Read the book: «Crusoe's Island: A Ramble in the Footsteps of Alexander Selkirk», page 16

This little incident was probably unnoticed by any except myself. I sat in a recess near the window, and could see all that was going on without attracting attention. I had resolved, after overcoming my first friendly impulses, not to discover myself to the outlaw until the fandango was over, and then determine upon my future course regarding him by the result of a confidential interview. I fully believed that he would tell me the truth, and nothing but the truth, in reference to the murder of the emigrants.

The dance went on. It was a Spanish waltz; the click-clack of the feet, in slow-measured time, was very monotonous, producing a peculiarly dreamy effect. I sometimes closed my eyes and fancied it was all a wild, strange dream. Visions of the beautiful country through which I had passed flitted before me – a country desecrated by the worst passions of human nature. Amid the rarest charms of scenery and climate, what a combination of dark and deadly sins oppressed the mind! What a cess-pool of wickedness was here within these very walls!

Half an hour may have elapsed in this sort of dreaming, when Griff, who had been so strangely repulsed by the dark señorita, came back and pushed his way through the crowd. This time I noticed that his face was flushed, and a gleam of desperation was in his eye. The wound in his temple had a purple hue, and looked as if it might burst out bleeding afresh. His motions were unsteady – he had evidently been drinking. Edging over toward the woman, he stood watching her till there was a pause in the dance. Her partner was a handsome young Mexican, very gayly dressed, whom I had before noticed, and to whom she now made herself peculiarly fascinating. She smiled when he spoke; laughed very musically at every thing he said; leaned up toward him, and assumed a wonderfully sweet and confidential manner. The Mexican was perfectly infatuated. He made the most passionate avowals, scarcely conscious what he was saying. I watched the tall Texan. The veins in his forehead were swollen; he strode to and fro restlessly, fixing fierce and deadly glances upon the loving couple. A terrible change had taken place in the expression of his features, which ordinarily had something sweet and sad in it. It was now dark, brutish, and malignant. Suddenly, as if by an ungovernable impulse, he rushed up close to where they stood, and, drawing a large bowie-knife, said to the woman, in a quick, savage tone,

"Dance with me now, or, damn you, I'll cut your heart out!"

She turned toward him haughtily – "Señor!"

"Dance with me, or die!"

"Señor," said the woman, quietly, and with an unflinching eye, "you are drunk! Don't come so near to me!"

The infuriated man made a motion as if to strike at her with his knife; but, quick as lightning, the young Mexican grasped his uprisen arm and the two clenched. I could not see what was done in the struggle. Those of the crowd who were nearest rushed in, and the affray soon became general. Pistols and knives were drawn in every direction; but so sudden was the fight that nobody seemed to know where to aim or strike. In the midst of the confusion, a man jumped up on one of the benches and shouted,

"Back! back with you! The man's stabbed! Let him out!"

The swaying mass parted, and the tall Texan staggered through, then fell upon the floor. His shirt was covered with blood, and he breathed heavily. A moment after the woman uttered a low, wild cry, and, dashing through the crowd – her long black hair streaming behind her – she cast herself down by the prostrate man and sobbed,

"O cara mio! O Deos! is he dead? is he dead?"

"Who did this? Who stabbed this man?" demanded several voices, fiercely.

"No matter," answered the wounded man, faintly. "It was my own fault; I deserved it;" and, turning his face toward the weeping woman, he said, smiling, "Don't cry; don't go on so."

There was an ineffable tenderness in his voice, and something indescribably sweet in the expression of his face.

"O Deos!" cried the woman, kissing him passionately. "O cara mio! Say you will not die! Tell me you will not die!" And, tearing her dress with frantic strength, she tried to stanch the blood, which was rapidly forming a crimson pool around him.

The crowd meantime pressed so close that the man suffered for want of air, and begged to be removed. Several persons seized hold of him, and, lifting him from the floor, carried him out. The dark señorita followed close up, still pressing the fragments of her bloodstained dress to his wound.

Order was restored, and the music and dancing went on as if nothing had happened.

I had no desire to see any more of the evening amusements.

Next day I learned that the unfortunate man was dead. He was a stranger at San Luis, and refused to reveal his name, or make any disclosures concerning the affray. His last words were addressed to the woman, who clung to him with a devotion bordering on insanity. When she saw that he was doomed to die, the tears ceased to flow from her eyes, and she sat by his bedside with a wild, affrighted look, clutching his hands in hers, and ever and anon bathing her lips in the life-blood that oozed from his mouth.

"I loved you – still love you better than my life!"

These were his last words. A gurgle, a quivering motion of the stalwart frame, and he was dead!

At an examination before the alcalde, it was proved that the stabbing must have occurred before the affray became general. It was also shown that the young Mexican was unarmed, and had no acquaintance with the murdered man.

Who could have done it?

Was it the devil-woman? Was this a case of jealousy, and was the tall Texan the father of the murdered child?

Upon these points I could get no information. The whole affair, with all its antecedent circumstances, was wrapped in an impenetrable mystery. When the body was carried to the grave by a few strangers, including myself, the chief mourner was the half-breed woman – now a ghastly wreck. The last I saw of her, as we turned sadly away, she was sitting upon the sod at the head of the grave, motionless as a statue.

Next morning a vaquero, passing in that direction, noticed a shapeless mass lying upon the newly-spaded earth. It proved to be the body of the unfortunate woman, horribly mutilated by the wolves. The clothes were torn from it, and the limbs presented a ghastly spectacle of fleshless bones. Whether she died by her own hand, or was killed by the wolves during the night, none could tell. She was buried by the side of her lover.

Soon after these events, having completed my business in San Luis, I took passage in a small schooner for San Francisco, where I had the satisfaction in a few days of turning over ten thousand dollars to the Collector of Customs.

I never afterward could obtain any information respecting the two men mentioned in the early part of my narrative – the Colonel and Jack. No steps were taken by the authorities to arrest them. It is the usual fate of such men in California sooner or later to fall into the hands of an avenging mob. Doubtless they met with a merited retribution.

Eleven years have passed since these events took place. Many changes have occurred in California. The gangs of desperadoes that infested the state have been broken up; some of the members have met their fate at the hands of justice – more have fallen victims to their own excesses. I have meanwhile traveled in many lands, and have had my full share of adventures. But still, every incident in the "Dangerous Journey" which I have attempted to describe is as fresh in my mind as if it happened but yesterday.

OBSERVATIONS IN OFFICE

I.
MY OFFICIAL EXPERIENCES

There is something very fascinating in public office. The dignity of the position touches our noblest sympathies, and makes heroes and patriots of the most commonplace men. It is wonderful, too, how unselfish people become under the influence of this most potent charm. Every four years it becomes an epidemic. The passional attraction of office is felt throughout the length and breadth of the land. Many thousands of our best citizens visit the seat of government at the inauguration of a new president. A large proportion of them have faithfully served their country by contributing their time, talents, energies, and pecuniary resources to the success of the dominant party. But they don't want any thing; they have a natural repugnance to office; they merely come to look on, and pay their respects to the chief magistrate. If he deems it necessary to solicit their services for the common good, it is not for them, as patriotic citizens, to refuse. The seductive influences of official position may tend, perhaps, to quicken their perception of the grades of service in which their time could be most profitably spent; but modesty, after all, is their predominant trait. Indeed, for that matter, the general characteristic of great men is modesty, and where will you see so many notoriously great men as in Washington upon the advent of a new administration. The difficulty is to find a man who is not great. You may find many who are poor, some thriftless, and a few worthless, but none deficient in greatness. It must not be understood, however, that mercenary considerations have any connection with the charm which allures them thither. These excellent people – as in my own case, for example – are governed by motives of the purest and most exalted patriotism. Who is there so destitute of national pride – so indifferent to the welfare of his fellow-beings, that he does not desire to serve his country when he sees that she stands in need of his services?

The consideration of a per-diem allowance could not be wholly discarded, but I assure you, upon the veracity of a public officer, it had not the slightest influence upon me when I accepted the responsible position of Inspector General of Public Depositories. The Secretary of the Treasury – a gentleman in whom I had great confidence – required my services. I was unwilling, of course, to stand in the way of an efficient administration of the affairs of his department. The fact is, I had great personal respect for him, and was anxious to afford him all the assistance in my power. I do not pretend to say that the appointment of inspector general was destitute of attractions in itself, but they were not of a pecuniary character. The title had a sonorous and authoritative ring about it altogether different from the groveling jingle of filthy lucre – something that vibrated upon the higher chords of the soul.

An honorable ambition to serve one's country is one of the highest and most ennobling passions that can govern the human mind. To this may be attributed some of the greatest achievements which have given lustre to ancient and modern history. It has developed the greatest intellects of the Old and New World, and furnished the rising generation with illustrious models of unselfish devotion to the common welfare of mankind.

No wonder, then, that office possesses such extraordinary attractions. It is the cheapest way of becoming great. A man never before heard of outside of his village home – never before known to do any thing remarkable by his most intimate friends – never before suspected of possessing the least capacity for mental or manual labor of any kind whatsoever, may become, in the course of four-and-twenty hours, a topic of newspaper comment throughout the whole country – praised for virtues he never possessed, abused for vices to which he never aspired. An appointment places him prominently before the public. It shows the world that there was always something in him – whether whisky or sense matters little, since he has received the endorsement of the "powers that be."

To make a short story of it, I was obliged to accept the position. The party in power stood in need of my services. I could not refuse without great detriment to the country. This was many years since; and I beg to say that there is nothing in my journal of experiences bearing upon the present state of affairs. At great pecuniary sacrifice (that is to say, in a prospective sense, for I hadn't a dime in the world), I announced myself as ready to proceed to duty. In his letter of instructions, the Secretary of the Treasury was pleased to direct me to proceed to the Pacific coast, and carefully examine into the condition of the revenue service in that remote region. I was to see that the accounts of the collectors were properly kept and rendered; that the revenue laws were faithfully administered; that the valuation of imports was uniform throughout the various districts; whether any reduction could be made in the number of inspectors and aids to the revenue stationed within their limits, with a view to a more economical administration of the laws; whether the public moneys were kept in the manner prescribed by the Independent Treasury Act of August 6th, 1846; and what additional measures, if any, were necessary for the prevention of smuggling and other frauds upon the revenue, all of which I was to report, with such views as might be suggested in the course of the investigation for the promotion of the public interests. These were but a few of the important subjects of official inquiry upon which I was to enlighten the Department. I frankly confess that, when I read the instructions, and pondered over their massive proportions and severe tone of gravity, I was appalled at the immensity of the interests committed to my charge. A somewhat versatile career, during which I had served before the mast in a whaler, studied medicine, hunted squirrels in the backwoods, followed the occupation of ferry-keeper, flat-boat hand, and short-hand writer, had not fitted me particularly for this sort of business. What did I know about the forms of accounts current, drawbacks, permits, entries, appraisements, licenses, enrollments, and abstracts of imports and exports? What reliable or definite information was I prepared to give to collectors of customs in reference to schedules and sliding scales? What hope was there that I could ever get to the bottom of a fraud upon the revenue service, when I had but a glimmering notion of the difference between fabrics of which the component parts were two thirds wool, and fabrics composed in whole or in part of sheet-iron, leather, or gutta-percha?

As for inspectors of customs, how in the world was an agent to find out how many inspectors were needed except by asking the collector of the district, who ought to know more about it than a stranger? But if the collector had half a dozen brothers, cousins, or friends in office as inspectors, would it not be expecting a little too much of human nature to suppose he would say there were too many in his district? I reflected over the idea of asking one of these gentlemen to inform me confidentially if he thought he could dispense with a dozen or so of his relatives and friends without detriment to the public service, but abandoned it as chimerical. Then, to go outside and question any disinterested member of the community on this subject seemed equally absurd. Who could be said to be disinterested when only a few offices were to be filled, and a great many people wished to fill them? I would be pretty sure to stumble upon some disappointed applicant for an inspectorship, or, worse still, upon a smuggler. It is a well-ascertained fact that disappointed applicants for office are always opposed to the fortunate applicants, and smugglers, as a general rule, have a natural antipathy to inspectors of customs.

There was another serious duty imposed upon me – to ascertain the character and standing of all the public employés, their general reputation for sobriety, industry, and honesty, and to report accordingly. Here was rather a delicate matter – one, in fact, that might be productive of innumerable personal difficulties. Having no unfriendly feeling toward any man, and attaching a fair valuation to life, I did not much relish the notion of placing any man's personal infirmities upon the official records. If a public officer drank too much whisky, it was certainly a very injurious practice, alike prejudicial to his health and morals; but where was to be the gauge between too much and only just enough? No man likes to have his predilection for stimulating beverages made a matter of public question, and the gradations between temperance and intemperance are so arbitrary in different communities that it would be a very difficult matter to report upon. I have seen men "sociable" in New Orleans who would be considered "elevated" in Boston, and men "a little shot" in Texas who would be regarded as "drunk" in Maine. It is all a matter of opinion. No man is ever drunk in his own estimation, and whether he is so in the estimation of others depends pretty much upon their standard of sobriety. With respect to honesty, that was an equally delicate matter. What might be considered honest among politicians might be very questionable in ordinary life. I once knew of a public officer who had been charged with embezzling certain public moneys. There was no doubt of the fact, but he fought a duel to prove his innocence. In one respect, at least, he was honest – he placed a fair valuation upon his life, which was worth no more to the community than it was to himself. I did not think an ordinary per-diem allowance would be sufficient to compensate for maintaining the public credit by such tests as this, especially as there were nearly two hundred public offices to be examined; but it seemed nothing more than reasonable that the laws should be administered by sober and honest men, and, upon the whole, I could not perceive how this unpleasant duty could be avoided.

The Department furnished me with a penknife, a pencil, several quires of paper, and a copy of Gordon's Digest of the Revenue Laws. This was my outfit. It was not equal to the outfit of a minister plenipotentiary, but there was a certain dignity in its very simplicity. To be the owner of a fine Congressional penknife, a genuine English lead-pencil, paper ad libitum, and Gordon's Digest, was no trifling advance in my practical resources. I looked into the Digest, read many of the laws, and became satisfied that the Creator had not gifted me with any capacity for understanding that species of writing. For Mr. Gordon, who had digested those laws, I felt a very profound admiration. His powers of digestion were certainly better than mine. I would much rather have undertaken to digest a keg of spike nails. The Act of March 2, 1799, upon which most of the others were based, was evidently drawn with great ability, and covered the whole subject. Like a Bœotian fog, however, it covered it up so deep that I don't think the author ever saw it again after he got through writing the law. Whenever there was a tangible point to be found, it was either abolished, or so obscured by some other law made in conformity with the progress of the times that it became no point at all; so that, after perusing pretty much the whole book, and referring to Mayo's Compendium of Circulars and Treasury Regulations, I am free to confess the effect was very decided. I knew a great deal less than before, for I was utterly unable to determine who was right – Congress, Gordon, Mayo, or myself.

Under these circumstances, it will hardly be a matter of surprise that serious doubt as to my capacity for this service entered my mind. Perhaps, in the whole history of government offices, it was the first time such a doubt ever entered any man's head upon receiving an appointment, and I claim some credit for originality on that account. The position was highly responsible; the duties were of a very grave and important character, bordering on the metaphysical. Now, had I been requested to visit Juan Fernandez, and report upon the condition of Robinson Crusoe's castle, or ascertain the spot in which he found the footprint in the sand, or describe for the benefit of science the breed of wild goats descended from the original stock – had these questions been involved in my instructions, or had I been appointed to succeed Sancho Panza in the government of Nantucket (which I verily believe was the island referred to by Cervantes), I could have had no misgivings of success. But this awful thing of abstracts and accounts current; this subtile mystery of appraisements, appeals, drawbacks, bonds, and bonded warehouses; this terrible demon of manifests, invoices, registers, enrollments, and licenses; this hateful abomination of circulars on refined sugar, and fabrics composed in whole or in part of wool; this miserable subterfuge of triplicate vouchers and abstracts of disbursements, combined to cast a gloom over my mind almost akin to despair. The question arose, would it not be the most honorable course to return the commission to the Secretary of the Treasury, and confess to him confidentially, as a friend, that I thought he would render the country greater service by appointing a more suitable agent? But then there was the per-diem allowance, a very snug little sum, much needed at the time; and there was the honor of the position – a pillar in the federal structure; and then the advantage of travel, and the charm of becoming at once famous in the national records. Besides, it might be considered disrespectful to say to the Secretary of the Treasury – a gentleman from an interior state, who had no experience in commerce or public finances – that I had no experience in these things myself, and doubted my capacity to do justice to the government. Might he not regard such a confession in the light of a personal reflection?

After all, I thought it would be as well perhaps to try my hand at the business. Many a man never finds out that he is great in some particular line till he tries his hand. I have at this moment in my eye at least half a dozen senators of the United States who I verily believe would make excellent butchers, bakers, blacksmiths, and carpenters, if they only knew it. I am acquainted with some that would be an ornament to any court of justice as public criers, and not a few who would make capital hands at playing quoits and pitch-penny. In short, I know many men occupying these positions who would succeed even better in other branches of industry than in the capacity of statesmen; but the misfortune is, they are not aware of the fact, and never can be persuaded to believe it. Very few men understand what they are good for till some adventitious circumstance occurs to develop their latent and peculiar talents. In this view, it might be that I was a capital hand at revenue business, though, to tell the truth, I had never collected any revenue worth mentioning on my own account; and what experience I had had in depositories was confined to my own pockets, which seldom retained the sums deposited in them over twelve hours, if so long as that.

A transcript from my official reports will convey some idea of my labors under the complicated instructions issued to me at various intervals from Washington.

The first has reference to the general subject of smuggling, and proposes the removal of the Custom-house from San Francisco to Bear Harbor, near Cape Mendocino. This was addressed to his Honor the Secretary of the Treasury:

"Sir, – If Bear Harbor is eligible for any purpose in the world, it is for a port of entry and a custom-house. Not that there are any inhabitants there at present, or in the vicinity, except Indians, bears, elk, deer, and wildcats; not that any vessels ever come in there, or ever will, perhaps, but as a guard against smuggling. You know, sir, from the experience of collectors from Passamaquoddy Bay to Point Isabel, and from San Diego to the Straits of Fuca, that smuggling must be going on somewhere, else why is the Treasury Department flooded with applications for an increase of inspectors? Even senators and members of Congress unite in the opinion that a great deal of smuggling is perpetrated on remote and isolated parts of our coast, for they are always recommending some friend in whom they have confidence to keep a guard upon the revenue at such places. One would think that smugglers would rather pay duties and take their wares into a good market, than put them ashore where there are no inhabitants, and transport them at double the risk and cost to some place where they are wanted. If they must enjoy the pleasure of violating the law at all, would it not pay better to smuggle their wares directly into the principal cities, as New York or San Francisco, for example? I know that in the former place they incur some risk of detection from night inspectors, who are supposed to be always on the look-out about the wharves after dark; but in San Francisco the night inspectors have been abolished on account of the soporific effects of the climate. Several of them fell asleep directly after receiving their appointments, and never woke up, except on pay-day, during the entire term of their service.

"For some years, at least, one collector of customs could perform all the duties that might be required of him at Bear Harbor. No doubt the dullest and laziest politician in the entire state could be hired to occupy the position at three thousand dollars per annum. The collector at the city of Gardner, which consists of two small frame shanties and a pig-pen, situated at the mouth of the Umpqua River – where shipwreck is almost absolutely certain in case a vessel attempts to enter – receives only a thousand dollars per annum. Sir, it can not be expected that a gentleman more than ordinarily gifted with valuable traits of character can be obtained for so small a sum. Government is compelled to pay for the services of active and intelligent collectors at the ports of Benicia, Sacramento, Stockton, Monterey, San Pedro, and San Diego, three thousand dollars a year each. If they were at all conspicuous for idleness, it is impossible to conjecture what it would cost to obtain their services; but the amount of labor performed by these gentlemen (who, by the way, are all very excellent persons, and for whom I entertain great personal respect) is almost incredible. At Benicia the duties of the office are absolutely onerous. From one to two vessels a year enter that port with coals from Cardiff, which are deposited at the dépôt of the Pacific Steam-ship Company. Upon these coals the duties have to be computed and accounts rendered to the Department, besides which he is compelled to keep an accurate account of his own salary. For all this he is only allowed the occasional services of one inspector, whereas he ought to be allowed three. If they were gentlemen of a lively temperament, they would at least give something of vitality to the present deserted appearance of the port. I have known a smaller number than that to produce a considerable sensation in the public streets of other cities. A great deal of trouble to the Benicia collector might be saved if the two Cardiff vessels per annum were permitted to enter at San Francisco on their way up.

"At Sacramento the duties of the collector are still more arduous. Indeed, it is a matter of surprise that any man can be found to undertake them at three thousand dollars a year. A vessel with foreign goods entered this port in 1849, since which period some six or eight consecutive collectors have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of another. The most remarkable part of it is, that the other vessel has never yet arrived. Upon a review of the facts, I think that any person of a less sanguine temperament than a collector of customs would have long since given up the hope of obtaining any public revenue from this source. Somehow all the vessels have a habit of stopping at San Francisco, paying duties there, discharging their cargoes for interior transportation, and going about their business, which must be a constant subject of mortification to the Sacramento collectors. I have known respectable gentlemen who occupied this position to be denied over twenty-five dollars a month for office-rent, after it had ranged for years at two or three hundred – even denied the services of a deputy or clerk, and actually compelled to make out their own pay accounts!

"And yet these officers are required to attend at primary meetings, conventions, and legislative assemblages, and keep the party all right, when there may be a complication of difficulties between the various aspirants for the Senate of the United States, utterly impossible to settle except by electing them all.

"At Stockton the case is still harder. I never knew a collector there to have any thing at all to do, except to keep the run of his office-rent and salary, which, in justice it must be said, is a branch of public duty always faithfully performed. Yet this officer is expected to pass the time agreeably year after year on a miserable pittance of three thousand dollars, without even the hope of ever seeing a dutiable cargo landed upon the wharves of the city. I do not believe that the most sanguine gentleman that ever held that position aspired to any thing of greater commercial value than a flock of sheep supposed to be on the way from Mexico, and for the capture and confiscation of which two inspectors were for many years stationed at the Tejon Pass, about three hundred miles from Stockton. But even the hope of seizing these sheep or their descendants has been blasted since Congress abolished the duties on stock; and now the collector, to protect the revenue, must fail unless he succeeds in getting hold of a box of contraband articles that it is supposed certain parties in San Francisco are awaiting an opportunity to send up, either by the steam navigation line or some of the small sailing craft that ply on this route. As this box of goods has been expected ever since 1852, the prospect of its appearance and seizure is becoming more favorable every year. If there was a surveyor stationed at the mouth of the San Joaquin – say in the city called 'the New York of the Pacific' – the chances of seizure would be greatly augmented. There is a surveyor of customs at Nisquelly, in the Territory of Washington, and another at Santa Barbara, who might render some aid by the transmission of secret information. I do not know what has become of the surveyor at Pacific City, near the mouth of the Columbia. The last time I saw him he was engaged in the performance of his official functions in the tin business at Oregon City, the City of Pacific having been discontinued about two years previously in consequence of a lack of inhabitants.