THE INSURGENCE of CHAN SANTA CRUZ

CHAPTER TWO!

We have learned, already, that don Antonio Macias's influence in Merida and in Mexico City had secured a third-year placement for his son at the Federal Military College. Customarily, students between the ages of sixteen and twenty entered for a three year course of study including not only martial tactics and history, but literature, science and medicine. José, at twenty one, possessed degrees from two notable French academies and another in England; he had also completed half of the studies required for his Doctorate in Engineering in the American city of New Orleans. If cadets of a lesser background resented the young monte's advantage, José's quickness with his fists, his saber and his proficiency upon the firing range discouraged challenge.

The perverse Imp, distracted by long hours of study and strenuous physical exertion, failed to escape its bottle.

Again, the influence of Don Antonio, unwillingly as it was given, secured for José his assignment to the Yucatan campaign... but this was an accomplishment of no great difficulty, for the reputation of the land and of the sublevados was already an unpleasant one. Most graduates vied for commissions in the Capital or pleasant encampments in the mountains; Yucatan was at the ends of the earth, as much a blight to Mexicans as Mexico was shunned on the peninsula. José had proceeded by sea to Progreso and Merida to enjoy a weeklong hero's respite before joining Santurce's party; a week of riding, shooting and circulating through the best salons where the Caballeros (with the notable exception of the unfortunate Fidel) admired his uniform and the ladies of society vied for his attention. But José had made his mind up, impetuously journeying to Campeche and Elena Villareal, with whom he had exchanged correspondence from Mexico City. Her father, the Senator, was in that city now, but her mother and an uncle in the sugar trade had accompanied them to the Plaza, permitting the young couple only a short walk unheard and unobserved.

"My father, who is wondrously intelligent in all things, says that the Army is no better than a sugar camp unless one is a General. Do you expect to be made a General soon, mi Calaver?" The unfortunate reference to José's skull mask disturbed the young Teniente greatly even if Elena used it in all innocence for, although Anibal's discovery was known, ostensibly, only to Don Antonio and Rigoberto, and had been discreetly buried in the garden, José could not escape the campaign of whisperings and glances that seemed to have spread from the household servants to Idznacab like tropic weeds.

"The way to the General's rank may be long," José replied, deciding not to show offense, "except in war, where battlefield promotion is the just and natural reward for valorous conduct. No sane man desires war; however, a timely show of force against the sublevados, who must and will be put down, cannot fail but influence the Ministry."

"Then my prayers shall include a splendid little war for you, Lieutenant Skull," Elena said and, having completely circled the Plaza, José, beholding her relatives' advance, secured no more from the visit than promises to write. Still, his spirits were high the night before departure, upon which Don Antonio had arranged a small function with several friends and influential men of Merida, foremost of whom were Governor Canton and the American Consul. Andre Barzon was also present and, having availed himself of good Macias sherry, thumped José on the back and boasted to the Consul, "here as you've written, sir, is the very man to drive those Maya dogs into the sea and pitch their English masters in after them."

The Consul nodded warily, he had already written of the Cruzob as "a semibarbarous race" in a widely circulated magazine article some years earlier. He appreciated flattery as much as any man but had no desire to give the appearance of criticism of John Bull. Inclement words had a way of rebounding among the circle of diplomats and, since the Boxer situation had been piled atop the Transvaal among those burdens weighing down British shoulders, discretion was foremost among the orders passed down from Washington. He smiled, looking for help, and Don Antonio rode to his aid.

"Of course General Bravo's efforts would benefit from a secure border, but not all these fellows go to Belize for arms. As long as the revolted Indian maintains his base in the East, we cannot be secure against the prospect of another uprising. Why only a month after you left, José..." and he motioned not only to his son but to the Consul and the Governor for attention, "... there transpired an incident that may benefit us all by the light it shows upon the character of our mutual enemies.

"If you, José, were to tarry longer at Idznacab," the hacendado began, "you would observe how dispirited poor Armando is. The cause is one of those Indians, a most unremarkable fellow like most of the race. In fact, you may even have seen him with your own eyes in that my unlucky mayordomo brought a score of those fellows to Merida to supplement the household help on the Fin del Siglo. Consider this in light of what I am about to tell and give your thanks to God we all weren't poisoned... the Maya, fortunately, are ignorant of Italian arts, though not without another type of cunning."

Don Antonio tapped the rim of his glass as he addressed his visitors. "This mayordomo is a fellow called Armando Feliz, although clearly not so happy now as he was last week. I presume the man is neither better nor worse than most in the state, generous with the lash but not capricious and keeper of a most convoluted set of books. It wouldn't surprise me if he was picking my own pocket but, if so, what is lost isn't of notice and no more than any other would do. Of course, like all of his class, he fancies himself a businessman, and this pretension is what has gotten him into the trouble he is in today.

"Some weeks, the keeper of the tienda del raya placed an order for a Belgian rifle, a fine piece worth fully sixty pesos. Now, it is a matter of common knowledge at my estanción that the shopkeeper is a creature of the mayordomo, and it isn't hard to imagine the source of inspiration for that purchase. At any rate, the gun went on sale for ninety pesos, and what miserable Indian has even ninety centavos over his debt with which to buy European firearms? So there it sat in the tienda except for those times the mayordomo felt it necessary to assure himself that it was in working order. And in that way Señor Feliz enjoyed a plentiful supply of meat, for a time.

"So may things have continued in perpetuity had not the mayordomo entangled himself in his own web. An indian approached him with an offer to buy the rifle, on credit of course, but he had also offered ten pesos he had obtained God knows where. This fellow had told Feliz he intended to pay the difference each month with the proceeds from the game he shot - a plausible story if the estanción were nearer Merida where a butcher will offer a peso for a turkey or a few rabbits and up to eight for a fat deer. But in the bush..." and don Antonio showed a lazy smile, "... there are no customers but other indians, quite as penniless as our presumed hunter. And my good mayordomo, thinking to fleece a poor, ambitious fool, convinced the Indian to make his mark upon a contract obligating him to three pesos each month for five years."

Don Antonio's guests sipped again his sherry, murmuring assent. "A perfect arrangement, no?" the hacendado questioned. "The man would pay, over five years' time, twice the stated and three times the real value of the firearm except, of course, that there would come a day... sooner rather than later... when he failed to meet his obligation, whether for lack of success in the monte or an inability to find buyers for his meat. And then our mayordomo would have both the rifle and whatever monies he had collected." Andre Barzon and the Consul nodded approvingly.

"Well, there was another outcome poor Armando hadn't figured on. The fellow paid his bill for March, made some excuse or other in April and, just before the rains arrived in May, he decamped to the monte, gun and all, leaving his hut as empty as if plague had passed through it. We were fortunate, I suppose, in that the indian was in too much of a hurry to settle old grudges... which these people all hold... before his flight. But, including the cost of the rifle, there were one hundred forty pesos outstanding in the book of the unhappy Señor Feliz; little likelihood he will ever see a penny of it, or the indian, returned. You don't come looking for work at another estanción with a Mauser over your shoulder. No, he has gone to Santa Cruz and José shall have to deal with him... we here can only trust the Consul's supposition that this indian will not have either time nor the capacity to learn to fire with any accuracy."

"That's an interesting tale, all right," Barzon said. "I suppose the Mayordomo will be held accountable."

"That is the law," don Antonio sighed. "I certainly won't absorb the loss. But this all means that he will try to get it back through a new round of schemes and charges, which my indians will pay for. If their anger grows, some of them will take off to Santa Cruz, hopefully without Belgian or British rifles. It's a damnable situation, but we have been living with it more than half a century and I don't know how it can be stopped so long as those savages hold the East. Maybe this new General is of sterner stuff than the others who have tried and failed."

"General Bravo distinguished himself against the French," volunteered the Governor, "and his right hand Blanquet, a black man but capable, a Colonel, was among the party that stood Maximilian against the wall.

"Well and good," replied the hacendado, "but Chan Santa Cruz is no Paris, nor even Queretaro," he added, for this was the site of the decisive rout of the hapless French armies. "Still, may the pacification of the East become reality," and he crossed himself for emphasis.

"Pacification?" chuckled Barzon. "Come, old friend, it's the extermination of the Cruzob that our General's come for. Have you ever seen his hands... I tell you, those are the hands of a killer. I'll wager he wrings the necks of chickens for his own supper. You remember Bravo," he addressed Canton, "...imagine that tough old General's hand around the neck of a bird... or a revolted indian! That last General... Garcia, something like that... he appeared at his own reception with his shirttails out and something sticking to his chin, besides which all that he could talk about was that he lacked the funds to do his job. Isn't that so, Governor."

"He may have been out of his element," Canton admitted with a deprecatory shrug.

"Was it not, therefore, surprising that his campaign had stalled in the monte only a few kilometers from its point of departure?" Barzon swallowed the rest of his sherry with a wolfish wink towards the Consul.

"Do you believe Licenciado Salazar?" inquired don Antonio of the American, changing the subject. "When he was in New York, he said they could not get their fill of the chicle sap there. That stinking gum that indians chew when they cannot afford tobacco... it's become the rage of American society."

The Yankee lit a cigar. "That might be true," he said, with a nod. "And, besides gum, there is wood in the East, good hard mahogany, ceiba. Why should it all go to the British and the Costazuelans? But... President Diaz suggests the war may require a partition of Yucatan. What do you think of that? Anybody?"

Governor Canton merely coughed and, as Andre Barzon was replenishing his sherry, it fell to one Rafael Gomez, another henequero, to speak up in opposition to the plan to sever the eastern portion of Yucatan into a Federal territory.

"Sir," he addressed the Consul, "you must know of the poor regard some of us hold for the capital, owing to the separation issue. The wealth of the Republic is apportioned to its capital, true, but thereafter to the states. Some feel the Federal government has usurped its authority in proposing the tearing away of half our state to create this territory. It may even be that some of the support General Bravo requires would not be granted for reasons of the separation issue. It would be a pity."

"Indeed, a pity." The Consul's cold, grey eyes rested on the face of young Gomez. "I do know this General, you see, he's not a politician. It is not my place to question the work that you... even you, my host, Governor... anything you do here. I am my nation's representative, the emissary of, and answerable to, the Ambassador in Mexico City and President McKinley."

"A great man," interrupted Barzon, "Almighty God preserve his health. You Americans showed extraordinary wisdom in rejecting Bryan, that Protestant lunatic. Right, Governor?"

"The Consul answers to his government," Canton winced, "as I do to mine. I uphold Don Porfirio and Mexico, in the cause of science and civilization as certainly as does young Macias here, who would not hesitate if ordered to enforce the President's decree. Isn't that so, Teniente?"

"If those are my orders," José responded, without flinching at the disgruntled frowns of Rigoberto and don Andre.

"Obedience is as much a virtue in the military as in diplomatic service," the American agreed. "Our superiors decide, though, if they are wise, they will heed advice that is generously and unselfishly given." He smiled now at Canton. "Just as President Diaz certainly considers the counsel of both Bravo and his southern party in order that rivalry shall not pose an obstruction to the campaign."

"It won't," Canton vowed. "Of course there has always been some distance between the Army and Navy. Monastario's a sailor and Vega is all but the same. For my part, I cannot abide the sea, nor that which swims in it or, especially, travels over it. The smell and feel of a fish turns my stomach. And, as for sailors, it's no secret that they're a bare step above pirates."

"Certainly," don Antonio said, "though I have also heard... from sailors, to be sure... that much of the Army consists of bandits conscripted and given uniforms."

"Well taken!" Andre Barzon imposed. "That old controversy shall never be settled! But you do see how don Porfirio has staged this matter? By sending out two forces, one by land across the north, the other by the sea to the south, he not only places the insurgents in a vise, he sets up a race to quell the sublevados and take Santa Cruz. And I should not wish to arrive behind Monastario... nor be in the losing party, right José?"

"I will do my duty," the Lieutenant vowed.

Don Antonio nodded, recognizing the plan and the genius of the President who had conceived it. "In any case," he ventured, "competition will be good for the Republic."

"I'll drink to that," Barzon said, raising his glass. "To the Republic!"

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