Rezanov [79]
and reseating himself joined in the laughter of the little man who was rocking back and forth on his bench, his weaz- ened leg clasped against his shrunken chest.
"How on earth was I to know all your domestic arrangements?" he said testily. "God knows I found them limited enough last winter, but it never occurred to me there was any mysterious process involved in converting corn into meal. Is it quite useless, then?"
"Oh, no, we can boil or roast it. It will dispose of what teeth we have left, but that will serve the good purpose of reminding us always of your ex- cellency's interest in our welfare."
Rezanov shrugged his shoulders. "Give the corn to the natives. It is farinaceous at all events. And you can have nothing to say against the flour I have brought, and the peas, beans, tallow, butter, barley, salt, and salted meats--in all to the value of twenty-four thousand Spanish dollars."
The Chief-Manager's head nodded with the vigor and rapidity of a mechanical toy. "It is a God-send, a God-send. If you did no more than that you would have earned our everlasting gratitude. It will make us over, give us renewed courage in this cursed ex- istence. Are you not going to get me out of it?"
Rezanov shook his head with a smile. "Literally you are the whole Company. As long as I live here you stay--although when I reach St. Peters- burg I shall see that you receive every possible re- ward and honor."
Baranhov lifted his shoulders to his ears in quiz- zical resignation. "I suppose it matters little where the last few years left me are spent, and I can hang the medals on the walls to console me when I have rheumatism, and shout my titles from the top of the fort when the Kolosh are yelling at the barri- cades."
"You must make yourself more comfortable," said Rezanov emphatically. "You are wrong to carry your honesty and enthusiasm to the point of living like the promuschleniki. Take enough of their time to build you a comfortable dwelling, and I will send you, on my own account, far more sub- stantial rewards than orders and titles. Build a big house, for that matter. I shall be here more or less--when I am not in California." And he told Baranhov of his proposed marriage with the daugh- ter of Don Jose Arguello.
The Chief-Manager listened to this confidence with an even livelier satisfaction than to the list of the Juno's cargo.
"We shall have California yet!" he cried, his eyes snapping like live coals under the black thatch of wig. "Absorption or the bayonet. It matters little. Ten years from now and we shall have a line of settlements as far south as San Diego. My plan was to feel my way down the northern coast of California with a colony, which should buy a tract of land from the natives and engage immediately in otter hunting--somewhere between Cape Mendo- cino and Drake's Bay. The Spanish have no settle- ments above San Francisco and are too weak to drive us out. They would rage and bluster and do nothing. Then quietly push forward, building forts and ships. But you have taken hold in the grand manner and will accomplish in ten years what would have taken me fifty. Marry this girl, use your ad- vantage over the entire family--whose influence I well know--and that great personal power with which the Almighty has been so lavish, and you will have the whole weakly garrisoned country un- der your foot before they know where they are, and the Russian settlers pouring in. Spain cannot come to the rescue while this devil Bonaparte is alive, and he is young, and like yourself a favorite of destiny. Those damned Bostonians inherit the grabbing instincts of the too paternal race they have just rejected, but there are thousands of miles of desert between California and their own western outposts, hundreds of savage tribes to exterminate. By the time they are in a position to attempt the occupation of California we shall be so securely en- trenched they will either let us alone or send troops that would be half dead by the time they reach us. As to ships, we could soon build enough
"How on earth was I to know all your domestic arrangements?" he said testily. "God knows I found them limited enough last winter, but it never occurred to me there was any mysterious process involved in converting corn into meal. Is it quite useless, then?"
"Oh, no, we can boil or roast it. It will dispose of what teeth we have left, but that will serve the good purpose of reminding us always of your ex- cellency's interest in our welfare."
Rezanov shrugged his shoulders. "Give the corn to the natives. It is farinaceous at all events. And you can have nothing to say against the flour I have brought, and the peas, beans, tallow, butter, barley, salt, and salted meats--in all to the value of twenty-four thousand Spanish dollars."
The Chief-Manager's head nodded with the vigor and rapidity of a mechanical toy. "It is a God-send, a God-send. If you did no more than that you would have earned our everlasting gratitude. It will make us over, give us renewed courage in this cursed ex- istence. Are you not going to get me out of it?"
Rezanov shook his head with a smile. "Literally you are the whole Company. As long as I live here you stay--although when I reach St. Peters- burg I shall see that you receive every possible re- ward and honor."
Baranhov lifted his shoulders to his ears in quiz- zical resignation. "I suppose it matters little where the last few years left me are spent, and I can hang the medals on the walls to console me when I have rheumatism, and shout my titles from the top of the fort when the Kolosh are yelling at the barri- cades."
"You must make yourself more comfortable," said Rezanov emphatically. "You are wrong to carry your honesty and enthusiasm to the point of living like the promuschleniki. Take enough of their time to build you a comfortable dwelling, and I will send you, on my own account, far more sub- stantial rewards than orders and titles. Build a big house, for that matter. I shall be here more or less--when I am not in California." And he told Baranhov of his proposed marriage with the daugh- ter of Don Jose Arguello.
The Chief-Manager listened to this confidence with an even livelier satisfaction than to the list of the Juno's cargo.
"We shall have California yet!" he cried, his eyes snapping like live coals under the black thatch of wig. "Absorption or the bayonet. It matters little. Ten years from now and we shall have a line of settlements as far south as San Diego. My plan was to feel my way down the northern coast of California with a colony, which should buy a tract of land from the natives and engage immediately in otter hunting--somewhere between Cape Mendo- cino and Drake's Bay. The Spanish have no settle- ments above San Francisco and are too weak to drive us out. They would rage and bluster and do nothing. Then quietly push forward, building forts and ships. But you have taken hold in the grand manner and will accomplish in ten years what would have taken me fifty. Marry this girl, use your ad- vantage over the entire family--whose influence I well know--and that great personal power with which the Almighty has been so lavish, and you will have the whole weakly garrisoned country un- der your foot before they know where they are, and the Russian settlers pouring in. Spain cannot come to the rescue while this devil Bonaparte is alive, and he is young, and like yourself a favorite of destiny. Those damned Bostonians inherit the grabbing instincts of the too paternal race they have just rejected, but there are thousands of miles of desert between California and their own western outposts, hundreds of savage tribes to exterminate. By the time they are in a position to attempt the occupation of California we shall be so securely en- trenched they will either let us alone or send troops that would be half dead by the time they reach us. As to ships, we could soon build enough