The next day, Smith accompanied Major Stewart to the smaller island of San Luis, a ferry transporting them across the mile-wide channel from Galveston. The prospering town of San Luis had two general stores, a weekly newspaper called the Advocate, a row of warehouses along a thousand-foot-long wharf, and the republic's one and only cotton press.
Rows of new, mostly unpainted clapboard houses lined Market and Liberty Streets. Piers were being set on the mainland side of the island for a bridge which would connect the town with a road proposed to run all the way to Brazoria and Columbia. Someday, declared the visionary boosters of San Luis, all the cotton of the Brazos River plantations would pass through here, destined as cargo on ships from the Seven Seas.
After several days of sightseeing, Ashbel Smith still had no clue to Major Stewart's purpose for visiting Texas. Was he merely to report on everything he saw or heard? Or had he been sent here for a specific purpose, to pursue some course of action? One thing Smith did know was that a man in his own dire financial straits could not afford to play host for any length of time. Yet General Houston was relying on him to show Stewart every courtesy, which meant one did not ask a guest to pay his own way. Smith began to despair. He was impaled upon the horns of an excruciating dilemma.
Much to Smith's amazement, Stewart emerged onto the Tremont's veranda on the morning of the third day in his uniform. All heads turned. The eyes of the young women present gleamed with admiration. The major cut a fine figure in his scarlet shell jacket. His white overalls were trimmed with a broad scarlet stripe. The shako on his head was covered with white quilted calico, and the laced crossbelt was gold lace with a scarlet train and silver "furniture'' and the cipher VR in honor of Great Britain's young Queen Victoria. A saber dangled from one of his belt slings.
Smith took Stewart aside. "Really, Major, what are you trying to accomplish? I thought your plan to remain incognito was a very prudent one."
Stewart laughed at the consternation on the doctor's face. "Don't worry, Ashbel, old chap. I've tested the waters and I believe them to be safe. Discounting a few remarks by Irish wharf rats, I haven't heard a harsh word spoken about Englishmen since I arrived. Besides, I feel peculiar out of uniform.''
"Well," said Smith, dubious, "what's the itinerary for today?"
"I would like to venture into the interior, if you don't mind. Your island is truly delightful. These warm sea breezes remind me of my sojourn in Tahiti. But I must confess I'm curious to see one of your cotton plantations."
Desperation could breed inspiration; a wonderful idea sprang full-blown into Ashbel Smith's mind and he seized it as a drowning man would clutch at a lifeline.
"Would a sugar plantation suffice, Major? One of Sam Houston's most trusted lieutenants lives along the Brazos. A place called Grand Cane. We would be welcome there, I'm sure. I think you'd get along famously with Captain McAllen."
"Splendid," said Stewart, enthusiastic. "Let's be off, then."
Chapter Twelve
John Henry McAllen greeted Ashbel Smith and Major Stewart with all the courtesy one could have asked for, and yet Smith's conscience got the better of him, and when the first opportunity came to get McAllen alone he made profuse apologies.
"I realize this must be a great inconvenience, John Henry, but I must confess that my funds are nearly exhausted. I simply can't afford to play host to the major any longer."
"Don't concern yourself with that. He is welcome to stay here as long as he wishes. In fact, this works out quite well. Only yesterday I received a letter from the general. He and his bride should arrive in Texas any day now, and he intends to bring her up this way. Perhaps Major Stewart can wait for him here."
"Wonderful! What else did the Old Chief say in his letter?"
"That he had decided to challenge Lamar for the presidency."
Ashbel Smith's eyes lit up. "So he has finally committed himself!" He knew Houston well enough to be assured that once the man said he was going to do something there would be no turning back. "Good! As soon as I return to Galveston I shall proceed to organize our forces there. It will be a hard-fought contest, John Henry, but I am confident of victory. Texas will be saved."
"From Lamar, perhaps. But what about the Comanches?"
That sobered Smith. "Any word yet as to what they may be up to?"
Frowning, McAllen shook his head. "It's quiet all along the frontier. Not a single raid, as far as I know."
"And that worries you?"
"Yes. Very much so. This time of year they are usually stirring up trouble here and there. But so far this year—nothing."
That evening, at dinner, Stewart wore his uniform, and in noticing the beguiled expression on Leah McAllen's face as she gazed at the dashing British officer, Ashbel Smith began to regret all over again his decision to bring the major to Grand Cane. What a fool he was! He should have foreseen that a woman with Leah's weakness could scarcely resist such a temptation. Chagrined, Smith watched McAllen, but their host seemed not to be aware of Leah's preoccupation with their guest. The doctor was sure, nonetheless, that McAllen was very much aware of what was going on. Precious little escaped the notice of John Henry McAllen.
"So tell me, Major," said McAllen, when their dinner plates had been cleared away by Bessie, and old Roman had brought them brandies and Havana cigars. "What brings you to Texas?"
"Just visiting, Captain."
"Nonsense. You're here on behalf of your government, in an unofficial capacity."
Smith tried not to smile. Good old John Henry! As blunt and tactless as ever. Stewart would be hard-pressed to remain elusive as to his true purpose in Texas as long as he stayed under McAllen's roof.
Stewart smiled wryly at his host. "Well, I suppose there can be no harm in divulging the truth to you, sir. After all, as I understand it, you are one of Houston's most trusted associates."
Smith gaped at the Britisher. He'd been trying for days to pin down the evasive Stewart, and here the man was capitulating to McAllen with scarcely a fight!
Stewart leaned forward with a melodramatic air of conspiracy. "I tell you this, gentlemen, in the utmost confidence. My government is gravely concerned about the direction President Lamar is leading this republic."
"If you only knew!" exclaimed Smith.
"I do not refer to his economic policies, or to those pertaining to your aborigines."
"Aborigines?" Leah giggled and then, embarrassed, touched her lips with a finger. "Oh, I'm so awfully sorry. It's just that I have never heard them referred to in that manner."
Smith noted that McAllen glanced at his wife with exasperation etched upon his face, but Major Stewart's smile was tolerant.
"Perhaps I should say redskins. Isn't that what you call them out here?"
"Or red devils, red heathens, and red niggers," said Ashbel Smith. "Take your pick. None of them are very complimentary."
Stewart nodded. "We have had our share of difficulties with the indigenous populations of the empire. But back to Lamar. My government, frankly, does not approve of his schemes to conquer Santa Fe and California."
"Isn't that because the province of California serves as collateral for the loans Great Britain has made to the Republic of Mexico?" asked McAllen.
"You are well informed, Captain. But no, that is not the reason. Our chief concern is to maintain peace, or more precisely, to avoid war. We have a very profitable trade arrangement with Mexico, as well as other countries to the south. And war is extremely bad for business."