' 'Vamos,
Senor Larkin.' At my bedside were several letters that I had re-read
before going to bed. On dressing myself, while my captors were saddling
my horse, I assorted these letters, and put them into different
pockets. After taking my own time to dress and arrange my valise, we
started, and rode to a camp of seventy or eighty men on the banks of
the Monterey River; there each officer and principal person passed the
time of night with me, and a remark or two. The commandante took me on
one side, and informed me that his people demanded that I should write
to San Juan, to the American captain of volunteers, saying that I had
left Monterey to visit the distressed families of the river, and
request or demand that twenty men should meet me before daylight, that
I could station them, before my return to town, in a manner to protect
these families. The natives, he said, were determined on the act being
accomplished. I at first endeavoured to reason with him on the infamy
and the impossibility of the deed, but to no avail; he said my life
depended on the letter; that he was willing, nay, anxious to preserve
my life as an old acquaintance, but could not control his people in
this affair.
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