Chapter XXI: A Few Diplomatic Touches

"Buenos noches, señores."

Two men sitting by a fire rose to their feet.

"Buenos noches," responded one of them. The men moved a little toward the newcomer, one of them limping considerably, as if injured.

"I say," came from the lame man, "perhaps this is some one our guide has sent in search of us."

"We'll soon see," replied the other, in English. Then in Spanish: "We are lost here in the forest. Can you tell us where we can find food and shelter for the night?"

"Of a surety, señor, of a surety," the stranger replied. "I am major-domo of Señor Miramonte's hacienda. This is his property here. The señor and his lady are out, but wayfarer guests are none the less welcome. I saw your fire and thought some vagrant peons had built it. We greatly dread forest and pasture fires this time of year. Come, señors, come with me."

"He offers us the hospitality of a rancho house."

"I'll be deuced glad for shelter anywhere," the injured man replied, both speaking in English. "I'm at home on a ship, but riding a stiff-backed horse with wooden legs is too much for me. Ugh! I'm sore as if I'd been put in a sack and beaten with clubs. Besides, I'm actually seasick. Commodore, think of that! Sea-sick! All for riding a jointless, iron-jawed broncho."

The man addressed as "Commodore" laughed. "Maybe riding your horse over that twenty-foot precipice is a contributary cause to your soreness, Captain."

The horseman had dismounted and was carefully extinguishing the fire, treading on each separate ember until it was out.

"Gentlemen, will you come with me?" he asked, finally. "I'll bring you to your own."

"What does he say?" asked the one who had been called "Captain."

"He is offering a house after the Spanish custom."

"Well, indeed! One of the first things I do when I get on shipboard will be to learn Spanish."

The one riding moved away from the wide-branching oak, where the fire had been, out toward the open. It was bright starlight.

"Let the injured one ride my horse. I will show the path on foot. Come. It is not far to Señor Miramonte's house."

The Commodore interpreted this to his companion.

"If it isn't far I'd rather crawl than ride," the Captain replied. "Where in the world is the path? It's light enough, but I surely do not see any. Say, is that fellow an agent for a bandit or something like that? The pay of an American naval captain is such, you know----"

"Never fear, Hamilton," laughed the Commodore. "Your pay and mine combined, for a year, would be hardly more than a bagatelle for one of these land-and-cattle barons, such as is Miramonte, I believe."

"You've been here before?"

"Yes, ten or a dozen years ago. Rode from Yerba Buena to San José along a road which I trust must be near here, though I couldn't find it to-day. Went from San José back to San Francisco harbor along the eastern side of the valley. Remember, Hamilton, what your name is for the present?"

"Certainly, I'm plain Smith."

"And I'm plain Jones."

They followed the man who was leading the horse. In the open they could see him easily. In the dense growths they followed by the sound. Captain Hamilton was becoming greatly fatigued when a number of well-lighted buildings came into view. Dogs barked and Indian men and women talked excitedly as the party approached.

A courtyard gate opened wide to receive them.

"Behold the bandits' cave, _Smith_!" said the Commodore.

"I see it, _Jones_," replied the injured man. "I declare, it looks good to me. Will the head bandit demand that we prove our identity, or something like that?"

"I forgot to tell you that the owner of the premises is away at present. The man who brought us here is major-domo, which might be translated, overseer. I fancy he is altogether in charge and will make us as comfortable as we could wish."

The major-domo gave his horse to a peon, then waved his hand to the front door of the house. "Gentlemen, it is as I said before. What you see is yours. Enter your own."

"I'm willing," agreed Smith when he was told what had been said. "A bath and a comfortable bed appeal to me just now."

They were brought to large, airy chambers within. A hot tub-bath was prepared for Smith; while a peon, skillful in massaging, kneaded his aching muscles. The injury to his knee, sustained in falling, was rather severe. The massaging peon bound it tightly with various poultices of herbs.

"I say, man, that's too hot," Smith protested.

Jones grinned. "Perhaps the bandit's servant is preparing you like a trussed goose."

"I say, Commodore----"

"Jones, my friend."

"Very well, _Jones_. If this confounded thing were around your leg, you wouldn't laugh. You're my superior officer, and all that----"

"I'm _Jones_," the other said, emphatically.

"Pardon me Com----I mean, _Jones_. Oh! Ouch! he's taking those weeds right out of boiling water and tying them around my smashed knee. I say, man----"

The Indian paid no attention to his remonstrances or squirming.

"Why, Jones! Where did you get those clothes?"

Jones was attired in the regulation house-dress of the California grandee, from fluted shirt-front to silver-clasped shoes.

"Found them in my room, with a peon valet ready to assist me into them. Doubtless you'll be treated the same way."

"Well! I'll admire myself. But my bandaged knee wouldn't fit into such trouserettes as you have on."

The bandaging was finished at last. The peon spoke to the patient in Spanish.

"What is he saying?"

"Says for you to go to bed soon. In the morning he will remove the bandages, and hopes your knee will be greatly improved."

"Go to bed. Well, the quarters are sumptuous enough. High-posted bed, mahogany bureaus--one, two, three of them; and chairs, mahogany too, and heavy enough for state occasions. It's all fine, if I only had a bite of something to eat."

The major-domo entered the room, several peons following him, carrying trays on which were steaming dishes.

Smith was quickly arrayed in a flannel dressing gown. A table was laid and moved over to his chair. Savory meats, vegetables, and fruits were ready. Wine was uncorked and placed at the hungry man's hand.

The major-domo gave some further orders to the peons, and then spoke to the traveler who understood Spanish. That worthy's eyes twinkled. "I'm invited to supper with the family, or the part of it in the house. I hope you'll enjoy your meal, and have a good rest to-night. The Indian surgeon says if necessary he'll use still hotter and stronger applications to-morrow."

Smith was comforting himself with the warm meal. His fellow traveler followed the major-domo along a corridor, down a short flight of stairs, to a door which a peon within opened at their approach. The major-domo bowed low, and left the man standing at the door.

"In my son's absence I welcome you," said a very kindly voice. "I am Señor Miramonte's mother."

"I am delighted to greet you, señora."

"I regret your companion is injured and unable to dine with us."

"I trust he'll be well to-morrow."

"Señor--I do not know your name?"

"Er-r-Jones." His face flushed a little.

"Señor Jones, I wish to introduce you to my friend, Señora Valentino, who is also our guest to-night. Senora Valentino, our esteemed visitor, the Señor Jones."

Señora Valentino extended her hand to Jones. "Señor Jones, I am pleased to see you." A slow, deliberate smile lit up her features. "Am glad to meet you--here." Her low bow did not wholly cover the quizzical look which darted from her eyes.

They were ushered into a dining room where a table generously laid was before them.

"Señora Valentino," asked the hostess, "will you not take the head of the table?"

The señora complied.

"I am not very strong these days," the elderly lady explained, "and I am happy that so fair and clever a hand as Señora Valentino's is here to manage in serving the dinner."

Señora Valentino presided gracefully.

"Señor Jones," she said, with just a hint of emphasis on 'Jones,' "may I ask if you have been long in Alta California?"

"Well, no. In fact, only a few days or so."

The hour of dinner passed pleasantly. Places of interest were spoken of; men and events discussed. Spain, France, England, were passed in review. Señora Miramontes was European born. Her husband had been Spanish ambassador at the great capitals; and the splendid Miramonte grant in West Santa Clara Valley was his reward for able service.

"Thirty years and more have I been here," she said. "It was a splendid wilderness when we came; nevertheless, a wilderness. We have claimed it for our own, and now it smiles for us. The flag of great Spain once waved over these valleys. The tread of Spanish friars hallowed the ground; and God blessed the work of these men with hundredfold increase. Then the Mexican colors replaced those of Spain. Ah, me! But Mexico cares nothing for us; and at heart we are still Spaniards. Yes, Spaniards; never Mexicans!"

The meal over, the party went to an adjoining room. A fire flickered on a vast, old-fashioned hearth. Candles were not lighted, and the shadows danced fitfully on the walls and tapestries of the apartment.

Señora Miramonte still wished to speak of Europe.

"My husband was once ambassador at Saint Petersburg. We met there a Russian who had been in these Californias. He had been in the diplomatic service here in Monterey, and knew the country well. Knew it north and south and east and west. 'Soon Spain loses that country--all of it; for Mexico is going,' were his words; and he was a very shrewd, far-seeing man. He also said, 'Then the English and the Americans will come to blows over the empire that in large part is no man's land. Not twenty years,' he would say, 'after Spain withdraws from North America, not twenty years will elapse before the British Lion and the American Eagle will bare the teeth and claws to each other over these great stretches of wonderful country.'"

She paused a moment.

"The British Lion has not yet shown his teeth. He is ready to do so, just the same. Do we not know of Texas, and the country north of us here--Oregon they call it? The American Eagle has not yet cried his war-scream; yet it is swelling in his throat."

"Madam, you speak of great subjects," was Jones's reply.

She nodded, the light now playing uninterruptedly over her features which were still keen and comely. "No. It is my friend, Lomilkovsky, who does the speaking; and he died sixteen years ago."

No one broke the silence for several moments.

"I may have spoken too plainly," the venerable lady went on. "Rarely has the past opened before me as to-night. Spain cannot win; and, I say, let the flag rule the Pacific Ocean that can." She arose. "Señor, you breakfast with us to-morrow. Now, please excuse me, friends. I must retire. Early hours compel me. Señora Valentino, will you kindly act as hostess for the rest of the evening in my place?"

"Certainly, señora, certainly."

The light shone on her snow-white hair as she bowed her head in final good night.

"Well, Señor Jones, the sitting room is pleasant. Shall we return?" from Señora Valentino.

"With all my heart."

The Commodore's features were keen and powerful. Heavy eyebrows stood out across his forehead. A strong chin, cleft in the middle, balanced a well-carved nose. His lips shut like the jaws of a trap. His hair, bushy and dark, glanced grayish in the light. Withal a kindly smile seemed rarely absent from his face. A martinet on the quarterdeck, off it he was the most genial of men.

"I have not inquired how your friend met his accident," from the señora.

"We set out at daybreak this morning expecting to make our destination by night. In the afternoon something frightened my friend's horse. It took the bit in its teeth, and jumped over the bank of a ravine. Luckily, there was a pond of water at the bottom. My friend was disabled. The horse escaped despite our guide's efforts to lasso it. The guide set out to get another mount. Time passed, and he did not return. I tied my horse, securely, I thought, and climbed a high hill to get sight of some habitation. I could see none. I returned to find my own horse gone. Then we set out on foot to find shelter. I knew the Camino Real was somewhere to the east of us. Our progress was necessarily slow. Darkness came. After wandering aimlessly for a while we built the fire which the major-domo saw. Then," smiling, "the hospitality of California was offered."

"Señor Miramonte will rejoice, I know, when he learns that Señor Jones and his friend--the name--I did not hear it----"

"My friend's name is Smith."

"Ah!--Smith. Señor Miramonte will rejoice that his house could give hospitality to the Señors Jones and Smith--unusual names. No?" She looked him full in the eyes, her smile inscrutable.

"California's hospitality is proverbial the world over," was his evasive reply.

"Ah! yes. Ah! yes. The world over, you say. I too have been much about. May it not be, Señor--ah!--Jones, that we have met before? Was it, perhaps, in London three years ago, or, even in your capital, Washington, two years past?"

"Señora Valentino, let me say, once having seen you no man could forget you. It was in Washington, also in London; and, before that, in Vienna, that I had the pleasure of knowing you."

"And the Señor Smith, your companion?" smilingly.

"Madam, I cry a truce of this. I am Commodore Billings, of the American navy. The man with me is Captain Hamilton, of my flagship. For the present neither of us cares to be thus known."

The woman arched her eyebrows. "That is entirely the affair of the Señor Commodore and the Señor Capitan. Still, why so far from the flagship?"

"We were riding incognito through a peaceful and friendly land, señora."

"Rumors float about, Señor Officer."

The man looked into the fire for a moment. "Señora Valentino, I have told you who I am. I will tell you also that I am in command of the Pacific squadron of the American navy. Will you be as candid with me, and tell me why you are in this country?"

She laughed. "You haven't yet told me why you are traveling under an assumed name; neither, why you are on the mainland of California."

"Undoubtedly for diversion, señora."

"Come, Señor Commodore, it is as our hostess said, is it not so? that the Lion and the Eagle are straining to the contest over spoils vast as the territory of all Europe. Come, let us be fair with each other. You are here in the interest of the United States. Some special errand leads you on a secret journey. An accident brings you and me under the same roof; and fate, perhaps, leaves us here alone together in conversation. It may be that you and I could come to some understanding about affairs of mighty interest. Indeed, it may be, save two nations from grave misunderstanding."

His smile was as genial as ever, as he said: "The señora favors Great Britain in the dispute she alleges may some time arise. Am I not correct?"

She bowed. "You met the Señor O'Donnell a week ago, and again four days ago. Was it at your last meeting he told you of my preferences, or at the first?" She laughed, and playfully tapped the Commodore's hand with her fan.

"Madam, may I say to you that I have letters in my possession from our State Department, in Washington, which relate not only to your presence here but which also tell something of your work as England's secret agent in Alta California."

Again the woman laughed. "Child's play, Commodore! Child's play! The man who sent this information to your State Department, in Washington, is here, and in touch with you. Certainly, he told you as much as he wrote to Washington."

The officer made no reply.

"Commodore Billings, I deal with you, and with you only. I take not account of the frontiersman, O'Donnell. The United States, though still young, is a great nation; and should be represented by men such as you."

"Señora, O'Donnell has the confidence of Mr. Tyler, President of the United States."

"Has your Mr. Tyler the confidence of the republic which made him its President?"

There was no reply.

The señora arose. The jewels in her hair flamed and glittered in the firelight. A hundred questions seemed to burn in the depths of her eyes. She extended her hand, as if in gesture. The warrior-diplomat was impelled to arise also, and to take the hand in his.

"Señor the Commodore, you go to conference with Mendoza, of Mission San José. Is it not so?"

He started to reply, but checked himself.

"Think on what you do. We of this province--Mendoza and a handful of others excepted--desire not to be ruled by your nation."

"Señora Valentino, I am but a student of conditions here."

She moved closer toward him. He still held her hand.

"You do not come with prejudged verdict?" In her earnestness she placed her disengaged hand on his shoulder.

"Assuredly not. Of course I know the general desire of my government. Further than that I do what seems wisest."

"Then consult the people of California. See Padre Osuna, that saintly Chrysostom of this Western world. Meet Colonel Barcelo, the acting-governor. Interview Pio Pico, and his brother Andreas. See the Peraltas, the Carillos. Señor Mendoza represents but few besides himself."

She moved away from him. "As to this O'Donnell--O'Donnell! He is a man with a price on his head, placed there by the English government. What wonder he intrigues against England!"

"Some political offense, of course."

"For attempted murder! He struck down his captain on the parade ground in Dublin, following an admonition."

"Zounds, madam!"

"This would-be assassin carries word to you from Señor Mendoza--why does he forget he is Colonel Mendoza?--carries word that Mendoza has wishes for the department of California which differ from the wishes of the people themselves who comprise this department. Indeed! And who is this Mendoza? Is he not of a make-up so unrestrained that once, in a burst of temper, he even burned to the ground his magnificent home? Ask the people of California if this is not true. Bethink you, my Commodore."

"Señora, I ask you, what is in the wind?"

"Let us be seated, Señor Commodore."

She looked at him intently. "Texas is free from Mexico. Some of your States wish to accept the republic of Texas as one of themselves. The States north of the Mason and Dixon line object. They oppose extension of Negro slavery. Your President Tyler is on the fence, dangling his long legs in the air, prepared to jump to either side, as it seems expedient for him."

The Commodore covered his mouth with his hand, to conceal an involuntary smile.

"Oregon is now jointly held by the United States and England. Some of your States wish for a part of Oregon. Others make opposition; and the opposition this time comes from those south of the Mason and Dixon line. The reason? No possibility of slavery in Oregon. Your President, from his perch, dangles his long legs yet more alertly."

Billings now laughed outright.

"Señora, you are droll."

"Is what I say not true, my Commodore?"

"Oregon is ours, my lady, by occupation. Doctor Whitman and his missionaries live in that country; are Christianizing the Indians, and drawing settlers from beyond the Mississippi. Oregon is ours, I say, by right of occupation."

"A hundred years before your Whitman saw light missionaries from French Canada lived among those same tribes. England succeeded to the rights of France. Oregon, then, is England's by this right of occupation of which you speak."

"But, the rifles of the American settlers in Oregon! They will speak, and speak strongly, my lady."

"But the rifles of the Spanish hacenderos in California, my Commodore! Can they not speak? Commodore Billings, a shot in California will echo around the world!"

She leaned toward him and placed her hand on the arm of his chair. "A few months ago I saw Doctor McLoughlin, head of the Hudson Bay Company, at Vancouver. He knows of the work of your missionary Whitman. My Commodore, twenty British ships-of-war are in the Pacific waters. I saw them, one and all, on my journey to the North. They are not far from here."

"So many, Señora Valentino?"

"That many."

"I did not think Admiral Fairbanks----"

She waited for him to continue. As he did not she went on:

"That enthusiast, Mendoza, thinks he can persuade you to seize our capital, Monterey. Suppose you do? The province will seethe in rebellion, and call to Admiral Fairbanks for aid. He will give it. That means war. Your United States is unprepared for war at sea. Mexico then goes under an English protectorate. Texas goes back to Mexico, and England will then control the Pacific Coast from the tropics to the Russian line in the far north."

Both were standing now.

"Señora Valentino, neither Mendoza, nor anyone, can lead me into an unconsidered move in this matter."

"To-night you had an appointment with Mendoza. Fate intervened. To-morrow sees not the danger removed. He will ask you to seize this province for the United States. Commodore Billings, ruin comes if you do."

"Señora, I have never seen Mendoza."

"You know of his wishes. Others do."

"But I shall judge for myself."

Again her inscrutable smile. "Commodore, I thank you. I mean--that is to say--I thank you for listening to me to-night. I pray good will come of it." Her hand was on his arm. He took it in fervent grasp.

"Señora, Europe knows you for a brilliant woman. I say you are that, and more. I am glad to have met you again." He looked at his watch. "It is late. I fear I have kept you too long. I ask your pardon."

"My Commodore, have a care, only, that you do not ask pardon of the world one day for what your decision to-morrow may bring about."

"Your words do you honor, señora. May I ask leave now to retire?"

"The leave is yours, Commodore."

After good night had been said Señora Valentino returned to her chair by the fire. Into the flames she looked for a long time.

"The Commodore talks in his silence," she finally said to herself, smiling grimly. "The pages of this drama fast turn themselves--very fast--to the issue. 'But I shall judge for myself.' Ah! Commodore, your silence is indeed golden. So, Mendoza wishes you to seize Monterey--evidently--but, 'you will judge for yourself.' Discreet Commodore! But we shall see--we shall see!"

The thick oaken log in the fireplace was ashes before the señora went to her room.