THE INSURGENCE of CHAN SANTA CRUZ

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The Governor, a vegetarian and teetotaler, accepted a glass of mineral water and the embrace of his old friend, don Antonio. Despite the felicity of the evening and the approaching fin del siglo, now but little more than an hour distant, dark lines of concern were etched on Canton's face, lines which betrayed the smile he affected for his host.

Steering a tipsy well-wisher away from the Governor, don Antonio cupped his hand and bent over. "Between ourselves, your decision is irrevocable?"

Canton sipped his water, shifting uncomfortably. "I fear so. The legislators have already drawn up plans for a partition of east from west, and they would not have done so without the consent of the President. And because I made my vow not to stand for re-election should the territory came into being, I must honor it."

"But what about us?" complained Barzon, who had spotted the meeting and guessed its unhappy disclosure. "If you do not run, then there is none other than that intolerable tractor salesman Molina and his gang of brigands. They still pray to Red Maria, to Diego El Mulato and all the rest of the slime of the Spanish Main and, with his pirates, Molina will do a job of looting that will make Peter Wallace himself writhe in envy, on his seat in Hell. On the day that you leave office they'll lower the bandera of the north and raise the Jolly Roger."

Governor Canton sighed. "Molina's resemblance to a pirate may be appropriate. But we must still be fair. Political office sometimes provokes curious changes in a man. Some rise above their history and capabilities while others, sadly, descend lower than the beasts. The question of the separation has been settled. All that we can do is to meet my successor halfway and, if dishonor must enter our state, let don Olegario be the first to stain its standards.”

Canton consulted his watch. An hour remained, now, to the nineteenth century, sixty minutes to the age, which had begun with Mexico a colony of distant Spain. In that time what an array had taken its stage... the revolutionists, Hidalgo and Morelos, the erratic Santa Anna, tragic Maximilian and Benito Juarez, the unlikely liberator in whose service the great don Porfirio Diaz had risen to a pinnacle of power unheard of since Cortes. Sixty minutes remaining... to the century, which had birthed the railroad and steam engine, and the cotton gin, which device so benefited the state of Yucatan by its unceasing appetite for sisal rope.

Don Antonio called for silence. The elderly governor cleared his throat and began his address.

"Fellow Yucatecans, Mexicans and patriots... we bid farewell to the century of our independence. As the French are fond of saying, 'the king is dead, long live the king!' To this, our century of liberation, we owe a debt of such magnitude that it may scarce be paid in accounts of earthly banks, but only discharged in that maintained by heaven itself. To the new century, almost now upon us, we foresee a banquet of such bounteous abundance served up through the exercise of scientific innovation, that our only worry… truly… is which plate to sample first. As no man living one hundred years ago could have foreseen our presence here, so shall our descendants, a hundred years hence, shall likewise enjoy a world of marvels and prosperity we can only begin to conceive of in the books of Mr. Verne.

"This pleasant destiny, however, must not cloud our need to face the problems still confronting us. As we know, the government has found it necessary to take control of our eastern lands still mired in a backwardness that threatens not only the unhappy region, but our own properties. We must offer our counsel, but also our help. But even more ominous is the scarcity of labor which, of necessity, must arise out of heretofore neglected classes. How are men who do not value civilization's bounty persuaded to work to gain such things and to acquire education to increase their work... "

"The lash!" interrupted old Cosas, pantomiming a thrashing with his left hand, shaking loose some of the whiskey held precariously in his right.

Canton smiled thinly. "It has been said, even by Mexicans, that Yucatecans are of two classes, the one vain, selfish and encumbered by outmoded traditions, the other illiterate and apathetic, incapable of exercising discretion or assuming responsibility. The answer, gentlemen is education, free, compulsory education for every citizen of the republic. Only an educated population will free Yucatan to pursue its destiny as producers of the technology of the future, rather than importers. Citizens... to Education. Long, wisely and widely may it rule."

"But for the..." said another, then squelching the rest before his companions could determine whether it was negroes, indians or even the British who were at issue.

A cannon discharged prematurely from the plaza and the guests applauded, popping champagne corks, throwing up their heels and falling into one another's arms, much to the surprise and the amusement of Esteban and his fellow waiters.

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