CHAPTER ELEVEN.
A COLONEL IN FULL FEATHER.
Yes; outside the door of their cell was Carlos Santander. And in fullwar panoply, wearing a magnificent uniform, with a glittering sword byhis side, and on his head a cocked hat, surmounted by a _panache_ ofwhite ostrich feathers!
To explain his presence there, and in such guise, it is necessary toreturn upon time and state some particulars of this man's life not yetbefore the reader. As already said, he was a native of New Orleans, butof Mexican parentage, and regarding himself as a Mexican citizen.Something more than a mere citizen, indeed; as, previous to hisencounter with Florence Kearney, he had been for a time resident inMexico, holding some sort of appointment under that Government, or fromthe Dictator himself--Santa Anna. What he was doing in New Orleans noone exactly knew, though among his intimates there was an impressionthat he still served his Mexican master, in the capacity of a secretagent--a sort of _procurador_, or spy. Nor did this suspicion do himwrong: for he was drawing pay from Santa Anna, and doing work for him inthe States, which could scarce be dignified with the name of diplomacy.Proof of its vile character is afforded by the action he took among thevolunteers in Poydras Street. His presenting himself at theirrendezvous, getting enrolled in the corps, and offering as a candidatefor the captaincy, were all done under instructions, and with a designwhich, for wickedness and cold-blooded atrocity, was worthy of Satanhimself. Had he succeeded in becoming the leader of this ill-fatedband, for them the upshot might have been no worse; though it would nothave been better; since it was his intention to betray them to the enemyat the first opportunity that should offer. Thwarted in this intent,knowing he could no longer show his face among the filibusters, eventhough it were but as a private in the ranks; fearing, furthermore, theshame that awaited him in New Orleans soon as the affair of the steelshirt should get bruited about, he had hastily decamped from that place,and, as we now know, once more made his way to Mexico.
Luckily for him, the shirt, or rather under-shirt, business leaked notout; at least not to reach the ears of any one in the Mexican capital.
Nor, indeed, was it ever much known in New Orleans. His second,Duperon, for his own sake not desiring to make it public, had refrainedfrom speaking of it; and their doctor, a close little Frenchman,controlled by Duperon, remained equally reticent; while all those on theother side--Kearney, Crittenden, Rock and the surgeon--had takendeparture for Texas on the very day of the duel; from that time forwardhaving "other fish to fry."
But there were still the two hackney-drivers, who, no doubt, had theystayed in the Crescent City in pursuit of their daily avocation, wouldhave given notoriety to an occurrence curious as it was scandalous.
It chanced, however, that both the jarveys were Irishmen; and suddenlysmitten with warlike aspirations--either from witnessing the spectacleof the duel, or the gallant behaviour of their young countryman--on thatsame day dropped the ribbons, and, taking to a musket instead, woreamong the men who composed the ill-started expedition which came togrief on the Rio Grande.
So, for the time, Carlos Santander had escaped the brand of infamy dueto his dastardly act.
His reappearance on the scene in such grand garb needs littleexplanation. A fairly brave and skilled soldier, a vainer man thanGeneral Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna never wore sword, and one of hisfoibles was to see himself surrounded by a glittering escort. Theofficers of his staff were very peacocks in their gaudy adornment, andas a rale, the best-looking of them were his first favourites.Santander, on returning to Mexico, was appointed one of hisaides-de-camp, and being just the sort--a showy fellow--soon rose torank; so that the defeated candidate for a captaincy of TexanVolunteers, was now a colonel in the Mexican Army, on the personal staffof its Commander-in-Chief.
Had Florence Kearney and Cris Rock but known they were to meet this manin Mexico--could they have anticipated seeing him, as he was now, at thedoor of their prison-cell--their hearts would have been fainter as theytoiled along the weary way, and perchance in that lottery of life anddeath they might have little cared whether they drew black or white.
At the sight of him there rose up all at once in their recollection thatscene upon the Shell Road; the Texan vividly recalling how he had duckedthe caitiff in the ditch, as how he looked after crawling out upon thebank--mud bedraggled and covered with the viscous scum,--in strangecontrast to his splendid appearance now! And Kearney well rememberedthe same, noting in addition a scar on Santander's cheek--he had himselfgiven--which the latter vainly sought to conceal beneath whiskers sincepermitted to grow their full length and breadth.
These remembrances were enough to make the heart of the captive Irishmanbeat quick, if it did not quail; while that of the Texan had like reasonto throb apprehensively.
Nor could they draw any comfort from the expression on Santander's face.Instead, they but read there what they might well believe to be theirdeath sentence. The man was smiling, but it was the smile of Lucifer intriumph--mocking, malignant, seeming to say, without spoken word but,for all that, emphatically and with determination--
"I have you in my power, and verily you shall feel my vengeance."
They could tell it was no accident had brought him thither no duty ofprison inspection--but the fiendish purpose to flaunt his grandeurbefore their eyes, and gloat over the misery he knew it would causethem. And his presence explained what had hitherto been a puzzle tothem--why they two were being made an exception among their captivecomrades, and thrown into such strange fellowship. It must have been tohumiliate them; as, indeed, they could now tell by a certain speechwhich the gaol-governor addressed to Santander, as the cell door turnedback upon its hinges.
"There they are, Senor Colonel! As you see, I've had them coupledaccording to orders. What a well-matched pair!" he added, ironically,as his eyes fell upon Cris Rock and the hunchback. "_Ay Dios_! It's asight to draw laughter from the most sober-sided recluse that everlodged within these walls. Ha! ha! ha!"
It drew this from Carlos Santander; who, relishing the jest, joined inthe "ha! ha!" till the old convent rang with their coarse ribaldry.