Part 7

"Yes, even in those days the Yankee skippers, who occasionally did a little secret trading with the padres, told such marvelous stories of Boston that the Spaniards thought it must be a nation instead of a little town. In fact, the United States does not seem to have been considered of much importance by Spain, for when the American ship 'Columbia' was expected to touch on this coast it was referred to as 'General Washington's vessel.'"

"Go on with your boat story," a smile played about the corners of his mouth. "What became of the craft?"

"The Governor ordered it sent to Monterey and commanded Argüello to appear before him. The Comandante was surprised to have his work thus suddenly interrupted but hastened to obey orders. On the way his horse stumbled and fell, injuring his rider's leg so seriously that when Argüello reached Monterey, he was hardly able to stand. Without stopping to have his injury dressed, he limped into the Governor's presence, supporting himself on his sword.

"'How dared you build a launch and repair your Presidio without my permission?' exclaimed the exasperated Governor.

"'Because I and my soldiers were living in hovels, and we were capable of bettering our condition,' was the reply.

"Governor Sola, not noted for his genial temper, raised his cane with the evident intention of using it, when he noticed that the young Comandante had drawn himself erect and was handling the hilt of his naked sword.

"'Why did you do that?' the Governor demanded.

"'Because I was tired of my former position, and also because I do not intend to be beaten without resistance,' Argüello answered.

"For a moment the Governor was taken back, then he held out his hand. 'This is the bearing of a soldier and worthy of a man of honor,' he said. 'Blows are only for cowards who deserve them.'

"Argüello took the outstretched hand and from this time he and the Governor were close friends. But the boat proved so useful at Monterey, that it was never returned."

The Jeweled Tower of the Exposition came into view. "So it is to be the three months' old World's Fair, after all, instead of the home of the first Mexican Governor of California?"

But I did not rise. "The Presidio is just beyond," I explained. Then seeing him glancing admiringly at the green domes: "Perhaps you would rather--"

"No," he answered me, "I'm an antiquary and I want to see the old adobe house."

Leaving the car at the Presidio entrance, we passed down the shaded driveway and along the winding path that led to the old parade ground. "This military reservation covers about the same ground as the old Spanish Presidio," I explained. "At that time, however, it was a sweep of tawny sand-dunes, for the Spaniards had neither the ability nor the money to beautify the place. After it came into possession of the Americans, lupins were scattered broadcast as a first means of cultivation and for a time the undulating hills were veiled in blue. Later, groves of pine and eucalyptus trees together with grass and flowers were planted, until now it may be regarded as one of the parks of San Francisco. This was the original plaza of the old Spanish Presidio," I continued, as we emerged onto the quadrangle, "and it was then lined with houses as it is today, only at that time they were crude adobe structures. Surrounding these was a wall fourteen feet high, made of huge upright and horizontal saplings plastered with mud, and as a further means of protection, a wide ditch was dug on the outside. Here Luis Argüello was Comandante for twenty-three years."

Our eyes wandered over the substantial structures with their well-trimmed gardens and rested on a low rambling building opposite, protected from the gaze of the curious by an old palm and guarded by a quaint Spanish cannon. The building's simple outlines, even at a distance, bespoke it as of a different generation from its more aggressive neighbors, even though its red-tiled roof had been replaced by sombre brown shingles, and its crumbling walls replastered. We crossed over the parade ground, and peering within, found that the building had been converted into an officers' club house.

"Did you see the bronze tablet on the front?" I demanded.

"Yes," he admitted rather sheepishly, turning to examine the deep window embrasure that showed the width of the walls.

"There's an atmosphere of romance about the old place--"

"And well there may be," I broke in, "for it was here that Rafaela Sal came as a bride, and that Rezánov met Luis Argüello's beautiful sister, Concepcion, and a love story began which may well take place with that of Miles Standish and Priscilla."

"Rezánov," he repeated, searching his memory. "I recall that there was a romance connected with his visit to San Francisco but the details have escaped me. Please sit down on this bench and tell me the story just as if I had never heard it before."

"More than a century ago there dwelt in this old adobe house a beautiful maiden," I began. "Her father was Comandante of the Presidio, 'el Santo,' the people termed him, because of his goodness. Concepcion, or Concha, as she was affectionately called by her parents, was only fifteen years old when our story begins--a tall, slender girl with masses of fine black hair and the fair Castilian skin, inherited from her mother. So lovely was she that many a caballero had already sung at her grating, but she would listen to none of them. Her lover would come from over the sea, she declared, someone who could tell her about the wide outside world.

"'Then you will die unmarried,' said her mother, kissing the soft cheek, 'for travelers seldom come as far as San Francisco.'

"'A ship! a ship!' sounded a cry from the plaza. A vessel had been sighted off Cantil Blanco, the first foreign ship seen since Vancouver's visit fourteen years before.

"'It is the Russian expedition which Spain has ordered us to treat courteously,' exclaimed Don Luis, bursting into the house, his face aglow with excitement. 'Since father is in Monterey and I am acting Comandante, I must receive these strangers,' he continued as he threw his serape over his shoulders, his eyes flashing with his first taste of command.

"'Be careful,' cautioned his mother, 'we have had no word from Europe for nine months and the last packet boat from Mexico brought a rumor of war with Russia.'

"But the foreign vessel had come only with friendly intentions. The Russian Chamberlain Rezánov, in charge of the Czar's northwestern possessions, had found a starving colony at Sitka and had brought a cargo of goods to the more productive southland with the hope of exchanging it for foodstuffs. To be sure, he knew the Spanish law strictly forbidding trade with foreign vessels, but it seemed the only means of saving his famishing people and he trusted much to his skill in diplomacy.

"A few hours later, Concha, on the qui vive with excitement, saw her brother approaching with a little company of men, among whom was a tall well-built Russian officer, whose keen eyes seemed to take in every detail of the little settlement.

"Don Luis conducted his guests to the old adobe building, draped in pink Castilian roses, and into the cool sala, which, although provided with slippery horse-hair chairs and plain whitewashed walls ornamented with pictures of the Virgin and saints, was a pleasing contrast to the ship's cabin. Here he presented his guests to his mother, a woman whose face still reflected much of the beauty of her youth in spite of her cares which had come in the rearing of her thirteen children. Beside her stood Concepcion. Her long drooping lashes swept her cheeks, but when she raised her eyes in greeting Rezánov saw that they were dark and joyous. He was a widower of many years, a man of forty-two, who had given little thought to women during his wandering life, but now he found himself keenly alive to the charms of this radiant girl. Simple and artless in her manners, yet possessing the early maturity of her race, she set her guests at ease and entertained them with stories of life on the great ranchos, while her mother was busy with household duties.