Chapter Thirty Two. An Unlooked-for Salute
In a strict military sense the capital of Mexico cannot be called a fortified city. Still, it has defences, one being an enceinte wall, which envelops it all round, leaving no straggled suburb, scarce so much as a house, outside. Compact and close stand the dwellings of the modern city as those of ancient Tenochtitlan, whose site it occupies, though the waves of Tezcuco and Xochimilco no longer lap up to its walls.
The enceinte spoken of is a mere structure of “adobes,” large sun-baked blocks of mud and straw – in short, the bricks of the Egyptians, whose making so vexed Moses and the Israelites. Here and there may be seen a little redoubt, with a battery of guns in it; but only on revolutionary occasions – the wall, so far as defence goes, more concerning the smuggler than the soldier; and less contraband from abroad than infringement of certain regulations of home commerce – chief of them the tax called “alcabala,” corresponding to the octroi of France, and the corvée of some other European countries.
The tax is collected at the “garitas,” of which there is one on every road leading out of the city, or rather into it; for it is the man who enters, not he making exit, who is called upon to contribute to the alcabala. It is levied on every article or commodity brought from the country in search of a city market. Nothing escapes it; the produce of farm and garden, field and forest – all have to pay toll at the garitas, so losing a considerable percentage of their value. The brown aboriginal, his “burro” laden with charcoal, or skins of pulque, or himself staggering under a load of planks heavy enough to weigh down a donkey, which he has transported from a mountain forest – ten or twenty miles it may be – is mulcted in this blackmail before he can pass through a garita.
Not unfrequently he is unable to meet the demand till he have made sale of the taxed commodity. On such occasions he hypothecates his hat, or frezada, leaving it at the gate, and going on bareheaded or bare-shouldered to the market, to redeem the pawned article on return.
Save through these gates there is no access to, or egress from, the Mexican capital; and at each, besides the official having charge of the revenue matters, a soldier-guard is stationed, with a guard-house provided; their duties being of a mixed, three-cornered kind – customs, police, and military. Five or six such posts there are, on the five or six roads leading out from the city, like the radiating limbs of a star-fish; and one of these is the garita El Nino Perdido – literally, the gate of the “Lost Child.” It is, however, one through which the traffic is of secondary importance; since it is not on any of the main routes of travel. That which it bars is but a country road, communicating with the villages of Mixcoac, Coyoacan, and San Angel. Still, these being places of rural residence, where some of the familiares principes have country houses, a carriage passing through the gate of the Lost Child is no rarity. Besides, from the gate itself runs a Calzada, or causeway, wide and straight for nearly two miles, with a double row of grand old trees along each side, whose pleasant shade invites, and often receives, visits from city excursionists out for a stroll, ride, or drive. Near the end of the second mile it angles abruptly to the right, in the direction of San Angel – a sharp corner the writer has good reason to remember, having been shot at by salteadores, luckily missed, while passing round it on his way from country quarters to the city. A horse of best blood saved his blood there, or this tale would never have been told.
Asking the reader’s pardon for a personal digression – with the excuse that it may throw light on the scene to follow – it will be understood how easily the guard on duty at the gate might be “thrown off guard” by a carriage passing through it; especially on that day when there were so many, by reason of the grand doings in the city.
Several had just passed, going country-wards; for it was the season of rural sojourn among the “ricos.” So, when another appeared, heading in the same direction, the guard-sergeant at Nino Perdido saw nothing amiss, or to be suspicious of; instead, something to inspire him with respect. He had been on guard at the Palace scores of times; and by appearance knew all who were accustomed to pass in and out, more especially those holding authority. Liveries he could distinguish at any distance; and when he saw a carriage approaching along the street, with a coachman in sky-blue and silver, cockaded, he did not need its being near to recognise the equipage of one of the Cabinet Ministers.
Though a non-commissioned officer, he was a man of ambitious aims; dreaming of gold bullion in the shape of epaulettes; and he had long had his eye on the epaulette of an alferez– officers of this rank being allowed only one. The good word of a Cabinet Minister, whether war, navy, or Hacienda, could give him what he was wishing for, easy at a nod; and here was an opportunity of winning it.
“Cabo!” he cried out to his corporal, in a flurry of excitement, “throw open the gate – quick! Fall in, men! Dress up – ready to present arms! See that you do it handsomely!”
It was in his favour, and so he congratulated himself that the carriage came on rather slowly, so that he had ample time to get his half-dozen files well set-up and dressed for the salute.
There was some buttoning of jackets, stocks to be adjusted round shirtless necks, with shakos to be searched for inside the guard-house, and hurriedly clapped on. Still, it was all got through in good time; and, when at length the carriage came abreast, the guard was found standing at “present arms,” the sergeant himself saluting in the most gracious manner.
They inside, knowing how, returned the salute in true soldier style, though with a surprised expression upon their faces. No wonder. Where they had anticipated difficulty and danger, they were received with more than civility – accorded military honours!