CHAPTER XVIIIFOES IN WAITINGA grey dawn came that morning to San Diego de Alcalá, for the heavy fog hung like a pall over the valley, rolling in great billows against the hills. The mission bells rang, and into the church trooped frailes, soldiers, ranch owners, loyal neophytes, none appearing more devout than those same soldiers whose license and cruelty had done much to make the Indians dissatisfied and undo the work of the frailes. Collectively they may have been a boisterous, fighting, drinking, gambling lot—but individually they were properly religious.Thecomandantehad taken charge and done everything possible in preparing the defence. It had come to a question of deciding between presidio and mission, for there were not men enough to defend both. It was a question, too, which the hostiles would attack first—the presidio offered arms and ammunition, food and wine; the mission offered more loot. Did the savages have greater hatred for the soldiers or the “long gowns”?—that was the question thecomandantewould have liked to have had answered.Sergeant Cassara, pacing the plaza after service, pulled at his long moustache and waited for his officerto appear. There were some things Cassara had not fathomed. With his own eyes he had seen the savages take Rojerio Rocha to the house at the rancho, and he knew that the women had been there. And now, so he had been told, both women were back at the mission, and unharmed. This was something new in Indian warfare.Thecomandantecame from the church, two of the older frailes with him, and went toward the padres’ quarters, Cassara falling in behind. Since there was no other officer here, Cassara, by virtue of his long experience, had been appointed a temporary second in command.Inside the building, with the door closed and a man on guard outside to prevent interruption, the frailes sat down at a long table, thecomandanteat the head of it, Sergeant Cassara at the foot. There was silence for a moment, and then the lieutenant lifted his head and looked down the length of the table, ignoring the frailes and gazing straight into Cassara’s eyes when he spoke.“Ensign Sanchez of Santa Barbara is due this morning with twenty men, unless he has met with disaster on the highway. I understand from the courier who arrived late last night that Sanchez has picked up some good fighters along the way, especially at Reina de Los Angeles, where the old pirate, Gonzales, now a godly man, and some of his cronies joined the standard.”“Give me a score of men like this Gonzales and we sweep the hostiles into the sea!” Cassara exclaimed.The lieutenant rebuked him with a glance, and thesergeant, his face flushing, turned to look through the window.“Not a man among us but is worth a dozen Indians,” thecomandantewent on. “Yet we are not more than a hundred if Sanchez arrives in time. We can expect no help from San Luis Rey de Francia—on the other hand, Sanchez may see fit to leave a part of his force there. Two hundred good men are coming south with the Governor, who has taken care of things in the north and now hopes to stamp out the rebellion here. But they cannot arrive for perhaps two days more.Señores, we must hold out until then! And my scouts report that the savages number at least a thousand now, and are well supplied with arms and ammunition.”No man made answer; there seemed no answer to make. Thecomandantehad stated the gist of the matter, and it was for him to make any decisions he wished.“Is it to be the presidio or the mission?” a fray asked, after a time of silence.“The mission,” thecomandantesaid. “I have decided that. I am having arms and ammunition moved here from the presidio.”“I thank you,señor,” the fray returned. “We would rather die on the steps of the church, if we are to die in this manner.”“Now who prates of dying?” Cassara burst out. “Is this a council of war or a funeral? If we are going into this fight already whipped, then I mount my horse and trot up to San Luis Rey de Francia in search of men of spirit!”“Peace, sergeant!” thecomandantecried. “There will be fighting enough! I believe all our plans are made,señores. It desolates me to think we have not sufficient force to make a sally and carry the fighting to the enemy, but we dare not risk it. The renegade who commands the hostiles probably has prepared for that.”“And what renegade commands?” Cassara desired to know. “Name him, for the love of the saints, so I’ll know him when we meet face to face!”“The matter appears to be undecided,” returned one of the frailes. “We had thought this Captain Fly-by-Night was the renegade, and think so yet, knowing his character, but it seems the Indians have turned against him——”“Or have pretended to turn against him and are playing a deep trick,” Cassara interrupted. “What has become of the scoundrel?”“’Twas he fetched the women back to the mission unharmed,” thecomandantereplied.“Dios!’Twas he? Will someone explain this business?”“Señora Vallejo appears to be on the verge of hysterics and will say little,” a fray responded, “except that this Fly-by-Night invaded a room occupied by the women at the rancho, and forced them to accompany him. He conducted them here in safety. His object in so doing is not known fully.”“Hah! And this Rojerio Rocha—what became of him?”“I can learn nothing from the women regardingSeñor Rocha, except that Señorita Anita gasped out he is still at the rancho, and that it is too horrible to mention. The hostiles are holding him for torture, perhaps. There is deadly enmity between Señor Rocha and Captain Fly-by-Night.”“Hah! Is there, by any chance, a possibility that this Señor Rocha himself is a renegade and leads the hostiles?” Sergeant Cassara demanded.“Señor!” the fray cried. “Rojerio Rocha is of a distant branch of the Fernandez family, heir to the oldseñor, and is to wed the Señorita Anita. Moreover, I happen to know that he is a personal friend to the Governor.”“The trunk of a tree cannot always control its branches,” the sergeant observed, “and most certainly cannot prevent any foul bird from building nest in them. That is a deep saying—eh, fray? Ponder over it while you are waiting for the fighting to begin.”“I think your suspicion is an injustice,” the fray returned. “It is more likely this Fly-by-Night has held Rojerio Rocha for torture, since he knows Señor Rocha is expected to wed our Anita, and he himself has made boasts that he would win her.”“At any rate, this Captain Fly-by-Night is a clever rogue,” the sergeant declared. “Hah! I have a score or two to settle with that fine caballero when next we meet!”“And I!” thecomandanteadded.“May the saints give him to my blade!... Is there more to be done before the imps of Hades descend upon us?”A fray reported.“I have had all water casks filled, as was ordered, for human use and to fight fire. There is not a break on the four sides of the plaza except at the end of the adobe wall; and there we left room for Ensign Sanchez and his men to enter.”Cheers came to them now from the plaza, and the sergeant rushed to a window, then whirled toward the others with a glad cry.“Sanchez has come!” he shouted. “And that dear pirate of a Gonzales is with him. Now bring on your gentiles and disloyal neophytes and your renegades and your Captain Fly-by-Night! Hah! My ensign has come!”He ran to the door, hurled it open, and sprang out into the plaza, his sword clattering at his heels.“Hah! I am myself again!” he roared. “Ensign I salute you! Comrades, it is a treat to see you again! How like you El Camino Real in haste, eh? Gonzales, good pirate, come to my arms!”They laughed as they surged forward and around him, slapping him on his broad shoulders, grasping at his hands, crying jests and strange oaths at their happiness in seeing him again.“Look around you, comrades!” the sergeant invited. “What you see you like, take it! While our ensign greets thecomandantehere—a fine fellow, by the way, but not quite up to our Santa Barbara standard—I’ll show you what has been done in the way of defence. There is a corner from where a man can command the slope——”Gonzales interrupted him with a slap on the back so hearty that it took away the sergeant’s breath.“A truce to your blabbing!” cried the former pirate. “Thrice have I opened jaws to ask a question, and always you spoke again before I could have a word. Where is this precious Captain Fly-by-Night? If already you have slain him, then—by the saints!—I’ll have at you myself! Hah! Where is the rogue?”“Ah, wouldst see Captain Fly-by-Night?” the sergeant asked. “A rogue, is he? Now when did he cross your path, good pirate? Is he your friend or foe?”“Is he? There’ll be one sergeant less for the hostiles to combat if you dare intimate the man to be friend of mine! A pretty scoundrel! Where crossed he my path? Hah! Like a whirlwind he descended upon the pueblo of Reina de Los Angeles one night, as you know very well, Cassara mine! ‘Fray Felipe of San Fernando says I am an honest man, and that you are one,’ he states. ‘I would sleep until an hour before dawn,’ he states. ‘You will care for my animal and give me a couch and food?’ he states.”“I dare say he got what he requested,” Cassara put in, trying to choke back a laugh.“Did he? The rogue! Did I not sit up all night, musket in hand, pistol at belt, sword ready, to guard the wretch? Did I not have my Indian prowling around the house alert for sneaks? Did I not rub down the scoundrel’s horse? And in the morning did I not ride with him a short distance on his way and give him my blessing? Hah! ‘These are turbulent times,’ I suggestedto him. ‘So I have understood,’ he states. ‘Perhaps you think me a man I am not,’ he states. To my face, the rogue! And, in my wisdom, I wink one eye and slap him on the back and send him on his way.Dios!”“We all make mistakes,” Cassara observed.“He warned me of another traveller, and I play with this same other man and lose good gold, seeking to delay him. I do delay him—to find I have hindered the Governor’s good messenger and given aid to the renegade. And you ask me why I want to see him? Hah! Where is he to be found?”“Answer me that, good pirate, and I bless you! My blade waits for him!”“After I am through,” Gonzales suggested.“I have first claim,” Cassara declared.“The man is mine, I say. If he dares show his face, all must stand aside and let me at him!”“Hah! Stand aside for you, pirate?” Cassara cried. “Captain Fly-by-Night comes to me, and I would have all men know it!”“Now, by all the good saints, this passes a jest! I say the man comes to my blade. Have I not the better right?”“There are three of us,” Cassara said. “Thecomandantehere at San Diego de Alcalá has a score to settle with the rogue. Yet I think I shall spit him——”“By what right? Wherein has he put shame upon you?” demanded Gonzales.“Hah! As to that——”“Speak, Sergeant Cassara, and let these men judge. Why have you the better right?”Cassara’s face grew purple suddenly, for there came to him a vision of the barracks-room at the presidio, himself and two soldiers bound hand and foot and fastened to stools, a grinning gentile watching them—while Captain Fly-by-Night slept in an adjoining room.“Let the men judge!” Gonzales was shouting.Cassara choked in embarrassment. Tell the outrage this Caballero had put upon him—tell it to the grinning troopers? A courageous man was the Santa Barbara sergeant, but not courageous enough for that.“I fight you for him!” he roared, and started to draw blade. Nor was Gonzales a bit backward. In an instant their swords had crossed, in another they would have been at it. But Ensign Sanchez, who had come from the guest house with thecomandante, interposed his own blade and separated them.“A truce to such quarreling!” he ordered. “This Fly-by-Night is my quarry,señores! He is to be left to me, I would have all men know. Did he not make a dunce of me at Santa Barbara? ‘Can you conceive a reason why a gentleman might not want his name shouted for all men to hear?’ he asked. ‘You know the state of the times, I take it.’ Hah! Did I not wine and dine him? He comes to my blade!”“Now, by the saints! If this rogue appears at any of the four points of the compass, he meets aseñorawaiting him!” Cassara said. “’Tis to be a matter of luck, then.”A fray entered the conversation.“Were Rojerio Rocha with us, no doubt he would want to claim this Fly-by-Night,” he said.“Rojerio Rocha had his chance at him,” Cassara replied.“And did not you?” Ensign Sanchez demanded. “Did he not stand up to you at Santa Barbara?”“Devil and Hades!” the sergeant cried. “I shall go mad! Hah! May the imps of evil, even, pity the scoundrel when I meet him! The more I think of it—Juan and Claudio, eh? Hah! Play cards for a mule? ‘Not that pack of cards,señor,’ the wretch says. ‘This is to be a game of chance, not of skill,’ he says. Fury! ‘Do you keep up your fencing practice,’ he says.I shall go mad!”Cassara swept his naked blade in a great circle at arm’s length, and the others sprang out of his way roaring with laughter. Across the plaza stamped the irate man, stopping before the store house to lift a water jug and drink deeply.And then a neophyte stopped before thecomandanteand ensign and bowed respectfully.“Señores,” he begged, “allow me to say it is an easy matter to settle this quarrel. I am Pedro, servant at the guest house, and I swear by the saints I am a loyal neophyte and ready to die for the frailes and theseñores. Moreover, I have been servant to the Señorita Anita since she has abided at the mission——”“But the quarrel, man! How settle it?” laughed thecomandante.“This Captain Fly-by-Night boasted concerning theseñorita, thus insulting her; did he not? Do you fourseñoresfight bravely against the others—and let me kill this Fly-by-Night!”A roar of laughter answered him. He bowed again, but did not turn away, and they saw he was sincere in his request.“This Fly-by-Night appears to be loved with an enduring affection,” Ensign Sanchez said, sarcastically. “I suppose we must leave the matter to chance, and each of us pray the rogue falls to his blade.”
A grey dawn came that morning to San Diego de Alcalá, for the heavy fog hung like a pall over the valley, rolling in great billows against the hills. The mission bells rang, and into the church trooped frailes, soldiers, ranch owners, loyal neophytes, none appearing more devout than those same soldiers whose license and cruelty had done much to make the Indians dissatisfied and undo the work of the frailes. Collectively they may have been a boisterous, fighting, drinking, gambling lot—but individually they were properly religious.
Thecomandantehad taken charge and done everything possible in preparing the defence. It had come to a question of deciding between presidio and mission, for there were not men enough to defend both. It was a question, too, which the hostiles would attack first—the presidio offered arms and ammunition, food and wine; the mission offered more loot. Did the savages have greater hatred for the soldiers or the “long gowns”?—that was the question thecomandantewould have liked to have had answered.
Sergeant Cassara, pacing the plaza after service, pulled at his long moustache and waited for his officerto appear. There were some things Cassara had not fathomed. With his own eyes he had seen the savages take Rojerio Rocha to the house at the rancho, and he knew that the women had been there. And now, so he had been told, both women were back at the mission, and unharmed. This was something new in Indian warfare.
Thecomandantecame from the church, two of the older frailes with him, and went toward the padres’ quarters, Cassara falling in behind. Since there was no other officer here, Cassara, by virtue of his long experience, had been appointed a temporary second in command.
Inside the building, with the door closed and a man on guard outside to prevent interruption, the frailes sat down at a long table, thecomandanteat the head of it, Sergeant Cassara at the foot. There was silence for a moment, and then the lieutenant lifted his head and looked down the length of the table, ignoring the frailes and gazing straight into Cassara’s eyes when he spoke.
“Ensign Sanchez of Santa Barbara is due this morning with twenty men, unless he has met with disaster on the highway. I understand from the courier who arrived late last night that Sanchez has picked up some good fighters along the way, especially at Reina de Los Angeles, where the old pirate, Gonzales, now a godly man, and some of his cronies joined the standard.”
“Give me a score of men like this Gonzales and we sweep the hostiles into the sea!” Cassara exclaimed.
The lieutenant rebuked him with a glance, and thesergeant, his face flushing, turned to look through the window.
“Not a man among us but is worth a dozen Indians,” thecomandantewent on. “Yet we are not more than a hundred if Sanchez arrives in time. We can expect no help from San Luis Rey de Francia—on the other hand, Sanchez may see fit to leave a part of his force there. Two hundred good men are coming south with the Governor, who has taken care of things in the north and now hopes to stamp out the rebellion here. But they cannot arrive for perhaps two days more.Señores, we must hold out until then! And my scouts report that the savages number at least a thousand now, and are well supplied with arms and ammunition.”
No man made answer; there seemed no answer to make. Thecomandantehad stated the gist of the matter, and it was for him to make any decisions he wished.
“Is it to be the presidio or the mission?” a fray asked, after a time of silence.
“The mission,” thecomandantesaid. “I have decided that. I am having arms and ammunition moved here from the presidio.”
“I thank you,señor,” the fray returned. “We would rather die on the steps of the church, if we are to die in this manner.”
“Now who prates of dying?” Cassara burst out. “Is this a council of war or a funeral? If we are going into this fight already whipped, then I mount my horse and trot up to San Luis Rey de Francia in search of men of spirit!”
“Peace, sergeant!” thecomandantecried. “There will be fighting enough! I believe all our plans are made,señores. It desolates me to think we have not sufficient force to make a sally and carry the fighting to the enemy, but we dare not risk it. The renegade who commands the hostiles probably has prepared for that.”
“And what renegade commands?” Cassara desired to know. “Name him, for the love of the saints, so I’ll know him when we meet face to face!”
“The matter appears to be undecided,” returned one of the frailes. “We had thought this Captain Fly-by-Night was the renegade, and think so yet, knowing his character, but it seems the Indians have turned against him——”
“Or have pretended to turn against him and are playing a deep trick,” Cassara interrupted. “What has become of the scoundrel?”
“’Twas he fetched the women back to the mission unharmed,” thecomandantereplied.
“Dios!’Twas he? Will someone explain this business?”
“Señora Vallejo appears to be on the verge of hysterics and will say little,” a fray responded, “except that this Fly-by-Night invaded a room occupied by the women at the rancho, and forced them to accompany him. He conducted them here in safety. His object in so doing is not known fully.”
“Hah! And this Rojerio Rocha—what became of him?”
“I can learn nothing from the women regardingSeñor Rocha, except that Señorita Anita gasped out he is still at the rancho, and that it is too horrible to mention. The hostiles are holding him for torture, perhaps. There is deadly enmity between Señor Rocha and Captain Fly-by-Night.”
“Hah! Is there, by any chance, a possibility that this Señor Rocha himself is a renegade and leads the hostiles?” Sergeant Cassara demanded.
“Señor!” the fray cried. “Rojerio Rocha is of a distant branch of the Fernandez family, heir to the oldseñor, and is to wed the Señorita Anita. Moreover, I happen to know that he is a personal friend to the Governor.”
“The trunk of a tree cannot always control its branches,” the sergeant observed, “and most certainly cannot prevent any foul bird from building nest in them. That is a deep saying—eh, fray? Ponder over it while you are waiting for the fighting to begin.”
“I think your suspicion is an injustice,” the fray returned. “It is more likely this Fly-by-Night has held Rojerio Rocha for torture, since he knows Señor Rocha is expected to wed our Anita, and he himself has made boasts that he would win her.”
“At any rate, this Captain Fly-by-Night is a clever rogue,” the sergeant declared. “Hah! I have a score or two to settle with that fine caballero when next we meet!”
“And I!” thecomandanteadded.
“May the saints give him to my blade!... Is there more to be done before the imps of Hades descend upon us?”
A fray reported.
“I have had all water casks filled, as was ordered, for human use and to fight fire. There is not a break on the four sides of the plaza except at the end of the adobe wall; and there we left room for Ensign Sanchez and his men to enter.”
Cheers came to them now from the plaza, and the sergeant rushed to a window, then whirled toward the others with a glad cry.
“Sanchez has come!” he shouted. “And that dear pirate of a Gonzales is with him. Now bring on your gentiles and disloyal neophytes and your renegades and your Captain Fly-by-Night! Hah! My ensign has come!”
He ran to the door, hurled it open, and sprang out into the plaza, his sword clattering at his heels.
“Hah! I am myself again!” he roared. “Ensign I salute you! Comrades, it is a treat to see you again! How like you El Camino Real in haste, eh? Gonzales, good pirate, come to my arms!”
They laughed as they surged forward and around him, slapping him on his broad shoulders, grasping at his hands, crying jests and strange oaths at their happiness in seeing him again.
“Look around you, comrades!” the sergeant invited. “What you see you like, take it! While our ensign greets thecomandantehere—a fine fellow, by the way, but not quite up to our Santa Barbara standard—I’ll show you what has been done in the way of defence. There is a corner from where a man can command the slope——”
Gonzales interrupted him with a slap on the back so hearty that it took away the sergeant’s breath.
“A truce to your blabbing!” cried the former pirate. “Thrice have I opened jaws to ask a question, and always you spoke again before I could have a word. Where is this precious Captain Fly-by-Night? If already you have slain him, then—by the saints!—I’ll have at you myself! Hah! Where is the rogue?”
“Ah, wouldst see Captain Fly-by-Night?” the sergeant asked. “A rogue, is he? Now when did he cross your path, good pirate? Is he your friend or foe?”
“Is he? There’ll be one sergeant less for the hostiles to combat if you dare intimate the man to be friend of mine! A pretty scoundrel! Where crossed he my path? Hah! Like a whirlwind he descended upon the pueblo of Reina de Los Angeles one night, as you know very well, Cassara mine! ‘Fray Felipe of San Fernando says I am an honest man, and that you are one,’ he states. ‘I would sleep until an hour before dawn,’ he states. ‘You will care for my animal and give me a couch and food?’ he states.”
“I dare say he got what he requested,” Cassara put in, trying to choke back a laugh.
“Did he? The rogue! Did I not sit up all night, musket in hand, pistol at belt, sword ready, to guard the wretch? Did I not have my Indian prowling around the house alert for sneaks? Did I not rub down the scoundrel’s horse? And in the morning did I not ride with him a short distance on his way and give him my blessing? Hah! ‘These are turbulent times,’ I suggestedto him. ‘So I have understood,’ he states. ‘Perhaps you think me a man I am not,’ he states. To my face, the rogue! And, in my wisdom, I wink one eye and slap him on the back and send him on his way.Dios!”
“We all make mistakes,” Cassara observed.
“He warned me of another traveller, and I play with this same other man and lose good gold, seeking to delay him. I do delay him—to find I have hindered the Governor’s good messenger and given aid to the renegade. And you ask me why I want to see him? Hah! Where is he to be found?”
“Answer me that, good pirate, and I bless you! My blade waits for him!”
“After I am through,” Gonzales suggested.
“I have first claim,” Cassara declared.
“The man is mine, I say. If he dares show his face, all must stand aside and let me at him!”
“Hah! Stand aside for you, pirate?” Cassara cried. “Captain Fly-by-Night comes to me, and I would have all men know it!”
“Now, by all the good saints, this passes a jest! I say the man comes to my blade. Have I not the better right?”
“There are three of us,” Cassara said. “Thecomandantehere at San Diego de Alcalá has a score to settle with the rogue. Yet I think I shall spit him——”
“By what right? Wherein has he put shame upon you?” demanded Gonzales.
“Hah! As to that——”
“Speak, Sergeant Cassara, and let these men judge. Why have you the better right?”
Cassara’s face grew purple suddenly, for there came to him a vision of the barracks-room at the presidio, himself and two soldiers bound hand and foot and fastened to stools, a grinning gentile watching them—while Captain Fly-by-Night slept in an adjoining room.
“Let the men judge!” Gonzales was shouting.
Cassara choked in embarrassment. Tell the outrage this Caballero had put upon him—tell it to the grinning troopers? A courageous man was the Santa Barbara sergeant, but not courageous enough for that.
“I fight you for him!” he roared, and started to draw blade. Nor was Gonzales a bit backward. In an instant their swords had crossed, in another they would have been at it. But Ensign Sanchez, who had come from the guest house with thecomandante, interposed his own blade and separated them.
“A truce to such quarreling!” he ordered. “This Fly-by-Night is my quarry,señores! He is to be left to me, I would have all men know. Did he not make a dunce of me at Santa Barbara? ‘Can you conceive a reason why a gentleman might not want his name shouted for all men to hear?’ he asked. ‘You know the state of the times, I take it.’ Hah! Did I not wine and dine him? He comes to my blade!”
“Now, by the saints! If this rogue appears at any of the four points of the compass, he meets aseñorawaiting him!” Cassara said. “’Tis to be a matter of luck, then.”
A fray entered the conversation.
“Were Rojerio Rocha with us, no doubt he would want to claim this Fly-by-Night,” he said.
“Rojerio Rocha had his chance at him,” Cassara replied.
“And did not you?” Ensign Sanchez demanded. “Did he not stand up to you at Santa Barbara?”
“Devil and Hades!” the sergeant cried. “I shall go mad! Hah! May the imps of evil, even, pity the scoundrel when I meet him! The more I think of it—Juan and Claudio, eh? Hah! Play cards for a mule? ‘Not that pack of cards,señor,’ the wretch says. ‘This is to be a game of chance, not of skill,’ he says. Fury! ‘Do you keep up your fencing practice,’ he says.I shall go mad!”
Cassara swept his naked blade in a great circle at arm’s length, and the others sprang out of his way roaring with laughter. Across the plaza stamped the irate man, stopping before the store house to lift a water jug and drink deeply.
And then a neophyte stopped before thecomandanteand ensign and bowed respectfully.
“Señores,” he begged, “allow me to say it is an easy matter to settle this quarrel. I am Pedro, servant at the guest house, and I swear by the saints I am a loyal neophyte and ready to die for the frailes and theseñores. Moreover, I have been servant to the Señorita Anita since she has abided at the mission——”
“But the quarrel, man! How settle it?” laughed thecomandante.
“This Captain Fly-by-Night boasted concerning theseñorita, thus insulting her; did he not? Do you fourseñoresfight bravely against the others—and let me kill this Fly-by-Night!”
A roar of laughter answered him. He bowed again, but did not turn away, and they saw he was sincere in his request.
“This Fly-by-Night appears to be loved with an enduring affection,” Ensign Sanchez said, sarcastically. “I suppose we must leave the matter to chance, and each of us pray the rogue falls to his blade.”