“Never heard of ’em.  When were they given?”

The Senor turned and addressed a few words to the commander, who stood apart in silent dignity.

“In 1792.”

“In what?—­Is he mad?” said Bunker.  “Does he know what year this is?”

“The illustrious commander believes it to be the year of grace 1854,” answered Senor Perkins quietly.  “In the case of the only two vessels who have touched here since 1792 the order was not carried out because they were Mexican coasters.  The illustrious Comandante explains that the order he speaks of as on record distinctly referred to the ship ‘Columbia, which belonged to the General Washington.’”

“General Washington!” echoed Bunker, angrily staring at the Senor.  “What’s this stuff?  Do you mean to say they don’t know any history later than our old Revolutionary War?  Haven’t they heard of the United States among them?  Nor California—­that we took from them during the late war?”

“Nor how we licked ’em out of their boots, and that’s saying a good deal,” whispered Crosby, glancing at the Comandante’s feet.

Senor Perkins raised a gentle, deprecating hand.

“For fifty years the Presidio and the Mission of Todos Santos have had but this communication with the outer world,” he said blandly.  “Hidden by impenetrable fogs from the ocean pathway at their door, cut off by burning and sterile deserts from the surrounding country, they have preserved a trust and propagated a faith in enforced but not unhappy seclusion.  The wars that have shaken mankind, the dissensions that have even disturbed the serenity of their own nation on the mainland, have never reached them here.  Left to themselves, they have created a blameless Arcadia and an ideal community within an extent of twenty square leagues.  Why should we disturb their innocent complacency and tranquil enjoyment by information which cannot increase and might impair their present felicity?  Why should we dwell upon a late political and international episode which, while it has been a benefit to us, has been a humiliation to them as a nation, and which might not only imperil our position as guests, but interrupt our practical relations to the wood and water, with which the country abounds?”

He paused, and before the captain could speak, turned to the silent Commander, addressed him in a dozen phrases of fluent and courteous Spanish, and once more turned to Captain Bunker.

“I have told him you are touched to the heart with his courtesy, which you recognize as coming from the fit representative of the great Mexican nation.  He reciprocates your fraternal emotion, and begs you to consider the Presidio and all that it contains, at your disposition and the disposition of your friends—­the passengers, particularly those fair ladies,” said Senor Perkins, turning with graceful promptitude towards the group of lady passengers, and slightly elevating himself on the tips of his neat boots, “whose white hands he kisses, and at whose feet he lays the devotion of a Mexican caballero and officer.”