by B. TRAVEN
One must not forget in this connection that in the case of all deals which start at a hundred million dollars, pounds, or marks, only those people have the right to a share who also have the right to the ear of the government.
5
The captain of this little expedition would think himself lucky to make a hundred pesos at the outside. If a general had been in command don Gabriel would probably not have been able to make any profit out of this Indian election.
The captain gave the order to dismount and had the sergeant take over. Don Abelardo and don Gabriel came up and welcomed the officer. The gentlemen shook each other heartily by the hand. While they did so each was already thinking how much he could hope to make in some way or another from or by the others.
An Indian servant girl brought a gourd of water and the captain washed off the dust. Then he accepted don Abelardo’s invitation to share the meal which had just been placed on the table.
This suited don Gabriel’s book because business goes much more smoothly at table, particularly when it is a good table, than in more uninviting circumstances.
The caballeros did, in fact, come straight to the point without losing any time on profitless talk.
“The place seems utterly dead,” said the captain.
“That’s true, Captain,” replied don Abelardo. “The men have all cleared out. Only the women and children are here.”
“Do you know who it was that killed the jefe and his family?” asked the officer.
“No, I don’t,” said don Abelardo. “From the door I could see the murderers approaching, but they ran so quickly and so close to one another that I could not recognize one of them. They were wearing no hats, and as their hats are the only mark by which you can tell their tribes, I can’t even say where the men came from. My conviction is that the murderers do not belong to this nation here but were called in from outside to carry out the sentence. The leading men of the nation did this deliberately to remove all suspicion and to make it impossible for a punitive expedition to be lawfully sent against the nation. And we can do nothing against them unlawfully. If we called the nation to account without knowing whether the murderers belonged to the nation or had been called in by it, we would be guilty of an unlawful act which neither you nor the señor Gobernador could answer for to the government.”
“Then I don’t know what there is for me to do here,” said the officer. “My instructions were to restore law and order. But there is not a soul to be seen. And the new jefe is innocent in the eyes of the law, for we cannot prove that he hired the assassins. There are no means of coming by the proof of it. On the contrary, we must recognize the new jefe as the properly elected chief of the nation whether we like it or not. If we reject him, the people will elect him again and again.”
“That is all very true, mi Capitán,” said the secretary. “Yet we cannot leave things as they are, since a disturbance of the peace has taken place. As a matter of authority you must do something to show the nation that they cannot do as they like, and that decrees and regulations of the government must be obeyed.”
“Bueno,” the captain agreed. “Muy bien, muy bien. Pero, pero—that’s all very well, but what do you think I can do?”
“I don’t exactly know myself,” replied the secretary. “If there were only a few men about the place we could round them up and shoot them as a warning. It always has a good effect and shows the nation that we govern it and have the power to carry out the orders of the government.”
“I am in a very difficult position,” said the officer. “I have to send in a report to the jefe de las operaciones militares, and I must do something here. I cannot simply go away and report that I found the place in a peaceful condition and did nothing but keep my men here a few days and then march them back again. It might bring me a severe reprimand. I wish you could tell me what I’m to do. You know these people and you know how to impress them with the powers of the government. To pack up without doing a thing would make me look ridiculous. And the Indios would think they were the masters here. We can’t allow that.”
Don Gabriel now joined in. “Perhaps you might wait a day or two, Captain. Sometimes something turns up of itself if you give it time.”
“That’s a good idea,” said the captain. “We’ll wait and see what turns up in the course of today or tomorrow.”
Then the captain telephoned the garrison to report and ask for further instructions. When his call finally got through he was told that the general’s orders were that he do as he thought best and come back as soon as he was sure that such events were not likely to occur again. In this way the whole responsibility was put upon the captain’s youthful shoulders and the general was not implicated.
6
The caballeros now passed the time playing cards and drinking. At about four o’clock in the afternoon an opportunity came along that helped each one of them out of the difficulties in which he found himself.
Fourteen Indians belonging to the nation came across the square on their way home to their barrio, which lay to the east.
They had been in Balún-Canán to the Christmas market to sell hides, young pigs, and petates and to buy in exchange articles of domestic or agricultural use.
They were entirely innocent of all that had gone on New Year’s Day; they had been elsewhere. They did not even know anything about it, otherwise they would certainly not have crossed the square in full view. It was equally obvious that they had met no one on the road who could have given them a word of warning to avoid the central village. They had come over the mountains as it was the shortest way to the cabildo. If they had come any other way they would have been able to see the soldiers’ camp in time.
The presence of soldiers is always suspicious everywhere on earth. Whether a man is a civilized European or a half-civilized Indian he instinctively keeps out of soldiers’ way.
In this case, however, the Indians had no sooner emerged from their mountain path than they were already so close to the outposts they could not turn back. To do so would have aroused the suspicion of the sentry, who would have opened fire on them without hesitation. And as the soldiers had horses every man of them would soon have been captured.
For these reasons the men continued quietly on their way. The soldiers, seeing them passing quietly along to the cabildo, did not arrest them and take them before the officer in command.
The men had chosen the way through the central village not only because it was the shortest to their barrio but also because most of them had to see the secretary. One had letters, another had a message from a merchant, another had been commissioned by the secretary to buy a few things for him in Balún-Canán. And most of them wanted to take the opportunity, now that they had money from the sale of their produce in Balún-Canán, of making payments that were due.
7
The caballeros had put a table out in the portico and it was here they sat playing cards, with the bottle of comiteco within easy reach on a stool.
The Indians came up. They put down their heavy loads and stepped close up to the pillars of the portico, where they stood politely waiting until the secretary saw fit to speak to them and ask them what they wanted.
They greeted both him and the other two caballeros by laying the palms of their hands on their heads and then with a bow stretching out the flat of the hand as a greeting to each in turn.
“Con su permiso, caballeros.” The secretary excused himself to his two companions as he got up and went to the men.
He asked them to come into the office and discharge their commissions. The Indians handed over the letters and the articles they had been asked to buy and those from whom money was due paid the secretary what they owed.
Meanwhile don Gabriel and the officer were left alone in the portico. They stretched and yawned and looked over the square and poured themselves another comiteco and lit one more cigarette. They got lazily to their feet and stamped about to bring the life into their legs and sat down again.
8
“If you’ll listen to me, Captain,” don Gabriel then began, “this is the very opportunity you were waiting for. It’s an opportunity that won’t come your way a second time. If you go among the barrios with your troops you will not catch sight of a single man. The news that you were visiting each barrio in turn in order to pick out a few men to bring before the courts would spread like a cannon shot. The best thing you can do, and the only thing, is to arrest these fellows here and take them back with you as prisoners. You can leave it to the general or the court what they do with the prisoners. Anyway, you will not have gone on your mission of pacification to no purpose.”
“Maravilloso,” the captain cried. “That is a capital idea of yours, don Gabriel. You could not have had a better. You are right. I’ll leave it to the general what he does with them. And whatever he does it won’t worry me. I can see you were a good secretary. You know how these matters should be handled.”
The captain summoned the sergeant and ordered him to take the men prisoners as soon as they had completed their business with the secretary.
The fourteen Indians were put in the prison, where there was just enough room for four at a squeeze.
9
The day came to an end and the caballeros were seated at supper.
When the Indian girl had cleared the table don Gabriel said, “There is another thing you might do with the prisoners, Captain.”
Don Gabriel had already discussed it with don Abelardo before supper, when the captain was parading his men and detailing sentries for the night, and made sure of his support on the quiet.
“What could I do with the prisoners, don Gabriel?” asked the captain.
“There might be objections to taking them with you,” don Gabriel explained. “They might run away. This whole Indian nation might fall upon your troops and set them free and neither you nor one of your men would survive.”
“There is something to that,” the officer replied reflectively.
“And what will they do with the fellows at Jovel? Nothing at all,” don Gabriel replied to his own question. “They’ll set them free as soon as they prove that they were not here during the rebellion. They will be able to prove they were in Balún-Canán. So what is the good of all this bother with them? My advice is to sentence them here on the spot yourself.”
“But I’ve no right to shoot them,” the captain objected.
“That’s just it,” said don Gabriel. “It’s just because you have no right to shoot them that you can do something else which will be just as effective. Sentence the prisoners to a heavy fine. As they belong to this nation which has either committed the murder, or caused it to be committed, the nation will take the fine on itself. That will mean that every man will have to pay his share and they will learn that they cannot play with the government.”
“That’s true,” said the officer. “What do you say, don Abelardo? You are the secretary here and it is for you to say.”
“In my opinion,” replied the secretary, “don Gabriel’s suggestion is the best we could hit on. A fine will bring it home to these people better than shooting or imprisonment. They care nothing about either. It has no effect. I know that from experience. I’ve been secretary here long enough to know how to put the fear of the government into them.”
“If that’s your opinion, don Abelardo,” said the captain, “then I can make a start. My orders are to consult with you over the proper punitive measures and the means of preventing further rebellions and to carry out your proposals insofar as they concern my mission.”
“Good!” don Gabriel now said. “Then we are agreed in principle and can now proceed to details. I suggest that a fine of one hundred and fifty pesos shall be paid for each prisoner. But we all have to live. You too, Captain. Let’s say that you take fifty pesos a head, which we’ll say nothing about. That will remain between ourselves, caballeros. Don Abelardo and I take fifty pesos a head to your chief, the general. We’ll make out the receipts here at fifty pesos. The general will never ask the people any questions. He does not want to be bothered with interrogating Indians who cannot speak Spanish. Besides, we’ll put the fellows right out of the way, too far for anyone to interrogate them.”
“How do you mean, out of the way?” asked the officer.
“I’ll simply take them along to the monterías where they can work off their fines. Before they come back from there the garrison at Jovel will have changed its commanding officer a dozen times.”
Don Gabriel had put all this in so clear a light that the captain soon saw it was the best possible outcome of his punitive expedition.
10
The officer was no scoundrel—it was simply his eternal poverty, the curse of his existence. Money was just as welcome to him as to any other man whose expenses exceed his income.
Being a really good and efficient officer, he knew the characteristics of his superior officers by heart. A proper knowledge and appreciation of his superiors is of more use to a subordinate in skipping a grade or two and rising to important positions in the army than any other branch of knowledge, not excluding a comprehensive knowledge of military science. A proper knowledge of his superior officers is a hundred times more necessary to the speedy promotion of an officer than gallantry in face of the enemy or the capture singlehanded of an armed fort. Officers who have a fine feeling regarding their generals have no opportunity of capturing forts or strongholds: they do not get near enough to the enemy for that. Their special branch of knowledge makes them more important in back areas. And as war is a business like another, there is no secret here and nothing that can be called unworthy of an officer, all the less as all armies in the world have the same view of the attributes which make a man an invaluable officer.
Knowing his general so well the captain naturally knew his necessities. And to lighten these necessities was his duty as a subordinate. Fourteen times fifty pesos in hard cash would be very much more welcome to the general than fourteen lousy Indians brought along as prisoners.
The captain had no doubt whatever that he would be highly commended for having brought the punitive expedition to so effective and tactful a close.
The treasury was naturally not forgotten in this financial deal. Fines for disturbances of the peace were a common occurrence. In the annual budget of the State there was the following entry:
“Fourteen Indians of the Pebvil district fined for disturbance of the peace, each, pesos—1.50.”
The public, and in particular the reporters of the big American newspapers, could not say that the poor Indians in Mexico were harshly punished when they were only fined a peso and a half for so grave an offense as disturbance of the peace. A government which punished rebellious Indians so mildly deserved to be called highly civilized and upright, since it had such an understanding sympathy for the poor Indian brother.
The captain, who had been so handsomely remembered in the division of the spoil, did not trouble to remember that the accounts were hardly accurate.
This inaccuracy was a trivial one. It was no more than that the nation was given no opportunity of taking the fine of the fourteen innocent men on its shoulders. For whether the nation did so or not made no difference to the fate of the fourteen prisoners, who in any case would have been taken off to the monterías by don Gabriel, so that they could work off their fines and the agent’s commission.
11
The prisoners were brought out next day. The captain gave them to understand, with the help of don Gabriel and don Abelardo as interpreters, that they had been sentenced to fines of a hundred and fifty pesos each for the murder of their jefe and his family and that, as they didn’t have the money, they were to go to the monterías as indentured laborers with don Gabriel. They were warned that if they attempted to escape not only they but their sons and fathers would be shot.
After they had had the terms of the contract explained to them they were allowed to go to their barrios to say good-by to their families; meanwhile they were
to be in readiness to start for the monterías on the appointed day.
They considered themselves extremely lucky to have got so cheaply out of a rebellion with which they had nothing to do. And they expressed their thanks with bows to the captain, to don Gabriel, and don Abelardo.
The captain retired the same day with his troops. It took him three days to reach the garrison because he spent two days at the ranch where the ranchero had the pretty niece staying with him.
The general promised to see that he got his majority in two months’ time. And he kept his word.
Don Gabriel made the fourteen Indians who had come his way produce sureties, and the contracts were witnessed by the secretary. This done, he set off on a round of fincas to buy up indebted peons from the finqueros who wanted money.
In all this don Gabriel was entirely innocent. It was the fault of the monterías, which devoured Indians by the hundreds, in order that citizens and their wives in the United States and Europe could have mahogany furniture and the bankers and industrial lords mahogany writing tables.
Mahogany, when landed at New York, sold for seventy to a hundred and twenty dollars a ton, depending on the market. At such a price it was impossible to take the so-called rights of Indians literally, or any of those phrases about comradeship and respect for humanity. In the proper conduct of any business that is to show a profit there is no time for dealing with phrases and ideas of world betterment. That is left to idealists, who are paid to introduce such phrases into films as sob stuff which will fill the house.
A man who has power and makes no use of it is a fool. Nobody gives anything away, and if your business fails your creditors give you no quarter. The only thing is to keep your nerve. Grab where and when there is anything to be grabbed. For poetic justice you must look to opera, and to the Easter Service when sermons are preached about the Resurrection of the Savior of mankind. The Church does not go away with empty hands. You cannot make dollars with the cramp of conscience in your throat. It is useless to expect dollars to rain down from the sky. No instances have occurred to justify such a hope. Dollars must be hard-earned. Many hands and brains must be exerted to the utmost before you can get your hundred dollars for a ton of mahogany. And if nobody fells the mahogany in the primeval forests of America and floats it down the forest rivers, there can be no mahogany cupboards and no mahogany cabinets. You cannot have cheap mahogany and at the same time save all those innocent Indians who perish by the thousands in the jungle to get it for you. It must be either one or the other. Either cheap mahogany or respect for the humanity of the Indian. The civilization of the present day cannot run to both, because competition, the idol of our civilization, cannot tolerate it. Pity? Yes—with joyfulness and a Christian heart. But the dollar must not be imperiled.
