THE INSURGENCE of CHAN SANTA CRUZ

BOOK NINE: BOOK of the JAGUAR PRIEST

CHAPTER ELEVEN

From the hill, the Oficiales could see the distant smoke of steamships... a swarming, shimmering blot on the horizon that could only be the port.

"Well, that is done. We'd never be able to walk so far before the boat sailed," Silvestro said. "We'll have to find the railroad station there, get back to Merida, change trains to Peto and escape. Then Alvarado will pay dearly for his treachery."

"Do you still want to go to Mexico?" Clarencio asked, kicking the corpse. "That one intended me to go to the President in your place. And I think I've seen enough of him to operate that machine."

"The motorcar? You?"

"It is only a machine. You pull on gears or put your foot on pedals to start or stop, you go left or right by turning the wheel, perhaps I can drive to Progreso before the boat leaves. We have nothing to lose."

In fact, their lives were in the balance... for Clarencio's inexpertise nearly turned them over on the way and, when they reached the outskirts of Progreso, the road turned perilous, for it was full of horse carts, ox carts, a few motorcars and many hurrying pedestrians. It was then that Clarencio made liberal use of another of the dzulob marvels... the horn!... and, by leaning upon it, he was able to guide the motorcar to a place near the docks, in sight of the Dominguez.

The stevedores were already loading bales of henequen, cartons of sugar, fruits and fish into the bowels of the Dominguez when a fotingo... bearing the insignia of the state of Yucatan, but driven by an indian with another for his passenger... weaved towards the dock, narrowly missing a pyramid of wooden cages filled with complaining turkeys. A second vessel was also in the port, having only this morning arrived from Havana and New York with a cargo of American furniture... tables and chairs were set in the sand as if, at any moment, a party was to begin. Some of the passengers lingered there, hacendados fleeing the peninsula upon the arrival of Alvarado, now returning to a Merida more peaceful and, hopefully, more forgetful. One of these, a swarthy fellow with rings and a fine gold watch, approached the Oficiales, singing lavish praises of the Governor and inquiring after the motorcar. Told that it was not for hire, he grew indignant, then warm with cunning.

"I'd give an American dollar to have my trunks carried to the station," he offered, showing silver to the driver. "And another for your services."

"You may keep your money," Clarencio replied. "Governor Alvarado does not look kindly on the granting of favors for profit, nor does he countenance corruption among his representatives."

"Then what kind of place has this become?" the wealthy man fumed, and when his entreaties and his threats both failed he left his packages to be watched by brawling, spitting children and stalked off in search of another vehicle.

Silvestro and Clarencio stepped out of the fotingo and found a quiet place in the shade of a dilapidated warehouse. "Now," said the Tatoob, "the time we have waited for is coming. It has been almost fifteen years since Bravo's entry but, when I face Carranza, he will deliver assurance that our struggle is won."

"I rejoice with you," said Clarencio, "but think it only another trick. You see how these Mexicans are... can you trust a one of them? I fear this Carranza has no intent to surrender..."

"Then we will fight on - and Carranza shall be first to fall. And if I perish by war or treachery, you must lead the mazehualob to victory, as many times as it requires before the dzulob are sated with their losses. And if your destiny is to fall, Pedro Yoac and the rest of the Oficiales must fight, and their children also. There is no other task the Capitan may undertake save the slaughter of Mexicans."

Then the Tatoob emptied his pockets of half of Carranza's money, giving Clarencio that of Alvarado's assassin besides. "Any of these people can tell you how to get to the railroad station," Silvestro said. "I do not need to advise you not to remain long in Merida."

"I don't intend to take a train to Merida, let alone to Peto," said a determined Clarencio. The Tatoob followed his gaze.

"You cannot drive a motor car back to Santa Cruz. How would you operate it? There isn't even a road."

Clarencio shrugged. "Its engine, like Bravo's Decauville, runs on gasoline, which can be bought with Alvarado's money. And most of Yucatan is flat... it might be bumpy along the way but I'll do it... and, if Mexican soldiers come by, this vehicle will either outrun their horses or knock them over! From Peto, I can follow the railroad tracks. There aren't any more trains and this fotingo, upon arrival in Santa Cruz, shall be property of the Governor of Quintana Roo."

"Well, then I believe you can do this!" They exchanged abrazos and Silvestro started towards the docks, then turned, for another obligation had occurred to him. "But if there should be peace and yet I still do not return," he told Clarencio, "give your support to Capitan Lum. He is not so violent a man as Pedro, but he sees through the motives of Mexicans and will better protect our Cruzob from their treachery."

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