The Quest of the Four: A Story of the Comanches and Buena Vista by Joseph A. Altsheler
CHAPTER XVI
THE CASTLE OF MONTEVIDEO
The Castle of Montevideo, as its name indicates, commanded a magnificentview. Set in a niche of a mountain which towered far above, it lookeddown upon and commanded one of the great roads that led to the heart ofMexico, the city that stood in the vale of Tenochtitlan, the capital, inturn, of the Toltecs, the Aztecs, the Spaniards, and the Mexicans, and,for all that men yet knew, of races older than the Toltecs. But theSpaniards had built it, completing it nearly a hundred and fifty yearsago, when their hold upon the greater part of the New World seemedsecure, and the name of Spain was filled with the suggestion of power.
It was a gloomy and tremendous fortress, standing seven thousand feetabove the level of the sea, and having about it, despite its latitude,no indication of the tropics.
Spain had lavished here enormous sums of money dug for her by the slavesof Mexico and Peru. It was built of volcanic pumice stone, very hard,and of the color of dark honey. Its main walls formed an equilateraltriangle, eight hundred feet square on the inside, and sixty feet fromthe top of the wall to the bottom of the enclosing moat. There was abastion at each corner of the main rampart, and the moat that envelopedthe main walls and bastions was two hundred feet wide and twenty feetdeep. Fifty feet beyond the outside wall of the moat rose a _chevaux defrise_ built of squared cedar logs twelve feet long, set in the groundand fastened together by longitudinal timbers. Beyond the _chevaux defrise_ was another ditch, fourteen feet wide, of which the outer bankwas a high earthwork. The whole square enclosed by the outermost workwas twenty-six acres, and on the principal rampart were mounted eightycannon, commanding the road to the Valley of Tenochtitlan.
Few fortresses, even in the Old World, were more powerful or complete.It enclosed armories, magazines, workshops, and cells; cells in rows,all of which were duly numbered when Montevideo was completed in theeighteenth century. And, to give it the last and happiest touch, thepicture of Ferdinand VII., King of Spain, Lord of the Indies and the NewWorld, was painted over the doorway of every cell, and they were many.
Nor is this the full tale of Montevideo. On the inner side of eachangle, broad wooden stairways ascended to the top, the stairwaysthemselves being enclosed at intervals by wooden gates twelve feet high.The real fortifications enclosed a square of nearly five hundred feet,and inside this square were the buildings of the officers and thebarracks of the soldiers. The floor of the square was paved with thickcement, and deep down under the cement were immense water tanks, holdingmillions of gallons, fed by subterranean springs of pure cold water. Bymeans of underground tunnels the moats could be flooded with water fromthe tanks or springs.
It has been said that the Spaniards are massive builders, the mostmassive since the Romans, and they have left their mark with many a hugestone structure in the southern part of the New World. What Montevideocost the kings of Spain no one has ever known, and, although theyprobably paid twice for every stick and stone in it, Peru and Mexicowere still pouring forth their floods of treasure, and there was thefortress, honey colored, lofty, undeniably majestic and powerful.
When Mexico displaced Spain, she added to the defenses of Montevideo,and now, on this spring day in 1847, it lowered, dark and sinister, overthe road. It was occupied by a strong garrison under that alert andvaliant soldier, Captain Pedro de Armijo, raised recently to that rank,but still stinging with the memories of Buena Vista, he was anxious thatthe Americans should come and attack him in Montevideo. He stood on therampart at a point where it was seventy feet wide, and he looked withpride and satisfaction at the row of eighty guns. Pedro de Armijo,swelling with pride, felt that he could hold the castle of Montevideoagainst twenty thousand men. Time had made no impression upon thosemassive walls, and the moat was filled with water. The castle,mediaeval, but grim and formidable, sat in its narrow mountain valleywith the Cofre de Montevideo (Trunk of Montevideo) behind it on thenorth. This peak was frequently covered with snow and at all times wasgloomy and forbidding. Even on bright days the sun reached it for onlya few hours.
While Pedro de Armijo walked on the parapet, looking out at the range ofmountain and valley and enjoying the sunlight, which would soon be gone,a young man stood at the window of cell No. 87, also looking out at themountain, although no sunlight reached him there. He gazed through aslit four inches wide and twelve inches high, and the solid wall ofmasonry through which this slit was cut was twelve feet thick. Theyoung man's ankles were tied together with a chain which, although longenough to allow him to walk, weighed twenty-five pounds. Once he hadbeen chained with another man. Formerly the prisoners who had beenbrought with him to the Castle of Montevideo had been chained in pairs,the chain in no case weighing less than twenty pounds, but, since onlyJohn Bedford was left, Pedro de Armijo concluded that it was his duty tocarry the chain alone.
John Bedford was white with prison pallor. Although as tall, he weighedmany pounds less than his younger brother, Philip. His cheeks weresunken, and his eyes were set in deep hollows. The careless observerwould have taken him for ten years more than his real age. He hadshuffled painfully to the slit in the wall, where he wished to see thelast rays of the daylight falling on the mountainside. The depth of theslit made the section of the mountain that he could see very narrow, andhe knew every inch of it. There was the big projection of volcanicrock, the tall, malformed cactus that put out a white flower, the littlebunch of stunted cedars or pines--he could never tell which--in theshelter of the rock, and the yard or two of gully down which he had seenthe water roaring after the big rains or at the melting of the snows onthe Cofre de Montevideo.
How often he had looked upon these things! What a little slice of theworld it was! Only a few yards long and fewer yards broad, but what amighty thing it was to him! Even with the slit closed, he could havedrawn all of it upon a map to the last twig and pebble. He would havesuffered intensely had that little view been withdrawn, but ittantalized him, too, with the sight of the freedom that was denied him.Three years, they told him, he had been gazing out at that narrow slitat the mountainside, and he only at the beginning of life, strong ofmind and body--or at least he was. Never in that time had he beenoutside the inner walls or even in the court yard. He knew nothing ofwhat had happened in the world. Sometimes they told him that Texas hadbeen overrun and retaken by the Mexicans, and he feared that it wastrue.
They did not always put the chains upon him, but lately he had beenrefractory. He was easily caught in an attempt to escape, and a newgovernor of the castle, lately come, a young man extremely arrogant, haddemanded his promise that he make no other such attempt. He hadrefused, and so the chains were ordered. He had worn them many timesbefore, and now they oppressed him far less than his loneliness. Healone of that expedition was left a prisoner in the castle. How all theothers had gone he did not know, but he knew that some had escaped.Both he and his comrade of the chains were too ill to walk when theescape was made, and there was nothing to do but leave them behind. Hiscomrade died, and he recovered after weeks, mainly through the effortsof old Catarina, the Indian woman who sometimes brought him his food.
John Bedford's spirits were at the bottom of the depths that afternoon.How could human beings be so cruel as to shut up one of their kind insuch a manner, one who was no criminal? It seemed to him that latelythe watch in the castle had become more vigilant than ever. Moresoldiers were about, and he heard vaguely of comings and goings. Hismind ran back for the thousandth time over the capture of himself andhis comrades.
When taken by an overwhelming force they were one hundred and seventy innumber, and there were great rejoicings in Mexico when they were broughtsouthward. They had been blindfolded at some points, once when he walkedfor a long time on sharp volcanic rock, and once, when, as he wasfainting from heat and thirst, a woman with a kind voice had given him acup of water at a well. He remembered these things very vividly, and heremembered with equal vividness how,
Then had come the Day of the Beans. One hundred and fifty-three whitebeans and seventeen black beans were placed in a bowl, and everyprisoner, blindfolded, was forced to draw one. The seventeen who drewthe black beans were promptly shot, and the others were compelled tomarch on. He remembered how lightly they had taken it, even when it wasknown who had drawn the black beans. These men, mostly young likehimself, had jested about their bad luck, and had gone to their deathsmiling. He did not know how they could do it, but it was so, becausehe had seen it with his own eyes.
Then they had marched on until they came to the Castle of Montevideo.There the world ended. There was nothing but time, divided intoalternations of night and day. He had seen nobody but soldiers, exceptthe old woman Catarina, who seemed to be a sort of scullion. After herecovered from the prison fever of which his comrade of the chains died,the old woman had shown a sort of pity for him; perhaps she liked him asone often likes those upon whom one has conferred benefits. She yieldedto his entreaties for a pencil for an hour or so, and some paper, just asheet or two. She smuggled them to him, and she smuggled away theletter that he wrote. She did not know what would happen, but she wouldgive it to her son Porfirio, who was a vaquero. Porfirio would give itto his friend Antonio Vaquez, who was leading a burro train north toMonterey. After that was the unknown, but who could tell? AntonioVaquez was a kind man, and the Holy Virgin sometimes worked miracles forthe good. As for the poor lad, the prisoner, he must rest now. He hadbeen _muy malo_ (very sick), and it was not good to worry.
John tried not to worry. It was such easy advice to give and so veryhard for one to take who had been buried alive through a time thatseemed eternity, and who had been forgotten by all the world, except hisjailers. That letter had gone more than a year ago, and, of course, ithad not reached its destination. He ought never to have thought such athing possible. Very likely it had been destroyed by Porfirio, thevaquero, old Catarina's son. He had not seen old Catarina herself in along time. Doubtless they had sent her away because she had been kindto him, or they may have found out about the letter. He was very sorry.She was far from young, and she was far from beautiful, but her briefpresence at intervals had been cheering.
He watched the last rays of the sun fade on the volcanic slope. Asingle beam, livid and splendid, lingered for a moment, and then wasgone. After it came the dark, with all the chilling power of greatelevation. The cold even penetrated the deep slit that led throughtwelve feet of solid masonry, and John Bedford shivered. It was partlythe dark that made him shiver. He rose from the stool and made his wayslowly and painfully to his cot against the wall, his chains rattlingheavily over the floor.
He heard a key turning in the lock and the door opening, but he did notlook around. They usually came with his food at this hour, and the foodwas always the same. There was no cause for curiosity. But when heheard the steps of two men instead of one he did look around. There wasthe same soldier bringing his supper of frijoles and tortillas on a tinplate, and a cup of very bad coffee, but he was accompanied by the newgovernor of the castle, Captain Pedro de Armijo, whom John did not likeat all. The soldier drew up the stool, put the food on it, and also acandle that he carried.
John began to eat and drink, taking not the slightest notice of deArmijo. The man from the first had given him the impression of cold,malignant cruelty. John Bedford had often thought that his own spiritwas crushed, but it was far from being so. Pride was strong within him,and he resolved that de Armijo should speak first.
De Armijo stood in silence for some time, looking down at the prisoner.He was not in a good humor, he had seldom been so since that fatal daywhen the whole army of Santa Anna was hurled back by the little forcefrom the North. He knew many things of which the prisoner did notdream, and he had no thought of giving him even the slightest hint ofthem. In him was the venomous disposition of the cat that likes to playwith the rat it has caught. A curious piece of mockery, or perhaps itwas not wholly mockery, had occurred to him.
"Bedford," he said, speaking good English, "you have been a prisonerhere a long time, and no one loves captivity."
"I have not heard that any one does," replied John, taking another drinkof the bad coffee.
"You cannot escape. You see the impossibility of any such attempt."
"It does not look probable, I admit. Still, few things are impossible."
De Armijo smiled, showing even white teeth. He rather liked this gameof playing with the rat in the trap. So much was in favor of the cat.
"It is not a possibility with which one can reckon," he said, "and Ishould think that the desire to be free would be overpowering in one soyoung as you."
"Have you come here to make sport of me?" said John, with ominousinflection. "Because if you have I shall not answer another question."
"Not at all," said de Armijo. "I come on business. You have been here,as I said, a long time, and in that time many changes have occurred inthe world."
"What changes?" asked John sharply.
"The most important of them is the growth in power of Mexico," said deArmijo smoothly. "We triumph over all our enemies."
"Do you mean that you have really retaken Texas?" asked John, with asudden falling of the heart.
De Armijo smiled again, then lighted a cigarette and took a puff or twobefore he gave an answer which was really no answer at all, so far asthe words themselves were concerned.
"I said that Mexico had triumphed over her enemies everywhere," hereplied, "and so she has, but I give you no details. It has been theorder that you know nothing. You have been contumacious and obstinate,and, free, you would be dangerous. So the world was to be closed toyou, and it has been done. You know nothing of it except these fourwalls and the little strip of a mountain that you can see from thewindow there. You are as one dead."
John Bedford winced. What the Mexican said was true, and he had longknown it to be true, but he did not like for de Armijo to say it to himnow. His lonesomeness in his long imprisonment had been awful, but notmore so than his absolute ignorance of everything beyond his four walls.This policy with him had been pursued persistently. Old Catarina,before her departure, had not dared to tell him anything, and now thesoldier who served him would not answer any question at all. He hadfelt at times that this would reduce him to mental incompetency, tochildishness, but he had fought against it, and he had felt at othertimes that the isolation, instead of weakening his faculties, hadsharpened them. But he replied without any show of emotion in his voice:
"What you say is true in the main, but why do you say it."
"In order to lay before you both sides of a proposition. You arepractically forgotten here. You can spend the rest of your life in thiscell, perish, perhaps, on the very bed where you are now sitting, butyou can also release yourself. Take the oath of fealty to Mexico,become a Mexican citizen, join her army and fight her enemies. Youmight have a career there, you might rise."
It was a fiendish suggestion to one who knew nothing of what waspassing, and de Armijo prided himself upon his finesse. To compelbrother to fight against brother would indeed be a master stroke. Hedid not notice the rising blood in the face before him, that had so longborne the prison pallor.
"Have you reconquered Texas?" asked John sharply.
"What has that to do with it?"
"Do you think I would join you and fight against the Texan
Blood flashed through de Armijo's dark face, and he raised his hand inmenace. John Bedford instantly struck at him with all his might, whichwas not great, wasted as he was by prison confinement. De Armijostepped back a little, drew his sword, and, with the flat of it, struckthe prisoner a severe blow across the forehead. John had attempted tospring forward, but twenty-five pounds of iron chain confining hisankles held him. He could not ward off the blow, and he dropped backagainst the cot, bleeding and unconscious.
When John Bedford recovered his senses he was lying on the cot, and itwas pitch dark, save for a slender shaft of moonlight that entered atthe slit, and that lay like a sword-blade across the floor. His headthrobbed, and when he put his hand to it he found that it was swathed inbandages. He remembered the blow perfectly, and he moved his feet, butthe chains had been taken off. They had had the grace to do that much.He strove to rise, but he was very weak, and the throbbing in his headincreased. Then he lay still for a long time, watching the moonbeamthat fell across the floor. He was in a state of mind far frompleasant. To be shut up so long is inevitably to grow bitter, and to bestruck down thus by de Armijo, while he was chained and helpless, was aninjury to both body and mind that he could never forgive. He hadnothing to do in his cell to distract his mind from grievous wrongs, andthere was no chance for them to fade from his memory. His very soulrose in wrath against de Armijo.
He judged that it was far in the night, and, after lying perfectly stillfor about an hour, he rose from the bed. His strength had increased,and the throbbing in his head was not so painful. He staggered acrossthe floor and put his face to the slit in the wall. The cold air, as itrushed against his eyes and cheeks, felt very good. It was spring inthe lowlands, but there was snow yet on the peak behind the Castle ofMontevideo, and winter had not yet wholly left the valley in which thecastle itself stood. But the air was not too cold for John, whose brainat this moment was hotter than his blood.
The night was uncommonly clear. One could see almost as well as by day,and he began to look over, one by one, the little objects that his viewcommanded on the mountainside. He looked at every intimate friend, thevarious rocks, the cactus, the gully, and the dwarfed shrubs--he stillwished to know whether they were pines or cedars, the problem had longannoyed him greatly. He surveyed his little landscape with great care.It seemed to him that he saw touches of spring there, and then he wasquite sure that he saw the figure of a man, dark and shadowy, but,nevertheless, a human figure, pass across the little space. It wasfollowed in a moment by a second, and then by a third. It caused himsurprise and interest. His tiny landscape was steep, and he had neverbefore seen men cross it. Hunters, or perhaps goat herders, but it wasstrange that they should be traveling along such a steep mountainside atsuch an hour.
A person under ordinary conditions would have forgotten the incident infive minutes, but this was an event in the life of the lonely captive.Save his encounter with de Armijo, he could not recall another of somuch importance in many months. He stayed at the loophole a long time,but he did not see the figures again nor anything else living. Once,about a month before, he had caught a glimpse of a deer there, and ithad filled him with excitement, because to see even a deer was a greatthing, but this was a greater. He remained at the loophole until therocks began to redden with the morning sun, but his little landscaperemained as it had ever been, the same rocks, the same pines orcedars--which, in Heaven's name, were they?--and the same cactus.
Then he walked slowly back to his cot. The chains were lying on thefloor beside it, and he knew that, in time, they would be put on himagain, but he was resolved not to abate his independence a particle.Nor would he defer in any way to de Armijo. If he came again he wouldspeak his opinion of him to his face, let him do what he would.
There was proud and stubborn blood in every vein of the Bedfords. JohnBedford's grandfather had been one of the most noted of Kentucky'spioneers and Indian fighters, and on his mother's side, too, there was astrain of tenacious New England. By some possible chance he might beable to return de Armijo's blow. He drew the cover over his body andfell into a sleep from which he was awakened by the slovenly soldierwith his breakfast. The man did not speak while John ate, and John wasglad of it. He, too, had nothing to say, and he wished to be left tohimself. When the man left he lay down on the cot again and slept untilnearly noon. Then de Armijo came a second time. He had no apologieswhatever for the manner in which he had struck down an unarmed prisoner,but was hard and sneering.
"I merely tell you," he said, "that you lost your last chance yesterday.The offer will not be repeated."
John said not a word, but gazed at him so steadily that the Mexican'sswarthy face flushed a little. He hesitated, as if he would saysomething, but evidently thought better of it, and went out. That nighthe had a fever from his wounded head and the exertion that he had madein standing so long at the loophole. He became delirious, and when heemerged from his delirium a little weazened old Indian woman was sittingby the side of his cot. She had kindly and pitying eyes, and Johnexclaimed, in a weak but joyous voice:
"Catarina!"
"Poor boy," she said, "I have watched you one day and one night."
"Where have you been all the time before?" he asked in the Mexicandialect that he had learned.
"I have been one of the cooks," she said. "The officers, they eat somuch, tortillas, frijoles, everything, and they drink so much, mescal,pulque, wine, everything. Many busy months for Catarina, and I ask foryou, but I cannot see you. They say you bad, very bad. Then they sayyou try to kill the governor, Captain de Armijo, but he strike you onthe head with the flat of his sword to save his own life. You havefever, and at last they send me to nurse you as I did that other time."
"Do you believe, Catarina, that I tried to kill de Armijo?" asked John.
She looked about her fearfully, drew the reboso closely across hershrunken shoulders, and answered in a frightened tone as if the thickwalls themselves could hear:
"How should I know? It is what they say. If I should say otherwisethey would lash me with the whip, even me, old Catarina."
The captive sighed. Nothing could break the awful wall of mystery thatenveloped him. Catarina even did not dare to speak, although no one buthimself could possibly hear.
"You mind I smoke?" said Catarina.
"No," replied John with a wan smile. "Any lady can smoke in mypresence."
She whipped out a cigarrito, lighted it with a match, held it for amoment between the middle and fore finger, then inserted it between heraged lips. She took two or three long, easy whiffs, letting the smokecome out through her nose. John had never learned to smoke, but he saidto her:
"Does it do you good, Catarina?"
"Whether it does me good, I know not," replied the Indian woman, "but itgives me pleasure, so I do it. I have to tell you, Senor John, that myson, Porfirio, has returned from the north. He has been at Monterey andthe country about it."
John at once was all eagerness.
"And Antonio Vaquez, the leader of the burro train?" he exclaimed. "Hashe heard from him? Does he know if the letter went on beyond the RioGrande?"
"My son Porfirio has not seen Antonio Vaquez," replied Catarina, "and sohe does not know from Antonio Vaquez whether the letter has crossed theRio Grande or not. But it is a time of change."
"De Armijo told me that."
The old woman looked at him very keenly, and drove more smoke of thecigarrito through her nose. Her next words made no reference to deArmijo, but they startled John:
"You look through the loophole to-night, about midnight," she said, "Yousee something on the mountain side, fire, a torch, it may mean much.Who can tell?"
Excitement flamed up again in John's veins.
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"Last night I crawled to the loophole for air. It was bright moonlight,and while I was standing there I thought three human beings passed onthe little patch of the mountainside that I can see."
"It is all I know," said Catarina. "I can tell you no more. Now I am_concinero_ (cook) again. Now I go. But watch. There have been manychanges. Diego, the soldier, will bring you your food as before. Watchthat, too."
"Poison!" exclaimed John aghast.
"No! No! No! _Hai Dios_ (my God), no! But do as I say!"
She snuffed out the end of the cigarrito, picked up the dishes, andpromptly left the cell. She also left the captive much excited andwondering. De Armijo had said there were changes! Truly there had beenchanges, said Catarina, but she had not told what they were. He mademany surmises, and one was as good as another, even to himself. Let aman cut three years out of his life and see if he can span the gulfbetween. But he was sure, despite his ignorance of their nature, thatCatarina's words were full of meaning, and, perhaps among all the greatchanges that had come, one was coming for him, too.
He slept that afternoon in order that he might be sure to keep awake atnight, and long before midnight he was on watch at the loophole. Therewas still soreness in his head, where the flat of the heavy steel bladehad struck, but it was passing away, and his strength was returning. Itis hard to crush youth. It was now easier for him, too, as the chainshad not been put back upon his ankles.
He waited with great impatience, and, as his impatience increased, timebecame slower. He began to feel that he was foolish. But Catarina hadbeen good to him. She would not make him keep an idle quest in the longcold hours of the night. And he had seen the three shadows pass thenight before. He was sure now from what Catarina had said that theywere the shadows of human beings, and their presence there had beensignificant.
The night was not so bright as the one before, but, by long looking, hecould trace the details of his landscape, all the well known objects,every one in its proper place, with the dusky moonlight falling uponthem. He stared so long that his eyes ached. Surely Catarina had beentalking foolish talk! No, she had not! His heart stopped beating for afew moments, because, as certainly as he was at that loophole, a lighthad appeared on his bit of landscape. It was but a spark. A spark onlyat first, but in a moment or two it blazed up like a torch. It showed avivid red streak against the mountainside, and the heart of the captive,that had stood still for a few moments, now bounded rapidly. The wordsof Catarina had come true, and he had had a sign. But what did the signmean? It must be connected in some way with him, and nothing could beworse than that which he now endured. It must mean good.
It was a veritable flame of hope to John Bedford, the prisoner of theCastle of Montevideo. New strength suffused his whole body. Couragecame back to him in a full tide. A sign had been promised to him, andit had come.
The light burned for about half an hour, and then went out suddenly.John Bedford returned to his cot, a new hope in his heart.