Cris Rock

Front matter

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Chapter I. Volunteers For Texas

“I’ll go !”

This short speech issued from the lips of a young man who was walking along the levee of New Orleans. Just before giving utterance to it he had come to a sudden stop, facing a dead wall, that was enlivened, however, by a large poster on which were printed, in conspicuous letters, the words :

“volunteers for Texas!"

Underneath, in smaller type, was a proclamation, setting forth the treachery of Santa Anna and the whole Mexican nation, recalling in strong terms the massacre of Fanning, with the butchery of the Alamo,

VOLUNTEERS FOR TEXAS.

and other like atrocities, and ending in an appeal to all patriots and lovers of freedom to arm, take the field, and fight against the tyrant of Mexico and his myrmidons.

“ I’ll go !” said the young man at the first glance given to the printed document ; and then, after a quick reading of it, he repeated the words with an emphasis that told of his being in earnest.

The poster contained intimation of a meeting to be held that same night at a certain “rendezvous” in Poydras street.

The young man only lingered to make a note of the address, which was the name of a noted cafe. Having done this, he was turning to continue his walk, when his path was barred by a specimen of humanity that stood full six feet six in a pair of alligator-leather boots,

“ So ye’re goin’, air ye ?” was the half interrogative speech that proceeded from the individual thus confronting him.

“ What’s that to you ?” bluntly demanded the young fellow, his temper a little ruffled by what appeared an impertinent obstruction on the part of a huge, swaggering bully.

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“ More’n you may think for, young un,” answered the booted colossus, still standing square in the way — “ more’n ye may think for, seein’ it’s through me that ere bit o’ paper’s been put on that ere wall.”

“You’re a bill-sticker, I suppose?” sneeringly retorted the “ young un.”

“ Ha ! ha ! ha !” laughed the giant, with a cachinnation that resembled the neighing of a horse. “ A bill-sticker ! Wal, I likes that. An’ I likes yur grit, too, young fellur, for all ye are so sassy wi’ me. But ye needn’t git riled, an’ I reckin’ ye won’t, when I tell ye who I im.”

“ Who are you ?”

“ Maybe ye mout a heern o’ Cris Rock ?”

“What? Cris Rock of Texas? He who at Fanning’s—”

“At Fannin’s masacree was shot dead an’ kim alive agin.”

“Yes,” said the young man, whose interrogatory referred to the almost miraculous escape of one of the betrayed victims of the Goliad massacre.

“Jess so, young fellow. An’ since ye ’pear to know somethin’ ’bout me I needn’t tell ye I aint no bill-sticker, nor why I showed the impartinence to put in

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my jaw to ye, when I heern ye say ‘ 1 11 go.’ I thort it wouldn’t need much introduxshun to one as I mout soon hope to call kumarade. Yer cornin’ to the rendyvoo to-night, aint ye?”

“ I intended doing so.”

“ Wal I’ll be thar myself ; an’ if ye’ll only look high enough I reck’n’ ye kin sight me. I aint the shortest in a crowd,” he added, with a smile that bespoke pride in his superior stature. ‘'Tho’ ye’ll see some tall uns too ’mong them as’ll be thar. Anyhow, ye look out for Cris Rock, an’ when foun’ that chile mout be o’ some sarvice to ye.”

“ I shall do so,” said the young man, whose good temper was now quite restored.

The Texan, to bid good-by, held out a hand as broad as the blade of a canoe paddle. It was freely taken by the stranger, who, while shaking it, felt that he was being examined from head to foot.

“ Look hyar,” said the colossus, as if struck by some thought which a closer scrutiny of the young man’s person had suggested. “ Hev ye ever did any sogerin’ ? Ye’ve got the look o’ it.”

“I was educated in a military school — that’s all.”

“ Whar ? In the States ?”

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“No. I am from the other side of the Atlantic.”

“Oh ! a European. It don’t make no difference in Texas. English, I kalkerlate ?”

“No,” promptly responded the young man, with a slight scornful curling of the lip. “ I’m an Irishman, and not one of those who deny it !”

All the better for that. There’s a bit o’ the same blood somewhere in my own veins, out 6’ a grandmither, I b’lieve, as kim over the mountains into Kaintuck ’long wi’ Dan Boone an’ his lot. So ye’ve been eddycated at a milintary school. D’ye unnerstan’ trainin’ ?”

“ Certainly I do.”

“ Dog-gone me, if ye aint the man we want ! How would you like to be a officer ? I reck’n ye’re the best fit for that.”

“ Of course I should like it ; but being a stranger here, I shouldn’t stand much chance. You elect your officers, don’t you ?”

“We elect ’em ; an’ we’re agoin’ to elect some o’ ’em this very night. Lookee hyar, young fellur, I like yer looks, an’ I’ve seed proof ye’ve got the grit in ye. Now I want to tell ye somethin’. I belong to a company that’s jest formin’, and thar’s a fellur settin’ his-

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self up to be its capting. He’s a sort o’ half Spanish, half French Creole, o’ Noo Orleans hyar, an’ we old Texans don’t think too much o’ him. But then thar’s only a few o’ us, w'hile many o’ these Orleens city fellurs as are goin’ out wi’ us hez got into a big popilarity by standin’ no eend o’ drinks. He aint a bad lookin’ sort for sogerin’, an’ hez seed milintary sarvice, they say. F’r all that thar’s a hang-dog glint ’bout his eyes this chile don’t like ; neyther do some o’ the others. So, young un, ef you’ll kum down to the rendyvoo in good time, an make a speech — you can speechify, can’t ye ?”

“Oh, I suppose I could say something.”

“ Wal, you stump it, an’ I’ll put in a word or two an’ then we’ll propose ye for capting, an’ who knows we mayent git the the majority arter all? You’re willin’ to try, aint ye ?”

“Quite willing,” answered the young Irishman with an emphasis that showed how much the proposal was to his mind. “ But why, Mr. Rock, are you not a candidate yourself? You have seen service, and and would make a good captain, I should say.”

“ Me kandydate for capting ! Wal, I’m tall enough, thet’s true. But I haint no ambeetion thet way,

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Besides, this chile knows nuthin’ ’bout drill ; an’ thet’s what’s wanted bad. Ye see, we haint had had much reg'Jar sogerin’ in Texas. Thar’s whar the Mexikins hev the advantage o’ us, an’ thar’s whar you’ll hev it if you’ll Stan’. You say you will ?”

“ I will, if you wish it.”

“ All square, then,” said the Texan, once more taking his protege by the hand and giving it a squeeze like the grip of a grizzly bear. “ I’ll be on the lookout for ye. Meanwhile, thar’s yit six hours to the good afore sundown. So you go purpar’ your speech, while I slide roun’ among our fellurs, an’ do a leetle for ye in the line o’ canvassin’.”

After a final bruin-like pressure of the hand, the giant had commenced striding away, when he came to again, with a loud “ Hillow !”

‘‘What is it?” inquired the young Irishman.

“ Seems that Cris Rock air ’bout one o’ the biggest nummerskulls in all Noo Orleens. Only think it ! I war startin to take the stump for a kandydate ’ithout knowin’ the first letter o’ his name. How war ye crissened, young fellur ?”

“ Kearney— Florence Kearney.!”

“ Florence, ye say ? Ain’t that a girl’s name ?”

14 :

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“ True ; but in Ireland'many men bear it.”

“ Wal, it do seem a little kewrious, but it’ll do right slick, an’ the Kearney part soun’s well.’ I’ve heern speak o’ a Kate Kearney ; thar’s a song ’bout the girl. Mout ye be any connexshun o’ hern ?”

“No, Mr. Rock ; not that I’m aware of. She was a Killarney woman. I was brought up a little farther north on the green island.”

“ Wal ; no matter what part o’ ’t, yur all welkim to Texas, I reckin, or the States ayther. Kearney ; I like the name. It hev a good soun’, an’ it’ll soun’ a bit better wi’ ‘ Capting ’ for a handle to ’t — the which it shall hev afore ten o’clock this night, if Cris Rock aint astray in his reck’nin’. Now, young un, see as ye kum early to the rendyvoo, so as t’ hev time for a talk wi’ the boys. Thar’s something in that ; an’ if ye’ve got a ten-dollar bill to spare, spend it on drinks all roun’. Thar’s a good deal in that, too.”

So saying, the Texan strode off, leaving Florence Kearney to reflect upon the counsel so opportunely given.

A LADY IN THE CASE.

CHAPTER ir.

A LADY IN THE CASE.

Who was Florence Kearney? And what was his motive for becoming a “filibuster?” The reader shall be told without much tediousness of details.

Some six months before the encounter described, he had landed from a Liverpool cotton ship on the levee of New Orleans. A gentleman by birth and a soldier-scholar by education, he had come to the New World with the design to complete his boyhood's training by a course of travel, and prepare himself for enacting the part of a man. That this travel should be westward, over fresh, untrodden fields, instead of the hackneyed track of the European tourist, was partly due to the counsels of a tutor who had himself visited the New World, and partly to his own inclinations.

In the course of his college studies he had read the romantic history of Cortez’ conquest, until his mind had become deeply imbued with the picturesqueness

A LADY IN THE CASE.

of Mexican scenes ; and among the dreams of his juventate one of the pleasantest was the thought of one day visiting the land of Anahuac, and the ancient capital, Tenochtitlan. After leaving college the dream had grown into a determination, and was now in the act of being realized. In New Orleans he was so far on his way. He had come thither expecting to get passage in a coasting vessel for some seaport in Mexico — Tampico or Vera Cruz.

Why he had not at once continued his travels was not due to any difficulty in obtaining this passage. There were schooners sailing every week that would have accommodated him, but still he lingered in New Orleans. The cause of his lingering was one far from uncommon : It was a lady, with whom he had fallen madly in love.

At first his detention had been due to a more sensible cause. Not speaking the Spanish language, which is also that of Mexico, he knew that while travelling throughAhe latter country he would have to go as one dumb. He had heard that in New Orleans he might easily obtain a teacher. He sought and found one in the person of Don Ignacio Valverde, a refugee Mexican gentleman, a victim of the tyrant Santa Anna, who,

A LADY IN THE CASE.

banished from his country, had been for several years resident in New Orleans — as an exile. And an exile in straitened circumstances — perhaps the hardest condition of life. Once in his own country a wealthy land owner, he was now compelled to give lessons in the Spanish language to such stray p’upils as might chance to present themselves ; and among the rest, by chance, cam'e Florence Kearney, to whom he taught it.

And while the young Irishman was learning the Andalusian tougue he also learned to love one who spoke it more sweetly than his teacher. This was his teacher’s daughter.

The young Irishman advanced along the levee, his head now bowed forward, with eyes to the ground, as if examining the empty bivalves that bestrewed the path ; anon giving his glance to the river, as though suddenly stirred by its majestic movement. But he was thinking neither of the shelled pavement, nor the flow of the mighty stream, nor yet of the speech to be delivered that night at the rendezvous of filibusters ; but of a tumult of the heart, from which he had been for some time suffering.

To make known his situation to the reader, it is

A LADY IN THE CASE.

necessary to repeat what passed through his thoughts, after parting with Cris Rock,

“ There’s something odd in all this,” soliloquized he, as he stood looking after the Texan, now rapidly striding off along the levee. “ Here am I going to fight for a country I care nothing at all about, and against one with which I have no cause of quarrel. On the contrary, I have come four thousand miles to visit it, as a peaceful and friendly traveller ; and now I propose to enter it, sword in hand, as an enemy ! The native land, too, of her who has hold of my heart ! Ah ! therein lies the very reason : I have not hold of hers. I fear — I feel — I am certain of it — certain from what I saw this morning. Bah ! what’s the use thinking about it, or about her? Luisa Valverde cares no more about me than the score of others — these young Creole bloods, as they are called, who flit like bees and butterflies around her. She’s a sweet flower from which all of them wish to sip. Only one will succeed, and that’s Santander. I hate the very sight of the man. I believe him to be a cheat and a scoundrel. No matter to her. The cheat she won’t understand ; and the scound’rel would scarce disqualify him in the eyes of a woman, much less one of her race. Merci-

A LADY IN THE CASE.

ful Heavens ! to think I should love this Mexican girl, warned as I’ve been about the coquetry of her countrywomen !

“ ’Tis a fatal fascination, and the sooner I get away from her presence the better my chance of escaping the peril. It will be a sort of satisfaction to think that in fighting against her country I may in some way humiliate her. Texas ! if you should find in me a defender, it will not be from any purity of patriotism, but solely to seek oblivion frofii bitter thoughts.

“ Is there not something ominous in my meeting this Texan giant?” continued he, after a break in the train of his reflections. “ Destiny seems to direct me. Here am I scheming to escape from the thraldom of a siren’s smile, and, to do so, ready to throw myself into the ranks of a filibustering band ! On the instant a friend is found — a patron — who promises to make me a leader ! Shall I refuse the favor.

“ Why should I ? It is fate, not chance, seems to offer it ; and this night, at their rendezvous, shall I know whether fate means the offer in earnest. Canvass your best, Cris Rock ; and I shall do my best at making a speech. If our united efforts prove success-

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ful, then Texas shall gain a sword, and Luisa Valverde lose a lover.’'

At the conclusion of this soliloquy — half boastful, half bitter — the young Irishman walked away from the spot where he had parted with the Texan, and went slowly sauntering along the levee.

OFFICEKING THE FILIBUbTEKri. 2i

Chapter III. Officering The Filibusters

It was in a tavern, then known by the name of ‘‘ Coffee House,” in the street called Poydras. The room for the time chartered by the filibusters was a large one, capable of containing three hundred men, drawn together by the printed proclamation that had stopped Florence Kearney on his morning stroll, two-thirds of this number had come together ; and of these, two-thirds were determined upon going to Texas.

It was a crowd composed of heterogeneous elements — such as ever have been, and ever will be, the men who volunteer upon a military — more especially upon a filibustering — expedition.

Among them were representatives of almost every civilized nation upon earth. Even some that could scarce boast of having seen much of civilization ; for, among the faces seen around the room were many covered with beard and bronze that told of long association with the savage.

OFFICERING THE FILIBUSTERS.

In obedience to the counsels of the Texan, Florence Kearney — a candidate for command over this motley crowd — made early appearance in their midst. Not so early as to find that, on entering the room, he was a stranger to its occupants. Cris Rock had been there before him, along with a half score of his confreres — old Texans of the true grit, who, having taken a part in most of the struggles of the young republic, had strayed back to New Orleans, partly for a spree, and partly to recruit fresh comrades to assist them in propagating that principle which had first carried them to Texas — the “Monroe Doctrine.”

To these the young Irishman was at once confidentially introduced, and stood drinks freely. He would have done this without care of what was to come of it, since it was but the custom of his kind and his nation. Nor would it of itself have given him any great advantage ; for, not long after entering the room, he discovered that not only drinks, but dollars, were freely distributed 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. In a short time it was communicated to him, just as the man

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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 deeply detested : his rival for the affections of Luisa Valverde !

Yes ; Carlos Santander was the candidate of the opposition.

To Kearney it was a double surprise. 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 filibustering band about to invade their country— for it was invasion the Texans now talked of, in retaliation for the late raid of Woll to San Antonio. But these Mexicans being refugees, and enemies of Santa Anna, it was not so unnatural. By humiliating the dictator they would be aiding their own fallen party to get back into power — even though the help came from their natural enemies, the Texans. These reasons came before the mind of the young Irishman, though not quite to satisfy him. He still continued to think the thing a little strange.

But he had no opportunity for indulging in con-

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jectures — only to exchange a frown with his rival, when a man in an undress uniform — a Texan colonel — who acted as chairman of the meeting, mounting upon a table, called, “ Silence !” and after a short, pithy speech proposed that the election of the officers should at once take place. The proposal was seconded, no one objecting, and without further parley the polling began.

There was neither noise nor confusion. Indeed the assembly was one of the quietest, and without any street crowd outside. There was reason for observing a certain secrecy in the proceedings ; for although the movement was highly popular all over the city, there were some compromising international points, and there had been talk of government interference.

The election was by ballot, 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 organization 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 into his pocket. When all had

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deposited their votes the hat was capsized, and the bits of paper shaken out upon a table. The chairman, assisted by two other men, examined the ballots, and counted them. There was then a short interval of silence, broken only by an occasional word of direction from the chairman and the murmuring hum of the examiners, and then came tne announcement in a clear, loud voice — that of the Texan colonel — “ In favor of Kearney ! Florence Kearney elected captain by a majority of thirty-three votes.”

A cheer greeted the decision, in which the voice of Cris Rock could be heard loud above all others ; while the giant himself was seen rushing through the crowd to clasp the hand of his protege, whom he had voluntarily elevated to a rank over himself.

During the excitement, the defeated candidate was observed to skulk out of the room. Those who saw him go could tell by his sullen look of disappointment that he had no intention of returning, and that the filibustering cohort would not have the name of Santander any longer on its roll-call.

He and his were soon forgotten, for the lieutenants were yet to be elected. One after another — first.

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second and brevet — were proposed, balloted for, and chosen, in the same way as was the captain.

And then there was a choice of sergeants and corporals, and the organization was pronounced complete Then came congratulations, and drinks all round, and for several successive rounds. And there were patriotic speeches in the true spread-eagle style, and applauding cheers, with jokes about Santa Anna and his cork leg, and the company at length separated after singing the Star Spangled Banner.

AN INVITATION TO SUPPEK.

Chapter IV. An Invitation To Supper

Florence Kearney, parting from his new friends, . sauntered out into the street.

On reaching the nearest corner he came to a stop, as if undecided which way to turn.

It was not that he had lost his way. His hotel — the St. Charles — was but three blocks off ; and he had, during his six months’ sojourn in the Crescent City, become acquainted with almost every street. It was not ignorance of his locality 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 — ah ! had I known what I do now — seen what I saw this morning — Bah ! I shall go back to my hotel and never more go near them !”

He did not go back to his hotel, but still stood irresolute — considering.

AN INVITATION TO SUPPEK.

What was causing him to do so ? Simply the belief that Luisa Valverde did not love him, and, therefore, would not care to have him as a companion at supper, for to this had her father invited him. It was on the day before that he had received the invitation and accepted it. What had he seen on that morning to make him repent the acceptance ? A man standing beside the woman he loved, bending over her till his lips almost touched her forehead, whispering words to her that were apparently heeded. He had seen this and nothing more. He had not heard the words and knew not their nature ; but he too easily guessed it from the situation and the circumstances antecedent.

He had no right to call Luisa Valverde to an account. During all his intercourse with her father he had seen her scarce half-a-dozen times ; and then only while passing out and in, to or from his lessons. Now and then a few words of conversation upon any chance theme — the weather — the study of the Spanish language — how he wished she had been his teacher — the peculiarities of New Orleans life, to which they were both strangers, and other like topics. Only once had she seemed more than ordinarily interested in his

AN INVITATION TO SUPPER.

speech. It was when he talked of Mexico — of his having come from his own far land solely for the sake of visiting it — of his intention soon to go there in continuance of his design — saying that he had heard about Mexican banditti, but more of the beauty of the Mexican ladies ; and naively, or perhaps adroitly, wondering whether he would not be in less danger ol losing his life than his heart.

Only on that occasion had she seemed to listen with peculiar attention to what he said, even looking pensive as she made reply :

“Yes, Don Florencio, you will see much in Mexico that will no doubt give you gratification ; and it is true what you have heard, 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 wor^ “me.” But the monosyllable was not used. In its place only the phrase, “us poor exiles,” with which somewhat commonplace expression the young lady concluded her speech.

And still there was something in what she had said, or rather in her manner of saying it, that had made a pleasant impression on his mind — something in her

AN INVITATION TO SUPPER.

tone that touched a chord already making music in his heart. If it did not give him hope, it for the time hindered him from despairing.

It was the last interview he had had with her ; and for days the sweet thought kept possession of his soul — now cheering him with hope, now torturing with doubt. But the doubt was the stronger. Luisa Valverde — the daughter of the exiled Mexican, known in his own land to be a gentleman of high rank — Luisa Valverde, the belle of many a ball — the talk and toast of many a young Creole “blood,” how could he, Florence Kearney, a stranger in his own eyes, a youth of modest pretence — how could he expect her to prefer him over so many splendid competitors — above all, over that one he had seen most reason to dread — Carlos Santander ! His hopes had been at best but slight, and only intermittent up to the morning of that day. Then had they ceased altogether, crushed out by a terrible spectacle. It was that already spoken of — a man stooping over Luisa Valverde and whispering in her ear words that seemed to find a response from her heart. That man was Santander. Kearney had seen this, himself 'unseen. It had driven every pulsation of hope out

AN INVITATION TO SUPPER.

of his heart, and sent him in wild, aimless strides along the levee — just in the right frame of mind for being caught by the call: “Volunteers for Texas,” So was he caught, and as described, became their captain.

It was a day of strange experiences, varying as the changes of a kaleidoscope ; more like to dreams than realities. At dawn, hopes soft as the dawn itself ; at ten o’clock, a spectacle producing the bitterest despair ; at noon this partially checked or alleviated by what promised to counteract its fatal influence ; shortly after sunset, a triumph sufficient to thrill the most aspiring ambition of a youthful mind ; and now at night, once more upon the street — alone and again painfully reflecting !

Thus ran his reflections :

“ Shall I see her again, or not ? Why not ? If siie’s lost, she cannot be worse lost by my going to take supper with her. Nor can I feel worse than I do now — even with a laurel of triumph fresh set upon my brow. What if I go and tell her of it — tell that I am about to enter her native land as an invader — a filibuster ! Ha ! I have a thought ! If she cares for

AN INVITATION TO SUPPER.

me, that will not distress her. If not, then it may spite her. I shall go !”

Quick as the words passed from his lips, he started along the street in the direction of the “ third municipality,” where dwelt most of the people who spoke the Spanish tongue. -

A STUDIED insult.

Chapter V. A Studied Insult

In a small wooden house in the street of Casa Calvo dwelt Don Ignacio Valverde and his daughter. It was a frame dwelling, built French Creole fashion, of one story, with casement windows opening on a front piazza, the latter nearly level with the street. Only one other individual occupied the. house along with them — their servant, a young girl of Mexican mestizo race, — that is, half Spanish, half Indian. The straitened circumstances of the exile forbade any more expensive establishment.