In a few minutes our greetings were over. Twing moved on, taking with
him his squadron of mounted men. I had made up my mind to take the
_opposite road_--the "back track". I was now in command of a force--my
own--and I felt keenly the necessity of doing something to redeem my
late folly. Clayley was as anxious as myself.
"You do not need them any longer?" said I to Ripley, a gallant young
fellow, who commanded the howitzer.
"No, Captain; I have thirty artillerists here. It is strange if we
can't keep the piece and manage it against ten times that number of such
heroes as we have seen over yonder." And he pointed to the flying enemy
on the other side of the barranca.
"What say you to going with us?"
"I should like it well; but duty, my dear H.--duty! I must stay by the
gun."
"Good-bye, then, comrade! We have no time to lose--farewell!"
"Good-bye; and if you're whipped, fall back on me. I'll keep the piece
here until you return, and there'll be a good load of grape ready for
anybody that may be in pursuit of you."
The company had by this time formed on the flank of the howitzer, and at
the words "Forward!--quick time!" started briskly across the hills.
In a few minutes we had reached the point where the road trended for
some distance along the brow of the precipice. Here we halted a moment;
and taking Lincoln and Raoul, I crawled forward to our former point of
observation.
Our time spent at the battery had been so short that, with the
difficulty which the enemy experienced in descending the cliff, the head
of their line had only now reached the bottom of the barranca. They
were running in twos and threes towards the stream, which, near this
point, impinged upon the foot of the precipice. With a small glass that
I had obtained from Ripley I could see their every movement. Some of
them were without arms--they had doubtless thrown them away--while
others still carried their muskets, and not a few were laden with
knapsacks, and heavy burdens too; the household gods--perhaps stolen
ones--of their own camp. As they reached the green-sward, dropping down
in a constant stream, they rushed forward to the water, scrambling into
it in thirsty crowds, and falling upon their knees to drink. Some of
them filled their canteens and went on.
"They intend to take the hills," thought I. I knew there was no water
for miles in that direction.
As I swept the glass round the bottom of the cliff, I was struck with an
object that stood in a clump of palm-trees. It was a mule saddled, and
guarded by several soldiers more richly uniformed than the masses who
were struggling past them.
"They are waiting for some officer of rank," thought I. I moved the
glass slowly along the line of descending bodies, and upward against the
rocks to a small platform, nearly halfway up the cliff. Several bright
uniforms flashed upon the lens. The platform was shaded with palms; and
I could see that this party had halted a moment for the purpose (as I
then conjectured) of allowing the foremost fugitives to pioneer the
wooded bottom. I was right. As soon as these had crossed the stream,
and made some way in the jungle along its banks, the former continued
their descent; and now I saw what caused my pulse to beat feverishly--
that one of these carried a dark object on his back. An object?--a
man--and that man could be no other than the lame tyrant of Mexico.
I can scarcely describe my feelings at this moment. The young hunter
who sees noble game--a bear, a panther, a buffalo--within reach of his
rifle for the first time, might feel as I did. I hated this man, as all
honest men must and should hate a cowardly despot. During our short
campaign I had heard many a well-authenticated story of his base
villainy, and I believe at that moment I would have willingly parted
with my hand to have brought him as near to me as he appeared under the
field of the telescope. I thought I could even distinguish the lines,
deep furrowed by guilt, on his dark, malice-marked face; and, as I
became sure of the identity, I drew back my head, cautioning my
companions to do the same.
Now was the time for action, and, putting up the glass, we crawled back
to our comrades. I had learned from Raoul that the dark line which I
had noticed before was, as I had conjectured, the canon of a small
arroyo, heavily timbered, and forming a gap or pass that led to the Plan
River. It was five miles distant, instead of three. So much the
better, and with a quick, crouching gait we were once more upon our way.
I had told my comrades enough to make some of them as eager as I. Many
of them would have given half a life for a shot at game like that. Not
a few of them remembered they had lost a brother on the plains of
Goliad, or at the fortress of the Alamo.
The Rangers, moreover, had been chafing "all day for a fight", and now,
so unexpectedly led at something like it, they were just in the humour.
They moved as one man, and the five miles that lay between us and the
gorge were soon passed to the rear. We reached it, I think, in about
half an hour. Considering the steep pass through which the enemy must
come, we knew there was a breathing-time, though not long, for us; and
during this I matured my plans, part of which I had arranged upon the
route.
A short survey of the ground convinced us that it could not have been
better fitted for an ambuscade had we chosen it at our leisure. The
gorge or canon did not run directly up the cliff, but in a _zigzag_
line, so that a man at the top could only alarm another coming up after
him by shouting or firing his piece. This was exactly what we wanted,
knowing that, although we might capture a few of the foremost, those in
the rear, being alarmed, could easily take to the river bottom and make
their escape through the thickets. It was our design to make our
prisoners, if possible, without firing a single shot; and this, under
the circumstances, we did not deem an impossible matter.
The pass was a dry arroyo, its banks fringed with large pines and
cotton-woods, matted together by llianas and vines. Where the gorge
debouched into the uplands its banks were high and naked, with here and
there a few scattered palmettos that grew up from huge hassocks of
bunch-grass.
Behind each of these branches a rifleman was stationed, forming a
deployed line, with its concave arc facing the embouchure of the gorge,
and gradually closing in, so that it ended in a clump of thick chaparral
upon the very verge of the precipice. At this point, on each side of
the path, were stationed half a dozen men, in such a position as to be
hidden from any party passing upward, until it had cleared the canon and
its retreat was secured against. At the opposite end of the elliptical
deployment a stronger party was stationed, Clayley in command and Raoul
to act as interpreter. Oakes and I took our places, commanding the
separate detachments on the brow.
Our arrangements occupied us only a few minutes. I had to deal with
men, many of whom had "surrounded" buffaloes in a somewhat similar
manner; and it did not require much tact to teach them a few
modifications in the game. In five minutes we were all in our places,
waiting anxiously and in perfect silence.
As yet not a murmur had reached us from below, except the sighing of the
wind through the tall trees, and the "sough" of the river as it tumbled
away over its pebbly bed. Now and then we heard a stray shot, or the
quick, sharp notes of a cavalry bugle; but these were far off, and only
told of the wild work that was still going on along the road towards
Encerro and Jalapa.
Not a word was spoken by us to each other. The men who were deployed
along the hill lay hidden behind the hassocks of the palmettos, and from
our position not one of them was to be seen.
I must confess I felt strange emotions at this moment--one of the most
anxious of my life; and although I felt no hate towards the enemy--no
desire to injure one of them, excepting him of whom I have spoken--there
was something so wild, so thrilling, in the excitement of thus
entrapping _man_, the highest of all animals, that I could not have
foregone the inhuman sport. I had no intention that it should be
inhuman. I well knew what would be their treatment as prisoners of war;
and I had given orders that not a shot should be fired nor a blow
struck, in case they threw down their arms and yielded without
resistance. But for _him_--humanity had many a score to settle with
him; and at the time I did not feel a very strong inclination to resist
what would be the Rangers' desire on that question.
"Is not all our fine ambuscade for nothing?" I said to myself, after a
long period of waiting, and no signs of an enemy.
I had begun to fancy as much, and to suspect that the flying Mexicans
had kept along the river, when a sound like the humming of bees came up
the pass. Presently it grew louder, until I could distinguish the
voices of men. _Our_ hearts as yet beat louder than their voices. Now
the stones rattled, as, loosened from their sloping beds, they rolled
back and downwards.
"_Guardaos, hombre_!" (Look out, man!) shouted one.
"_Carrajo_!" cried another; "take care what you're about! I haven't
escaped the Yankee bullets to-day to have my skull cloven in that
fashion. _Arriba! arriba_!"
"I say, Antonio--you're sure this road leads out above?"
"Quite sure, _camarado_."
"And then on to Orizava?"
"On to Orizava--_derecho, derecho_" (straight).
"But how far--_hombre_?"
"Oh! there are halting-places--_pueblitos_."
"_Vaya_! I don't care how soon we reach them. I'm as hungry as a
famished coyote."
"_Carrai_! the coyotes of these parts won't be hungry for some time.
_Vaya_!"
"Who knows whether they've killed `El Cojo'?"
"`Catch a fox, kill a fox.' No. He's found some hole to creep through,
I warrant him.
"`El que mata un ladron
Tiene cien anos de perdon.'"
(He who kills a robber will receive a hundred years of pardon for the
offence.)
This was hailed with a sally by the very men who, only one hour ago,
were shouting themselves hoarse with the cries of "_Viva el general,
Viva Santa Anna_!" And on they scrambled, talking as before, one of
them informing his comrades with a laugh that if "los Tejanos" could lay
their hands upon "El Cojo", they, the Mexicans, would have to look out
for a new president.
They had now passed us. We were looking at their backs. The first
party contained a string of fifteen or twenty, mostly soldiers of the
"raw battalions"--conscripts who wore the white linen jackets and wide,
sailor-looking pantaloons of the volunteer.
Raw as these fellows were, either from their position in the battle, or,
more likely, from a better knowledge of the country, they had been able
thus far to make their escape, when thousands of their veteran
companions had been captured. But few of them were armed; they had
thrown their guns away in the hurry of flight.
At this moment we could distinguish the voice of Raoul:
"_Alto! abajo las armas_!" (Halt! down with your arms!)
At this challenge we could see--for they were still in sight--that some
of the Mexicans leaped clear up from the ground. One or two looked
back, as if with the intention of re-entering the gorge, but a dozen
muzzles met their gaze.
"_Adelante! adelante_!--_somos amigos_." (Forward!--we are friends), I
said to them in a half-whisper, fearing to alarm their comrades in the
rear, at the same time waving them onward.
As on one side Clayley presented a white flag, while on the other there
was to be seen a bunch of dark yawning tubes, the Mexicans were not long
in making their choice. In a minute they had disappeared from our
sight, preferring the companionship of Clayley and Raoul, who would know
how to dispose of them in a proper manner.
We had scarcely got rid of these when another string debouched up the
glen, unsuspicious as were their comrades of the fate that awaited them.
These were managed in a similar manner; and another and another party,
all of whom were obliged to give up their arms and fling themselves to
the earth, as soon as they had reached the open ground above.
This continued until I began to grow fearful that we were making more
prisoners than we could safely hold, and on the knowledge of this fact
they might try to overpower us.
But the tempting prize had not yet appeared. He could not be far
distant, and, allured by this prospect, I determined to hold out a while
longer.
A termination, however, to our wholesale trapping was brought about by
an unexpected event. A party, consisting of some ten or fifteen men,
many of them officers, suddenly appeared, and marched boldly out of the
gorge.
As these struck the level ground we could hear the "_Alto_!" of Raoul;
but instead of halting, as their companions had done, several of them
drew their swords and pistols and rushed down the pass.
A volley from both sides stopped the retreat of some; others escaped
along the sides of the cliff; and a few--not over half a dozen--
succeeded in entering the gorge. It was, of course, beyond our power to
follow them; and I ordered the deployed line to close in around the
prisoners already taken, lest they should attempt to imitate their
braver comrades.
We had no fear of being assailed from the ravine. Those who had gone
down carried a panic along with them that would secure us from that
danger. At the same time we knew that the tyrant would now be alarmed
and escape.
Several of the Rangers--_souvenirs_ of Santa Fe and San Jacinto--
requested my permission to go upon his "trail" and pick him off.
This request, under the circumstances, I could not grant, and we set
about securing our prisoners. Gun-slings and waist-belts were soon
split into thongs, and with these our captives were tied two and two,
forming in all a battalion of a hundred and fifteen files--two hundred
and thirty men.
With these, arranged in such a manner as we could most conveniently
guard them, we marched triumphantly into the American camp.