"You hear, Don Lopez; your brethren condemn you to die."

"I thank them; that favour is the only one I hoped and desired to receive from them."

There was a moment of supreme silence; all eyes were fixed on the Jaguar, who, with his head hanging on his breast, and frowning brows, seemed plunged in serious thought. Suddenly the young man raised his head; a lightning glance flashed from his eyes, a strange smile curled his lip, and he said, with a tone of bitter irony--

"Your brethren have condemned you to die; well, I, their Chief, condemn you to live!"

Don Lopez, despite all his courage, felt himself turn pale at these cutting words; he instinctively stooped to pick up the weapons he had previously hurled at his feet; but the Jaguar guessed his thoughts.

"Seize that man!" he shouted.

John Davis and two or three other conspirators rushed on the Mexican, and, in spite of his active resistance, soon rendered him powerless.

"Bind him," the Jaguar next ordered.

This command was immediately carried out.

"Now, listen to me, brothers," the Jaguar continued, in a loud voice--"the task we have taken on ourselves is immense, and studded with perils and difficulties of every description; we are no longer men but lions, and those who fall into our power must eternally bear the mark of our powerful claws. What this man has done for an object honourable in his eyes, another might be tempted to do to satisfy a sordid pa.s.sion.

Death is only the end of life, a moment to endure; many men desire it, through weariness or disgust. Don Lopez has himself told us that he wished to give us a profitable lesson; and he is not mistaken, for we shall profit by it. In killing him we should but accomplish his dearest wish, as himself said: let him live, as we desire to punish him, but let that life he retains be such a burden to him, and so miserable, that he may for ever regret not having fallen beneath our daggers; this man is young, handsome, rich, and honoured by his fellow citizens; let us deprive him, not of his riches, for that is not in our power, but of his beauty, that flower of youth of which he is so proud, and make him the most wretched and despicable being in creation. In that way our vengeance will be complete; we shall have attained our object by imprinting a just terror on the hearts of those who may be tempted hereafter to follow his example."

The conspirators, despite all their resolution and ferocity, experienced a secret terror on hearing the savage words of their chief, whose gloomy countenance reflected a terrible energy.

"Don Lopez Hidalgo d'Avila," the Jaguar continued, in a hollow voice, "traitor to your brothers, your false tongue will be plucked out and your ears cut off. Such is the sentence which I, the Chief of the Freebooters, pa.s.s on you; and in order that everybody may know that you are a traitor, a T will be cut on your forehead between your eyebrows."

This sentence caused a momentary stupor among the company; but soon a tiger-like yell burst from all their panting chests, and it was with a tremor of ferocious joy that these men prepared to carry out the atrocious sentence p.r.o.nounced by their Chief. The prisoner struggled in vain to burst the bonds that held him. In vain he demanded death with loud cries. As the Jaguar had said, the lion's paw was on him; the conspirators were inexorable, and the sentence was carried, out in all its rigour.

An hour later, Don Lopez Hidalgo d'Avila, bleeding and mutilated, was deposited at the door of the Governor's palace. On his chest was fastened a large placard, on which were written in blood the two words:

COBARDE! TRAIDOR!

After this fearful execution, the conspirators continued their meeting as if nothing extraordinary had interrupted them. But the Jaguar's revenge was foiled--at least partially; for when the unhappy victim was picked up at daybreak he was dead. Don Lopez had found the strength and courage to dash out his brains against the wall of the house near which he had been thrown as an unclean animal.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE PULQUERIA.

The same day on which we resume our narrative, on the firing of the cannon from the fort that commands the entrance to the port of Galveston, to announce the setting of the sun, whose glowing disk had just disappeared in the sea, colouring the horizon with a ruddy hue for a long distance, the town, which had, during the day, been plunged into a mournful torpor owing to the heat, woke up all at once with lengthened and joyous clamour.

The streets, hitherto solitary, were peopled as if by enchantment by an immense crowd, which emerged in disorder from all the houses, so eager were they to breathe the fresh air of evening which the sea breeze brought up on its humid wing; the shops were opened, and lit up with an infinite number of coloured paper lamps. Ere long there was in this town, where, scarce an hour earlier, such silence and solitude prevailed, a medley of individuals of all cla.s.ses and countries--English, Spaniards, Americans, Mexicans, French, Russians, Chinese--all dressed in their national costume: women, coquettishly wrapped in their rebozos, darting to the right and left provocative glances; perambulating tradesmen vaunting their merchandise, and serenos, armed to the teeth, trying to maintain good order. And all this crowd came and went, and stopped,--pushing and elbowing and laughing, singing, shouting, and quarrelling, making the dogs bark and the children cry.

Two young gentlemen, dressed in the simple but graceful uniform of officers of the United States Navy, who were coming from the interior of the town, forced their way with some difficulty through the crowd that impeded their every step on the port, as they proceeded toward the pier, where a large number of boats of all shapes and sizes were tied up. They had scarce reached the landing place ere they were surrounded by some twenty boatmen, who offered their services, while exaggerating in their praiseworthy fashion the surprising qualities and unparalleled speed of their boats, doing so in the b.a.s.t.a.r.d patois which belongs to no language, but is formed of words culled haphazard from all, and by means of which, in every seaport, the people of the country and strangers contrive to understand each other, and which is called in the Scales of the Levant the linguafranca.

After giving a careless glance at the numerous skiffs dancing before them, the officers abruptly dismissed the boatmen by peremptorily declining their services; but they did not get rid of them till they had told them they had a boat of their own, and scattered some small change among them. The boatmen withdrew, half vexed, half satisfied, and the officers were at length left alone on the jetty.

We have said that the sun had set for some time, and hence the night was gloomy. Still, the two officers, in order, doubtless, to a.s.sure themselves that the darkness concealed no spy, walked several times up and down the jetty, while conversing together in a low voice, and examining with the most scrupulous attention those spots which might have afforded shelter to anyone. They were certainly alone. One of them then drew from his breast one of those silver whistles, such as boatswains employ on board ships, and then produced a soft and prolonged note thrice repeated. A few moments pa.s.sed, and nothing proved to the officers that their signal had been heard. At last, a soft whistle traversed the air and expired on the ears of the two men who were listening, with bodies bent forward and faces turned to the sea.

"They are coming," said one.

"We will wait," his comrade answered laconically.

They carefully wrapped themselves in their cloaks to guard themselves against the damp sea breeze; they leant against an old gun that served to tie boats up, and remained motionless as statues, without exchanging a syllable. A few minutes pa.s.sed thus; the darkness grew gradually denser; the noises of the town insensibly died out, and the promenaders, driven away by the coolness of the night, quitted the seash.o.r.e for the interior of the town. The beach was soon completely deserted--the two officers alone remained leaning against the gun.

At length a remote sound, scarcely perceptible, but which practised ears could recognise, rose from the sea. This sound became gradually more and more distinct; and it was easy, especially for sailors, to recognise the sharp and cadenced sound of oars striking against the tholes and dipping into the sea; although these oars, judging from the sound, were m.u.f.fled, and employed with the utmost caution.

In fact, the boat itself ere long became visible. Its long black outline stood out in the luminous line traced by the moon on the waves, as it approached the jetty at great speed. The two officers had bent forward curiously, but did not leave the post of observation they had selected.

On coming within pistol-shot, the boat stopped. Suddenly, a rough voice, lowered prudently, however, rose in the silence, singing the first verse of a song well known in these parts:

Que rumor Lejos suena, Que el silencio En la serena Negra noche interrumpio?[1]

The man who was singing had scarce finished these five lines ere one of the officers took up the song in a sonorous voice; doubtless, replying to the signal made him by the steerer of the boat:

Es del caballo la veloz carrera, Tendido en el escape volador, O el aspero rugir de hambrienta fiera, O el silbido tal vez del aquilon?[2]

There was a delay of a few seconds, during which no other sound was audible save the monotonous break of the waves as they died away on the beach, or the distant tw.a.n.ging of some jarabes or vihuelas, playing those seguedillas and tyranas so dear to all peoples of the Spanish race. At length, the voice which first struck up the song continued, but this time with an intonation approaching to a threat, although the man who spoke did not appear to be addressing anyone in particular.

"The night is dark, it is imprudent to wander haphazard on the seash.o.r.e."

"Yes, when a man is alone, and feels his heart die out in his bosom,"

the officer who had sung answered immediately.

"Who can flatter himself with possessing a firm heart?" the voice went on.

"The man whose arm is ever ready to support his words for the defence of a good cause," the other at once replied.

"Come, come," the sailor exclaimed, gaily, addressing his companions this time; "lay on your oars, lads, the Jaguars are out hunting."

"Take care of the coyotes," the officer said again.

The boat pulled up alongside the jetty; the officers had by this time left their place of shelter, and hurried to the end of the jetty. There a man, dressed in sailor's garb, with an oilskin souwester, whose large brim concealed his features, was standing motionless, with a pistol in either hand.

"Patria!" he said, sharply, when the officers were only two paces from him.

"Libertad!" they answered, without hesitation.

"Viva Dios!" the sailor said, as he returned his pistols to the leather belt that pa.s.sed round his hips; "It is a good wind that brings you, Don Serapio, and you too, Don Cristoval."

"All the better, Ramirez," said the officer addressed as Serapio.

"Have you any news, then?" his comrade asked, curiously.

"Excellent, Don Cristoval, excellent," Ramirez answered, as he rubbed his hands gleefully.

"Oh, oh!" the two officers muttered, as they exchanged a glance of satisfaction; "Tell us it, then, Ramirez."