Vagabond life in Mexico/Story of the Passer of the Rio Atotonilco, Osorio
CHAPTER III.
Story of the Passer of the Rio Atotonilco, Osorio.—Felipe.—The young Miner.—A Duel in the Mine.
"You are perhaps aware," said the miner, "that in passing from San Miguel el Grande[1] to Dolores, the traveler is obliged to cross the Rio Atotonilco. In the rainy season the passage of this river can not be made by any but those who know the principal fords. The stream is about sixty yards wide at the place where the road to San Miguel meets it. The impetuosity of its waters, and the heavy, imposing noise of its yellow waves, produce an involuntary terror in any one who requires to cross it at this place. On the opposite bank, a few cabins, formed of branches, shelter a few wretched families, who make a scanty living by piloting the passengers across by the fords, with which they are acquainted. Often, when the traveler on the other side sees the poor half-clad people wandering upon the bank, and throwing themselves into the water, he hesitates, turns his bridle, and gallops off. A sad event proved that too little confidence can not be placed in men who will not be contented with the scanty living they pick up at this dangerous employment. Some years ago, an old miner of Zacatecas, who had rendered himself obnoxious to justice, and had quitted that province, came and established himself among the passers of the Rio Atotonilco. This man, whose strength and prowess rendered him formidable, was marked as having a singularly unlucky hand. Once or twice, the travelers whom he had engaged to convey across had been ingulfed by the waters of the river. One stormy night, believing himself alone, and seeing a traveler on the opposite bank, the passer crossed the ford to tender his services. He was observed by one of his comrades who had followed him, but who had hid himself among a thick clump of osiers on the brink of the river for the purpose of watching all that passed. The passer, having crossed the river, soon reappeared, followed by the cavalier, whose horse he led by the bridle. When half way across he mounted behind, and, a few seconds after, the splash of some one falling into the water was heard. One only of the horsemen remained in the saddle. This man reached the opposite bank at a considerable distance from the hamlet, and was soon lost in the darkness. The witness to the crime was a young man whom the passer had, a few days before, brutally ill used, and he was now seeking an opportunity for revenge. Thinking he had found it, he threw himself into the water, swam after the sinking body, and soon succeeded in dragging the unhappy man to the other bank, whom, by his tonsure and dress, he guessed to be a priest. Overcome with fatigue, the youth fainted. When he recovered his senses it was broad daylight, and the body of the priest was gone carried off, doubtless, by some charitably-disposed persons who had been passing. That circumstance did not check the young man's eagerness to make his deposition before the alcalde of the nearest village; but, though a pursuit was set on foot, it was unsuccessful."
My guide checked himself at this moment. As if we had arrived in the region of clouds, a mist enveloped us, which gradually converted itself into a fine and almost impalpable, but soaking rain. The torch sputtered, and gave forth a very feeble glimmer. The water ran off the bronzed body of the miner in streams. The machine again stopped, and I felt a new sinking of heart, similar to the feeling one has on the deck of a laboring ship, when he thinks that every moment he is going to the bottom. A short and terrible apprehension increased the fear of immediate danger which had come over me. I fancied that the strap which bound me to the cable had slipped, and I was sliding downward. I gave a convulsive shudder.
"Has the strap got loose?" cried the miner; then, looking downward, and seeing me always at the same distance from him, he continued, with imperturbable calmness: "A short time after the disappearance of the passer, about whom the strangest stories were noised abroad, a new miner came to work at Rayas, which is about a dozen leagues from Rio Atotonilco. He said he had served his apprenticeship in the neigh boring state of Cinaloa, and by his good-humor and liberality (for he appeared to have other resources besides his daily pay) soon gained the friendship of all his fellow-workmen. My son Felipe was the one he attached himself to more than any of the others. There was, however, between him and Osorio (that was the new miner's name) a complete dissimilarity in age and disposition. Felipe was a rough, unpolished workman, jealous of the reputation he had acquired, and haughty as a miner ought to be; for we have no need of ancient privileges to distinguish us from the vulgar, our profession ennobling the right that is granted us. Osorio, on the other hand, who was twice the age of Felipe, seemed to look upon labor as a burden, and passed his time in thrumming a guitar and preaching insubordination to the mandones (overseers). How ever, their friendship might have been of a lasting nature had they not both fallen in love with the same woman. This was the first time that they ever had a sentiment in common, in spite of their intimacy, and this was what produced the first quarrel. They continued, however, in spite of these differences, to pay their attentions to the fair damsel; for, though she preferred Felipe, she could not give up Osorio's music and merry good-humor. The frequent absence of the latter gave a great advantage to Felipe. During one of Osorio's times of absence, a report spread abroad that the Cathedral of Guanajuato had been burglariously entered, and that a monstrance of massy gold, adorned with precious stones, had disappeared from the place in which it was usually put. This sacrilegious theft struck the clergymen of the town with horror; but all their exertions to discover the daring robber were in vain. In the absence of Osorio, Felipe had succeeded in gaining the first place in the affections of the maiden to whom both had been paying their addresses. Her parents resolved to marry her to him, as it would tend to cut short the incessant quarrels that were ever taking place between them. The wedding was to take place in a short time, and all the friends of both families assembled at the young woman's house to celebrate their betrothal. Brandy and pulque flowed profusely, and music enlivened the feast, when an unexpected occurrence brought every thing to a stand-still. A man stood in the midst of the guests; that man was Osorio. Every one knew his violent disposition, and his sudden appearance caused all to tremble. Felipe alone remained cool, and waited, knife in hand, the attack of his rival; but he, without putting his hand to his belt, advanced into the circle, and apologized for having come without an invitation; then, taking a guitar from one of the musicians, he seated himself on a barrel of pulque, and began to improvise a bolero. This unexpected event caused a general surprise, and the merriment was redoubled. The party, interrupted for a moment, became more boisterous, and it broke up to assemble again on the eighth day afterward."
Here the narrator paused. We were gradually approaching the mouth of the tiro, as I could discover by the light shining through the fog which still enveloped us; besides, the higher we got, the gulf below appeared more frightful.
"Do you know what distance we are from the bottom of the mine?" cried the guide. "Five and a half times the height of the towers of the Cathedral of Mexico."
To confirm this assertion, the miner drew from his belt a bundle of tow steeped in pitch, which he lighted at his torch. My strained eye could scarcely follow it as it slowly descended the pit like a globe of fire, till it gradually became small as one of those pale stars whose light scarcely reaches our earth. The voice of the miner, who again began his recital, turned my mind away from this reflection.
"From that night on which Osorio showed himself at the betrothal, Felipe was annoyed in a thousand ways by some unknown hand. On the very next day a blast was fired close to him, and covered him with fragments of rock; another time, when he was at a considerable height in one of the galleries, the rope to which he was suspended broke suddenly. These at tempts being unsuccessful, vague assertions began to be bruited abroad, accusing poor Felipe as the thief who had stolen the monstrance. The brave young man was unwilling to recognize in Osorio the author of these foul calumnies. His eyes could hardly have been opened to the evidence that he was his calumniator, had not a young miner, who constantly watched Osorio, and who had lately entered the mine, apprised Felipe of the snares that were laid for him. Felipe resolved to seek his revenge. On the evening of the day on which the marriage was to take place (for all this had passed in less than a week), Osorio and Felipe met in the subterranean galleries of the mine. Felipe reproached Osorio with his treachery; Osorio replied by recounting the injuries he had suffered; the two then drew their knives. They were alone and almost naked; their frazadas were their only shields. Osorio was the stronger, Felipe the more agile; the issue of the combat was therefore uncertain. All at once the young miner of whom I have spoken threw him self between the two combatants. 'Allow me,' said he, to Felipe, 'to punish this sacrilegious robber; my claim is anterior to yours.' Osorio gnashed his teeth and threw himself on the young miner, who stood grimly on his defense. The two then began to fight by the light of Felipe's torch, who had now become a spectator instead of an actor. With their frazadas wound round their left arms to hide their lunges, they commenced the combat. Perhaps the struggle would have been a long-protracted one had not the young miner adopted the following stratagem: he took such a position as allowed the covering on his arm to sweep the ground; then, behind the veil which masked his movements, he slipped his knife into his other hand, and gave his adversary a mortal wound. Osorio fell. He was drawn up by the grand shaft in a costal.[2] By chance a padre happened to be passing the mine at that moment. They besought him to come and confess the wounded man; but scarcely had the dying man and the padre looked at one another than a cry of horror broke from the priest. The holy father had recognized in the wounded man the passer of the Rio Atotonilco. Osorio discovered in the priest the man he thought he had drowned, but who had escaped as if by a miracle from almost certain death. After that, by the investigations of justice, many mysteries were cleared up. The passer of the Rio Atotonilco, the sacrilegious robber, the miner of Zacatecas, and also of Rayas, were one and-the same person. The garrote did justice to the crimes of this wretch, and it was his hand you saw nailed to the wall in the grand square of Guanajuato. I must now tell you what became of Felipe. The providential recognition of the victim and his assassin was soon noised abroad, and a few hours afterward a band of alguazils appeared to arrest the miner who had stabbed Osorio. Unluckily, on that day Felipe had quitted his work sooner than ordinary. I do not know by what fatal mistake he had been pointed out as the murderer of Osorio; perhaps it was an additional token of good-heartedness on that caitiff's part at any rate, the alguazils came to seize him. The victorious combatant had escaped, and I need not tell you that this mortal enemy of Osorio's was no other than the young man whom he had ill used, and who was a witness of the crime he had committed on the Rio Atotonilco. Had Felipe remained under ground, the alguazils would not have ventured into the inner workings of the mine, for the miners would not have suffered any injury to be inflicted on a comrade in their fueros. The alguazils perceived the young man in one of the courts of the mine buildings, and immediately set off in pursuit. Felipe saw he was lost; but he resolved to die a miner's death, and not suffer himself to be dishonored by the touch of the bailiffs. Having arrived at the brink of this very shaft quite out of breath, 'I will not be insulted as if I were a vile lépero,' he cried; 'a miner is more than man; he is the instrument whom God delights to employ!' Then, with pale face and gleaming eyes, he leaped over the balustrade surrounding the shaft, and disappeared in the black gulf which now yawns beneath your feet."
The miner paused, and the light of his torch grew dim. High above our heads, at the mouth of the shaft, appeared the first gleam of daylight, like the pale blushes of early morning. The impression which the miner's story had made upon me was so great that I could not help trembling in every limb.
"It was very nearly ten years ago," said the miner, in a hollow voice, "since Felipe threw himself down this abyss, and I have never ascended the shaft since, and that has been often, without having a strong desire to cut the cable."
And the madman brandished a large knife, as if he were preparing to carry it really into effect. I would have called aloud for assistance, but, as in a frightful dream, my tongue refused to perform its office. My hands even refused to grasp the rope. Besides, what good would it do me? the cable was going to be cut right above my head. I threw a mournful look at the pale light which was tinging the green walls of the shaft, and listened to the indefinite noises which told me we were slowly approaching the haunts of men the dusky daylight appeared so beautiful the confused noises above seemed such delightful harmony. At this moment a peal of subterranean thunder burst up under my feet, and the mine roared through its many mouths like a growling volcano. The compressed air being inclosed in this enormous siphon, a powerful blast, equal to that of a strong whirlwind, shook the cable like a silk thread, and we received several severe bruises against the rocks. The torch was blown out; but, luckily, the terrible knife slipped from the miner's hands, and went whirring down the shaft.
"Cascaras! a new knife gone, worth two piastres," cried a voice, which I immediately recognized as that of Fuentes. I had scarcely pronounced his name ere a great shout of laughter burst forth right above me. It was Fuentes indeed, who had come down to serve me as a guide, and play the part of the old miner. The extreme eagerness I had shown to get rid of him prompted him to this kind of revenge.
"Do you know, Señor Cavalier," he remarked, "that you are not easily frightened? In a situation such as would have tried the nerves of the bravest man, you did not even condescend to shout for help."
"Certainly not," I replied, with an impudence which surpassed his own; "you see you have only made yourself ridiculous by trying to frighten me."
The malacate now stopped; we had finished our ascent. Desiderio was first unloosed, and I waited my turn in feverish anxiety. When the strap which bound me to the cable had been untied, I could scarcely keep myself from fainting outright. I soon recovered my senses, however. I pressed the earth with a kind of rapture. Never had Nature seemed so beautiful, so resplendent, as on that day.
In the interval that passed while our horses were getting ready, Fuentes, who had resumed his gaudy dress, stood silently by, and I took care not to be the first to speak. My foot was already in the stirrup when an old man came up to me. I could scarcely recognize, in the person whose dress vied in richness with that of Fuentes, the old miner whom I had seen a few hours before kneeling at the altar.
"You will pardon me for having broken my word," said he to me; "but my work detained me longer than I expected. You must have heard the explosion in the mine: it took place not half an hour ago."
"True," I replied. "I have been also told a touching and very mournful story.""My boy behaved nobly," replied the old man, raising his head proudly; "and you can tell in your own country that the miners are a race by themselves, and that they know how to prefer death to dishonor."
I have seen the gold-seekers in the state of Sonora, and could not help admiring the kind of grandeur which characterizes their physiognomy, for every thing in the desert takes the largest proportions; but in the towns the type of the miner was far from exercising upon me a like fascination. The whimsical and capricious character of Fuentes, and the immorality of Planillas, had brought about this disenchantment. The story I had heard, while it helped to make up my mind partly about the class, proved that the miner had not quite degenerated: the vices of Planillas, and the oddities of Fuentes, like the dark shades in a picture, disappeared before the austere figure of that old stoic who had bidden me farewell with such haughty expressions, and I forgot Osorio only when I called Felipe to remembrance.