A POLITICAL SKETCH.
Before proceeding further, we will say in a few words what was the
political situation of Texas at the moment when the story we have
undertaken to tell took place.
During the Spanish domination, the Texans claimed their liberty, arms in
hand; but after various successes, they were definitively crushed at the
battle of Medina, on August 13th, 1815, a fatal date, by Colonel
Arredondo, commanding the regiment of Estremadura, who was joined by the
Militia of the State of Cohahuila. From that period up to the second
Mexican Revolution, Texas remained bowed beneath the intolerable yoke of
the military regime, and left defenceless to the incessant attacks of
the Comanche Indians.
The United States had on many occasions raised claims to that country,
declaring that the natural frontiers of Mexico and the Confederation
were the Rio Bravo; but compelled in 1819 to allow ostensibly that
their claims were not founded, they employed roundabout means to seize
on this rich territory, and incorporate it in their borders.
It was at that time they displayed that astute and patiently
Machiavellian policy, which finally led to their triumph.
In 1821, the first American emigrants made their appearance, timidly,
and almost incognito, on the brazos, clearing the land, colonizing
secretly, and becoming in a few years so powerful, that in 1824 they had
made sufficient progress to form a compact mass of nearly 50,000
individuals. The Mexicans, incessantly occupied in struggling one
against the other in their interminable civil wars, did not understand
the purport of the American immigration, which they encouraged at the
outset.
Hardly eight years had elapsed since the arrival of the first Americans
in Texas, when they formed nearly the entire population.
The Washington Cabinet no longer concealed its intentions, and spoke
openly of buying from the Mexicans the territory of Texas, in which the
Spanish element had almost entirely disappeared, to make room for the
daring and mercantile spirit of the Anglo-Saxons.
The Mexican Government, at last aroused from its long lethargy,
understood the danger that threatened it from the double invasion of the
inhabitants of Missouri and Texas into the State of Santa Fé. It tried
to arrest the American emigration, but it was too late; the law passed
by the Mexican Congress was powerless, and the colonization was not
arrested, in spite of the Mexican military posts scattered along the
border, with orders to turn the immigrants back.
General Bustamante, President of the Republic, seeing that he would
soon have to fight with the Americans, silently prepared for the
conflict, and sent under different pretexts to Red River and the Sabina
various bodies of troops, which presently attained to the number of 1200
men.
Still, everything remained quiet apparently; and nothing evidenced the
period when the struggle would commence, which a perfidy on the part of
the Governor of the Eastern provinces caused to break out at the moment
when least expected.
The facts were as follow:--
The Commandant of Anahuac arrested and put in prison several American
colonists, without any plausible grounds.
The Texans had hitherto patiently endured the innumerable vexations
which the Mexican officers made them undergo, but at this last abuse of
force they rose as if by one accord, and went under arms to the
Commandant, demanding with threats and angry shouts the immediate
liberation of their fellow-citizens.
The Commandant, too weak to resist openly, feigned to grant what was
asked of him, but represented that he required two days to fulfil
certain formalities, and cover his own responsibility.
The insurgents granted this delay, by which the Commandant profited to
send in all haste to the Nacogdoches garrison to help him.
This garrison arrived at the moment when the insurgents, confiding on
the Governor's promise, were with-drawing.
Furious at having been so perfidiously deceived, the latter returned and
made such an energetic demonstration that the Mexican officer considered
himself fortunate in escaping a fight by surrendering his prisoners.
At this period, a _pronunciamento_ in favour of Santa Anna hurled
General Bustamante from power to the cry of "Long live the Federation!"
Texas was extremely afraid of the system of centralization, from which
it would never have obtained the recognition of its independence as a
separate State, and hence the people were unanimous for Federalism.
The colonists rose, and joining the insurgents of Anahuac who were still
under arms, marched resolutely on Fort Velasco, to which they laid
siege.
The rallying cry was still "Long live the Federation!" But this time it
concealed the cry of Independence, which the Texans were as yet too weak
to raise.
Fort Velasco was defended by a small Mexican garrison, commanded by a
brave officer of the name of Ugartechea.
During this extraordinary siege, in which the assailants only replied to
the cannon with rifle bullets, both Texans and Mexicans performed
prodigies of valour and displayed extraordinary obstinacy.
The colonists, skilful marksmen, hidden behind enormous barricades,
fired as at a mark, and killed the Mexican gunners whenever they showed
themselves to load their guns. Matters reached such a point that the
Commandant, seeing his bravest soldiers fall round him, devoted himself
and set to work as artilleryman. Struck by this heroic courage, the
Texans, who could have killed the brave Commandant twenty times, ceased
their fire, and Ugartechea at length surrendered, giving up a defence
which was henceforth impossible.
The success filled the colonists with joy, but Santa Anna was not
deceived as to the object of the Texan insurrection; he understood that
federalism concealed a well-devised revolutionary movement, and far
from trusting to the apparent devotion of the colonists, so soon as his
power was sufficiently strengthened to allow him to act energetically
against them, he sent off Colonel Mexia with four hundred men, to
reestablish in Texas the greatly shaken Mexican authority.
After many hesitations and diplomatic dodges, which had no possible
result with parties, both of which employed perfidy as their chief
weapon, the war at length broke out furiously; a committee of public
safety was organized at San Felipe, and the people were called upon to
take part in the struggle.
The civil war, however, had not yet officially broken out, when the man
at length appeared who was destined to decide the fate of Texas, and for
whom the glory of liberating it was reserved--we allude to Samuel
Houston.
From this moment the timid and purposeless insurrection of Texas became
a revolution. Still the Mexican government remained apparently the
legitimate master of the colony, and the colonists were naturally
denominated insurgents, and treated as such, when they fell into the
hands of their enemies; that is to say, they were without trial hung,
drowned, or shot, according as the spot where they were captured suited
one of these three modes of death.
At the period when our story opens, the exasperation against the
Mexicans and the enthusiasm for the noble cause of Independence had
reached their acme.
About three weeks previously, a serious engagement had taken place
between the garrison of Bejar and a detachment of Texan volunteers,
commanded by Austin, one of the most renowned Chiefs of the insurgents;
in spite of their inferiority in numbers and ignorance of military
tactics, the colonists fought so bravely, and worked their solitary gun
so skilfully, that the Mexican troops, after undergoing serious losses,
were compelled to retreat precipitately on Bejar.
This action was the first on the west of Texas after the capture of Fort
Velasco; it decided the revolutionary movement which ran through the
country like a train of gunpowder.
On all sides the towns raised troops to join the army of liberation;
resistance was organized on a grand scale and bold Guerilla Chiefs began
traversing the country in every direction, making war on their own
account, and serving after their fashion the cause they embraced and
which they were supposed to be defending.
Captain Don Juan Melendez, surrounded by enemies the more dangerous
because it was impossible for him to know their numbers or guess their
movements; entrusted with an extreme delicate mission; having at each
step a prescience of treachery incessantly menacing, though ignorant
where, when, or how it would burst on him; was compelled to employ
extreme precautions and a merciless severity, if he wished to get safe
home the precious charge confided to him; hence he had not hesitated
before the necessity of instituting an example by roughly punishing
Padre Antonio.
For a long time past, grave suspicions had been gathering over the monk;
his ambiguous conduct had aroused distrust, and caused presumptions in
no way favourable to his honesty.
Don Juan had determined to clear up his doubts at the first opportunity
that offered; we have stated in what way he had succeeded by springing a
countermine, that is to say, by having the spy watched by others more
skilful than himself, and catching him almost red-handed.
Still, we must do the worthy monk the justice of declaring that his
conduct had not the slightest political motive; his thoughts were not so
elevated as that; knowing that the Captain was entrusted with the charge
of a conducta de plata, he had only tried to draw him into a trap, for
the sake of having a share in the plunder, and making his fortune at a
stroke, in order that he might enjoy those indulgences he had hitherto
gone without; his ideas did not extend further, the worthy man was
simply a highway robber, but there was nothing of the politician about
him.
We will leave him for the present to follow the two hunters to whom he
was indebted for the rude chastisement he received, and who quitted the
camp immediately after the execution of the sentence.
These two men went off at a great speed, and, after descending the hill,
buried themselves in a thick wood, where two magnificent prairie horses,
half-tamed Mustangs, with flashing eye and delicate limbs, were quietly
browsing, while waiting for their riders; they were saddled in readiness
for mounting.
After unfastening the hobbles, the hunters put the bits in their mouths,
mounted, and digging in their spurs, started at a sharp gallop.
They rode for a long distance, bent over their horses' necks, following
no regular path, but going straight on, caring little for the obstacles
they met on their passage, and which they cleared with infinite skill;
about an hour before sunrise they at length stopped.
They had reached the entrance of a narrow gorge, flanked on both sides
by lofty wooded hills, the spurs of the mountains, whose denuded crests
seemed from their proximity to hang over the landscape. The hunters
dismounted before entering the gorge, and after hobbling their horses,
which they hid in a clump of floripondios, they began exploring the
neighbourhood with the care and sagacity of Indian warriors seeking
booty on the war-trail.
Their researches remained for a long time sterile, which could easily be
perceived from the exclamations of disappointment they every now and
then vented in a low voice: at length, after two hours, the first beams
of the sun dissipated the darkness, and they perceived some almost
imperceptible traces which made them start with joy.
Probably feeling now liberated from the anxiety that tormented them,
they returned to their horses, lay down on the ground, and after
fumbling in their alforjas, drew from them the materials for a modest
breakfast, to which they did honour with the formidable appetite of men
who have spent the whole night in the saddle, riding over mountains and
valleys.
Since their departure from the Mexican camp the hunters had not
exchanged a syllable, apparently acting under the influence of a dark
preoccupation, which rendered any conversation unnecessary.
In fact, the silence of men accustomed to desert life is peculiar; they
pass whole days without uttering a word, only speaking when necessity
obliges them, and generally substituting for oral language that language
of signs which, in the first place, has the incontestable advantage of
not betraying the presence of those who employ it to the ears of
invisible enemies constantly on the watch, and ready to leap, like birds
of prey, on the imprudent persons who allow themselves to be surprised.
When the hunters' appetite was appeased, the one whom the Captain called
John lit his short pipe, placed it in the corner of his month, and,
handed the tobacco-pouch to his comrade.
"Well, Sam," he said in a low voice, as if afraid of being overheard, "I
fancy we have succeeded, eh?"
"I think so too, John," Sam replied with a nod of affirmation; "you are
deucedly clever, my boy."
"Nonsense," the other said disdainfully; "there is no merit in deceiving
those brutes of Spaniards; they are stupid as bustards."
"No matter, the Captain fell into the hole in a glorious way."
"Hum! it was not he I was afraid of; for he and I have been good friends
for a long time; but it was the confounded monk."
"Eh, eh, if he had not arrived just in time, he would probably have
spoiled our fun; what is your opinion, John?"
"I think you are right, Sam. By Jabers, I laughed at seeing him writhe
under the chicote."
"It was certainly a glorious sight; but are you not afraid that he may
avenge himself? these monks are devilishly spiteful."
"Bah! what have we to fear from such vermin? He will never dare to look
us in the face."
"No matter, we had better be on our guard. Our trade is a queer one, as
you know, and it is very possible that some day or other this accursed
animal may play us an ugly trick."
"Don't bother about him; what we did was all fair in war. Be assured
that, under similar circumstances, the monk would not have spared us."
"That is true; so let him go to the deuce; the more so as the prey we
covet could not be in a better situation for us. I should never pardon
myself if I let it escape."
"Shall we remain here in ambush?"
"That is the safest way; we shall have time to rejoin our comrades when
we see the recua enter the plain; and, besides, have we not to meet
somebody here?"
"That is true, I forgot it."
"And stay, when you speak of the devil--here is our man."
The hunters rose quickly, seized their rifles, and hid themselves behind
a rock, so as to be ready for any event.
The rapid gallop of a horse became audible, approaching nearer and
nearer; ere long a rider emerged from the gorge, and pulled up calmly
and haughtily at about two paces from the hunters.
The latter rushed from their ambuscade, and advanced toward him, with
the right arm extended, and the palm of the hand open in sign of peace.
The horseman, who was an Indian warrior, responded to these pacific
demonstrations by letting his buffalo robe float out; then he
dismounted, and without further ceremony, shook the hands offered him.
"You are welcome, Chief," John said; "we were awaiting you impatiently."
"My Pale brothers can look at the sun," the Indian answered; "Blue-fox
is punctual."
"That is true, Chief; there is nothing to be said, for you are
remarkably punctual."
"Time waits for no man; warriors are not women; Blue-fox would like to
hold a council with his Pale brothers."
"Be it so," John went on: "your observation is just. Chief, so let us
deliberate; I am anxious to come to a definitive understanding with
you."
The Indian bowed gravely to the speaker, sat down, lit his pipe, and,
began smoking with evident pleasure; the hunters took seats by his side,
and, like him, remained silent during the whole period their tobacco
lasted.
At length, the Chief shook the ashes out of the bowl on his thumbnail,
and prepared to speak.
At the same instant a detonation was heard, and a bullet cut away a
branch just over the Chiefs head.
The three men leaped to their feet, and seizing their arms, prepared
bravely to repulse the enemies who attacked them so suddenly.