The Legends of San Francisco Part 4

Raindrops pattered on the shingles, Beat against the eastern windows, Flooding down the gla.s.s in torrents.

Through the veil of slanting rainfall.

Could be seen the distant harbor, With its flecks of fleecy vapors Floating, merging, disappearing.

In the fireplace of the cabin, Logs and knots of pine were blazing, Snapping with the pitch imprisoned; Flocks of sparks were flying upward; Flags of flame were waving welcome, Warming, cheering, exorcising Ghosts of Gloom and eerie phantoms; Bringing brightness and the odor Of the burning pitch that lingers As the incense of the forests.

By the fireplace sat the Tamal, Lone survivor of her people-- Sat and listened to the patter Of the raindrops on the shingles, To the soughing of the west-wind In the branches of the redwoods.

Long she gazed upon the harbor, Lying leaden-gray below us.

Then, she told this ancient legend-- Legend of her tribe, the Tamals, Legend of an ancient deluge.

"Do you see," she said, "the Islands Of the Albatross and Beaver?

By another name you call them.

One is crested by a prison, Grim and somber, melancholy; One is gay with flags and bunting, Ringing with the martial music Of your sailor boys in training; Yet, if you observe them closely, You will see in one the profile Of an Albatross, a giant Sea bird, sleeping on the water; While the other is a Beaver Facing always to the eastward.

When the noon sun casts its shadows You may see his stony features From the deck of ferry steamers Near the pier that wades the shallows On the harbor's eastern border, Tamals call them Sacred Islands Of the Albatross and Beaver, For upon their backs were carried All the Tamals through the deluge.

Down the ages came the legend, Told by Fathers to the children, Told on rainy winter evenings Round the campfires of the Tamals.

From the ocean rolled the rain-clouds, Came unceasingly the rain-clouds.

Black and heavy were the rain-clouds, Lighted only by the flashes Of the lightning playing in them.

Fell the rain as falls the torrents In the waterfalls of rivers, Fell through days of murky darkness, Fell through nights of inky blackness, Fell for days and nights unnumbered.

Waters covered plains and valleys.

On the coast the sea was rising, Flooding all the lower country, Creeping up the mountain foothills; Still the rains in floods descended.

Up the slopes of Tamalpais Climbed the people of the Tamals, While behind them crept the waters, Covering the hills and mountains.

One by one the peaks were swallowed In the flood of rising waters.

On the gray and sullen waters Floated logs and trees uprooted; On the trunks and in the branches Cowered creatures of the forests, Then the people prayed the Spirit-- Prayed the Father in the Heavens-- That he save his tribe, the Tamals, Ere the waters rise above them; And the Spirit heard their pleading, Sent the Albatross and Beaver, Giant messengers from Heaven, As the Saviors of the Tamals.

Albatross came from the westward, Through the lightning of the storm-clouds, Growing larger, coming nearer, Till the thunder of his pinions Echoed from the cliffs above them, Then he rested on the waters.

From the eastward came the Beaver, Swimming through the turbid waters, Growing, growing, ever growing, Till he had become a Giant, On whose back the tribe of Tamals Could find refuge from the waters.

Then a voice spoke from the storm-clouds, Spoke in mighty tones of thunder: 'I have heard your prayer, Oh Tamals; You shall live, and shall re-people All the world with men and women.

I will give to them the spirit Of the Albatross who searches Distant seas on tireless pinions.

I will give to them the wisdom Of the Beaver who with patience Labors, building and constructing.

On the Albatross and Beaver You shall ride, until the waters Shall return to their own borders.'

On the Albatross and Beaver All the Tamals rode in safety, While the swirling deluge covered All the foothills and the mountains.

Then the northwind, dry and scorching, Drove the rain-clouds to the ocean, And the sun-rays, piercing through them, Glinted on the troubled waters.

Came the peak of Tamalpais As an island to the surface; Down the slopes the flood receded Baring forests to the sunlight, Then the gra.s.s-lands of the valleys And the old familiar coastline.

With rejoicing all the Tamals Sought their homes along the baysh.o.r.e, Singing thanks to the Great Spirit, Singing praises to their saviors, Giant Albatross and Beaver, Resting then, within the harbor.

Then again, in voice of thunder, Spoke the Spirit from the Heavens; 'Let the Totem of the Tamals Be the Albatross and Beaver; Search and Labor, be their motto; And, lest children of their children May forget their mighty saviors, Giant Albatross and Beaver Shall be changed to rocky Islands-- Monuments to stand forever, In the Harbor of the Tamals.'

Thus the ancient Tamal woman Told the Legend of the Islands, While December rains were falling, And the fragrant pine was burning In the fireplace of the cabin On the slope of Tamalpais.

The Lake of Merita.

The lengthening shadows of evening Were creeping on Mount Tamalpais, Painting with purple the valleys, Gilding the ridges and summit.

Green were the groves of the redwoods, Lacing their branches together; Through them the last rays of sunlight Pierced to the carpet of needles.

Only the tinkling of water, Only the breeze in the branches, Only the call of the blue jays Broke the mysterious silence.

Far through the canyon I wandered, Far to her camp in the redwoods-- The home of the Indian woman, Wrinkled and old and decrepit, Learned in the lore of the Tamals.

Nearing her camp-fire, I saw her, And halted in fear, lest I trespa.s.s.

She sat like a Priestess of Forests, Chanting with weird intonations, Slowly, with strange repet.i.tions, Swaying in rhythmical measure.

Round her the wild forest creatures Gathered and sat at attention.

Birds ceased their anthems of evening, Fluttered to branches above her, Listened as if fascinated.

The singing was hushed when she saw me; Away fled the wild things to cover.

"Welcome, my friend," said the Tamal.

"A seat at my camp-fire is waiting."

Her welcome was hearty and friendly, But out of the shade of the forests Came chattering, chirping and barking, Resenting, reproaching, complaining.

I sat by the camp-fire and listened In wonder. The scene was uncanny.

At last, when the plaints had subsided, Or faded away in the distance, I said , "Tell me, friend, by what magic Are wild creatures called to your camp-fire.

Is it a secret you cherish?

May you reveal it to others?"

She gazed in the flickering embers, Dreamily gazed in the embers, Then she replied, "You have heard me Singing the song of Merita, The magical song of Merita, Merita, the friend of wild creatures, Wearers of fur or of feathers, Creatures of forest and mountain, Birds of the sea and the marshes.

I will tell you the tale of Merita, Merita, the daughter of Yado, Chief of the fishermen people Who lived by the Lake of the Oak Trees, Far to the east of the harbor.

Slender and tall was Merita, Dark were her eyes, and her tresses Glossy and black as the feathers That gleam on the wings of the raven.

Gentle and kind was Merita, Serving the young and the aged, Nursing the sick and the wounded, Cheering when sorrow was breaking The heart of some one of her people.

The G.o.ds taught Merita the language Of birds that made nests in the oak trees, Of water fowl thronging the tules, Of all furry creatures that peopled The hills and the valleys around them.

They came from afar when she called them, Called with her song, and they hastened To tell her their troubles and sorrows.

She bound up their wounds and caressed them, And told them the wiles of the hunters.

Wandering one day to the northward, She came to a creek where strawberries, Ripe and delicious were growing Beside a small stream that cascaded Down from the Peak of the Grizzlies.

Refreshing herself with the berries She sat in the shade of the live oaks, The ancient and widespreading live oaks, And called to the wild forest creatures, Singing the Song of Merita.

'Come, come, come, birds of the air, For I love you.

Come, come, come, tell how you fare, For I love you.

Come, come, come, wild creatures, know That I love you.

Come, come, come, tell me your woe, For I love you.

Come, come, come, you will I serve, For I love you.

Come, come, come, you well deserve, And I love you.

Come, come, come, I bring you aid, For I love you.

Come, come, come, be not afraid, For I love you.

Come, come, come--come--come--come.'

Before the monotonous chanting Was finished, the Blue Jays and Robins, Pigeons, and Bluebirds, and Blackbirds Flew to the branches above her, And tipping their heads to observe her Opened their bills in complaining.

Down from the canyon a white fawn Came with a shaft in her shoulder, Fell at the feet of Merita, Bleating her plea for protection.

Quickly the arrow was taken Out of her quivering shoulder.

Then came the hunter, pursuing-- Halted, and gazed in amazement.