CHAPTER VI.
ANY PORT IN A STORM.
Gladsden was groping along when he perceived the thorn thicketchanging into a prairie, only slightly interspersed with scrub. At thesame time, though underfoot, the scene cleared, the indications ofatmospheric perturbation increased in number and in ominous importance.Already the material man triumphed over the romantic one, and ourEnglishman thought considerably better of a solid refuge from thetempest than to come up with the abductor of the Mexican girl. Spite ofits sinister aspect, therefore, his eyes were delighted when he saw,outlined against the northeastern sky, sullenly blackening, a curiouslyshaped tower. In a civilised country he would have ignobly supposed ita factory shaft.
He knew nothing whatever about this pillar of sunbaked bricks, somefifty feet in altitude, and, we repeat, cared nothing for the monumentfrom any point of view but its qualities as a shelter.
Nevertheless, an archaeologist would have given a fortune to havestudied this Nameless Tower, for the aboriginal held it too sacredfor mention in common parlance. It was slightly pyramidal; the northside, not quite the true meridian, presented a right angle, presumablyto breast and divide the wind of winter prevalent at its erection,while the rest was rounded trimly. The excellence of the work wasbetter shown in the cement, not mud, or ground gypsum, having resistedthe weather and particularly the sandy winds themselves, though theyhad worn the _dobies_ (_adobes_, sun dried bricks) away deeply inplaces, without making airholes through. There was nothing like awindow or depression save these natural pits, until the view reachedthe ragged top, where a sort of lantern or cupola, so far as a fewvestiges indicated, had once crowned the edifice; there the floor ofthis disappeared chamber had become the roof, and an orifice, perhapsa loophole enlarged by rot, yawned like a deep set eye beside an armof metal terminating in a hook. Presumably the column was a priest'swatchtower, where a sacred fire was preserved in peace times toimitate the sun. It is known, the ancient Mexicans adored the sun.A beacon, too, in war times, for the fire and smoke signal code ofthe American Indians is too complete to have been the invention ofyesterday. The entrance at the base cut in the rock utilised for nearlyall the foundation. Once blocked up, the watcher, remote from lances,slingshots, and bowshots, could count the besiegers on this plain, andtelegraph their number to his friends at a distance. The metal arm mayhave suspended a pulley block and rope by which provisions and even anassistant could be hauled up to him.
The natives avoid the tower and its proximity. The white rovers deemit uncanny, and, having no curiosity to gratify, also leave the spotuntroubled.
Gladsden regarded the tall mass with some uneasiness as he approachedsufficiently near to measure its dimensions and examine the emblemsstained, rather than painted, on the alabaster base stone. A colossalhalf human, half bovine head, armed with terrible horns, and showinglong angular teeth in a ferocious grin, was prominent among thesedesigns.
All was so still that he hesitated to wake the echoes with a more orless tolerable imitation of the wildcat, to which no response came,or if from a distance such was raised, the approaching thunderpealsovercame it.
He boldly plunged into the doorless passage, the way to which had beento a more wary man suspiciously free from brambles.
A smell of smoke, and even of tobacco smoke, he thought, overcame thatof damp earth.
The only light was that which the doorway admitted, but several platesof mica, backed rudely with metal, which time and damp had tarnished,made the interior a little less sombre by their dull reflections. Aladder of wood, all the fastenings of rawhide, could be distinguishedclimbing like a twin snake up the wall; on high a grayish eye seemed tolook unwinkingly down: it was the light oozing in at the gap at the top.
There were red streaks on the wall: paintings in red pipe claypartially effaced, or mementoes of slaughter, just as the spectatorchose to believe or fancy.
At the moment, the intruder was chiefly interested in the charcoalunder his feet, almost warm, certainly so fresh that he concluded thatothers than he chose it for a refuge under stress of weather, no doubtMaster Pepillo's congeners.
Less courageous, he would have shrunk away without pondering over thenature of his predecessors, possibly regular hosts of this lugubriousdomicile of owl and vulture.
Convinced that he was, for the time being, the sole tenant, Gladsdenresolved, however, to explore the portion unrevealed. To his handsand feet the ladder presented no obstacle, and he ran up the roughrattlings swiftly, spite of fatigue. It brought him into a species ofmanhole under the roof, close to the gap, and yet shielded from itsdraft by a jutting piece of wall.
"This will do," thought he, finding it dry and clean; "I will killa brace of birds frightened into stupidity by the oncoming storm,roast them on that charcoal, and bring them up here for supper. Ifthe robbers surprise me, I will maintain that I was merely killingtime before the arrival of lieutenant Ignacio, and claim thatgentleman's friendship by reason of my charge from his brother. If Iam interrupted, I shall pull up the ladder, in trust that it will comefree, and sleep here, safe from prowling beasts and serpents."
Suddenly gloom fell on all the landscape, as if a mighty hand hadeclipsed the waning sun. The air was very much more thick andoppressive, and there were innumerable though faint crepitations likefeeble snappings of electricity. To take the game he spoke of, beforethe rainfall drowned them out of their nests, it was needful to hasten.But he had not descended three rounds of the ladder, before he stoppedall of a piece. From every side, there was the sound of an arrivalof men, both on foot and ahorse. Instinctively he drew himself up,arranged his form on the floor so as to project only his forehead andeyes over the ledge where ended the means of ascension, and staredbelow.
A number of persons, congratulating themselves on their reunion loudlywith the hyperbolic phrases of the Spanish ceremony of greeting,clattered into the tower. Presently a light was struck, and a roaringfire kindled. As the shaft thus became the chimney, Gladsden was forcedto cough, though he smothered the sound as much as possible, hoped, asdid the man who lighted the damp wood, that it would lose no time inburning up clearly.
When he could protrude his face over the peephole again, he beheld adozen persons, swarthy, robust, richly clad as the prairie rovers,or cattle thieves, armed to the teeth. Cruel of eye, malignant andferocious, he judged it highly imprudent to make their acquaintance,unless Ignacio was the introducer.
Before very many sentences were uttered, every syllable of which cameto his ears direct, the overhearer was not allowed to cherish any erroras to their profession. They were the Gentlemen of the Night, the roadrobbers, the scourges of Sonora, belonging to the squad (_cuadrilla_)of Matasiete, "the Slayer of Seven."
The gestures of the Mexicans grew animated as they sat around the fire,or leaned against the wall, which the gleams showed to be painted bythe Indians; now and then they clapped their unwashed but jewelledhands to their weapons--at which moments the witness earnestly prayedthat they would join in a free fight and kill everyone to the last.They were wrangling over the division of spoil, and perhaps the plunderwould have cost additional lives to those of its original proprietors,when the advent of someone in authority caused the dispute to cease. Itwas their captain.
He was not the heroic figure that Gladsden had imagined fit to rulesuch desperadoes. He was tall, but lean, don Quixote with Punch's noseand chin, rather the fox than the wolf, and though his features wereset stern and his voice was savage, doubts might be conceived as to hisown reliance on his bullying mode of government.
"At your differences again," he cried in a sharp voice, which now andthen ran up shrill and high, spite of himself, more to the resemblanceof the puppet show hero than ever. "_iCaray!_ Why can't you pulltogether like honourable gentlemen of the prairie?"
Two of the brigands began an explanation which their leader cut shortby replying to the less ruffianly of the two:
"Silence! I'll not be bothered by a single word! _iViva Dios!_ Here youare hugging the fire lik
e herders broiling a steak, without a thoughtof our common safety. I have had to post sentries myself, and even theygrumbled at such important duty, just because there is a barrel ofwater coming down. I tell you I heard a shot in the thicket, which wasnot from any of our guns."
Another of the gang spoke up, with whom he judged it meet to argue. Itis due to the estimable captain Matasiete to say that the debater inquestion was picking a fragment of buffalo beef out of a huge hollowgrinder, with an unpleasant long knife.
"It is true, Ricardo, that the red men do never approach the Owl Tower;but what is that? Someday our secret haunt will be surprised and theYaquis will fall on us for profaning the old pile. Where is Ignacio?Where is the lieutenant, I say?"
Neither he nor his brother had arrived, that was the answer, to Mr.Gladsden's chagrin.
"Then will they get their boots choked with rain," remarked thecommander of these precious rogues, comfortably installing himself atthe fire, in the very manner which he had disapproved of in his men.There was a flash of lightning. The thunder roared round the tower,which bravely met the precursor shower, though it was of a drenchingnature to justify the repugnance of the salteadores to standingsentinel in the open, whilst their luckier comrades enjoyed the shelterand the fire.
There was silence within the tower: the bandits, drawing a little alooffrom their chief, in respect or lack of sympathy, prepared supper,priced their property with a view of staking it in card play, or, asfar as two or three were concerned, lounged at the door, watchingthe ground smoke after the wetting, and glancing tauntingly at theirbrothers on guard, who shone with moisture in the chance ray from theglorious fire.
The extreme heat around Gladsden, his fatigue and a dulness engenderedby the recent strain on his faculties, forced his eyes to close now andthen, and he was about falling into a torpor, when a commotion belowaroused him.
A man, clanking his huge spurs to rid them of mud and rotten leaves,drenched almost through his blanket, splashed to the waist, histough leather breeches scored by wait-a-bit thorns, swearing at thedog's weather, wringing out his hair, for he had lost his hat--thisindividual, hailed amicably as "our dear Ignacio," but heedless ofthe welcome in his vexation and a species of alarm, pushed aside hiscomrades flocking round him, and, saluting the captain, basking in thefire beams, said reproachfully:
"My brother not here? Then ill fares him! There are strangers in thechaparral!"
"Strangers!" all the voices exclaimed, whilst weapons clattered theirscabbards.
From only this transient glance at don Ignacio, the Englishman made uphis mind that he would not trust him with his life.