by José Rizal
CHAPTER XXXII
The Derrick
The yellowish individual had kept his word, for it was no simplederrick that he had erected above the open trench to let the heavyblock of granite down into its place. It was not the simple tripodthat Nor Juan had wanted for suspending a pulley from its top, butwas much more, being at once a machine and an ornament, a grand andimposing ornament. Over eight meters in height rose the confusedand complicated scaffolding. Four thick posts sunk in the groundserved as a frame, fastened to each other by huge timbers crossingdiagonally and joined by large nails driven in only half-way, perhapsfor the reason that the apparatus was simply for temporary use andthus might easily be taken down again. Huge cables stretched from allsides gave an appearance of solidity and grandeur to the whole. Atthe top it was crowned with many-colored banners, streaming pennants,and enormous garlands of flowers and leaves artistically interwoven.
There at the top in the shadow made by the posts, the garlands, andthe banners, hung fastened with cords and iron hooks an unusuallylarge three-wheeled pulley over the polished sides of which passedin a crotch three cables even larger than the others. These heldsuspended the smooth, massive stone hollowed out in the centerto form with a similar hole in the lower stone, already in place,the little space intended to contain the records of contemporaneoushistory, such as newspapers, manuscripts, money, medals, and the like,and perhaps to transmit them to very remote generations. The cablesextended downward and connected with another equally large pulleyat the bottom of the apparatus, whence they passed to the drum ofa windlass held in place by means of heavy timbers. This windlass,which could be turned with two cranks, increased the strength of aman a hundredfold by the movement of notched wheels, although it istrue that what was gained in force was lost in velocity.
"Look," said the yellowish individual, turning the crank, "look,Nor Juan, how with merely my own strength I can raise and lower thegreat stone. It's so well arranged that at will I can regulate therise or fall inch by inch, so that a man in the trench can easilyfit the stones together while I manage it from here."
Nor Juan could not but gaze in admiration at the speaker, who wassmiling in his peculiar way. Curious bystanders made remarks praisingthe yellowish individual.
"Who taught you mechanics?" asked Nor Juan.
"My father, my dead father," was the answer, accompanied by hispeculiar smile.
"Who taught your father?"
"Don Saturnino, the grandfather of Don Crisostomo."
"I didn't know that Don Saturnino--"
"Oh, he knew a lot of things! He not only beat his laborers well andexposed them out in the sun, but he also knew how to wake the sleepersand put the waking to sleep. You'll see in time what my father taughtme, you'll see!"
Here the yellowish individual smiled again, but in a strange way.
On a tame covered with a piece of Persian tapestry rested a leadencylinder containing the objects that were to be kept in the tomb-likereceptacle and a glass case with thick sides, which would hold thatmummy of an epoch and preserve for the future the records of a past.
Tasio, the Sage, who was walking about there thoughtfully, murmured:"Perchance some day when this edifice, which is today begun, has grownold and after many vicissitudes has fallen into ruins, either fromthe visitations of Nature or the destructive hand of man, and abovethe ruins grow the ivy and the moss,--then when Time has destroyed themoss and ivy, and scattered the ashes of the ruins themselves to thewinds, wiping from the pages of History the recollection of it andof those who destroyed it, long since lost from the memory of man:perchance when the races have been buried in their mantle of earth orhave disappeared, only by accident the pick of some miner striking aspark from this rock will dig up mysteries and enigmas from the depthsof the soil. Perchance the learned men of the nation that dwells inthese regions will labor, as do the present Egyptologists, with theremains of a great civilization which occupied itself with eternity,little dreaming that upon it was descending so long a night. Perchancesome learned professor will say to his students of five or six years ofage, in a language spoken by all mankind, 'Gentlemen, after studyingand examining carefully the objects found in the depths of our soil,after deciphering some symbols and translating a few words, we canwithout the shadow of a doubt conclude that these objects belonged tothe barbaric age of man, to that obscure era which we are accustomedto speak of as fabulous. In short, gentlemen, in order that you mayform an approximate idea of the backwardness of our ancestors, it willbe sufficient that I point out to you the fact that those who livedhere not only recognized kings, but also for the purpose of settlingquestions of local government they had to go to the other side of theearth, just as if we should say that a body in order to move itselfwould need to consult a head existing in another part of the globe,perhaps in regions now sunk under the waves. This incredible defect,however improbable it may seem to us now, must have existed, if wetake into consideration the circumstances surrounding those beings,whom I scarcely dare to call human! In those primitive times men werestill (or at least so they believed) in direct communication with theirCreator, since they had ministers from Him, beings different from therest, designated always with the mysterious letters "M. R. P.", [93]concerning the meaning of which our learned men do not agree. Accordingto the professor of languages whom we have here, rather mediocre, sincehe does not speak more than a hundred of the imperfect languages ofthe past, "M. R. P." may signify "_Muy Rico Propietario_." [94] Theseministers were a species of demigods, very virtuous and enlightened,and were very eloquent orators, who, in spite of their great power andprestige, never committed the slightest fault, which fact strengthensmy belief in supposing that they were of a nature distinct from therest. If this were not sufficient to sustain my belief, there yetremains the argument, disputed by no one and day by day confirmed,that these mysterious beings could make God descend to earth merelyby saying a few words, that God could speak only through their mouths,that they ate His flesh and drank His blood, and even at times allowedthe common folk to do the same.'"
These and other opinions the skeptical Sage put into the mouths ofall the corrupt men of the future. Perhaps, as may easily be the case,old Tasio was mistaken, but we must return to our story.
In the kiosks which we saw two days ago occupied by the schoolmasterand his pupils, there was now spread out a toothsome and abundantmeal. Noteworthy is the fact that on the table prepared for the schoolchildren there was not a single bottle of wine but an abundance offruits. In the arbors joining the two kiosks were the seats for themusicians and a table covered with sweetmeats and confections, withbottles of water for the thirsty public, all decorated with leavesand flowers. The schoolmaster had erected near by a greased pole andhurdles, and had hung up pots and pans for a number of games.
The crowd, resplendent in bright-colored garments, gathered as peoplefled from the burning sun, some into the shade of the trees, othersunder the arbor. The boys climbed up into the branches or on the stonesin order to see the ceremony better, making up in this way for theirshort stature. They looked with envy at the clean and well-dressedschool children, who occupied a place especially assigned to them andwhose parents were overjoyed, as they, poor country folk, would seetheir children eat from a white tablecloth, almost the same as thecurate or the alcalde. Thinking of this alone was enough to driveaway hunger, and such an event would be recounted from father to son.
Soon were heard the distant strains of the band, which was precededby a motley throng made up of persons of all ages, in clothing ofall colors. The yellowish individual became uneasy and with a glanceexamined his whole apparatus. A curious countryman followed his glanceand watched all his movements; this was Elias, who had also come towitness the ceremony, but in his salakot and rough attire he was almostunrecognizable. He had secured a very good position almost at the sideof the windlass, on the edge of the excavation. With the music camethe alcalde, the municipal officials, the friars, with the exceptionof Padre Damaso, and the Spanish empl
oyees. Ibarra was conversing withthe alcalde, of whom he had made quite a friend since he had addressedto him some well-turned compliments over his decorations and ribbons,for aristocratic pretensions were the weakness of his Honor. CapitanTiago, the alferez, and some other wealthy personages came in thegilded cluster of maidens displaying their silken parasols. PadreSalvi followed, silent and thoughtful as ever.
"Count upon my support always in any worthy enterprise," the alcaldewas saying to Ibarra. "I will give you whatever appropriation youneed or else see that it is furnished by others."
As they drew nearer the youth felt his heart beat faster. Instinctivelyhe glanced at the strange scaffolding raised there. He saw theyellowish individual salute him respectfully and gaze at him fixedlyfor a moment. With surprise he noticed Elias, who with a significantwink gave him to understand that he should remember the warning inthe church.
The curate put on his sacerdotal robes and commenced the ceremony,while the one-eyed sacristan held the book and an acolyte thehyssop and jar of holy water. The rest stood about him uncovered,and maintained such a profound silence that, in spite of his readingin a low tone, it was apparent that Padre Salvi's voice was trembling.
Meanwhile, there had been placed in the glass case the manuscripts,newspapers, medals, coins, and the like, and the whole enclosed inthe leaden cylinder, which was then hermetically sealed.
"Senor Ibarra, will you put the box in its place? The curate iswaiting," murmured the alcalde into the young man's ear.
"I would with great pleasure," answered the latter, "but that wouldbe usurping the honorable duty of the escribano. The escribano mustmake affidavit of the act."
So the escribano gravely took the box, descended the carpeted stairwayleading to the bottom of the excavation and with due solemnity placedit in the hole in the stone. The curate then took the hyssop andsprinkled the stones with holy water.
Now the moment had arrived for each one to place his trowelful ofmortar on the face of the large stone lying in the trench, in orderthat the other might be fitted and fastened to it. Ibarra handedthe alcalde a mason's trowel, on the wide silver Made of which wasengraved the date. But the alcalde first gave a harangue in Spanish:
"People of San Diego! We have the honor to preside over a ceremonywhose importance you will not understand unless We tell you of it. Aschool is being founded, and the school is the basis of society, theschool is the book in which is written the future of the nations! Showus the schools of a people and We will show you what that people is.
"People of San Diego! Thank God, who has given you holy priests,and the government of the mother country, which untiringly spreadscivilization through these fertile isles, protected beneath herglorious mantle! Thank God, who has taken pity on you and sent youthese humble priests who enlighten you and teach you the divineword! Thank the government, which has made, is making, and willcontinue to make, so many sacrifices for you and your children!
"And now that the first stone of this important edifice is consecrated,We, alcalde-mayor of this province, in the name of his Majesty theKing, whom God preserve, King of the Spains, in the name of theillustrious Spanish government and under the protection of itsspotless and ever-victorious banner, We consecrate this act andbegin the construction of this schoolhouse! People of San Diego,long live the King! Long live Spain! Long live the friars! Long livethe Catholic Religion!"
Many voices were raised in answer, adding, "Long live the SenorAlcalde!"
He then majestically descended to the strains of the band, whichbegan to play, deposited several trowelfuls of mortar on the stone,and with equal majesty reascended. The employees applauded.
Ibarra offered another trowel to the curate, who, after fixing hiseyes on him for a moment, descended slowly. Half-way down the steps heraised his eyes to look at the stone, which hung fastened by the stoutcables, but this was only for a second, and he then went on down. Hedid the same as the alcalde, but this time more applause was heard,for to the employees were added some friars and Capitan Tiago.
Padre Salvi then seemed to seek for some one to whom he might give thetrowel. He looked doubtfully at Maria Clara, but changing his mind,offered it to the escribano. The latter in gallantry offered it toMaria Clara, who smilingly refused it. The friars, the employees,and the alferez went down one after another, nor was Capitan Tiagoforgotten. Ibarra only was left, and the order was about to be givenfor the yellowish individual to lower the stone when the curateremembered the youth and said to him in a joking tone, with affectedfamiliarity:
"Aren't you going to put on your trowelful, Senor Ibarra?"
"I should be a Juan Palomo, to prepare the meal and eat it myself,"answered the latter in the same tone.
"Go on!" said the alcalde, shoving him forward gently. "Otherwise,I'll order that the stone be not lowered at all and we'll be hereuntil doomsday."
Before such a terrible threat Ibarra had to obey. He exchanged thesmall silver trowel for a large iron one, an act which caused some ofthe spectators to smile, and went forward tranquilly. Elias gazed athim with such an indefinable expression that on seeing it one mighthave said that his whole life was concentrated in his eyes. Theyellowish individual stared into the trench, which opened at hisfeet. After directing a rapid glance at the heavy stone hanging overhis head and another at Elias and the yellowish individual, Ibarrasaid to Nor Juan in a somewhat unsteady voice, "Give me the mortarand get me another trowel up there."
The youth remained alone. Elias no longer looked at him, for hiseyes were fastened on the hand of the yellowish individual, who,leaning over the trench, was anxiously following the movements ofIbarra. There was heard the noise of the trowel scraping on thestone in the midst of a feeble murmur among the employees, who werecongratulating the alcalde on his speech.
Suddenly a crash was heard. The pulley tied at the base of the derrickjumped up and after it the windlass, which struck the heavy posts likea battering-ram. The timbers shook, the fastenings flew apart, andthe whole apparatus fell in a second with a frightful crash. A cloudof dust arose, while a cry of horror from a thousand voices filledthe air. Nearly all fled; only a few dashed toward the trench. MariaClara and Padre Salvi remained in their places, pale, motionless,and speechless.
When the dust had cleared away a little, they saw Ibarra standing amongbeams, posts, and cables, between the windlass and the heavy stone,which in its rapid descent had shaken and crushed everything. The youthstill held the trowel in his hand and was staring with frightenedeyes at the body of a man which lay at his feet half-buried amongthe timbers.
"You're not killed! You're still alive! For God's sake, speak!" criedseveral employees, full of terror and solicitude.
"A miracle! A miracle!" shouted some.
"Come and extricate the body of this poor devil!" exclaimed Ibarralike one arousing himself from sleep.
On hearing his voice Maria Clara felt her strength leave her and fellhalf-fainting into the arms of her friends.
Great confusion prevailed. All were talking, gesticulating, runningabout, descending into the trench, coming up again, all amazed andterrified.
"Who is the dead man? Is he still alive?" asked the alferez.
The corpse was identified as that of the yellowish individual whohad been operating the windlass.
"Arrest the foreman on the work!" was the first thing that the alcaldewas able to say.
They examined the corpse, placing their hands on the chest, but theheart had ceased to beat. The blow had struck him on the head, andblood was flowing from his nose, mouth, and ears. On his neck wereto be noticed some peculiar marks, four deep depressions toward theback and one more somewhat larger on the other side, which inducedthe belief that a hand of steel had caught him as in a pair of pincers.
The priests felicitated the youth warmly and shook his hand. TheFranciscan of humble aspect who had served as holy ghost for PadreDamaso exclaimed with tearful eyes, "God is just, God is good!"
"When I think that a few moments before I was down t
here!" said oneof the employees to Ibarra. "What if I had happened to be the last!"
"It makes my hair stand on end!" remarked another partly baldindividual.
"I'm glad that it happened to you and not to me," murmured an oldman tremblingly.
"Don Pascual!" exclaimed some of the Spaniards.
"I say that because the young man is not dead. If I had not beencrushed, I should have died afterwards merely from thinking about it."
But Ibarra was already at a distance informing himself as to MariaClara's condition.
"Don't let this stop the fiesta, Senor Ibarra," said thealcalde. "Praise God, the dead man is neither a priest nor aSpaniard! We must rejoice over your escape! Think if the stone hadcaught you!"
"There are presentiments, there are presentiments!" exclaimedthe escribano. "I've said so before! Senor Ibarra didn't go downwillingly. I saw it!"
"The dead man is only an Indian!"
"Let the fiesta go on! Music! Sadness will never resuscitate the dead!"
"An investigation shall be made right here!"
"Send for the directorcillo!"
"Arrest the foreman on the work! To the stocks with him!"
"To the stocks! Music! To the stocks with the foreman!"
"Senor Alcalde," said Ibarra gravely, "if mourning will not resuscitatethe dead, much less will arresting this man about whose guilt we knownothing. I will be security for his person and so I ask his libertyfor these days at least."
"Very well! But don't let him do it again!"
All kinds of rumors began to circulate. The idea of a miracle was soonan accepted fact, although Fray Salvi seemed to rejoice but little overa miracle attributed to a saint of his Order and in his parish. Therewere not lacking those who added that they had seen descending intothe trench, when everything was tumbling down, a figure in a dark robelike that of the Franciscans. There was no doubt about it; it was SanDiego himself! It was also noted that Ibarra had attended mass andthat the yellowish individual had not--it was all as clear as the sun!
"You see! You didn't want to go to mass!" said a mother to her son. "IfI hadn't whipped you to make you go you would now be on your way tothe town hall, like him, in a cart!"
The yellowish individual, or rather his corpse, wrapped up in a mat,was in fact being carried to the town hall. Ibarra hurried home tochange his clothes.
"A bad beginning, huh!" commented old Tasio, as he moved away.
