A sudden gust tore her canvas from its cordage. The men sprang to the oars, and mightily fought the sea until the boat was once more in the teeth of the gale.
They were in their element now. Many a night had these fishermen lain out on the sea when unforeseen storm made entering the harbor perilous. Crossing the bar against an ocean's fury was one thing; to toss, boat to windward, safe from treacherous rocks, for a night or longer, was quite another matter.
"Señora," spoke the father, "with our sail we could have reached your ships by time of dark. We cannot with the oars. There's nothing to do but lie here. When morning comes we'll row you to where you wish to go."
The stars crept out and kept watch over the heaving craft. The waves hurled spray against the backs of the oarsmen, of which they took no notice, except as the father would occasionally direct one of his sons to bale out the water.
Señora Valentino, who had sat for hours through repeated drenchings, shook with the cold. She was in the stern of the boat facing the others. Through the dimness they saw her crouching, elbows on knees, her body quivering, her teeth chattering.
Their rude chivalry awoke. The father spoke to one of the sons, who searched in the locker till he found a skin which had been rubbed over with seal oil. The lady wrapped herself in it.
The storm abated, and the cold increased correspondingly. The señora drew the coat more tightly about her. After a while she slept.
The fishermen began talking in low tones.
"Five hundred pesos," from the eldest son, "besides the one hundred in hand! We can buy the store of Manuel Lopez, and sell the fish that others catch."
"Five hundred pesos," from the youngest. "Is there that much money in the world? I wonder why the señora is so anxious to get on board the ships?"
"Past finding out are the ways of white people," the father replied. "Long have I ceased to try to understand them."
"I think," the boy continued, "that she must have a lover there."
"Quién sabe? If it is a lover I'll think he'll find she possesses spirit. Santa Maria! If all women had half as much, children, I'd bid you never marry."
"She is most generous with money," in way of defense from the second son.
"Money flies into the Spaniard's pocket, and out again. They care nothing for it. But this one," nodding to the sleeping woman, "would have killed us to-day if she had not been given her way."
"We've been calling her 'señora.' I believe we should have said 'señorita,'" came from the eldest son.
"I think so too; and I'm sure it's her lover she is going to meet out there," returned the youngest son.
"Anyway, she's very young, and very handsome."
"Handsome is that handsome does," retorted the father.
"But she makes our fortune for us; and she took the risk in coming here the same as we," reminded the middle son.
The wind spent itself finally in a few rampant whirls. The boat commenced to rock in even motion. The boys worked industriously with the baling pails.
The father took from the locker two or three fishnets. These he bunched together and placed on the bottom of the vessel near where the lady was sitting. He touched her on the shoulder. "Awake, señora. The wind has gone down, and we'll no longer ship water. I've made you quite a good bed from these fishnets. You can lie here and sleep till morning."
"Thank you, hombre," as she snuggled down on the improvised bed.
"We usually have aguardiente, but none's left in the locker this trip. Only by chance did we have that coat you're wearing."
"I'm very comfortable, I shall be as warm as if I were at home in my own room," she laughed. "Thank you, again, very, very much."
"These summer nights pass quickly. It is morning before we know."
Hers was the sleep of exhaustion.
The rattle of oars in rowlocks awakened her. The men were no longer merely holding to the wind, but were pulling vigorously. She felt the boat urge forward with each stroke. She raised herself a little and looked over the gunwale. There was darkness everywhere, save when the starlight flashed thinly on some wave-roof.
"A good part of the night is spent, lady," the father said. "The currents begin to run as usual, now that the storm is past. I'm beating to the windward of your ships. You may as well go back to sleep."
After two hours or so he called to her. "Which ship is it that you want, señora?"
She looked about. Morning had come.
"Ah! the reenforcements are here," to herself. "Our Admiral has now eleven men-of-war." Then to the boatman: "That vessel on the left, the large one flying two flags. Sabe?"
"Si, señora."
The Mexicans plied their oars yet more diligently.
Miles slipped away.
"Boat, ahoy!" called the lookout on the flagship.
"Ship, ahoy!" in reply from the señora. "I'm coming on board with a message for the Admiral."
Without warning a fragment of storm-beaten sea, tearing toward the harbor, caught alike fisher-boat and man-of-war.
"Fend off, men! Fend off! Our suction'll swamp you," shouted the lookout to the fishermen.
Oars were useless against the onrush.
The leaning masts of the warship overhung the struggling fisher-boat, wheeled upward, then away. Into the maelstrom drew the little craft. Sailors under hurried orders scurried about the decks of the listing man-of-war. Ropes whisked over the sides down to the water which was overclouded by foam and spray.
"The little chap's sunk!" sounded from the man-of-war.
"No, she ain't. 'Ere's a taut rope. Belike she's fast."
Figures clinging to the boat, upturned, were bobbing about in the settling mist.
"She's fast to our line, nose aloft like a hooked fish!" from the decks.
"There's a H'english girl on board!" shouted the look out. "Didn't ye 'ear 'er yell?"
Sailors, ropes knotted under their arms, were dropped to the sea by their fellows.
"Them's Mexicans," sputtered a big salt rolling over the taffrail with his burden. "I've a Mex. kid 'ere, I fancy."
An elderly man, uniform gold-braided and gold-laced, came up.
The supposed Mexican lad threw off the enveloping folds of the oiled coat. Jauntily, hand raised as if in salute, Señora Valentino stepped forth, apparently as fresh as ever in her life, despite her dripping and clinging garments.
"Come on board, sir!"
"My God! Señora Valentino!"
"At your service, Admiral Fairbanks," with an exaggerated curtsy.
Sailors and marines backed away.
"Madam, what has happened?"
"Too little, sir. Much must happen, and at once," her eyes holding his.
"First, hot blankets and the doctor's draughts, good lady."
"I require neither. A change of clothing would be acceptable, but——" lifting her hands deprecatingly.
"Not so impossible as you might think. The cabin that was my wife's will supply your needs, I'm sure. She left her keys with me when she went ashore at the Cape. The dispatch-boat which sent me flying here at an hour's notice left her no time to get her belongings. When you have made ready we'll confer; that is, after you have seen Doctor Bartlett."
******
"Señora Valentino," the Admiral had broken in, "Mr. Blair, our chaplain, the man of many tongues, learned from the men with you your experiences of yesterday and last night."
"So, señor?"
"The risk you took in coming to me speaks better your conviction that I should take Monterey than could any word of yours. But, why has Colonel Mendoza not been mentioned to me either by you or Captain Farquharson? Why not?"
"Señor Mendoza speaks much these days of democracy and fair play. Yet, both democracy and fair play demand that the minority accepts the decision of the majority. Why should we have mentioned Mendoza? He stands almost alone. As to Governor Barcelo——"
"Do not speak to me of Governor Barcelo! Only by threats of summary court-martial did I prevent my captains from bombarding the capital the other day." The Admiral sprang excitedly from his chair.
"Wait a moment, Admiral, if you will."
He was again seated.
"Colonel Barcelo sends word to you through me that he has satisfied his honor, and that you are at liberty to occupy Monterey, for all of him. He has taken all his troopers to his hacienda eight leagues away in the country."
"When he fired on me, then, it was merely by way of shotted salute?" in sarcasm.
"Nothing more, practically."
"Señora, a world war might easily start here."
"Admiral, a world peace might begin here at your word. The United States cares nothing for this territory. Two vessels only have they—worn and old—in their Pacific squadron. They even call their flagship 'the lumber wagon,' by way of jesting. California is the balance weight of Texas and Oregon. The province calls to you. Peace calls to you. Else the future sees dispute and war over province and empire treasure-trove.
"Admiral Fairbanks, this is the hour, and you are the man. If you fail, and, later, the shadows of war darken these shores, then must you answer at the bar of conscience and humanity. I have risked my own life, and forced the poor Mexicans with me to risk theirs, that I might plead with you."
The commander looked earnestly at the woman.
"Admiral, consider the tremendous potentialities that await your inaction."
He studied the floor in deep thought.
"Now is the supreme moment, Admiral Fairbanks."
The Admiral arose, looked out the window, walked back to his desk, put his hands in his pocket, then clasped them behind him; once more went to the window, and back again; took a speaking-tube off its hook. "How are those Mexicans getting along in the cockpit, Doctor? Good. Have they breakfasted? Each one enough for three, you say? Good."
He sat quiet a moment. Arising, he came in front of the señora, lines of firmness marking his face.
"Too many times have the shadows of war darkened our world history. Her gracious Majesty, our young Queen Victoria, ever counsels to work in the interest of peace. Never have I had wish other than this. Señora Valentino, what you say strikes home. I shall invest Monterey to-morrow."
A marine rapped at the door. He saluted and gave a message.
"The Calliope signals that Padre Osuna wishes to speak with Admiral Fairbanks."
"Ah! she must have picked up the padre at San Diego," from the señora. "The high wind has returned him north in double-quick time."
"Let us go on deck, señora. The Calliope and three others came up coast last night and knew us by our lights."
A ship's boat was approaching bearing the Franciscan. As it swung under the bow of the flagship the friar seized a rope and, hand over hand, as adept as a sailor, he reached the side of the señora and the Admiral.
After a few words of greeting the padre, noting Señora Valentino's questioning look, announced: "I have traveled from Monterey to San Diego. The southland is crying aloud for English rule," directing his words to the Admiral.
"In the interest of peace, Padre Osuna, I shall take Monterey to-morrow," from Fairbanks.
After a few minutes in conversation the señora said: "Señora Padre, I have boat and men here," pointing to the place where the Mexicans were sitting on their inverted craft. "Will you not go with me to Yerba Buena?"
"I will, señora, and my thanks are yours."
Sailors raised the boat on davits and lowered it to the water. The fishermen joyfully turned home, the padre and the señora conversing quietly in the stern.
"That bloomin' Mexican has a lot o' money bulgin' under 'is belt," one tar remarked to another, as they watched the fish-boat making for shore.
"Haw! haw! haw!" laughed a third. "You should 'a seen Dickie this mornin'. Somebody sings out, 'There's a H'english gal aboard.' 'No such thing,' says Dickie, comin' over the side and spittin' water like a sperm w'ale, 'they're h'all black Mex., an' 'e a 'oldin' the purtiest w'ite gal I ever see h'all the time. Haw! haw!" slapping Dickie's shoulder. Then, in different tones: "Admiral's signalin' a-plenty. Wonder w'at h'it's all about."
The señora, the padre and the Mexicans made Yerba Buena safely, and found the little town in uproar over the astounding escapade of a señora who had persuaded good, sane fishermen to go with her to sure death.
Father and sons escaped from congratulating friends to the seclusion of their cot where, with the mother, they rejoiced over their good fortune. Not only were they safe after an experience over which Yerba Buena was to talk for a decade, but that most wealthy señor the ships' treasurer had given each ten gold sovereigns for himself, besides paying the sire the one hundred sovereigns promised by the señora.
Señora Valentino was indefatigable as well as intrepid. Soon, with the friar and Farquharson, she was dashing on horseback down the peninsula toward Monterey.
"So you read my note to Señora Aguirre," she remarked to Farquharson.
"I did, and learned of your purpose to go out to the fleet. Finding at the Mexican settlement that you had actually put this purpose into effect I got a boat and was just pushing off to follow you when a provost marshal placed me under arrest. Confound him! as if I didn't have a right to do as I pleased, stormy or not! And that blasted comandante held me at the presidio till your return."
"Then you also were coming to the flagship? No?"
"Señora, I never dreamed you would think of such a thing as going out there by yourself. I've never felt so small in my life. It would be a relief if I was lying at the bottom of the harbor."
"Not so, Captain. It was a mad thing, my venturing forth; but, you know, when a woman wills she will. So, no fault in you, Captain mine. Pray think no more of it. As we ride along I'll tell you more of my meeting with Fairbanks after I—tumbled on board his vessel."
They reached the high ground near the Laguna de las Mercedes, two leagues beyond Mission Dolores. A deep-voiced exclamation from Padre Osuna, accompanied by a full-arm gesture, directed their attention to the right. The ocean, as if making amends for violent temper of the past days, lay in unruffled mood before them. The eleven vessels of the fleet, spread white against sapphire arc, were sailing to the south.
Farquharson's eyes, an admiring light in them, sought the señora.
"Señora, Fairbanks is really going to Monterey!"
She inclined her head.
"You are a wonderful woman. I have said this before. I say it now with double emphasis."
The three halted and watched the fleet.
"Come, let us ride on," from the señora, impatient at delay.
"Well," remarked Farquharson, "Barcelo has spiked the castle guns, and skedaddled. The Yankee's flagship is stuck in the mud, with her consort, the Cyane. I wonder what the deuce will keep that old dunderhead, Fairbanks out of Monterey now!"