THE AMBUSH.
THE provost marshal recognized the inutility of further search, and,
despairing of recapturing the fugitive, whom he supposed to be hidden
in the irregular masses of rock that bordered the stream, collected
his men, and gave them orders to close up, after bidding them keep
the prisoner's escape temporarily a secret, as he himself intended to
tell the general what had occurred when the latter asked at his hands
the prisoner confided to him. An hour later he entered the canyon, and
rejoined the main body of the army.
General Sandoval, although he had nearly twenty thousand men under his
orders, perceived, almost immediately after he invested Coahuila, that
with soldiers like his, badly armed, worse disciplined, and completely
deficient in the necessary articles for a regular siege, he would never
succeed in storming a town defended by a garrison of veteran troops,
and commanded by one of the best generals of the Spanish army. He
therefore converted the siege into a blockade, contenting himself with
cutting off the enemy's communications with the interior, and hoping
finally to reduce him by famine.
But about this time he received a despatch from General Iturbide.
After informing him fully of the events that had occurred, which had,
in a few days, changed the state of affairs, and destroyed the power
of Spain throughout the entire viceroyalty, the general told him that
the Spaniards now held but two points on the Mexican territory--the
fortress of San Juan de Ulúa, near Veracruz, and the town of Coahuila.
Ulúa but slightly troubled the new chief of the Mexican government.
The Spaniards, shut up in the fortress, and completely cut off from
the seaboard, even supposing that they held out for a long time, could
not by any possibility exert any influence over the affairs of the
country; but the case was not the same with Coahuila. The intendancy of
which this town was the capital was one of the richest in Mexico. Being
mountainous and well wooded, a clever leader of partizans could collect
the malcontents, whose number was large, organize guerillas, and carry
on the war, till the Spanish government recovered from its stupor and
tried to seize again the rich colonies which had only just slipped from
its grasp.
Now, such a skilful chief was invested at Coahuila at this very moment.
He had a numerous and well-disciplined garrison, sufficient to form
the nucleus of an army which would soon become formidable if time were
allowed for its organization. Hence it was absolutely necessary to
finish with this general by capturing him, and cutting up his troops.
On perusing this explicit and positive despatch, General Don Pelagio
Sandoval found himself no little embarrassed. General Iturbide gave him
to understand that he trusted entirely to him, that he had accomplished
things far more important than this, and the provisional government
felt assured he would carry it through honourably. For two days the
general remained plunged in deep thought, forming a dozen plans, and
rejecting them in turn. He could not dream of attempting an assault,
and carrying the town by storm when opposed by adversaries like the
Spaniards. Don Pelagio only saw one way of success: it was to compel
General Cárdenas to leave the town, lay a trap for him, and force him
into a surrender.
The idea was certainly good; but what stratagem should he employ to
cheat General Cárdenas, and draw him out? The general was not the
man to let himself be caught in a clumsy snare. He would immediately
scent it, and the Mexicans would have to begin over again, under
greater difficulties than at first, as the enemy would be on his
guard. At last, after long hesitation, Don Pelagio decided on a plan
of unexampled temerity, and which must infallibly succeed through its
sheer audacity, if matters were carried out with prudence.
Taking advantage of a frightful storm that raged over his camp and
the town, and rendered the darkness of night denser still, he ordered
his troops to leave the encampment in small detachments, giving each
leader of a corps detailed instructions about the movements he must
make and the spot he was to go to, and remained himself to the last,
to make sure of the due execution of his orders. As it was necessary
that the Spaniards should believe in a precipitate flight, rather than
a retreat, he was obliged to leave behind him the larger portion of his
guns and ammunition, certain, were he the victor, of finding it all
intact, but resolved, like the gambler who risks his whole fortune on
a card, to blow out his brains if he were conquered, for he knew that
Iturbide would not forgive him a defeat.
Moonshine, the Canadian, thoroughly instructed by the general, and who,
in his careless gaiety, only thought of playing the Spaniards a famous
trick, was left behind to induce the enemy to nibble. We have seen in
what manner the Canadian performed the delicate task.
The spot where Don Pelagio proposed waiting for the Spaniard was
excellently adapted for a surprise. It was a canyon, or defile,
about three leagues in length, and so narrow that two horsemen could
scarce ride side by side. This canyon, like most of those found in
these latitudes, was merely a dried up watercourse, produced by an
earthquake. It formed countless angles and turns, so close to each
other that it was impossible to see anything ahead save the wood
covered sides of the canyon, which rose precipitously to an enormous
height It was evident that if the Spaniards were so mad as to enter
this defile, they might perish to the last man, without a chance of
resistance.
The Mexicans, on reaching the canyon a little before sunrise, had
plenty of time to prepare for action. General Pelagio had all the
heights crowned and established his troops in unassailable positions.
These measures were taken with such skill and prudence, that this
spot where, at the moment, more than four and twenty thousand men
were assembled, seemed completely deserted, and it would have been
impossible, within a pistol shot, to see the barrel of a single gun
glisten. If the Spaniards, from the spot where they had halted on
the riverbank, could perceive nothing, it was not the same with the
Mexicans. Not one of the enemy's movements escaped Don Pelagio. When
he saw the long columns of the Spanish army arrive on the riverbank
the Mexican chief quivered with joy. His stratagem had succeeded, his
calculations were just, and, as he had expected, his enemy, deceived by
the feigned retreat, was about to deliver himself into his hands.
A man must have himself experienced the feelings of a lucky player, who
gains a decisive game, in order to understand the full extent of the
delight which filled the Mexican general's heart. Still, he felt a
moment of indescribable anxiety and agony when he saw the enemy halt on
the bank of the stream, and remain there so long quiescent. He feared
for a moment lest the Spaniards, guessing the trap laid for them, would
turn back. All in that case would be left to the chances of a battle
in the open with an experienced enemy accustomed to conquer, and who
would, doubtless, contest the field warmly. But this apprehension soon
faded away when the scouts crossed the ford. The decisive moment was at
hand, and the Mexicans prepared seriously for action.
"My friends," the general said to the persons who surrounded him, "here
are the last relics of the troops of those who have oppressed us for
three centuries. God has reserved for us the glory of fighting the last
battle which will sully the sacred soil of our country with bloodshed.
All our brothers have their eyes on us; they ask victory at our hands;
shall we disappoint them?"
"No!" the soldiers, electrified by these generous words answered as one
man.
"Swear to conquer!" the general continued.
"We swear it!" they exclaimed enthusiastically.
"It is well! I hold your promise, and God has heard it. _¡Méjico e
independencia!_ Each to his post now, for blood is about to flow!"
The officers hastily returned to the positions assigned to them, the
soldiers lay down on the grass with their finger on the trigger, and
all awaited with palpitating hearts the signal for action. At this
moment the two detachments sent forward as scouts separated. Captain
Castilla halted while Captain Obregozo formed his columns of attack,
and continued his forward march.
When the captain, resolved to carry out his duty thoroughly, entered
the defile, a few well-aimed musket shots sufficed to destroy his weak
escort, and the officer himself fell with a bullet through his chest.
This brave officer was the first victim of this day, so fatal to the
Spanish army. Unhappily, many others were fated to follow him. When the
second detachment, which hurried up to the aid of the first, followed
into the defile, the combat assumed the proportions of a battle.
Unhappily, the Spaniards having no infantry, and covered by invisible
foes, fell one after the other with cries of impotent rage. On all
sides bullets hailed on them, against which they had no protection, and
were unable to reply. At times, a bullet, aimed haphazard, or guided
by destiny, reached an object it was not aimed at. The shrubs parted,
and a corpse rolling down the precipice fell crushed at the feet of the
horses.
But for one man the Mexicans lost the Spaniards lost fifty. The fight
was too unequal; it was no longer a combat, but a butchery. Suddenly,
a tremendous shout was heard; the earth trembled beneath the hoofs of
nearly two thousand horses, and General Cárdenas appeared, his face
inflamed with noble ardour, his hair in disorder, leaning over his
saddle, with his right arm extended, and his sword hanging from his
wrist by a steel chain. Behind him came the whole Spanish army--the
real battle was about to begin. The infantry arrived at the double
on the flanks of the column, firing into the bushes and shrubs where
they saw shots fired. The Spanish general, as an experienced leader,
had made the best of a bad position. He had scarce entered the canyon
with the cavalry, ere a large infantry corps, facing front and rear,
occupied the gorge with two guns levelled on the plain. The general
rightly conjectured that his enemies might try to catch him between two
fires, which was really the plan of the Mexicans; for, no sooner had
the infantry occupied the allotted post than Don Aurelio Gutiérrez, at
the head of a considerable body of troops, infantry and cavalry, darted
suddenly from the forest which had hitherto concealed him, and dashed
furiously on the Spaniards, in order to dislodge them and drive them
into the interior of the defile.
An obstinate hand to hand fight at once began. Here, at least, the
combat was equal; for the Spaniards could see their enemies. Unhappily,
the sharpshooters, concealed behind bushes, covered and decimated them,
being most desperate against the artillerymen, whom they mercilessly
shot down each time when they went up to reload their guns.
General Cárdenas, in spite of all obstacles--the bullets, lumps of
rock, and whole trees showered down on his troops--crossed the whole
defile with the rapidity of an arrow. He then perceived, some distance
ahead, a barricade erected by the Mexicans to intercept his passage.
"There is the road, boys," the general shouted;
"Forward, forward!"
All dashed on to clear the barricade, but suddenly a battery was
unmasked, and death passed along the Spanish ranks. Four howitzers,
loaded with canister, thundered simultaneously, sweeping down whole
lines of horsemen, and making a bloody gap through the entire column.
Two-thirds of this magnificent Spanish cavalry were laid low. The
general, lifting his horse with a prodigious effort, had forced the
noble animal to mount the face of the barricade.
"Forward!" the general shouted, brandishing his sword over his head and
digging his spurs into his horse's belly.
The animal made a last generous effort, and rolled dying in the centre
of the Mexicans. General Cárdenas was already on his feet, sword in
hand.
"Surrender, surrender!" a numbers of soldiers shouted, as they rushed
toward him.
"Nonsense! Does a Spanish general ever surrender?" he said, with a
gloomy smile of contempt.
And, whirling his formidable sabre round his head, he drove back the
men who had ventured too near him.
"Stop, stop!" Oliver Clary shouted, as he dashed forward. "By heaven,
he is a noble soldier; let us grant him the death of a brave man.
Defend, yourself, General."
"Thank you, señor," the general replied with a smile; "I expected
nothing less from your courtesy."
"A fair fight. Back, señores," the hunter said.
"No, no," a man suddenly shouted, as he hurried to the front. "You are
a foreigner, Señor Don Oliver; allow me to settle this quarrel."
The Canadian turned and recognized Don Aníbal de Saldibar.
"Very good," he said, lowering his point with a gesture of respectful
deference.
"Do you accept me as an adversary, General?" the hacendero asked.
"I care little whom I fight, señor," the general replied haughtily.
"On guard, then!"
The two blades crossed with a portentous clang. There was something
grand and chivalrous in this singular duel in the midst of a battle.
The two adversaries, however, had no fear of being separated. The
Mexicans had suddenly stopped. As for the Spaniards, decimated by the
canister, and discouraged by the loss of their chief, they fought
without any order, more for the purpose of selling their lives dearly
than in the hope of conquering.
Don Aníbal and General Cárdenas carried on the duel they had so
bravely commenced, while the Canadian and other officers kept back the
spectators. The general was a very skilful swordsman, but, wearied by
the violent exercise he had been taking, and rendered desperate by
the probable defeat of his troops, he was not sufficiently master of
himself to contend advantageously against an adversary of the strength
of Don Aníbal. In a very short time he fell, run through the body. They
rushed forward to help him; the general attempted to rise. For the
last time, he waved his sword defiantly, and raised to heaven his eyes
already glazed with death.
"Long live Spain!" he shouted in a powerful voice, and he fell back. He
was dead, like a soldier should die, sword in hand. The battle was won.
Of five thousand men that composed the Spanish army, hardly fifteen
hundred survived. The Mexicans had conquered, more through the strength
of their position and the madness of their enemy, than through their
skill and courage. Perhaps, though, it was the will of God, who, in His
omniscience, had marked this day as the last of the Spanish rule in
Mexico.