The Harlequin Opal: A Romance. Volume 1 of 3

"A mistake, Excelencia," interposed Maraquando at this moment; "we are civilised people, and must observe the rules of war. Besides," he added significantly, letting his eyes rest on Tim, "have we not here the Correspoñsal? and all we do he will write off to England."

"Bueno!" said the President again; "we will wait."

The thunder of the cannon had brought a tremendous crowd to the walls, and down on to the beach. From the Presidential staff up to the gate, was one black mass of people, heaving with excitement. All kinds of rumours were flying from lip to lip. The Pizarro had come to bombard the town, and her consorts were now on their way for the same purpose. The vessel had returned to its allegiance, and had brought Xuarez to Tlatonac for punishment. All were disturbed, startled, puzzled, and watched with lynx eyes the little boat with the white flag at its stern now drawing steadily near to the wharf.

"What's up now, Tim?" asked Philip, pushing his way through the crowd.

"A message from Don Hypolito, no less," replied Fletcher, without turning round. "See! he is standing up in the boat. Be Jove! it's a priest."

"It must be Padre Ignatius," cried Jack, who had a remarkably keen sight. "He went up to Acauhtzin, on some Church business, a week or so ago. Shovel-hat, white hair! Carambo! It is Padre Ignatius!"

The name of the priest speedily became known, and the crowd cheered, for the Padre was well known in Tlatonac. Gomez swore.

"Carrajo! He sends the Padre to make terms!"

"Terms with those dogs!" cried Don Rafael, stamping his foot. "Excelencia, I would hang them all."

"Como, no!" muttered the President, his fingers closing viciously on the bridle-rein; "but we will hear what the Padre has to say."

By this time the boat had reached the wharf, and Padre Ignatius, nimble as a young man, sprang up the wooden steps leading from the water. The moment he was out of the boat it turned seaward again, and before the onlookers could recover from their surprise, the oars were flashing in and out of the waves as it sped back to the war-ship. A roar of rage burst from the lips of all.

"Por Dios!" swore Maraquando, livid with wrath, "they have only landed the Padre, and now take themselves out of danger. Order the forts to open fire, Excelencia!"

Gomez had only to throw up his hand and the cannon would vomit fire. Knowing this, Jack stepped up impulsively to the President.

"Be not hasty, Señor, I beg of you. See, the Padre carries a white flag! He brings a message from Xuarez! First hear what it is, and then decide."

His Excellency moved uneasily in his saddle, and bit his nether lip. He would dearly have liked to have pounded the rebel war-ship into matchwood for her insolent daring in thus defying the Government of Cholacaca, but he could not but see that such an extreme measure would be impolitic. Therefore he restrained his rage, and waited the approach of the Padre, who was now near at hand. Gomez, a true son of the Church, uncovered as the priest paused before him. The Padre raised his hand in token of benediction, and the staff also uncovered. With the atheistical opinions now prevalent in Cholacaca they would not have done this for any priest save Padre Ignatius, who was much beloved by rich and poor. As for Tim, he had his note-book out, and a greedy little pencil, ready to take down every word of the forthcoming conversation.

"Vaya usted con Dios Excelencia!" said the Padre, gravely. "I come from Acauhtzin – from Don Hypolito Xuarez, with a message to the Junta."

"A message to the Junta from rebels, Reverend Father?"

"It is my duty to prevent this fratricidal war, if possible," replied Ignatius, mildly. "I have spoken with Xuarez, and have persuaded him to send me hither with a message of peace."

"And that message?"

"Cannot be spoken here, my son. Let us go to the Palacio Nacional!"

"By all means, my father. Will you not ride thither. One of my officers will give you his horse."

Three or four of the officers at once dismounted, and begged Padre Ignatius to mount; but he refused their offers gently with a wave of his hand.

"No, my children. I will walk thither. Ride on, Excelencia I will be with you soon."

"But The Pizarro, Padre!"

"Will lie off there till my message is delivered and the answer given. If the terms are accepted, one gun will be the sign; if refused, two guns, and the war-ship will return to the north."

"Ah!" said Gomez, with a meaning smile, as he turned his horse's head towards the gate, "they are afraid to trust themselves in the lion's mouth."

CHAPTER X

PADRE IGNATIUS

With cross in hand, the pious father goesFrom camp to camp on Heaven's errand bent;Soothing the wretched, overborne with woes,And to the weary bringing sweet content.Oh, gentle soul, too kind for this rude earth,What virtues doth thy being comprehend;Thou shouldst have lived in times of peaceful mirth,When war was not, and man ne'er lacked a friend.Of what avail those peaceful words of thine,When for the battle armies are arrayed;What use thy mission of good will divine,When to the foe war's standard is displayed.The drums are beaten, trumpets shrill resound,Two gifts alone thou canst bestow on all;Salute with smiles all those with honour crowned,And for the dead a single tear let fall.

Tim was ubiquitous. He seemed neither to eat nor sleep, but, note-book in hand, followed the President about everywhere, with the idea of gathering material for his letters to The Morning Planet. From the Plaza de San Jago he had gone down to the sea gate of Tlatonac, where the meeting with Padre Ignatius took place, and from thence returned to the Palacio Nacional, at the heels of Gomez. In view of the message from Xuarez, the Junta had been hastily convened, and now the great hall of the palace was crowded with deputies waiting to hear the words of the Padre.

Owing to the influence of Don Miguel, which was supreme in Tlatonac, Jack and Philip were admitted to the meeting, and they, in company with Tim, who was present by virtue of his office, watched the scene with great interest. It is not every day that one has the chance of seeing the naked machinery of the Government. In this vast chamber was the motive force which kept the machine going. Now, the Governmental machine was out of order, and Padre Ignatius, as a moral engineer, was trying to put it right again. He advocated delicate handling of the suasive kind. Gomez, rough work, in the manner of blows, and brute strength. As to Xuarez – well, he was the wheel which had put the engine out of gear; and, until that wheel was forced back into its proper position, or taken out of the Cholacacan machine altogether, there was but little chance of the reversion to the old smooth running. This is a parable to illustrate the importance of that hastily convened meeting. Tim was the only one of the four friends who understood the matter thoroughly.

Don Francisco Gomez took his place in the Presidential chair, which stood beneath a gorgeous yellow satin canopy of anything but Republican simplicity. The opal arms of Cholacaca were above this drapery, the seat of power below; and therein sat President Gomez, with a fierce light in his eyes, and an ominous tightening of his lips. He was in a critical position, and he knew it. The ship of the Republic was among the breakers, and he, as helmsman, had to steer her into open sea again. With a disorderly crew, this was no easy task.

The members of the Junta took their seats in silence. They were like a class of schoolboys before their master, and, as Gomez cast his eyes over their ranks, he could pick out here and there the men whom he knew would be troublesome. To understand his difficulty, it is necessary to explain the exact position of politics in Cholacaca. Tim was doing this in a low, rapid voice to Philip, pending the appearance of Padre Ignatius. Jack listened to the explanation with interest, and every now and then threw in a word of enlightenment.

"As in England," said Tim, speaking in Philip's ear, "there are two political parties, broadly speaking. The Liberals and Conservatives. These, again, are sub-divided into smaller parties. On the Conservative side, there is the party now in power, the aristocratic party, who believe in electing one of their own order as President, and think the common people should have nothing to do with politics."

"That is the party of Don Miguel and the President?"

"Yes; their political programme is to govern on oligarchical principles. Cholacaca and its loaves and fishes, for the aristocrats only. That is one party. The other is the clericales, who would govern through the Church, and place the supreme power of the Republic in the hands of priests. Since the expulsion of the Jesuits, however, this party is defunct, and a good thing, too. I'm a true son of the Church," added Tim, relapsing into his brogue; "but I don't believe in the priests meddling with politics."

"Then there is a third party," said, Jack, taking up the explanation; "what we may term the Liberal-Conservative party, if such a thing be possible. They believe in aristocratic government, with the consent of the people. That is, the people can elect as President one of the aristocrats, but not one of themselves."

"And what about the Liberals?" asked Philip, deeply interested.

"Oh, one party of the Liberals want democracy – pure unadulterated Republicanism. A second party desire military rule, which would be nothing more or less than despotism, supported by a standing army under the thumbs of a few martinets in power. Then there is a Free Lance party, where each individual desires the loaves and fishes for himself."

"Then the party of Don Xuarez?"

"Is not here," said Tim, waving his hand towards some empty seats; "they have all gone to Acauhtzin, and are now regarded as rebels by the Government. They desire a kind of civil despotism as opposed to the military party – a dictator with supreme power, who can act as he damn well please."

"Seven political parties!" observed Cassim, derisively. "If too many cooks spoil the broth, too many political parties will certainly spoil Cholacaca. But they all seem to be afraid of one another. Don Xuarez has at least the courage of his opinions."

"That is because his party is now strong enough to show fight. The others are all split up into small bodies, who quarrel among themselves and disagree with the President."

"I presume they will all oppose Don Hypolito."

"Naturally. They are dogs in the manger; they can't get the supreme power of Cholacaca themselves, and won't let Xuarez have it. I wonder what proposition the Padre brings from Acauhtzin."

"Hush! here he is."

Padre Ignatius, in his rusty black cassock, advanced, holding his shovel-hat clasped to his breast. Pausing in front of the President, where he could command the attention of all, he cast up his eyes to heaven, as if seeking for strength to sustain him in his difficult task of reconciling the factions which threatened to involve Cholacaca in civil war. With his pale, refined face, his silver locks, and tall, slender figure, he looked a remarkably striking personage, and put Philip in mind of a picture he had once seen of Las Casas, the great Indian missionary.

When he paused and thus sought inspiration in silent prayer, Gomez struck a silver bell on the desk before him. Instantly there was a dead silence, the murmur of voices was stilled, and every eye was turned towards the gentle priest.

"My children," said Padre Ignatius, in a weak voice, which gathered strength as he proceeded, "some weeks ago I went to Acauhtzin on the business of our Holy Church. There I found Don Hypolito Xuarez, who was not then in arms against the Junta. I knew, however, that he was a restless spirit, and, observing signs of dissatisfaction in the town, dreaded lest he should fan these embers of discontent into the flame of civil war. To Don Hypolito did I speak, but he disclaimed any intention of doing aught to break the peace of the Republic. In this, my children, he spoke falsely."

A sullen murmur ran through the chamber.

"Noting these signs of discontent, I did not return to Tlatonac, but waited to see if aught should occur. Nothing took place till the arrival of the fleet to arrest Xuarez. Ah, my children, that was a fatal mistake. It roused him from discontented quietness into a state of open rebellion. He convened a meeting in the market-place of Acauhtzin, he told the populace he was to be arrested as a traitor, and called on them to stand by him in his peril. What promises he made use of I can hardly tell you, they were many and false; but those of the town believed him, and swore to assist his cause. The officers and crews of the fleet had already been tampered with by Xuarez before he left Tlatonac, and to a man they all went over on his side on hearing that Acauhtzin had done so."

"Not all! Not all, my father," cried Don Rafael, springing up from where he sat by Maraquando; "there are many who still remain faithful to the Junta – I among the number. We were cast into prison, and, by a miracle, I escaped, to bring the news to Tlatonac. I am free; but my friends – my faithful friends – are in the prison of Acauhtzin."

Padre Ignatius looked sadly at the young man.

"They were faithful when you escaped," he said, gently. "They were in prison my son; but now they are free, and have joined the rebels!"

"Carrajo!" swore Don Rafael, stamping with rage. "The traitors! the dogs! Canalla! I spit on them."

"I call the Señor to order!" cried Gomez, for the sake of formality, though his sympathies were with those of the young man.

"I ask the pardon of His Excellency, and that of this Honourable Assembly," replied Rafael, sitting down; "but my friends to be traitors! Por Dios! if I meet with them, I will show no mercy."

"Reverend Father," said the President, when the young man had resumed his seat, "all that you have said is the way in which Xuarez has revolted. Tell us of his message!"

"I went to Don Hypolito, when I heard these things," said the Padre, slowly. "I went to him, Señores, and prayed him not to plunge the country into civil war. At first he refused to listen to me, saying he was strong enough to crush the Republic to the dust!"

"Carambo! Carrajo! Canalla!" cried a hundred voices, and many of the members sprang to their feet to speak. A Babel of voices ensued; but at length, by repeated ringing of his bell, the President secured silence for a few minutes, and Padre Ignatius went on with his speech.

"Don Hypolito said he had the aid of Acauhtzin; of the Regimiento de Huitzilopochtli, of the fleet, and, if needs be, could secure the help of the forest Indians!"

"The opal! The Chalchuih Tlatonac!"

"Yes!" cried the priest, emphatically; "by making use of that unholy stone! Xuarez is no true son of the Church, my children. He is a heretic, an idolater! He told me plainly that he worshipped and believed in the opal of Huitzilopochtli, and would make use of the superstition it engendered among the Indians, to further his own ends."

Another roar of wrath arose from the assemblage which the President was quite unable to quiet. Padre Ignatius lifted his thin hand in token of entreaty, and the tumult ceased.

"I need not say what he said to me, what I said to him; but I forced him to make an offer to the Junta, which, if accepted, will suspend all hostility. I implore you, Señores, to accept this offer, and avert this fratricidal war!"

"The offer! the message!"

"As you know, Señores, the Presidency is held for four years, and that he who has been our ruler cannot be re-elected! His Excellency, Don Francisco Gomez, has now held this honourable office for three years and a half. In six months it becomes vacant, and Don Hypolito Xuarez offers, if you make him President of Cholacaca, to return to his allegiance."

"Never!" cried Maraquando, springing to his feet, amid a deafening cheering. "What! elect Xuarez for our President – place the supreme power in his hands? Give to ourselves a Dictator who will rob us of our liberties! Never! Never! Never!"

"No, Francia! No Iturbide! No, Santa Anna!" yelled the excited members. Gomez called the assemblage to order.

"Are these the only terms on which Xuarez will return to his allegiance?" he asked the priest.

"The only terms. If they are accepted, fire one gun, and The Pizarro will steam to Acauhtzin to tell Xuarez that the war will not take place. Two guns, and then, oh, my children, the vessel will go northward to bring desolation upon us. There will be war – red war; brother will be arrayed against brother; our towns will be laid in ashes; our peaceful community will struggle in deadly strife. I urge you, implore you, to accept this offer and avert disaster!"

"There will be war!" sang out some man in the crowd. "The opal is red!"

"The opal is red! the opal is red!"

"Are you Catholics?" cried Padre Ignatius, his voice ringing forth like a trumpet. "Are you sons of the Church or children of the devil? That stone is the work of Satan! Obey it, and you will bring ruin on yourselves, on your families, on your country. In the name of this sacred symbol," he thundered, holding up the cross, "I command you to put this evil from your hearts. The devil stone speaks war the holy cross commands peace. Obey it at the peril of your souls – of your salvation. I say Peace! Peace! Peace! In the name of the Church – Peace! At your peril – War!"

The whole man was transfigured as he stood intrepidly facing the furious assemblage with the uplifted cross. There was no fear in his eyes, there was no trembling of the hand which upheld the symbol of Christianity. He was no longer Padre Ignatius, the gentle priest whom they knew. It was a priest, the representative of the awful power of Rome, with the thunders of the Vatican at his back, with salvation in this world, and in the next at his will, holding their souls in the hollow of his hand.

"Richelieu," murmured Philip, softly.

For a moment the assemblage was awed. Many were atheists who believed in nothing; some idolaters, who trusted in the devil stone, all were superstitious, and they quailed before that frail old man who faced them so dauntlessly. Suddenly, as it were, the influence passed away, the devil-stone conquered the cross.

"War! War!" yelled the deputies, springing to their feet. "No priests! no Jesuits! To the vote! to the vote!"

Gomez arose to his feet.

"Señores," he cried, loudly, "I respect the Padre for his effort to avert the war. His mission is to bring peace, and he has striven to do so. But it cannot be. The Cholacacan Republic cannot yield to the insolent demands of Xuarez. We choose our rulers freely, without coercion. In six months I surrender my office and will you permit Don Hypolito Xuarez, traitor and scoundrel, to profane this chair? No, Señores; a thousand times no! We know the nature of this man who aspires to play the part of a tyrant. Place him in this seat of power, and he will break every law of our glorious constitution. Will that liberty which was won by the blood of our fathers, by the heroism of Zuloaga, be trodden under foot at the bidding of this man? He comes, not to implore you to elect him supreme magistrate of the Republic. He comes with an army at his back, and commands you – I say commands you – to make him Dictator!"

"War! War! Down with Xuarez!"

"Who is this traitor, to dare our power? He has the fleet, it is true – traitors that they are! – but we have the army. We have money. We can buy a new fleet. Our soldiers shall break up his power. Let us hurl back in his face this insolent defiance, and sweep away Xuarez and his partisans in torrents of blood!"

"War! War! The opal burns red."

"Yes, the opal burns red. And our hearts burn with indignation at the insolence of this man. I swear," cried the President, drawing his sword. "I swear, by my sword, by the Chalchuih Tlatonac, that I shall not sheath this weapon till it has exterminated these traitors, and purified the Republic. Hear me, God!"

"Hear us, God!" And a myriad swords flashed in the air.

"Will I put the offer of the traitor Xuarez to the vote?"

"No, no! War! war!"

Ignatius tried to speak, but he saw that the Junta was unanimous in proclaiming war. His cross fell from his nerveless hands; his head sunk on his breast.

"Holy Mary, have mercy on these misguided men."

He passed out of the hall in dejected silence, and after him swept a whirlwind of men, headed by the President. Outside the Palacio Nacional, a crowd of people were waiting to hear the decision of the Junta. Standing on the marble steps of the palace, Don Francisco caused the standard of the Republic to be unfurled, and waved his bare sword in the air.

"In the name of the Junta! In the name of the free people of the great Republic of Cholacaca, I proclaim war against the traitor Xuarez!"

"War! war! war!" yelled the mob, frantically. "The opal burns red! War! war!"

Then, with one accord, the rabble dashed down to the sea-gate of the city.

"What are they going there for, Tim?" asked Philip, as they were borne along by the living torrent.

"To hear the cannon answer Xuarez, if I mistake not. Holy Virgin! what devils these are when their blood is up!"

From the Plaza de los Hombres Ilustres the crowd rolled down the steep of the Calle Otumba, passed into the Calle Mayor, and in a few minutes the city was vomiting hundreds of infuriated men out of her gates on to the beach and wharf.

Far away on the azure sea lay the vast bulk of The Pizarro, with the flag of the Republic floating at her main-mast, in conjunction with the white pennant of peace. The crowd held their breath, and throughout the vast assemblage there was not a sound. The waves lapping on the beach could alone be heard, and each man in that mighty congregation held his breath.

"One gun for 'yes!' Two guns for 'no!'" muttered Jack, in Tim's ear.

At that instant a puff of smoke broke from an embrasure of the rear fort, and a gun thundered out its defiance to Xuarez. In another minute, before the echo of the first died away, a second gun from the other fort roared out in the still air, and there was an answering roar from the crowd below.

The flag of peace! the flag of the opal were suddenly lowered from the mast of The Pizarro, and up went a fierce red banner, foretelling war and disaster. The mob yelled with rage, the guns of The Pizarro sent forth an insolent defiance, and in a few minutes, with the smoke pouring black and thick from her funnels, the great vessel stood out to sea.

The War of Cholacaca had commenced.

CHAPTER XI

THE DRAMA OF LITTLE THINGS

Many things happen!They are the daily events of our lives, we note them with idle indifference.The lover kisses his dear one, she sighs on his throbbing bosom,He springs on his waiting horse, and waving his hand at parting,Thinks that the morrow for certain, will bring her again to his kisses,Alas! he knows not that Fate is capricious!That never again will the dear one respond to his welcome caresses!"Good-bye for an hour!" ah, sorrow. That good-bye means "farewell for ever."And yet they know not this future, and so, parting happy,Go east and west gladly, to anguish apart till they perish.

"Quiere a fumar, Juan," said Dolores, holding out a small case to Jack, with a coquettish smile.

"Campeacheanos!" replied her lover, selecting one carefully, "these are for men only. I hope you don't smoke these, mi cara."

"No! I but use cigarros de papel. This case belongs to my cousin, Don Rafael. Now it is yours."

"What will Don Rafael say?"

"Say! Why, nothing, of course. He made me a present of the campeacheanos."

"Oh, did he?" exclaimed Jack, suspiciously. "You seem to be fond of your cousin, Dolores!"

"Naturally! It is my duty," replied Dolores, demurely, and dropped her eyes.

"Oh!" said Duval, briefly, and busied himself in lighting a cigarette.

It was late in the afternoon, and they were on the azotea of Maraquando's house alone, save for the presence of Doña Serafina; but she was asleep, and, therefore, did not trouble them. As before stated, the Casa Maraquando was on the summit of the hill, and from the roof they could look down into the valley below. Ring after ring of houses encompassed the rise, and on the flat, trending towards the sea, street, and house, and plaza, and wall, were laid out as in a map. To the left, the vast space of the parade-ground; to the right, the crowded quarter of the peons, a mass of huddled huts, red-roofed, white-walled, and between the two the broad street leading from the foot of the hill down to the sea-gate.