CHAPTER XXANOTHER VISITORThe dawn!Some trooper started the cheer when the first faint red streak began to show through the fog, and the others took it up, until all the defenders at the mission were hailing the day except the frailes busy with their prayers.The dawn meant that no more could the hostiles approach under cover of darkness, make unexpected attacks in certain quarters, or slip up unnoticed until within a few feet of the walls. Now they could be observed easily on every side, and an open charge could be met by a concentrated defence.As the day broadened and the fog began to lift a constant pattering of musket slugs beat against the walls, and flaming arrows were still being discharged. Neophytes carried food and water and wine to the men on the wall and at the windows of the buildings, and they ate and drank as they fought, trying to pick off enemies when head or leg or arm showed.Every boulder had a hostile behind it, every pile of debris, and they were intrenched behind the wall of the orchard, from which comparative security they showered bullets against those of the mission.Dead and wounded gentiles and traitorous neophytesdotted the ground on every side of the plaza. Eight defenders were stretched in a row near the wall, victims of the conspiracy. More than a score wounded had been quartered in the church, where the frailes attended to their injuries as well as they could, for the church was where the last stand would be made if necessary.A nervous, anxiouscomandantepaced the plaza, scarcely speaking to his men. Ensign Sanchez, from a position near the end of the wall, had glass to eye, searching El Camino Real for a cloud of dust that would tell of the approach of the Governor and his force, fearing as he looked that it would not be possible for his excellency to arrive until the end of the day.A great deal depended on what had transpired at San Luis Rey de Francia. There was a chance the Governor would have to stop and give aid there and could not continue to San Diego de Alcalá. It was certain the hostiles knew the Governor was coming, and would attempt to gain possession of the mission before his arrival.Sergeant Cassara still sat against the wall of the storehouse, and Gonzales, down on his knees beside him, was holding a wine cup while the sergeant drank. Gonzales had suffered a minor wound, but made little of it.“Together, we have not lost enough blood to dye a lady’s handkerchief,” he said. “’Twas the knock on the head made you faint, sergeant mine.”“Carlos Cassara to be knocked on the head with a club!” the sergeant groaned. “I shall go mad!”“Another man would have had his skull crushed by the blow. How feel you now?”“Excellent well, good pirate, except my neck be so stiff I cannot turn my head.”“Hah! Dost want to look behind you to pick out a way to run?”“Now, by all the saints——”“’Twas but a jest, Carlos, my friend. You are able to fight again?”“Let the dogs but attack and I’ll take my place beside you,” the sergeant boasted.“You have seen no more ghosts?”“’Twas no ghost! ’Twas Captain Fly-by-Night himself, may the imps of evil seize upon him! Laugh, and you like! I saw him, by the light of the firebrand, standing in the plaza, pistol in hand.”“We’ll say no more of it,” Gonzales proposed. “’Tis no thing to cause argument between friends. What is a ghost? Hah!”The door of the guest house was thrown open, and the giant Pedro stalked out, followed by Señorita Anita Fernandez and Señora Vallejo. It was plain to be seen both women had been weeping. Thecomandantehurried toward them, cap in hand, and spoke with them for a few moments, then conducted them along the wall toward the church.“Displaying the women folk,” Cassara whispered to his friend. “’Twill make the men fight better. What a girl that is!”“’Twere hard to die as this Rojerio Rocha died, knowing death robbed him of such treasure,” Gonzales replied.“He is dead, then?”“It is assumed so. Why would hostiles hold him prisoner when they are running wild to kill other good men?”“Why didn’t they slay him at the rancho with Señor Lopez and the others? Answer me that!” said Cassara. “How does it happen this Fly-by-Night got the women from the ranch-house and fetched them here? Answer me that! Why does this girl gasp and say it is too horrible, yet give no details? Reply to me concerning that! Hah! When this row is at an end there’ll be explanations enough to occupy a year of his excellency’s time!”“The women are going into the church to pray,” Gonzales announced, for lack of anything better to say. “’Tis well. As for me, I do my praying as I fight. It is an excellent custom. I noticed a fray as dawn broke doing the same thing. Load and fire—then on his knees—arise—load and fire again. He kept it up for half an hour.”“The bells of the mission rang as usual this morning, I noticed,” Gonzales said.“And did you hear the fiends yell and double their volleys at the same time? Hah! Drown the sound of mission bells by shrieks and shouts? They’ll ring down the centuries, my good pirate—ring either in fact or fancy as long as two chunks of adobe cling together! Hah! I grow poetical, pirate! Is it a sign of approaching death?”“It is a sign of approaching lunacy,” Gonzales answered, and stood to his feet to watch Señorita Anita and herduennaas they came from the church andcrossed the plaza to the guest house again, heads bowed and hands clasped, a fray behind them, thecomandantehovering near.The crest of the hill behind the mission flamed red suddenly as a volley was fired. The cries of the besiegers were redoubled. Thecomandanteand the ensign called commands. Gonzales picked up musket and hurried to the wall, and Sergeant Cassara got slowly upon his feet, balanced himself dazedly against the storehouse wall for a moment, then clutched his own musket and staggered weakly after his friend.From all sides came the rain of bullets, while over the crest of the hill poured charging hostiles in a mad rush toward the plaza. Others remained at the crest and covered the charge with volleys, keeping the top of the wall clear until those concerned in the assault were within striking distance.Then the top of the wall burst into flame, and the charge hesitated for an instant, recoiled, gathered courage and continued. Once more hostiles and defenders fought hand-to-hand with pistols and swords and knives.More dead were stretched beside the wall inside the plaza, more dotted the ground outside. Additional wounded shrieked or groaned in pain. Half a dozen savages invaded the plaza, to be caught in a corner as in a trap and exterminated. The assault failed, as had the previous ones, but it had proved costly to the defenders.Now there was quiet for an hour, except for the continual shots fired by hostiles under cover. Frailesworked frantically with the wounded. More ammunition was distributed. Ensign Sanchez swept El Camino Real with his glass, and turned away disconsolate. Thecomandantewalked from post to post, cheering his men, his face contradicting the words he spoke.“A few more charges like that,” Gonzales was saying, “and there’ll not be enough of us left to make a defence. No gentile had brains enough to cover an advance from the crest like that. Hah! If ever I meet this renegade who leads them——”“The mere thought of standing before him makes me strong again,” Cassara replied. “I pray both of us will have pistols empty and be forced to use naked steel.”A fusillade interrupted him, a renewal of war cries smote the ears of those in the plaza. Men raised weapons to fire, expecting another charge. And over the crest of the hill fled a man who waved a white cloth above his head and plunged down toward the mission.“A white man! Don’t fire! A white man!”comandanteand ensign were shouting.Now the crest was alive with Indians, who fired repeatedly at the fleeing figure. Some gave chase until bullets from the wall cut them down. On and on raced the fugitive toward the promised shelter of the mission.“’Tis this Rojerio Rocha!” Cassara shouted.
The dawn!
Some trooper started the cheer when the first faint red streak began to show through the fog, and the others took it up, until all the defenders at the mission were hailing the day except the frailes busy with their prayers.
The dawn meant that no more could the hostiles approach under cover of darkness, make unexpected attacks in certain quarters, or slip up unnoticed until within a few feet of the walls. Now they could be observed easily on every side, and an open charge could be met by a concentrated defence.
As the day broadened and the fog began to lift a constant pattering of musket slugs beat against the walls, and flaming arrows were still being discharged. Neophytes carried food and water and wine to the men on the wall and at the windows of the buildings, and they ate and drank as they fought, trying to pick off enemies when head or leg or arm showed.
Every boulder had a hostile behind it, every pile of debris, and they were intrenched behind the wall of the orchard, from which comparative security they showered bullets against those of the mission.
Dead and wounded gentiles and traitorous neophytesdotted the ground on every side of the plaza. Eight defenders were stretched in a row near the wall, victims of the conspiracy. More than a score wounded had been quartered in the church, where the frailes attended to their injuries as well as they could, for the church was where the last stand would be made if necessary.
A nervous, anxiouscomandantepaced the plaza, scarcely speaking to his men. Ensign Sanchez, from a position near the end of the wall, had glass to eye, searching El Camino Real for a cloud of dust that would tell of the approach of the Governor and his force, fearing as he looked that it would not be possible for his excellency to arrive until the end of the day.
A great deal depended on what had transpired at San Luis Rey de Francia. There was a chance the Governor would have to stop and give aid there and could not continue to San Diego de Alcalá. It was certain the hostiles knew the Governor was coming, and would attempt to gain possession of the mission before his arrival.
Sergeant Cassara still sat against the wall of the storehouse, and Gonzales, down on his knees beside him, was holding a wine cup while the sergeant drank. Gonzales had suffered a minor wound, but made little of it.
“Together, we have not lost enough blood to dye a lady’s handkerchief,” he said. “’Twas the knock on the head made you faint, sergeant mine.”
“Carlos Cassara to be knocked on the head with a club!” the sergeant groaned. “I shall go mad!”
“Another man would have had his skull crushed by the blow. How feel you now?”
“Excellent well, good pirate, except my neck be so stiff I cannot turn my head.”
“Hah! Dost want to look behind you to pick out a way to run?”
“Now, by all the saints——”
“’Twas but a jest, Carlos, my friend. You are able to fight again?”
“Let the dogs but attack and I’ll take my place beside you,” the sergeant boasted.
“You have seen no more ghosts?”
“’Twas no ghost! ’Twas Captain Fly-by-Night himself, may the imps of evil seize upon him! Laugh, and you like! I saw him, by the light of the firebrand, standing in the plaza, pistol in hand.”
“We’ll say no more of it,” Gonzales proposed. “’Tis no thing to cause argument between friends. What is a ghost? Hah!”
The door of the guest house was thrown open, and the giant Pedro stalked out, followed by Señorita Anita Fernandez and Señora Vallejo. It was plain to be seen both women had been weeping. Thecomandantehurried toward them, cap in hand, and spoke with them for a few moments, then conducted them along the wall toward the church.
“Displaying the women folk,” Cassara whispered to his friend. “’Twill make the men fight better. What a girl that is!”
“’Twere hard to die as this Rojerio Rocha died, knowing death robbed him of such treasure,” Gonzales replied.
“He is dead, then?”
“It is assumed so. Why would hostiles hold him prisoner when they are running wild to kill other good men?”
“Why didn’t they slay him at the rancho with Señor Lopez and the others? Answer me that!” said Cassara. “How does it happen this Fly-by-Night got the women from the ranch-house and fetched them here? Answer me that! Why does this girl gasp and say it is too horrible, yet give no details? Reply to me concerning that! Hah! When this row is at an end there’ll be explanations enough to occupy a year of his excellency’s time!”
“The women are going into the church to pray,” Gonzales announced, for lack of anything better to say. “’Tis well. As for me, I do my praying as I fight. It is an excellent custom. I noticed a fray as dawn broke doing the same thing. Load and fire—then on his knees—arise—load and fire again. He kept it up for half an hour.”
“The bells of the mission rang as usual this morning, I noticed,” Gonzales said.
“And did you hear the fiends yell and double their volleys at the same time? Hah! Drown the sound of mission bells by shrieks and shouts? They’ll ring down the centuries, my good pirate—ring either in fact or fancy as long as two chunks of adobe cling together! Hah! I grow poetical, pirate! Is it a sign of approaching death?”
“It is a sign of approaching lunacy,” Gonzales answered, and stood to his feet to watch Señorita Anita and herduennaas they came from the church andcrossed the plaza to the guest house again, heads bowed and hands clasped, a fray behind them, thecomandantehovering near.
The crest of the hill behind the mission flamed red suddenly as a volley was fired. The cries of the besiegers were redoubled. Thecomandanteand the ensign called commands. Gonzales picked up musket and hurried to the wall, and Sergeant Cassara got slowly upon his feet, balanced himself dazedly against the storehouse wall for a moment, then clutched his own musket and staggered weakly after his friend.
From all sides came the rain of bullets, while over the crest of the hill poured charging hostiles in a mad rush toward the plaza. Others remained at the crest and covered the charge with volleys, keeping the top of the wall clear until those concerned in the assault were within striking distance.
Then the top of the wall burst into flame, and the charge hesitated for an instant, recoiled, gathered courage and continued. Once more hostiles and defenders fought hand-to-hand with pistols and swords and knives.
More dead were stretched beside the wall inside the plaza, more dotted the ground outside. Additional wounded shrieked or groaned in pain. Half a dozen savages invaded the plaza, to be caught in a corner as in a trap and exterminated. The assault failed, as had the previous ones, but it had proved costly to the defenders.
Now there was quiet for an hour, except for the continual shots fired by hostiles under cover. Frailesworked frantically with the wounded. More ammunition was distributed. Ensign Sanchez swept El Camino Real with his glass, and turned away disconsolate. Thecomandantewalked from post to post, cheering his men, his face contradicting the words he spoke.
“A few more charges like that,” Gonzales was saying, “and there’ll not be enough of us left to make a defence. No gentile had brains enough to cover an advance from the crest like that. Hah! If ever I meet this renegade who leads them——”
“The mere thought of standing before him makes me strong again,” Cassara replied. “I pray both of us will have pistols empty and be forced to use naked steel.”
A fusillade interrupted him, a renewal of war cries smote the ears of those in the plaza. Men raised weapons to fire, expecting another charge. And over the crest of the hill fled a man who waved a white cloth above his head and plunged down toward the mission.
“A white man! Don’t fire! A white man!”comandanteand ensign were shouting.
Now the crest was alive with Indians, who fired repeatedly at the fleeing figure. Some gave chase until bullets from the wall cut them down. On and on raced the fugitive toward the promised shelter of the mission.
“’Tis this Rojerio Rocha!” Cassara shouted.