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Don Arracho was fifty-four years old.
Rancho de Plata, gained from mission sale,
was Arracho's for price of a little gold.
Officials closed the mission's door, sad tale
when Spaniards came to grief and hold did fail.
Church gave release to native tribes that day,
and they went home to thrive in field and dale.
To Arracho, Don Jose chose to say:

"You'll ride home with us after church. One of
my ships has returned from the Sandwich Islands
and you may enjoy meeting its new captain this
afternoon."
" I can't think of anything I'd rather do. May I ask
what ship she is, Alcalde?"
" La Paloma. She's taken many of your hides around
Cape Horn. Do you remember her?"
" Of course, Don Jose. There's no finer brig than
La Paloma. But what happened to captain Luego?
Has he retired?"
" No, Don Huerra. He was killed at Lahaina by
a drunken sailor from a Yanqui whaler. They
quarreled over a native girl."
"How tragic."
" Yes, isn't it. To fight over a beautiful senorita when
blood runs hot is normal - I've done such thing
myself when young. But to have one's life taken
by a drunken Yanqui because of a native girl is to
my mind incomprehensible. Captain Luego was
competent and I never lost money when he commanded,
but he had a weakness for women and that killed him.
It's happened to other men, Don Arracho, and no doubt it'll
happen again."

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