FINAL TRIP TO THE RIO GRANDE--MATAMORAS OCCUPIED BY THE
FRENCH--WAITING!--MARTHA BEFORE THE ALCALDE--WAR OVER!
We made a final trip to Mexico, the following September, and had almost
our first experience in camping during stormy weather. From San Antonio
to Laredo everything was soaked. We often experienced great difficulty
in making camp-fires--more than once starting in the early morning, all
damp and miserable, and without the usual hot coffee. Near the Frio
we met the only American train I saw, accompanied with a woman (it
was not unusual to see women in Mexican trains, making chocolate and
_tortillas_ for their teamster lords). A Texas teamster, with a wife
and two children, returning from the Rio Grande, was camping by the
road-side in a drenching rain, dismally trying with wet chips and twigs
to make a fire, as they had no cooked provisions. Pitying their forlorn
condition, we shared our cold coffee and hard-tack with them, for which
they were exceedingly grateful. The poor woman told me that her husband
was hauling Government cotton with his only team, and she accompanied
him, because they lived in such an isolated part of the country she was
afraid to remain at home alone with the little ones.
The third day brought us to the Nueces River, which was rushing,
boiling, and seething, from the overflow of its springs far up the
country, and by the unusual rise the ford was obliterated. Here we
found ourselves five miles from any forage. Teams and horsemen had been
there for days waiting to cross, and their cattle had devoured all the
grass. Ours were almost famished, while “green fields and pastures new”
waved at us from the opposite shore.
A number of wagons on the other side were caught also by the flood;
and their freight, consisting chiefly of bags of perishable goods,
was being transported across the angry stream in improvised floats of
rawhides, with Mexicans swimming at the four corners and guiding them.
My husband at once thought that if these men could be hired to take our
baggage over in the same way, we might be able to cross in the empty
wagons. The banks of the stream were deep, almost perpendicular. One of
the men of our party, who was riding a tall horse, at last volunteered
to search for the ford by crossing back and forth two or three times.
The rushing waters of the narrow stream wet the pommel of Mr. Dodds’s
saddle, but he succeeded in finding what he considered a safe place
to venture. In the meager Spanish I could muster by the aid of an old
“Ollendorff,” the Mexicans were engaged to unload and transport the
contents of the wagon. After it was emptied, and the big cotton cover
removed, Zell, our darky driver, seated himself behind the mules; I
laid aside all superfluous articles of dress, took my seat on the very
top rail of the wagon, planted my feet firmly on a soap-box, with
my hands above my head, grasped the curved wooden frame intended to
support the cover, shut my eyes, said, “All ready!” and held my breath.
Dodds on his horse, and my husband on an ambulance-mule, each with a
handful of pebbles, rode on either side of the team. “Now start!” Zell
gave a sharp “click” and a cut with his whip, and down the steep bank
of the river the four mules plunged. Touching cold water, there was a
feint to hold back, but Zell’s whip, the outriders’ vigorous use of
pebbles which were fired at them, and the shouts and whoops of all the
teamsters gathered on the bank to see the _fun_, forced them to plunge
in. For a moment they were out of sight, then their heads emerged from
the water, which was pouring over their backs. They would have floated
helplessly down the rapid current but for the shouting, yelling,
cracking of whips, and firing of pebbles, which so confused them they
could neither stop nor balk. Never for an instant losing my grip or
self-possession, wet up to my knees, soap-box careering down the tide,
we rushed up that steep and slippery bank triumphant! The outriders
went back for the rest of our belongings, an empty ambulance, Henry,
and my colored maid Martha. Dodds brought the last two over behind him
on his horse. Then my husband drove over the ambulance, while Dodds,
with stones, whip, and shouts, assisted him. Loading up and moving
slowly off, we were inspirited by the applause of the astonished
spectators, who had not the courage to follow in our footsteps.
Soon we found the inviting green, which at a distance looked so
tempting, was only a narrow fringe of verdure on the bank; a few rods
farther revealed a wide and deep morass, covered with slimy green
water, in which were several ox-teams hopelessly stalled. The tired
teamsters had fought bravely to get through, but at last had given up,
leaving the wagons sunk to the axles in the mud, and the dejected and
hungry oxen, with yokes on, standing about wherever they could obtain a
foothold.
It seemed hopeless for us to attempt the feat of crossing a bog where
so many had failed, but our invincible Dodds rode its length, his
horse sinking at every step up to his knees, occasionally deeper. At
the distance of two hundred yards, there was a perceptible rise in
the surface of the submerged land, and beyond that a pretty fair road
leading to a ranch. It was unsafe to attempt to drive the mules over
with more than the wagon and empty ambulance. So, by the aid of a
stump, I mounted the horse behind Dodds, and rode across the boggy
marsh to dry land, descending on another stump. He brought Henry and
Martha over in the same way. Then the old tactics were resorted to, by
means of whips and pebbles, to encourage the ambulance-mules through
the mire, which was often so deep that the traces swept the scummy,
green surface. Zell’s team of four had followed the ambulance so long,
that it did not require very much urging to keep them close to its rear
curtain. A drive of five miles brought us to General Benavides’s ranch.
There we camped by the side of a clear, pebbly rivulet, a half-mile
from the shepherd’s quarters, where there was something green for the
tired, hungry mules, and a low growth of bushes affording me a rustic
retreat, while I indulged in an extra wash out of the horse-bucket, and
hung all the wet things out to dry.
The surrounding country was rolling and beautiful, the growth stubby
mesquite, very little grass, and that only in patches here and there.
We soon had a crackling fire, some coffee, fried bacon, and hard-tack,
after which the refreshed party rested a while, discussing the events
of the day, and congratulating one another on the perseverance that
brought us finally to such a delightful camping-spot. While the
smoldering brands still glowed and the strong odor of the frying-pan
hovered over the _débris_ of our appetizing supper, Henry rolled
himself up in his blanket under the ambulance, and we pinned down the
curtains and curled up inside to sleep. The moon shone brightly. I lay
for a long time peeping through a crack at the lovely scene around me,
too enraptured with its beauty to sleep. Mesquite has the light foliage
of the myrtle, and grows in graceful clusters, shading the ground so
that no grass flourishes beneath, here forming a slight hedge, there
a bower, presenting in the deceptive moonlight all the effects of a
charming piece of landscape-gardening, with even the accessory of
a purling stream meandering through it in this instance. There was
a bit of clearing, necessary for our camping and cooking, and the
ambulance was drawn up by the side of it. In the night my husband’s
quick ear detected strange sounds issuing from our impromptu kitchen,
and, peeping out, saw--what, tired as he knew I was, he felt I must
see also--a whole congregation of prairie-wolves (coyotes) around the
remnant of fire, enjoying the departing odor of fried meat, a regular
circle of them seated on their haunches with heads turned up in the
air like great ferocious dogs. A few preliminary low barks, and the
meeting was opened by the most extraordinary long and mournful howls,
all in unison; the wails gradually died down to a low, low key and an
occasional snap. Then one gaunt old veteran began a solo harangue:
it really seemed that he was wailing out such a pitiful story of
grievances that, before he concluded, the sympathy of the whole
audience was aroused, and his plaint was joined by other prolonged
and distressing sounds that seemed a chorus of lamentations. I was
so surprised and startled, that I did not at first think of our boy
sleeping on the ground almost at the very tail of one of the ferocious
howlers. When I made a stealthy motion to rouse the child, quick as a
flash those beasts slid away, among the bushes here and there, fading
noiselessly out of sight, like shadows in the moonlight.
Laredo had assumed a business air since our visit of the previous
year. The little _muchachos_ had become so accustomed to the sight
of ambulances and teams that the last entrance into town was not
triumphant. Proceeding to Matamoras, on the Mexican side of the river,
we found the road narrow, with the thick brushwood lining the sides
literally festooned with bits of cotton from passing teams. On the
first day, as we drove slowly along this monotonous country road, my
husband’s watchful eye perceived, in a small opening by the side of the
ambulance, a huge rattlesnake coiled, with head erect, forked tongue,
and glistening eyes, following in an almost imperceptible motion the
fitful efforts of a large frog vainly trying to get out of his way. The
snake had fastened his eyes on the eyes of the frog; the poor creature
could not even wink, he could not escape the fascinating gaze. Turning
his body, though not his head, he would make a pitiful little squeak
and a desperate effort to jump; but the wretched frog could not jump
backward. Every motion he made was accompanied by a corresponding
motion of the wily serpent. So intent were they that we alighted from
the vehicle, and Mr. Dodds stood near with pistol in hand; neither the
snake nor the frog seemed to have consciousness of the presence of any
other object than the one upon which its eyes were fixed. At last the
head of the serpent slowly approached nearer and nearer its victim, the
poor creature made one despairing croak that sounded almost human in
its agony, and leaped into the full distended jaws of the rattlesnake!
At the same instant the watchful Mr. Dodds fired his pistol with such
accurate aim that the vertebra was struck close to the head, the jaws
suddenly relaxed and fell open, and out sprang Mr. Frog! If ever a
frog made haste to get away, that frog was the one. He was out of his
enchantment, out of the jaws of death, and out of our sight in an
instant. The thirteen rattles that tipped the tail of that enterprising
snake remained in my possession for many years, a memento of the
incident.
In all our camping experience we found the four or five days from
Laredo to Matamoras the most forlorn and depressing, partly perhaps
from the accumulated fatigue and exposure incident to repeated trips
of a similar nature. There were not even the usual number of _jeccals_
(huts) by the road-side to enliven the mournful scene. At long
intervals two or three small collections of adobe huts, surrounding the
inevitable dusty plaza, marked as many towns. On the scrubby bushes
around these, thin, ragged slabs of raw beef hung, drying in the sun,
presenting at a short distance much the appearance of red-flannel
garments in various stages of dilapidation. The stiff raw hides used
for beds were tilted against the sides of the _jeccals_ to air, and
to afford the multitudes of fleas opportunity to stretch their legs.
A few frowsy women with stone _matets_ were laboriously grinding corn
for _tortillas_, while the lords of creation sunned themselves in
the doorways, or majestically strutted before the dingy shops that
surrounded the plaza. At these uninviting places we usually halted for
fresh water and hot _tortillas_. At Mier, the chief town on the route,
there was a rest of several hours. After leaving, Zell, our driver,
told us that our old Delia, who was so afraid of going for goat’s milk
on the first visit to the frontier, and who disappeared the morning we
left Piedras Negras to return into Texas, had drifted down to Mier, and
was living there.
On the narrow roads leading from one of these dirty towns to the next
there was little to break the monotony save the frequent meeting of
Mexican trains, generally composed of twenty large Chihuahua wagons,
each drawn by twelve mules, returning from Matamoras, where they had
delivered loads of cotton-bales brought from the interior of Texas.
The vociferations of the gayly decked drivers and the loud cracking of
whips could be heard long before they were in sight, affording us ample
time to turn out of the way, among the trodden and dusty bushes on the
road-side.
We knew that Maximilian was occupying the city of Mexico, and that
the flag of the French army floated over the centers of Mexican
civilization. The ignorant and apparently apathetic people whom we met
on the Rio Grande border did not seem even to know this much; still
less were they able to give us any information of the progress of the
invasion. Our last custom-house transactions were with the officers of
the Juarez government, who conducted their business and collected their
fees in apparent blissful ignorance of national complications.
Arriving at Matamoras early in the afternoon, we drove like tired,
travel-stained emigrants straight to the plaza--direct, as though we
had been there a dozen times before, for the cathedral and public
buildings that surrounded it were conspicuous sign-posts that indicated
the spot to which all the chief streets converged. We were surprised
to find the city in the hands of the French, garrisoned and picketed
by an invading army! Only a short time before our arrival, Mejia, the
brave Mexican-Indian general, who embraced the cause of Maximilian,
and thereby forfeited his life by the side of that ill-starred prince,
had, by a forced march from Monterey with an army of French and Mexican
troops, surprised and captured Cortinas, who held the garrison at
Matamoras.
A few miles away, on the south bank of the Rio Grande, the Mexican
Government held possession; the opposite bank was under Confederate
control. Here the French were exulting over the capture of the city;
and across the river the Federal army occupied Brownsville--the flags
of four nationalities floating almost in sight of each other, amid the
“Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war.”
The first night we secured a room facing the plaza. It was found
necessary for me to make a personal appeal to the proprietor of the
_posada_ adjoining it, coupled with a promise to procure other quarters
the next day, before he would consent to vacate it for our temporary
use. We might as well have sat up in the ambulance all night, tired as
we were, so far as rest and sleep were concerned. The _posada_ did not
close its doors till a very late hour, and if the stamping of feet,
clicking of glasses, odor of liquors, and hum of voices, were not
commotion enough to disturb our rest, the success was rendered complete
by the steady tramp and challenge of sentinels passing and repassing
with military precision all night long. Glad enough were we to find, on
the morrow, a small, one-story stone house of two rooms, remote from
the noises and disturbances in the garrison buildings, near the grand
plaza. Here we spread once more the old ambulance mattress over boxes
and trunks, where we could rest our weary bones and aching heads.
Dodds was the only man I saw who walked around fearlessly night or day.
He was as brave a specimen of manhood as ever lived, and, though in a
foreign country, in the midst of a revolution, and wholly unacquainted
with the language, he moved about as independently as if on his native
heath. How we laughed one night when he walked in upon us, and, being
asked if he was not afraid of the sentinels that were at every corner,
replied: “No, I have the password; why! when one of them lightning-bug
fellows” (alluding to the lanterns they carried) “ses to me, ‘_King
Beebe!_’ (‘_Quien vive!_’) I jes ses back to him--‘_Lem me go!_’
(‘_Amigo!_’) and they let me go right on.”
In a few days I was surprised in my obscurity by an invitation from
Messrs. Helld and Fromm, the leading German merchants of the city, to
witness from their balcony a review, by General Mejia, of the French
troops. Much as war had been the topic of thought and conversation
for almost four years, and painful as had been our experience of the
effects of it, I had never seen a review of troops that had been in
active service.
General Mejia, short, broad-shouldered, compact, with strongly marked
Indian physiognomy and unusual dark complexion, was every inch a
soldier, having a bearing that was almost majestic.
His bold stand carried great moral force with it. The apathetic
inhabitants of Matamoras, familiarized with political excitements,
_pronunciamentos_, and revolutions, which kept their unhappy land in
a vacillating state of unrest, either ready to accept another form of
government, or overawed by the display of military force under the
French banner, quietly reconciled themselves to the inevitable. Surging
swarms surrounded the plaza, and gazed upon company after company of
brilliantly uniformed French soldiers, with the no small contingent
of swarthy natives, as they marched past the reviewing general
and his staff. The review was no doubt a most imposing spectacle,
but the brightest picture of the day, that recurs to me, was the
unbounded courtesy and hospitality of the wealthy merchants on whose
banner-draped balcony we were seated. The delicious French confections
and wines they so freely offered their guests, delicacies of which we
had been so long deprived, I remember, after the lapse of more than
twenty years, with greater distinctness than the evolutions of the
military that we were invited to witness.
Many and earnest were the conferences held between a sweet little Texas
woman, who occupied quarters near our own, and myself on the subject
of costumes suitable for the ball given after the review, on which
occasion General Mejia was host or distinguished guest, I quite forget
which, but he was _the_ figure _par excellence_ of the ball-room.
My dainty young friend had a pink gown that had done service before
the war, and had already been twice refurbished for banquet occasions
in Houston, where she had mingled much in gay military circles, her
husband being one of General Magruder’s staff. This was brought forth
again, carefully inspected and freshened up with such bits of lace as
we could muster; while I, being entirely destitute of finery, purchased
a modest white tarlatan, with lace flounces. I opened, for the first
and only time in all these wanderings, my caskets, which were two
large pockets made of stout linen, containing not only my own and my
husband’s jewels, but the pins, studs, and chains of four soldier
brothers, left with me for safe-keeping when they marched to the
front. All these valuables were separately wrapped in soft cotton, and
stitched into the pockets, secured to strong belts, I wore on either
side often for weeks at a time, day and night, never feeling that they
could be laid aside even for an hour during the dangers of camping
out and temporary residence, in strange and more or less exposed
places. So it was on this festive occasion; while resplendent with
my own jewels, I carried those of others concealed on my person. The
ball over, we Cinderellas returned to the brick floors of our humble
homes and the cotton gowns suited to those surroundings. My neighbor
folded away the pretty pink silk, to be opened when we met again under
the Spanish flag many months thereafter, while I carefully quilted
the diamonds into the pockets from which their shining facets did not
emerge for a long, long time.
Finding our quarters, besides being too remote from business centers
for my husband’s convenience, were rather cramped, as we were limited
to two rooms, and without an out-building that could serve for a
kitchen, another house-hunt was instituted, and eventually we succeeded
in making ourselves very comfortable in comparison with the rough life
that had been ours whenever we had previously been on the frontier. We
had one long, narrow room, that had been a storage-place for saddles
and harness, but the temptation of high rents put it on the market
as a “desirable residence.” Another move was made. The first day was
spent in flooding the brick floor with pails of scalding lye, in order
to rid the building of fleas, that were so numerous that they hopped
around like animated dust as we walked over the floor. When the hot-lye
application was made, they jumped up the sides of the walls, till we
had a well-defined dado of fleas! Preferring a stationary white one,
they were mopped out with whitewash-brushes. That vigorous campaign
rewarded us at last with as complete a rout of the enemy as could have
been expected; but, so long as we held the fort, an occasional scout
was captured and mercilessly put to death. Thoroughly tired of our
wandering life, circumstances now arose that made a lengthy residence
in Matamoras quite probable. So a bed, two cots, and a wire safe were
bought, and a little reed-hut in the yard repaired for a kitchen; a
carpenter rigged a light scantling quite across one end of the room,
to which was tacked brown sheeting, thus making a partition. Then we
had two rooms. Turkey-red draped across the top of the partition, and
lambrequins of the same over the windows fronting the narrow street,
made us feel quite civilized. A store-box on end was a bureau, and
the plain deal-table served for dining and ironing by turns. We
settled down to housekeeping, with our wagon-driver, Humphrey, and a
little darky-girl about fourteen years old, for servants. Humphrey
was cook--the Southern negro is a born cook. Beef and onions, onions
and kidneys, liver and onions, stocked the Matamoras market; so his
culinary skill was not greatly taxed. Bread, made by the native
women, and baked in adobe ovens, was always light, wholesome, and
easily procured. If one was not too dainty, and did not witness the
manipulation necessary, _tortillas_, baked on flat iron plates, made a
very acceptable variety with the everlasting fried beef and onions, and
kidney-and-onion stews, that formed our chief diet.
We could get clothes washed and delivered to us rough dried, for
the amazing pittance of one dollar a dozen in good Mexican silver.
The monotony of my indoor life was varied by acquiring the useful
knowledge, and then teaching Martha how to starch and iron clothes.
The faithful young girl made herself doubly useful by often doing what
I had not the physical health to attempt. My husband had business to
attend to (one can readily understand this was no pleasure-trip), so
that he was all day long occupied, while I sat and waited, as thousands
of women have to do sometimes in their lives--waited! waited! One
stormy, fearfully dark night in early February, when, in the narrow,
unpaved street that fronted our door, the mud in places was almost
knee-deep from the long-continued rains, my husband returned at a
late hour from a grand banquet given in honor of Prince Polignac by
a committee of the leading business-men in Matamoras. He found all
quietly sleeping at home, but presently there was excitement and
commotion in our little room. The next morning Henry heard he had
a baby sister. I can never cease to gratefully remember the lovely
young Texas woman who, stranger though she was, trudged through almost
impassable streets to make me a helpful visit every day for a week.
Business was booming in Matamoras; large warehouses were opened
and filled, vessels of every size and nationality unloaded at
the _Boca_--several miles below the city at the mouth of the Rio
Grande--and goods were hauled to Matamoras in an endless stream of
wagons. A regular fast stage-line was in full operation also for
business-men to travel to the _Boca_ and back again. The whole sleepy
little city woke up and rubbed its eyes one fine morning to find that
it was inspired by new life, and was fast becoming a busier and noisier
place than it had ever dreamed of.
The Confederate Government made stupendous efforts to procure
army supplies through Mexico; but the great distance, scarcity of
transportation, lack of harmony between the several branches of the
service, and the unscrupulousness of speculators, interfered with
well-laid plans, diminished anticipated results, and subjected the
officers of the department to severe criticism for their failure to
furnish the army with everything needed, and vituperation from every
contractor who did not get the pound of flesh demanded. Traders shipped
hither merchandise of every description, with the expectation of
selling to the Confederate authorities at such fabulous profit as would
warrant taking proportionate hazard in regard to securing payment, all
tending to wild speculation, reckless business methods, and amazing
complications.
Such a promising trade sprung up in a night, as it were, with Havana,
that some enterprising New Yorkers actually started a line of steamers
between the two _neutral_ ports, to facilitate the business with the
Confederacy. The pioneer steamer of the line was advertised to sail
from the _Boca_ on a certain day toward the latter part of February. My
husband had urgent business in Havana, where some of his blockade-run
cotton had been landed under very suspicious circumstances. He
determined to take passage in the new steamer and ascertain the exact
situation. Here arose another discussion. Weak as I was, I did not
propose to stay behind, and pleaded my ability to go, pointing to the
past as evidence that I could endure the journey, having borne greater
perils than a short voyage on a comfortable steamer with a baby only
three weeks old. Of course, these arguments prevailed. A very energetic
man, who in the great rush of business in Matamoras had not been able
to find a place to store himself and his constantly increasing stock
of goods, eagerly purchased our elegant belongings, lambrequins and
_bureau_ included, at original cost price--all but the splint-bottomed
rocking-chair. We packed up our trunk and Martha’s bundle. The wagon
found a ready purchaser. Ever since the driver of the same sent us
word, one morning, that he was “too sleepy and tired to go to market,
and we had better go ourselves” we knew that he proposed leaving our
employ; therefore, no arrangements were made that included him.
All dressed and bonneted, I sat in the little rocking-chair, waiting
for the _Boca_ stage, when, lo! in walked two Mexican officials,
piloted by our late Humphrey, who, with an air of great importance,
pointed out my servant, and Martha was arrested and conducted before
the _alcalde_. My husband followed, in a quickly gathered crowd through
the streets, and, being entirely ignorant of the whole business,
and unfamiliar with the language, called our physician--a long-time
resident--to his aid. Humphrey had complained that Martha was about to
be taken to Cuba without her consent. By the aid of an interpreter,
the _alcalde_ questioned the young girl closely. At first she was
thoroughly alarmed and confused, being, as she afterward told me,
utterly unaware of the conspiracy; but when the idea dawned upon her
mind that it was a matter of separation from us, she burst into tears
and implored to be permitted to “go with Miss ’Liza.” His honor,
being convinced that she was under no compulsion, dismissed the case.
Humphrey departed with his new-made Mexican friends, and Martha was
hurried back, to find the stage impatiently waiting at the door, baby
and I already inside; the others were rapidly hustled in, and, amid
crack of whip and the nameless shouts and yells of the driver, we soon
lost sight of “La heroica Ciudad de Matamoras.”
Within the following six weeks the Confederacy fell. Lee gracefully
surrendered his heroic sword, the weary, foot-sore soldiers returned to
desolate homes. The busy traders of Matamoras scattered panic-stricken,
and the city itself lapsed into sleepy insignificance with a suddenness
that made the army of the French and the lazy natives stare. The line
of steamers to run weekly to Havana began and ended in the wheezy
little craft in which we made the trip--I have forgotten its name,
but, as Toots says, “it’s of no consequence,” for its name is written
in water: it went to the bottom the first time it attempted a more
ambitious feat than crossing the Gulf.
Thus faded the Confederacy. We prayed for victory--no people ever
uttered more earnest prayers--and the God of hosts gave us victory in
defeat. We prayed for only that little strip, that Dixie-land, and the
Lord gave us the whole country from the lakes to the Gulf, from ocean
to ocean--all dissensions settled, all dividing lines wiped out--a
united country forever and ever!