"Señor Mendoza, there is no use to continue this parley. It does no good. I have possession of California. That possession I shall retain."
"The enlightened will of the people of this province must decide whether you retain possession, or relinquish it, Commodore Billings."
The two were standing within the fort, at a window. They were alone. The marines of the frigate United States and the sloop-of-war Cyane were drilling not far away. The soft, "plush, plush, plush" of their feet could be heard, following the staccato calls for maneuvers.
"I relinquish possession only when forced to do so."
"The proposal was made and accepted that your government hold Monterey tentatively."
"Never accepted by me. Our consideration of that question was broken up by Señor Zelaya sprinting in with news that Fairbanks's ships were passing south. The subject was not taken up again."
"But O'Donnell accepted it, Commodore. He has letters from Mr. Tyler, your President, countersigned by your Secretary of State, giving him full power to act for his government."
"Produce O'Donnell and his papers, Colonel Mendoza."
"O'Donnell started eastward at midnight, as you well know. Two months will scarce see his return."
"Señor Mendoza, I found the capital here without government of any kind; in other words, deserted."
"The absence of the people's servants, whether in fort or government house, does not make void that people's rights."
"I led my ships through peril of fog and night, to gain advantage of the British. Had they reached here before me, then, Señor Mendoza, this enlightened will of which you speak might go to Jericho."
"The British would have arrived here before you, as you are well aware, had not trading vessels, which I have under charter, at gravest risk drawn you away from certain wreck."
Billings raised his eyebrows.
"Commodore, in plain words, you are engaged in a piece of filibustering. The United States is not back of such a movement as this."
The Commodore paced away savagely, then turned.
"Colonel Mendoza, possession is nine points of law, and I have possession. Demonstrate a better right than mine; and maintain it, if you can!"
The Spaniard, stooping, raised a heavy trapdoor. He threw it back. Iron-barred windows lighted a chamber beneath. Mounds of powder were heaped around everywhere.
"Commodore Billings, we are standing over the powder-magazine of this fort."
"So I perceive, Señor Mendoza."
The señor looked coolly at the other.
"Well, perceive this." From his pocket he drew a taper, used for lighting cigaritos, ignited it and held it up.
"Man, what are you about? Put out that fire!"
"Ah! Stand near—not too close. Now, look at that black sand."
Billings's mouth shut hard.
"In that sand, Commodore, there is power enough pent up to blow your marines to atoms, if I drop this tiny piece of flame. You and I—well, Commodore Billings, it is not necessary to consider ourselves."
Mendoza held the taper between thumb and forefinger. Two paces distant, across the aperture in the floor, the Commodore stood, his hand resting on a pistol which he did not draw.
"Shoot, Señor Billings," Mendoza said quietly, still holding the taper over the powder.
Billings's hand dropped from the pistol to his side.
"Then, cry aloud for help, my señor."
"Mendoza, what are you about?" hoarsely asked the Commodore. "What do you want?"
"That you leave Monterey."
Billings's teeth ground together. "Never!"
"Never?" glancing at the taper.
"It would not be the first house you have blown up."
"But it would be the last, my Commodore."
Mendoza seemed to grow in stature, to become colossal, terrible.
"This taper burns low. I have not another."
Billings's form relaxed.
"Your province is not worth a quarter thousand lives."
"So, you decide, Señor Billings. Well, open that window, then, and order your men to the ships."
"I shall not. What a diabolical advantage for you to take, Mendoza!"
"Nothing of the sort. I merely insist on the preservation of the rights of this province. You proclaim your intention of violating these rights, notwithstanding O'Donnell's pledged words."
The flame pointed its unsteady way higher.
"One minute more you have, Commodore Billings." Slowly Mendoza turned his hand. The taper slipped a little through his fingers. "Now, Señor Billings, or——"
The Commodore's voice shouted to his marines. His lips were framing a call for help.
The taper moved downward a little farther. "Commodore Billings, you thus cast the die? One—two—" a significant pause.
The Commodore's hollow voice ordered his men to the ships.
Mendoza extinguished the taper. In one hand he still held its end; in the other he meaningly grasped the flint. He did not speak.
Billings repeated his command, till every wondering marine had embarked.
Mendoza's peon riflemen filed into the castle; white gunners who had seen service in Manila, manned the cannon. The muzzle of the ordnance inclined until their lips opened threateningly over the boats teetering in the surf. Three hundred sharpshooters, lent Mendoza by Captain Sutter, of New Helvetia, thickened in the auxiliary battery.
A salvo would be echoed by a thousand small arms.
Commodore Billings foresaw certain destruction in resistance.
As he was stepping into the last-departing boat Mendoza said to him:
"Because you came as conqueror we bid you go."
In an hour the harbor was empty, the flagpoles of square and castle bare.