Up to the present portion of my narrative, I have lived and kept company
with Indians and a few white men who had conformed to their manners and
customs. I had seen nothing of civilized life, except during my short
sojourn at Monterey, one of the last places in the world to give you a
true knowledge of mankind. I was as all Indians are, until they have
been deceived and outraged, frank, confiding, and honest. I knew that I
could trust my Shoshones, and I thought that I could put confidence in
those who were Christians and more civilized. But the reader must
recollect that I was but nineteen years of age, and had been brought up
as a Shoshone. My youthful ardour had been much inflamed by our late
successful conflicts. Had I contented myself with cementing the Indian
confederation, I should have done well, but my ideas now went much
farther. The circumstances which had just occurred raised in my mind the
project of rendering the whole of California Independent, and it-was my
ambition to become the liberator of the country.
Aware of the great resources of the territory, of the impassable
barriers presented to any large body of men who would invade it from the
central parts of Mexico; the more I reflected, the more I was convinced
of the feasibility of the undertaking.
I represented to the Californians at San Francisco that, under existing
circumstances, they would not be able successfully to oppose any force
which the government might send by sea from Acapulco; I pointed out to
them that their rulers, too happy in having a pretext for plundering
them, would show them no mercy, after what had taken place; and I then
represented, that if they were at once to declare their independence,
and open their ports to strangers, they would, in a short time, become
sufficiently wealthy and powerful to overthrow any expedition that might
be fitted out against them. I also proposed, as they had no standing
troops, to help them with a thousand warriors; but if so, I expected to
have a share in the new government that should be established. My San
Francisco friends heard me with attention, and I could see they approved
the idea; yet there were only a few from among the many who spoke out,
and they would not give any final answer until they had conferred with
their countrymen at Monterey. They pledged their honour that immediately
on their arrival in that city, they would canvas the business, dispatch
messengers to the southern settlements, and let me know the result.
As it was useless for me to return to the settlement before I knew their
decision, I resolved upon taking up my residence at one of the missions
on the bay, under the charge of some jolly Franciscan monks.
In the convent, or mission, I passed my time pleasantly; the good
fathers were all men of sound education, as indeed they all are in
Mexico. The holy fathers were more than willing to separate California
from the Mexican government; indeed they had many reasons for their
disaffection; government had robbed them of their property, and had
levied nearly two hundred per cent upon all articles of Californian
produce and manufacture. Moreover, when they sold their furs and hides
to the foreign traders, they were bound to give one-half of the receipts
to the government, while the other half was already reduced to an
eighth, by the Mexican process of charging 200 per cent duty upon all
goods landed on the shore. They gave me to understand that the missions
would, if necessary for my success, assist me with 15, 20, nay
30,000 dollars.
I had a pleasant time with these Padres, for they were all _bon
vivants_. Their cellars were well filled with Constantia wine, their
gardens highly cultivated, their poultry fat and tender, and their game
always had a particular flavour. Had I remained there a few months more,
I might have taken the vows myself, so well did that lazy, comfortable
life agree with my taste; but the Californians had been as active as
they had promised to be, and their emissaries came to San Francisco to
settle the conditions under which I was to lend my aid. Events were
thickening; there was no retreat for me, and I prepared for action.
After a hasty, though hearty, farewell to my pious and liberal
entertainers, I returned to the settlement, to prepare for the opening
of the drama, which would lead some of us either to absolute power or to
the scaffold.
Six weeks after my quitting San Francisco, I was once more in the field,
and ready for an encounter against the troops dispatched from St. Miguel
of Senora, and other central garrisons. On hearing of the defeat of the
two governors, about 120 Californians, from Monterey and San Francisco,
had joined my forces, either excited by their natural martial spirit, or
probably with views of ambition similar to my own.
I had with me 1,200 Indians, well equipped and well mounted; but, on
this occasion, my own Shoshones were in greater numbers than our new
allies. They numbered 800, forming two squadrons, and their discipline
was such as would have been admired at the military parades of Europe.
Besides them, I had 300 Arrapahoes and 100 Apaches.
As the impending contest assumed a character more serious than our two
preceding skirmishes, I made some alteration in the command, taking
under my own immediate orders a body of 250 Shoshones, and the Mexican
company, who had brought four small field-pieces. The remainder of my
Indians were subdivided into squadrons of 100, commanded by their own
respective chiefs. Gabriel, Roche, and my old servant, with two or three
clever young Californians, I kept about me, as aides-de-camp. We
advanced to the pass, and found the enemy encamped on the plain below.
We made our dispositions; our artillery was well posted behind
breastworks, in almost an impregnable position, a few miles below the
pass, where we had already defeated the governor of Senora. We found
ourselves in presence of an enemy inferior in number, but well
disciplined, and the owners of four field-pieces heavier than ours. They
amounted to about 950, 300 of which were cavalry, and the remainder
light infantry, with a small company of artillery.
Of course, in our hilly position our cavalry could be of no use, and as
to attacking them in the plain, it was too dangerous to attempt it, as
we had but 600 rifles to oppose to their superior armament and military
discipline. Had it been in a wood, where the Indians could have been
under cover of trees, we would have given the war-whoop, and destroyed
them without allowing them time to look about them; but as it was,
having dismounted the Apaches, and feeling pretty certain of the natural
strength of our position, we determined to remain quiet till a false
movement or a hasty attack from the enemy should give us the opportunity
of crushing them at a blow.
I was playing now for high stakes, and the exuberancy of spirit which
had formerly accompanied my actions had deserted me, and I was left a
prey to care, and, I must confess, to suspicion; but it was too late to
retrace my steps, and, moreover, I was too proud not to finish what I
had begun, even if it should be at the expense of my life. Happily, the
kindness and friendship of Gabriel and Roche threw a brighter hue upon
my thoughts. In them I knew I possessed two friends who would never
desert me in misfortune, whatever they might do in prosperity; we had so
long lived and hunted together, shared the same pleasures and the same
privations, that our hearts were linked by the strongest ties.
The commander who opposed us was an old and experienced officer, and
certainly we should have had no chance with him had he not been one of
those individuals who, having been appreciated by the former government,
was not in great favour with, or even trusted by, the present one. Being
the only able officer in the far west, he had of a necessity been
intrusted with this expedition, but only _de nomine_; in fact, he had
with him agents of the government to watch him, and who took a decided
pleasure in counteracting all his views; they were young men, without
any kind of experience, whose only merit consisted in their being more
or less related to the members of the existing government. Every one of
them wished to act as a general, looking upon the old commander as a
mere convenience upon whom they would throw all the responsibility in
case of defeat, and from whom they intended to steal the laurels, if any
were to be obtained.
This commander's name was Martinez; he had fought well and stoutly
against the Spaniards during the war of Independence; but that was long
ago, and his services had been forgotten. As he had acted purely from
patriotism, and was too stern, too proud, and too honest to turn
courtier and bow to upstarts in power, he had left the halls of
Montezuma with disgust; consequently he had remained unnoticed,
advancing not a step, used now and then in time of danger, but neglected
when no longer required.
I could plainly perceive how little unity there was prevailing among the
leaders of our opponents. At some times the position of the army showed
superior military genius, at others the infantry were exposed, and the
cavalry performing useless evolutions. It was evident that two powers
were struggling with each other; one endeavouring to maintain regular
discipline, the other following only the impulse of an unsteady and
overbearing temper. This discovery, of course, rendered me somewhat more
confident, and it was with no small pride I reflected that in my army I
alone commanded.
It was a pretty sight to look at my Shoshones, who already understood
the strength gained by simultaneous action. The Apaches, too, in their
frequent encounters with the regular troops, had acquired a certain
knowledge of cavalry tactics. All the travellers in Mexico who have met
with these intrepid warriors have wondered at their gallant and uniform
bearing. The Californians also, having now so much at stake, had assumed
a demeanour quite contrary to their usual indolent natures, and their
confidence in me was much increased since our success against Fonseca,
and the comparison they could now make between the disposition and
arrangement of the opposed forces. So elated indeed were they, and so
positive of success, that they frequently urged me to an immediate
attack. But I determined upon a line of conduct to which I adhered.
The Arrapahoes showed themselves a little unruly; brave, and such
excellent horsemen, as almost to realize the fable of the Centaurs,
charging an enemy with the impetuosity of lightning and disappearing
with the quickness of thought, they requested me every moment to engage;
but I knew too well the value of regular infantry, and how ineffectual
would be the efforts of light cavalry against their bayonets. I was
obliged to restrain their ardour by every argument I could muster,
principally by giving them, to understand that by a hasty attack we
should certainly lose the booty.
The moment came at last The prudence of the old commander having been
evidently overruled by his ignorant coadjutors, the infantry were put in
motion, flanked on one side by the cavalry and on the other by the
artillery. It was indeed a pitiful movement, for which they paid dearly.
I despatched the Arrapahoes to out-flank and charge the cavalry of the
enemy when a signal should be made; the Apaches slowly descended the
hill in face of the infantry, upon which we opened a destructive fire
with our four field-pieces.
The infantry behaved well; they never flinched, but stood their ground
as brave soldiers should do. The signal to charge was given to the
Arrapahoes, and at that moment, the Shoshones, who till then had
remained inactive with me on the hill, started at full galop to their
appointed duty. The charge of the Arrapahoes was rapid and terrific,
and, when the smoke and dust had cleared away, I perceived them in the
plain a mile off, driving before them the Mexican cavalry, reduced to
half its number. The Shoshones, by a rapid movement, had broken through
between the infantry and artillery, forcing the artillery-men to abandon
their pieces; then, closing their ranks and wheeling, they attacked
fiercely the right flank of the infantry.
When I gave the signal to the Arrapahoes to charge, the Apaches
quickened their speed and charged the enemy in front; but they were
checked by the running fire of the well-disciplined troops, and, in
spite of their determination and gallantry, they found in the Mexican
bayonets a barrier of steel which their lances could not penetrate.
The chances, however, were still ours: the Mexican artillery was in our
power, their cavalry dispersed and almost out of sight, and the
infantry, though admirably disciplined, was very hardly pressed both in
flank and in front. At this juncture I sent Gabriel to bring back the
Arrapahoes to the scene of the conflict, for I knew that the Mexican
cavalry would never form again until they had reached the borders of
Senora. Of course, the coadjutors of Martinez had disappeared with the
fugitive cavalry, leaving the old general to regain the lost advantage
and to bear the consequences of their own cowardice and folly.
Now left master of his actions, this talented officer did not yet
despair of success. By an admirable manoeuvre he threw his infantry into
two divisions, so as to check both bodies of cavalry until he could form
them into a solid square, which, charging with impetuosity through the
Shoshones, regained possession of their pieces of artillery, after
which, retreating slowly, they succeeded in reaching, without further
loss, the ground which they had occupied previous to their advance,
which, from its more broken and uneven nature, enabled the infantry to
resist a charge of cavalry with considerable advantage.
This manoeuvre of the old general, which extricated his troops from
their dangerous position and recovered his field-pieces, had also the
advantage of rendering our artillery of no further service, as we could
not move them down the hill. As the battle was still to be fought, I
resolved to attack them before they had time to breathe, and while they
were yet panting and exhausted with their recent exertions.
Till then the Californians had been merely spectators of the conflict. I
now put myself at their head and charged the Mexicans' square in front,
while the Shoshones did the same on the left, and the Apaches on
the right.
Five or six times were we repulsed, and we repeated the charge, the old
commander everywhere giving directions and encouraging his men. Roche
and I were both wounded, fifteen of the Californians dead, the ranks of
Shoshones much thinned by the unceasing fire of the artillery, and the
Apaches were giving way in confusion. I was beginning to doubt of
success, when Gabriel, having succeeded in recalling the Arrapahoes from
their pursuit of the fugitive cavalry, re-formed them, made a furious
charge upon the Mexicans on the only side of the square not already
assailed, and precisely at the moment when a last desperate effort of
the Shoshones and my own body of Californians had thrown the ranks
opposed to us into confusion.
The brave old commander, perceiving he could no longer keep his ground,
retreated slowly, with the intention of gaining the rugged and broken
ground at the base of the mountains behind him, where our cavalry could
no longer assail him.
Perceiving his intention, and determining, if possible, to prevent his
retreat, the Arrapahoes having now rejoined us, we formed into one
compact body and made a final and decisive charge, which proved
irresistible. We broke through their ranks and dispersed them. For a
time my command and power ceased; the Indians were following their own
custom of killing without mercy, and scalping the dead. One-half of the
enemy were destroyed; but Martinez succeeded the remainder in reaching
his intended position.
But the Mexican troops considered it useless to contend any more, and
shortly afterwards the old general himself rode towards us with a flag,
to ascertain the conditions under which we would accept his surrender.
Poor man! He was truly an estimable officer. The Indians opened their
ranks to let him pass, while all the Californians, who felt for his
mortification, uncovered themselves as a mark of respect. The old
general demanded a free passage back to Senora, and the big tears were
in his eyes as he made the proposal. Speaking of his younger associates,
he never used a word to their disparagement, though the slight curl of
his lip showed plainly how bitter were his feelings; he knew too that
his fate was sealed, and that he alone would bear the disgrace of
the defeat.
So much was he respected by the Californians, that his request was
immediately granted, upon his assurance that, under no circumstance, he
would return to California as a foe. As Martinez departed, a Shoshone
chief, perceiving that his horse was seriously wounded, dismounted from
his own, and addressed him:--
"Chief of the Watchinangoes (Mexicans) and brother, brave warrior! a
Shoshone can honour as well as fight an enemy: take this horse; it has
been the horse of a Red-skin warrior, it will be faithful to the
Pale-face."
The general bowed upon his saddle, and descended, saying, in few words,
that he now learned to esteem the Indian warriors who had overpowered
him on that fated day, both by their gallantry and generosity. When the
Indian proceeded to change the saddles, Martinez stopped him:
"Nay, brother," said he; "keep it with the holsters and their contents,
which are more suitable to a conqueror and a young warrior than to a
vanquished and broken-hearted old man."
Having said this, he spurred his new horse, and soon rejoined his men.
We returned to the encampment, and two hours afterwards we saw the
Mexicans in full retreat towards the rising sun.
That night was one of mourning; our success had been complete, but
dearly purchased. The Arrapahoes alone had not suffered. The Apaches had
lost thirty men, the Shoshones one hundred and twelve, killed and
wounded, and the Montereyans several of their most respected young
citizens. On the following day we buried our dead, and when our task
was over, certain that we should remain unmolested for a considerable
time, we returned to St. Francisco--the Indians to receive the promised
bounty, and I to make arrangements for our future movements.
By the narrative I have given, the reader may have formed an accurate
idea of what did take place in California. I subsequently received the
Mexican newspapers, containing the account of what occurred; and as
these are the organs through which the people of Europe are enlightened
as to the events of these distant regions, I shall quote the pages, to
show how truth may be perverted.
"_Chihuahua--News of the West--Californian Rebellion_.--This day
arrived in our city a particular courier from the Bishop of Senora,
bearer of dispatches rather important for the welfare of our government.
The spirit of rebellion is abroad; Texas already has separated from our
dominions; Yucatan is endeavouring to follow the pernicious example, and
California has just now lighted the flambeau of civil war.
"It appears that, excited by the bad advices of foreigners, the
inhabitants of Monterey obliged the gallant governor to leave his
fireside. This warlike officer found the means of forwarding dispatches
to Senora, while he himself, uniting a handful of brave and faithful
citizens, landed in the bay of St. Francisco, in order to punish the
rebels. By this time the governor of Senora, with the _élite_ of the
corps of the army under his orders, having advanced to his help, was
decoyed into the rebels' camp under some peaceful pretext, and
shamefully murdered.
"It is yet a glory to think that even a Mexican rebel could not have
been guilty of so heinous a crime. The performer of that cowardly deed
was a Frenchman, living among the Indians of the west, who, for the sake
of a paltry sum of gold, came to the aid of the rebels with many
thousands of the savages. His next step was to enter St. Francisco, and
there the horrors he committed recall to our mind the bloody deeds
performed in his country during the great revolution. But what could be
expected from a Frenchman? Fonseca was executed as a malefactor, the
city plundered, the booty divided among the red warriors; besides an
immense sum of money which was levied upon the other establishments, or,
to say better, extorted, upon the same footing as the buccaneers
of old.
"The news having reached the central government of the west, General
Martinez assumed upon himself the responsibility of an expedition,
which, under the present appearances, showed his want of knowledge, and
his complete ignorance of military tactics. He was met by ten thousand
Indians, and a powerful artillery served by the crews of many vessels
upon the coast--vessels bearing rather a doubtful character. Too late he
perceived his error, but had not the gallantry of repairing it and dying
as a Mexican should. He fled from the field almost in the beginning of
the action, and had it not been for the desperate efforts of the
cavalry, and truly wonderful military talents displayed by three or four
young officers who had accompanied him, the small army would have been
cut to pieces. We numbered but five hundred men in all, and had but a
few killed and wounded, while the enemy left behind them on the field
more than twelve hundred slain.
"The gallant young officers would have proceeded to St. Francisco, and
followed up their conquest, had the little army been in possession of
the necessary provisions and ammunition; but General Martinez, either
from incapacity or treachery, had omitted these two essential
necessaries for an army. We are proud and happy to say that Emanuel
Bustamente, the young distinguished officer, of a highly distinguished
family, who conducted himself so well in Yucatan during the last
struggle, commanded the cavalry, and it is to his skill that we Mexicans
owe the glory of having saved our flag from a deep stain.
"Postscriptum.--We perceive that the cowardly and mercenary Martinez has
received the punishment his treachery so well deserved; during his
flight he was met by some Indians and murdered. May divine Providence
thus punish all traitors to the Mexican government!"
I regret to say that the last paragraph was true. The brave Martinez,
who had stood to the last, who had faced death in many battles, had been
foully murdered, but not, as was reported, by an Indian; he had fallen
under the knife of an assassin--- but it was a Mexican who had been
bribed to the base deed.
Up to the present all had prospered. I was called "The Liberator, the
Protector of California." Splendid offers were made to me, and the
independence of California would have been secured, had I only had two
small vessels to reduce the southern seaports which had not yet declared
themselves, either fearing the consequences of a rebellion, or
disliking the idea of owing their liberation to a foreign condottiere,
and a large force of savages.
The Apaches returned homes with eighty mules loaded with their booty; so
did the Arrapahoes with pretty nearly an equal quantity. My Shoshones I
satisfied with promises, and returned with them to the settlement, to
prepare myself for forthcoming events.
A few chapters backwards I mentioned that I had despatched my old
servant to Monterey. He had taken with him a considerable portion of my
jewels and gold to make purchases, which were firmly to establish my
power over the Indian confederacy. A small schooner, loaded with the
goods purchased, started from Monterey; but, never being seen
afterwards, it is probable that she fell into the hands of the pirate
vessels which escaped from San Francisco.
I had relied upon this cargo to satisfy the just demands of my Indians
upon my arrival at the settlement The loss was a sad blow to me. The old
chief had just died, the power had devolved entirely upon me, and it was
necessary, according to Indian custom, that I should give largess, and
show a great display of liberality on my accession to the command of the
tribe; so necessary, indeed, was it, that I determined upon returning to
Monterey, _viâ_ San Francisco, to provide what was requisite. This step
was a fatal one, as will be shown when I narrate the circumstances which
had occurred during my absence.
Upon hearing the news of our movements In the west, the Mexican
government, for a few days, spoke of nothing but extermination. The
state of affairs, however, caused them to think differently; they had
already much work upon their hands, and California was very far off.
They hit upon a plan, which, if it showed their weakness, proved their
knowledge of Human nature. While I was building castles in the air,
agents from Mexico privately came to Monterey and decided the matter.
They called together the Americans domiciled at Monterey, who were the
wealthiest and the most influential of the inhabitants, and asked them
what it was that they required from the government? Diminution of taxes,
answered they. It was agreed. What next? Reduction of duty on foreign
goods. Agreed again. And next? Some other privileges and dignities. All
these were granted.
In return for this liberality, the Mexican agents then demanded that two
or three of the lower Mexicans should be hung up for an example, and
that the Frenchman and his two white companions should be decoyed and
delivered up to the government.
This was consented to by these honest domiciliated Americans, and thus
did they arrange to sacrifice me who had done so much for them. Just as
everything had been arranged upon between them and the agents, I most
unfortunately made my appearance, with Gabriel and Roche, at the mission
at San Francisco. As soon as they heard of our arrival, we were
requested to honour them with our company at a public feast, in honour
of our success!! It was the meal of Judas. We were all three seized and
handed over to the Mexican agents. Bound hand and foot, under an escort
of thirty men, the next morning we set off to cross the deserts and
prairies of Sonora, to gain the Mexican capital, where we well knew that
a gibbet was to be our fate.
Such was the grateful return we received from those who had called us to
their assistance[17]. Such was my first lesson in civilized life!
[Footnote 17: Americans, or Europeans, who wish to reside in Mexico, are
obliged to conform to the Catholic religion, or they cannot hold
property and become resident merchants. These were the apostates for
wealth who betrayed me.]