Books: Their Mariposa Legend
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Charlotte Herr >> Their Mariposa Legend
"Doubtest thou then, my motherless one, the judgment of him who loves
thee?" he asked.
"I doubt it not, my father," answered his daughter. "Yet would I not wed
with the Spaniard," she added stubbornly.
"The blue-eyed senor from England" - there was a hint of humor in his
tone, - "he it is who steals thy fancy! Is it not so, my Wildenai?"
Then, after a moment: "Right well knowest thou my only wish is to make
thee happy." Again his voice, though gentle, grew serious almost to
sadness. "No mere whim it is that counsels me to wed thee to Cabrillo.
"There is something - " He paused, continuing with effort, - "a reason I
have never told thee why it seems most fitting. Now I will tell thee.
That reason is because, because, my Wildenai, thou art Spanish born
thyself."
The princess drew a hasty breath. In the darkness he felt rather than
saw her startled eyes upon him.
"My father!" The exclamation, filled with pain as well as astonishment,
touched him to the quick. Tenderly he drew her to him. Then briefly, as
was the Indian way, yet with the pictured phrasing which caused each
scene to spring into vivid life before the young girl's eyes, he told
her of the day, already more than eighteen years gone by, when, in the
wake of a long midwinter storm, the first sailing vessel ever beheld by
his people had fled for refuge to their bay; and of the little girl
carefully brought to shore by her old nurse in the first boat to touch
the beach. A mere baby she was, too young to know aught of her
misfortune, yet a princess royal, rudely dispossessed of her right to
the throne of Spain, and smuggled aboard the adventurer Cabrillo's ship
to be dropped in some out-of-the-way corner of the western world. Even
then, he made it clear, she might have perished, - since little recked
the Spanish explorer what should happen, well knowing that upon his
return no questions would be asked, - had it not been for his Indian
wife. She, lacking children of her own, had taken an instant fancy to
the dark-eyed little girl, a fancy so strong that nothing would do but
they must adopt her as their own daughter into the tribe to belong
forever, according to their law, she and her children, to the Mariposa.
"Nor, because thy mother - for ever was she a true mother to thee -
thought that it might grieve thee, have any of my people ever given thee
cause to doubt that thou wert native born," he finished proudly. "Loyal
have they been, doing all they could to make thee happy. But now that
thy Indian mother is dead, and I myself grow old, I thought to wed thee,
knowing his desire, to the son of that same Cabrillo who brought thee to
us, for I long to be sure, when at length I go, that thou art safe, - at
home."
He waited then and in the silence only the low weeping of the girl was
heard. At length the old chief spoke again, and now in his voice love
conquered disappointment.
"Much do I desire it, but that matters not. I would not have thee
unhappy. I myself will tell the senor that what he hopes for cannot be."
Slowly Wildenai bent her head until it touched his feet. Then she
nestled close against him.
"I thank thee, oh my father!" she cried, and all her voice was music
because of her joy. "And thou art still my father," she added,
earnestly. "What care I to go to Spain? I will stay always with thee."
"For a time, it may be. Yet have a care, little wild rose," he
cautioned, smiling, "Let not the Englishman lure thee away! He, too, may
not be all that thou thinkest."
And even as he spoke, in mocking confirmation of his words, there came
to them suddenly from across the water, the distant creaking of ropes,
the snapping of sails flung hastily to the wind. Before their
unbelieving eyes the vessel swung about and put slowly out to sea. Dumb
with amazement they watched until the last faint light flickered into
darkness. Not until the remotest chance of a mistake was past did the
old chief rise, trembling with rage, to his feet.
"See'st thou now what I meant, my daughter? The English pale-faces know
not the meaning of honor, - no, nor of gratitude either!"
He lifted his long spear from the ground and shook it fiercely.
"The words of the Mariposa are few," he cried, "but their revenge is
sure. Let but an Englishman set foot again on Punagwandah and, swifter
than the arrow leaves the bowstring, he dies!"
And at once, without answer, in the silence of suffering which only the
wild things of the earth understand, Wildenai crept from the lodge, her
heart heavy with its own bitter disappointment. Noiselessly she passed
among the tepees where her father's people slept. Not one of them should
ever know how far dwelt slumber from her own eyes that night. Up the
steep trail beyond the Bay of Moons she climbed and flung herself
weeping on the bed of skins within the cavern.
"Oh, thou false one," she moaned, "why did'st thou promise then, when
never did'st thou mean to keep it?"
Yet nothing had been farther from the young Englishman's thoughts when
he left her than faithlessness to his word. On reaching the ship again
he had gone directly to his cabin. Here he took from its small but
richly embroidered case a slender chain of gold, threaded so closely
with garnets that even in the dim light of the one flaring lantern, the
only illumination the room could boast, it glowed, a glancing stream of
crimson, in his hand. This he carried to the light and as he examined it
under the lantern he smiled.
"Never saw the little maid such jewels before, I'll warrant me! Yet,
beshrew my heart, but she deserves them. Indian though she be, still is
she, nevertheless, the loveliest woman that ever mine eyes have looked
upon!"
Then, stowing the necklace carefully away in his belt, he went at once
in search of the commander.
But at this point an unexpected difficulty had presented itself. He
found Sir Francis in close conversation with his pilot.
"Marry, Sir, an it fit n'er so ill with thy wish," the keen-eyed old
mariner was saying. "I still maintain it were a shame to lose this wind.
Gift or no gift, I've sailed these latitudes before, my lord, and by
heaven I swear we're not like to have such another breeze, no, not till
the change of the moon, and that you know yourself, sir, is a good
fortnight hence."
Sir Francis, striding back and forth within the narrow confines of the
quarter deck, appeared to be weighing the old man's words with unusual
care. At length, however, he turned as one who has made his decision.
"By the mass and it shall be even as you say, Jarvis," he declared. "I
think myself 'twere well to push on at once. At the most they be but
Indians!" The last words were spoken in a lower tone as if to himself.
"'Twill matter little either way!"
It was at this point that young Harold stepped hastily forward. For,
strangely enough, although on the morning of that same day such a
proceeding would scarcely have appealed to him as being at all unfitting
or out of the ordinary, yet now it seemed unthinkable.
"But, good sir," he interrupted, "you would not so belie your promise!
To do as Jarvis here advises, - by heaven, 'twould be neither truthful
nor honorable! 'Tis not like you, Sir Francis!"
Drake shot at him a surprised glance from under his bushy eyebrows, then
shrugged his shoulders.
"Prate not to me, my lord, of truth or honor amongst these savages," he
replied. "Did not their chief himself but even now lie to me? Well knew
the rascally heathen where the Spaniard hides! The truth indeed! They
know not the meaning of such words."
In vain the younger man petitioned to be allowed to deliver the promised
gift with the aid of his own retinue.
"Thou can'st not get under way for two hours at best, sir," he pleaded,
"and well within that time I will be back. 'Tis but a stone's throw to
the shore!"
But Drake first scoffed at his rashness, then, finally losing patience,
as commander of the expedition he sternly forbade him or any of his men
to leave the ship.
"We dare not lose the wind," he finished emphatically, "and are like to
start at any minute." Then, turning on his heel, he strode away to his
cabin and shut the door behind him.
Left in this unceremonious fashion, young Harold considered a moment,
glancing with anxious eyes at the dim line of the coast just visible in
the darkness. For some minutes he leaned upon the rail, lost in thought.
"The old man will e'en have to bear his disappointment," he muttered at
length, "but, an' heaven help me, the maid shall not!"
Then he, too, left the deck to seek out his favorite retainer, the dark,
swarthy man who had sat that morning in the prow of the long boat. To
him he explained his difficulty, adding grimly:
"And so thou see'st, Mortimer, that I have work cut out for thee!"
He threw an arm about the other's shoulders and in this familiar fashion
the two men paced the deck together, conversing in low tones.
"And besides," observed the nobleman as they paused a moment before
parting, "would'st know the truth about the matter? For all old Jarvis'
prating, the Golden Hind is not like to sail before the dawn, no, nor
even then! Jarvis is ever the man to make a show of much hurry, but - "
he snapped his fingers scornfully, "only aid me now, unseen by anyone,
to launch the Zephir, and by our virgin queen herself I swear, when once
again we see the shores of Merry England, thou shalt find 'twas well
worth thy trouble."
His companion smiled even while, with the trained servility of the
retainer, he doffed his cap.
"Aye, truly, my lord," he answered, "but, since it were an impossible
feat to get so much as a colt into the Zephir, methinks thou hast a gift
of thine own to bestow on yonder pretty Indian maid!"
The blood leaped to Sir Harry's cheek. With a quick gesture he placed
his hand upon his sword.
"Presume not upon my favor, Mortimer, or by heaven! - " he began
angrily, but stopped suddenly as, with a fearless laugh, the man beside
him pushed the half-drawn weapon back into its place.
"Nay then, not so fast, my lord," he chuckled gaily. "Hearkee, my
master. I did but use my eyes during their everlasting pow-wow. Surely
ye would not grudge me that! And the maid is comely, well worth a
trinket from thy store. Besides," he laughed slyly, "I saw e'en more to
thine interest, for methinks the princess is as much in love with thy
looks as art thou with hers."
"Silence, fool! Thou hast said more than enough already. Think'st thou
the son of a duke royal would look at a brown-skinned savage, an
unbelieving pagan, no matter how comely, as thou call'st it, she might
be!"
But the flush remained, nevertheless, on the dark cheek of the young
nobleman as he strode angrily from the deck.
The moonlight had laid a quivering path of light across the water before
Wildenai raised her bowed head from the ground. But, at length, drawing
her blanket more closely about her, for into the night air the chill of
the ocean had crept, she was about to leave the cave when a sudden sound
from the beach below arrested her. For a moment she listened in silence
while the shout was repeated, then stood dumb with amazement. A third
time it came to her, borne on the rising wind, the terrified cry of a
man in dire distress. Nor was it one of her own people who thus called
out of the darkness for help. Swiftly she ran to an overhanging ledge of
rock from which, by lying flat and peeping over, she could, without
exposing herself, command a wide view of the sea.
At the first glance there appeared to be nothing amiss. Far beneath her
the noisy breakers spilled in liquid silver on the beach. Above their
musical booming no other sound could be heard. Then suddenly she saw
him. A tiny boat it was, tossing dangerously close to the great rounded
boulder which, together with a still larger one from which it had at
some distant time been broken off, formed the outermost boundary of the
curving Beach of Moons. The dark figure standing erect in the boat
strove with the aid of an oar to keep it from being dashed to pieces
against the giant rock. Again there floated up to her the desperate call
for help. The voice was that of the English noble!
Instantly the girl sprang to her feet, and without the slightest
hesitation ran lightly down the perilous incline, leaping fearlessly
from rock to rock, until, within a few seconds, she stood poised above
the seething surf on the top of the larger boulder. Here, balancing
herself as easily and securely as a wild antelope, she raised her arms
to dive. But now from the shadows below the white man called once more.
"Attempt it not, oh Wildenai! 'Tis death to leap from there!"
But without waiting even to reply, the Indian girl sprang into the
waves. An instant later and he saw her arms gleam in the moonlight as,
with the strong slow strokes of an experienced swimmer, she struck out
for the boat. In spite of the perilous rocking of the little craft he
rested on his oar to watch her for a moment in sheer admiration of her
skill. But the maid knew well the danger of every instant's delay. In
the very nick of time she seemed almost to throw herself between him and
the rocks while, with a strength he would have believed impossible in
one so small, she pulled the boat around. Then, still swimming and
without a word to him, she began to push it ahead of her toward the
shore. It was but a few minutes before they stood together on the beach.
And now the young noble, overcome with gratitude, fell on his knees
before her and caught her hand between his own. He would have kissed it
in sheer joy at his escape, but the Indian girl drew sharply back.
"Quick!" she whispered, yet remembering to speak in Spanish, "You must
hide yourself at once. My father will kill you if he should find you
here!"
Swiftly she concealed the boat in a tiny cove behind the boulder, a
hiding place he would never have seen though it was apparently perfectly
familiar to her.
"Sometimes my own canoe I keep there too," she whispered. "Now come!"
and she hurried him along the beach and up an easier trail beyond the
rocks to her cavern bower above.
Nor did she pause for an instant's rest until they had passed safely
behind the manzanita branches which concealed the entrance. Here,
motioning him to do the same, she dropped upon a pile of skins. But
instead, in real concern, the young Englishman knelt again beside her.
"Thou art so wet and cold," he began anxiously, "Will it not make thee
ill? Yet 'twas a wondrous feat," he added admiringly, "well conceived
and carried out with skill such as any man might envy!"
The princess laughed.
'Twas nothing," she answered briefly. "I do it almost every day."
"I came to bring to thee the gift I promised," explained Lord Harold
then, and from his belt he drew the little case. Eagerly he flung the
gleaming string of garnets about her slim brown throat.
"Jewels brought by my father to my mother on the morning of their
marriage," he told her. "When she lay dying she gave them me and told me
never to part with them except I gave them to my - " He paused suddenly,
"But thou hast saved my life!" he added as quickly, "Who else could ever
deserve them more? Well know I my mother would wish thee to have them."
Silently, though her eyes were bright with, pleasure, the princess
lifted the beautiful necklace.
"Wildenai will wear them always, senor lord," she answered softly, "for
now she knows that truly you did mean to keep your word!"
And so, his mission accomplished, her guest rose hastily to his feet. He
must return immediately to the ship.
"Know you not, then, that it is gone?" exclaimed the girl, amazed.
"Gone?" echoed young Harold, and stared at her astounded. He seemed not
to have grasped her meaning. "Gone, said'st thou?"
"The ship was out of sight a full hour or more ere ever I heard you
call," she explained.
Still he continued to gaze at her fixedly as if totally unable to
comprehend what she would have him know. Then it was plain to be seen
that, for the moment at least, blank despair took hold upon him. Up and
down the length of the cave he strode like some imprisoned wild thing.
At length, standing quite still with folded arms, he seemed to lose
himself in thought.
"Battling with the surf I did not see nor hear," he muttered at last.
"But he could not sail without me!" he added. Fiercely he raised his
head and his eyes flashed. "He dare not so betray me!"
Wildenai, too, had been considering.
"The great white captain knew, then, that you were not on board?" she
asked suddenly.
"No," replied the young man reluctantly, "that did he not. I came
without his knowledge. He would have prevented me," he continued
stubbornly, "and I had promised thee a gift. Never did I break my word,
nor would not then. But I did not dream it possible they could get away
so soon! By our virgin lady in Heaven I swear I know not what to do."
And once more he seemed lost in despair.
But only for a moment. Then he turned hastily to the entrance.
"I must follow them at once," he declared impatiently, "I can overtake
them even yet."
Swift as lightning the girl threw herself between him and the opening in
the cave.
"No, no, senor Englishman," she cried. "It is impossible! Listen, only
listen to me! What have you, then, to steer by save the stars? And you
see that, drowned in moonlight, they do not shine tonight. And, more
than that, you do not even know what course the vessel takes. Remember,
too, that there is neither food nor drink within your boat. You would
surely die ere you could ever find the ship."
Gradually she compelled him to listen to reason until, seating himself
again upon the skins, he challenged her still further.
"But what, then, shall I do?" he demanded. "Can'st also tell me that?"
And with equal readiness the princess replied:
"If you will but let me I can hide you here. The cavern is my own. Here
for many a moon have I worked and waited. No one would dare to enter.
You will be safe. Besides, my father's anger will grow cold in time, and
then I know that, if I ask him, he will help you."
His chin propped upon his hands, the young nobleman moodily considered.
"Well, do then as thou deemest best," he told her finally.
And from that moment there began for the little princess a time so
wonderful that for all the rest of her life she remembered each separate
hour as though it had been some beautiful word in a poem learned by
heart.
With deft fingers she piled her softest doeskins for his bed.
"But what wilt thou do, tell me, if I rob thee of thy nest?" he asked,
watching her with amused eyes as she worked.
"I go always to the village to sleep," she answered simply, and so left
him.
But in the morning while yet the red of sunrise burned above the great
peak Orazaba, she returned, bearing upon her head an olla of carved
stone filled with water from a mountain spring. This in smiling silence
she set before him and disappeared. Within the hour, however, she was
back again and this time, kneeling on the ground, she laid at his feet
the ripe fruit of the manzanita tree, lying like small red apples, dewy
fresh, upon a wild-grape leaf.
"Ala - ate, see! Are they not good?" she asked triumphantly.
And so from day to day she ministered to him. Many a time as he sat,
listless and moody, within his hiding-place, a handful of wild
strawberries, steeped in the warm sweetness of the hills, would be
pushed beneath the leafy branches that concealed the door. Sometimes she
brought him bread baked from a curious kind of meal made of pounded
seeds.
Once, too, when a sudden storm had chilled the air, she kindled a fire
for him within a smaller cave, receding like a fire-place into the rocky
wall opposite the opening. It was a long and tedious process which the
man watched curiously. First, kneeling on the ground, she rubbed
together two dry willow sticks until a little pile of dust had gathered.
Then, still stooping, she struck two flints together until at last a
spark fell into the dust. Some dry leaves were dropped upon the tiny
blaze, then twigs, and lo, a fire!
In spite of himself the Englishman smiled, though a softer feeling shown
in his eyes. How beautiful and yet how childish she looked kneeling
there with the anxious pucker between her brows. Poor little princess,
how very hard she worked to serve him!
"It takes a long time, Wildenai," he observed, "dost thou try it often?"
"Never for myself," she answered gravely. "I have no need. But I do it
gladly for you." She smiled brightly back at him, then rose and moved
swiftly to the doorway. "Another thing I do for you today. Wait!"
And when she returned a few minutes later she brought with her,
carefully wrapped in cool green leaves, a fish freshly caught that
morning.
"A brook trout, on my word, such as I have often taken in the streams at
home!" exclaimed Lord Harold, amazed.
"I got it far up the canyon before the sun was risen," she answered,
delighted at his surprise.
This, having quickly dressed it, she wrapped again in leaves and placed
under the hot ashes to bake, and it being, evidently, a feast out of the
ordinary, a merry-making to which a third guest might be bidden,
suddenly Wildenai left the cavern again to return this time with a tiny
gray fox perched familiarly upon her shoulder.
"'Tis Onatoa, senor Englishman," she announced, gently stroking the
bushy tail of the little creature as it lay about her neck.
But from his vantage point above his rival, Onatoa merely sniffed
disdainfully with his sharp black nose. He looked far from friendly.
The princess laughed softly.
He does not know you yet," she defended her pet. "He will soon learn to
love you, too."
"I will catch fish with thee next time thou goest," declared young
Harold later as they ate together. "There's no reason I can see why I
should stay mewed up forever in this cave. I fear not Indians! No, not
even Torquam, thy father, himself."
For an instant Wildenai seemed alarmed. Then she laughed.
"You are afraid of nothing. I knew it!" she exclaimed with pride. "Nor
would there be much danger. We will go to the other side of the island
where the waves run high and the cliffs are tall and black. There will I
show you the nests of the great eagles, and the antelope leaping among
the rocks. And, - who can tell?" she laughed again with child-like
pleasure, "perhaps we shall find a white otter!"
And, true to her word, he heard at dawn next day outside the cavern the
whistle of a blackbird, a signal early contrived between them. She
deemed it best, she explained, to start thus early that the darkness
might conceal them until they had passed well beyond the outskirts of
the village. But this danger overcome, they spent the whole day rambling
fearlessly among the hills, - a long, idle, happy day. Up many a dim
trail winding back into the canyons the princess led him. Through golden
thickets of wild mustard they passed, coming, when he least expected it,
upon glimpses of the summer sea framed between the branches of knarled
old oak trees.
"They are low and crooked, and they spread themselves over the ground as
do our English oaks," the young nobleman informed her.
As Wildenai had promised they discovered, poised high among the crags of
the wild southern shore, the great eagles of which she had told him,
measuring easily, from wing-tip to wing-tip, fully a dozen feet. The
white otter, rarest and most valuable of all the game hunted by her
people, eluded them, but many a small gray fox slipped away among the
bushes, leaving the Englishman tingling for the chase.
At twilight, as they made their way back to the cavern, they came upon a
tiny lake lying asleep within the crater of a dead volcano. From the
sides little clouds of ashes rose, floating softly away on the breezes
of evening. The princess gathered a handful and murmuring some musical
words in her own tongue she threw them into the air.
"And would it be amiss for me to ask what 'tis you do?" questioned her
companion, observing her closely.
"I was sending a prayer to Wakan-ate, the Great Spirit," she replied
quietly.
"A prayer, - and borne to heaven on the wings of ashes!" He seemed
amused. "But what hast thou to pray for, oh fair princess?"
Her cheeks glowing with quick color, she replied: "It were not fitting
that any maiden tell for what she prays!"
The words were spoken with such gravity that the young man flushed under
the rebuke.
When she left him at the doorway of the cavern that evening she said as
she made a gay little gesture of farewell: "Today the land, but tomorrow
we shall find still more beautiful things that lie hidden under the deep
waters. You shall see!"
And once again with dawn she came. This time it was the splash of a
paddle that brought him to the opening in the rock.
"Aloho-ate, lazy one!" she called gaily from below. "Make haste! The
world is always loveliest while it lies waiting for the sun!"
That day, perhaps, from among them all, lived longest within the memory
of young Harold, - the porpoises playing fearlessly around her canoe as
the princess, with graceful, effortless strokes, paddled around one
after another of the pointed tongues of rock; the flying fish, skimming
the surface of the ocean until, by virtue of their speed alone, they
rose like gleaming bows of silver from the foam. Intent to show him all
her treasures, Wildenai guided him to a quiet stretch of water lying
close to shore within the shadow of tall cliffs which rose at that point
with precipitous abruptness from the sea itself.