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The Free Lances. Майн Рид
Читать онлайн.Название The Free Lances
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isbn 4064066223731
Автор произведения Майн Рид
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To these the young Irishman was at once confidentially introduced, and “stood drinks” freely. He would have done so without care of what was to come of it; since it was but the habit of his generous nation. Nor would this of itself have given him any great advantage, for not long after entering the room, he discovered that not only drinks, but dollars, were distributed freely by the opposition party, who seemed earnestly bent upon making a captain of their candidate.
As yet Kearney had not looked upon his competitor, and was even ignorant of his name. Soon, however, it was communicated to him, just as the man himself, escorted by a number of friends, made his appearance in the room. The surprise of the young Irishman may be imagined; when he saw before him one already known, and too well-known—his rival in the affections of Luisa Valverde!
Yes; Carlos Santander was also a candidate for the command of the filibusters.
To Kearney the thing was a surprise, and something besides. He knew Santander to be on terms of very friendly and intimate relationship not only with Don Ignacio, but other Mexicans he had met at the exile’s house. Strange, that the Creole should be aspiring to the leadership of a band about to invade their country! For it was invasion the Texans now talked of, in retaliation for a late raid of the Mexicans to their capital, San Antonio. But these banished Mexicans being enemies of Santa Anna it was after all not so unnatural. By humiliating the Dictator, they would be aiding their own party to get back into power—even though the help came from their hereditary foemen, the squatters of Texas.
All this passed through the mind of the young Irishman, though not altogether to satisfy him. The presence of Santander there, as aspirant for leadership, seemed strange notwithstanding.
But he had no opportunity for indulging in conjectures—only time to exchange frowns at his rival and competitor, when a man in undress uniform—a Texan colonel—who acted as chairman of the meeting, mounting upon a table, cried “Silence!” and, after a short pithy speech, proposed that the election of officers should at once proceed. The proposal was seconded, no one objecting; and, without further parley, the “balloting” began.
There was neither noise nor confusion. Indeed, the assembly was one of the quietest, and without any street crowd outside. There were reasons for observing a certain secrecy in the proceedings; for, although the movement was highly popular all over the States, there were some compromising points of International law, and there had been talk of Government interference.
The election was conducted in the most primitive and simple fashion. The names of the candidates were written upon slips of paper, and distributed throughout the room—only the members who had formed the organisation having the right to vote. Each of them chose the slip bearing the name of him he intended to vote for, and dropped it into a hat carried round for the purpose. The other he threw away, or slipped if to his pocket.
When all had deposited their ballots, the hat was capsized, and the bits of paper shaken out upon the table. The chairman, assisted by two other men, examined the votes and counted them. Then ensued a short interval of silence, broken only by an occasional word of direction from the chairman, with the murmuring hum of the examiners, and at length came in a clear loud voice—that of the Texan colonel—“The votes are in favour of Kearney! Florence Kearney elected Captain by a majority of thirty-three!”
A cheer greeted the announcement, in which something like a screech from Cris Rock could be heard above all voices; while the giant himself was seen rushing through the crowd to clasp the hand of his protégé, whom he had voluntarily assisted in promoting to a rank above himself.
During the excitement, the defeated candidate was observed to skulk out of the room. Those who saw him go could tell by his look of sullen disappointment he had no intention of returning; and that the filibustering cohort was not likely to have the name, “Carlos Santander,” any longer on its roll-call.
He and his were soon forgotten. The lieutenants were yet to be chosen. One after another—first, second, and brevet—was proposed, balloted for, and elected in the same way as the captain.
Then there was a choice of sergeants and corporals, till the organisation was pronounced complete. In fine, fell a shower of congratulations, with “drinks all round,” and for several successive rounds. Patriotic speeches also, in the true “spread-eagle” style, with applauding cheers, and jokes about Santa Anna and his cork-leg; when the company at length separated, after singing the “Star-Spangled Banner.”
Chapter Four.
An Invitation to Supper.
Florence Kearney, parting from his new friends, the filibusters, sauntered forth upon the street.
On reaching the nearest corner he came to a stop, as if undecided which way to turn.
Not because he had lost his way. His hotel was but three blocks off; and he had, during his short sojourn in the Crescent City, become acquainted with almost every part of it. It was not ignorance of the locality, therefore, which was causing him to hesitate; but something very different, as the train of his thoughts will tell.
“Don Ignacio, at least, will expect me—wish me to come, whether she do or not. I accepted his invitation, and cannot well—oh! had I known what I do now—seen what I saw this morning—Bah! I shall return to the hotel and never more go near her!”
But he did not return to his hotel; instead, still stood irresolute, as if the thing were worth further considering.
What made the young man act thus? Simply a belief that Luisa Valverde did not love him, and, therefore, would not care to have him as a companion at supper; for it was to supper her father had asked him. On the day before he had received the invitation, and signified acceptance of it. But he had seen something since which had made him half repent having done so; a man, Carlos Santander, standing beside the woman he loved, bending over her till his lips almost touched her forehead, whispering words that were heard, and, to all appearance, heeded. What the words were Florence Kearney knew not, but could easily guess their nature. They could only be of love; for he saw the carmine on her cheeks as she listened to them.
He had no right to call the young lady to an account. During all his intercourse with Don Ignacio, he had seen the daughter scarce half a score times; then only while passing out and in—to or from his lessons. Now and then a few snatches of conversation had occurred between them upon any chance theme—the weather, the study he was prosecuting (how he wished she had been his teacher), and the peculiarities of the New Orleans life, to which they were both strangers. And only once had she appeared to take more than an ordinary interest in his speech. This, when he talked of Mexico, and having come from his own far land, “Irlandesa,” with an enthusiastic desire to visit hers, telling her of his intention to do so. On this occasion he had ventured to speak of what he had heard about Mexican banditti; still more of the beauty of the Mexican ladies—naïvely adding that he would no doubt be in less danger of losing his life than his heart.
To this he thought she had listened, or seemed to listen, with more than ordinary attention, looking pensive as she made reply.
“Yes, Don Florencio! you will see much in Mexico likely to give you gratification. ’Tis true, indeed, that many of my countrywomen are fair—some very fair. Among them you will soon forget—”
Kearney’s heart beat wildly, hoping he would hear the monosyllable “me.” But the word was not spoken. In its place the phrase “us poor exiles,” with which somewhat commonplace remark the young Mexican concluded her speech.
And still there was something in what she had said, but more in her manner of saying it, which made pleasant impression upon him—something in her tone that touched a chord already making