THE BATTLE OF CERRO PARDO.
The battle of Cerro Pardo was one of those sanguinary days, whose memory
a nation retains for ages as an ill-omened date. In order to explain to
the reader thoroughly how the events happened which we are about to
narrate, we must give a detailed account of the ground on which they
took place.
The spot selected by the Mexicans to effect their landing after leaving
Galveston, had been very cleverly chosen by General Rubio. The stream,
which, for some distance, is enclosed by high banks, runs at that spot
through an extensive plain, covered with tall grass and clumps of trees,
the last relics of a virgin forest, which the claims of trade have
almost destroyed. This plain is closed by a species of _cañón_, or very
narrow gorge, enclosed between two lofty Mils, whose scarped flanks are
carpeted at all seasons with plants and flowers. These two hills are the
Cerro Pardo and the Cerro Prieto,--that is to say, the Red Mountain and
the Black Mountain.
At the canyon begins a road, or, to speak more correctly, a rather wide
track, bordered by bogs and morasses, and running to the cross we have
before visited. This road is the only one that can be followed in going
from the interior to the seashore. A little in advance of the two hills,
whose summit is covered with dense wood and scrub, extend marshes, which
are the more dangerous, because their surface is perfidiously covered
with close green grass, which completely conceals from the traveller the
terrible danger to which he is exposed if he venture on to this moving
abyss. The Cerro Pardo, which is much higher than the other hill, not
only commands the latter, but also the surrounding country, as well as
the sea.
After what we have said, the reader will easily perceive that the
enterprise attempted by the Texans was only possible in the event of the
coast being entirely undefended; but under the present circumstances,
the inconceivable obstinacy of the Commander-in-Chief was the more
incomprehensible, because he was not only thoroughly acquainted with the
country, but at the moment when the army was about to begin its forward
movements, several spies came in in succession, bringing news which
entirely coincided with the positive reports already made by John Davis.
Whom the gods wish to destroy, they first blind. This wise and
thoughtful man, who had ever acted with extreme prudence, and whose
conceptions up to this day had been remarkable for their lucidity, was
deaf to all remonstrances, and the order was given to march. The army at
once set out; Don Felix Paz went on ahead with his guerillas, while the
Jaguar's cuadrilla, on the contrary, remained in the rear. Tranquil, in
spite of the wounds he had received, would not remain in the fort; he
came along lying in a cart, having at his side Carmela and Quoniam, who
paid him the utmost attention; while Lanzi, at the head of a dozen
picked Freebooters given him by the Jaguar, escorted the cart, in the
event of the army being disturbed during the march.
The Jaguar was sorrowful, a gloomy presentiment seemed to warn him of a
misfortune. This daring man, who carried out as if in sport the maddest
and most venturesome deeds, now advanced reluctantly, hesitating and
constantly looking about him suspiciously, and almost timidly.
Assuredly, he feared no personal danger; what did he care for an attack?
What alarm did he feel about dying? Peril was his element; the heated
atmosphere of battle, the odour of powder intoxicated him, and made him
feel strange delight; but at this moment Carmela was near him; Carmela,
whom he had so miraculously found again, and whom he feared to lose
again. This strong man felt his heart soften at the thought, hence he
insisted on taking the rear guard, in order to watch more closely over
the maiden, and be in a position to help her if necessary.
The superior Commander had not dared to refuse the bold partisan this
post, which he asked for as a favour. This condescension on the part of
the Chief had terrible consequences, and was partly the cause of the
events that happened a few hours later.
The Texan troops, in spite of the various element of which they were
composed, advanced, however, with an order and discipline that would
have done honour to regulars. Don Felix Paz had thrown out to the right
and left of the road flankers ordered to investigate the chaparral, and
guarantee the safety of the route; but in spite of these precautions,
whether the Mexicans were really ambushed in inaccessible places, or for
some other reason, the flankers did not discover them, and the vanguard
advanced at a pace which heightened the security of the main body, and
gradually induced the Chiefs to relax their previous watchfulness.
The vanguard reached the cross, and nothing had as yet happened in any
way to trouble the march of the army. Don Felix, after allowing his
cuadrilla to halt for twenty minutes, resolutely entered the road that
led to the spot where the Mexicans had landed. From the cross to the Rio
Trinidad was no great distance, and could be covered in less than two
hours by troops marching at the ordinary pace. The road, however, after
passing the cross, insensibly becomes narrower, and soon changes into a
very confined track, in which three persons can scarce walk abreast.
We have said that trembling prairies extend on either side of this road.
We will explain, in a few sentences, what these trembling prairies are,
which are met with in several parts of America, but principally in Texas
and Louisiana. These prairies, if we may trust to the frequently false
theories of science, have a similar organ to that of Artesian springs,
for the earth does in one case what water does in the other. Through the
action of geological dynamics, the earthy matter which constitutes the
trembling prairies ascends to the surface of lakes and ponds, while in
Artesian wells the water rushes up from the depths through the pressure
of the strata by which it was held down.
Nothing is more dangerous than those trembling prairies, covered with a
perfidious vegetation that deceives the eye. The Rio Trinidad flows at a
few hundred yards from the prairie we have just described, conveying
into the Gulf of Mexico the sedimentary deposits which would consolidate
this shifting soil. Nature has already traced canals intersecting the
prairie, and which run between banks formed by mysterious forces. The
wild beasts, whose admirable instinct never deceives them, have for ages
past formed tracks across these dangerous zones, and the path followed
by the Texan army was no other than one of those trails trodden by the
wild beasts when they go down at night to water.
I know not whether, since Texas has gained its liberty and been
incorporated with the United States, any attempt has been made to drain
these prairies. And yet, I believe that it would require but a very
slight effort to complete the work so intelligently sketched out by
nature. It would be sufficient to dig a series of _colmates_, or
aqueducts, which would introduce into the trembling prairie the turbid
waters of the river, and convey to it the sedimentary matter; and,
before all, the vegetation growing on the prairie should not be burnt,
as is the unfortunate custom. With these two conditions, a firm, rich,
and fertile soil would soon be attained in the line of these slimy and
pestilential marshes that poison the air, produce contagious diseases,
and cause the death of so many unfortunate travellers, deceived by the
luxuriant appearance of these prairies, and who perish miserably, by
being swallowed up in their fetid mud.
But in America it is not so much land that is wanting as men. Probably,
the trembling prairies will remain for a long time what they are at the
present day, for no one has a really personal interest in draining and
getting rid of them.
We will now take up our story at the point where we broke it off,
begging the reader to forgive us the long digression in which we
indulged, but which has its value, we think, in a work intended to make
known a country which is destined ere long to assume an important part
in the trade of the world.
The Texan Vanguard passed the cross at about nine A.M. It had halted for
about twenty minutes and then resumed its march. Still, without any
apparent motive, after crossing without obstacle the defile of the Cerro
Pardo, instead of advancing in the direction of the river, on the bank
of which the stranded boats could already be seen, Don Felix ordered his
cuadrilla to wheel at about two hundred yards from the defile, and
formed a front of fifty horses by ten deep. After commanding a halt, he
dug his spurs in and returned to the gorge, but on this occasion alone.
While galloping, the partisan looked searchingly around him. As far as
the eye could see, the road was entirely deserted. Don Felix halted and
bent over his horse's neck, as if wishing to arrange some buckle, but
while patting his noble animal he twice repeated the croak of a rook. At
once the harsh cry of the puffin rose from the bushes that bordered the
right hand side of the road; the branches were then parted--a man
appeared--it was Colonel Don Juan Melendez de Gongora. Don Felix did not
appear at all surprised at seeing him; on the contrary, he advanced
hurriedly towards him.
"Return to your ambush, Colonel," he said, "you know that there is an
eye in every leaf. If I am seen alone on the road my presence will
arouse no suspicions; but you, Cuerpo de Cristo! You must not be seen.
We can converse equally well at a distance, as the ears able to overhear
us are those of friends."
"You are always prudent, Don Felix."
"I, not at all; I merely wish to avenge myself on those bandits who have
plundered so many magnificent haciendas, and hatred renders a man
prudent."
"Whatever be the motive that impels you, it gives you good inspirations,
that is the main point. But let us return to our business: what do you
want with me?"
"Merely to know two things."
"What are they?"
"Whether General Rubio is really satisfied with the plan I submitted to
him?"
"You have a proof of it before you; if he were not so, should I be
here?"
"That is true."
"Now for the second."
"That is of an extremely delicate nature."
"Ah, ah! You pique my curiosity," the Colonel said, laughingly.
Don Felix frowned and lowered his voice, as it were involuntarily.
"It is very serious, Don Juan," he continued; "I wish, before the
battle, to know if you have retained towards me that esteem and
friendship with which you deigned to honour me at the Larch-tree
hacienda?"
The Colonel turned away in embarrassment.
"Why ask that question at this moment?" he remarked.
Don Felix turned pale and fixed a flashing glance upon him.
"Answer me, I implore yon, Don Juan," he said, pressingly. "Whatever you
may think, whatever opinion you may have of me, I wish to know it; it
must be so."
"Do not press me, I beg, Don Felix. What can you care for any opinion I
may have, which is isolated and unimportant?"
"What can I care, do you ask?" he exclaimed, hotly; "but it is, indeed,
useless to press you farther, for I know all I wish to know. Thank you,
Don Juan, I ask no more. When a man of so noble a character and such a
loyal heart as yours condemns the conduct of another man, it is because
that conduct is really blameable."
"Well, be it so; since you absolutely insist, I will explain my views,
Don Felix. Yes, I blame but do not condemn you, for I cannot and will
not be your judge. Don Felix, I am internally convinced in my soul and
conscience that the man who makes himself, no matter the motive that
impels him, the agent of treachery, commits worse than a crime, for he
is guilty of an act of cowardice! Such a man I can pity, but no longer
esteem."
The ex-Mayor-domo listened to these harsh words with a forehead dripping
with perspiration, but with head erect and eye sparkling with a gloomy
fire. When the officer stopped he bowed coldly and took the hand which
Don Juan did not attempt to draw from his grasp.
"It is well," he said; "your words are rude, but they are true. I thank
you for your frankness, Don Juan; I know now what remains for me to
do."
The Colonel, who had involuntarily allowed his feelings of the moment to
carry him away, fancied that he had gone too far, and was alarmed at the
consequences of his imprudence.
"Don Felix," he added, "forgive me; I spoke to you like a madman."
"Come, come, Don Juan," he replied, with a bitter smile, "do not attempt
to recall your words, you were but the echo of my conscience; what you
have said aloud my heart has often whispered to me. Fear not that I
shall let myself be overcome by a passing feeling of passion. No! I am
one of those men who, when they have once entered a path, persevere in
it at all hazards. But enough of this; I notice a dust, which probably
announces our friends," he added, with a poignant irony. "Farewell, Don
Juan, farewell."
And, not waiting for the answer Don Juan was preparing to give him, Don
Felix spurred his horse, turned hastily round, and went off as rapidly
as he had come. The Colonel looked after him for a moment thoughtfully.
"Alas!" he muttered, "that man is now more unhappy than culpable, or I
am greatly mistaken; if he be not killed today it will not be for want
of seeking death."
He then buried himself again in the chaparral with a melancholy shake of
his head. In the meanwhile, the Texan army rapidly advanced; like the
Mexicans, each mounted man had a foot soldier behind him. At about a
gunshot from the cross roads, the Texans came upon the edge of the
trembling prairie; they were consequently obliged to halt in order to
call in their flankers, scattered on the right and left, which naturally
produced a momentary disorder, promptly repaired, however, by the
activity of the chief, then they started again.
The order of march was necessarily altered, the path grew narrower at
every step, and the cavalry were unable to keep their ranks any longer.
However, from the moment of the start, the vanguard had not announced
any danger. The army, trusting in the experience of the officer detached
to clear the way, marched in perfect security, which was augmented by
the hope of speedily reaching the mouth of the Rio Trinidad, and at once
embarking for Galveston.
The Jaguar alone did not share the general confidence: accustomed for a
long period to a war of ambushes, the ground he now trod seemed to him
so suitable in every way for a surprise, that he could not persuade
himself that they would reach the seashore without an attack. In a word,
the young Chief had an intuition of approaching danger. He guessed it,
felt it, so to speak, though he could not tell from what quarter it
would come, and suddenly burst on his comrades and himself.
There is nothing so terrible as such a situation, where a man is obliged
to stand on his defence against space. The desert tranquilly surrounds
him on all sides, in vain does he interrogate the air and earth, to find
a clue which constantly escapes him, and yet he has in his heart a
certainty for which he finds it impossible to account! He can only
answer questions with the enigmatical, though strictly logical phrase,
"I do not know, and yet I am sure of it."
The Jaguar resolved, whatever the consequences might be, to avoid
personally a surprise, whose results would be disastrous to those he had
vowed to protect and defend, that is to say, to Tranquil and Carmela.
Gradually slackening the pace of his detachment, he succeeded in leaving
a sufficiently wide distance between himself and the main body, to
regain almost entirely his liberty of action. His first care was to
collect round the cart the men in whom he placed most confidence. Then
selecting those of his comrades whom he supposed most conversant with
Indian tricks, he placed them under the command of John Davis, with
orders to force their way, as well as they could, through the chaparral
that skirted both sides of the track, and enclosed it so completely,
that it was impossible to see anything beyond.
It could not enter the Jaguar's mind that the Mexicans would not profit
by the opportunity offered them by the imprudence of the Texans, to try
and take their revenge for the defeats they had suffered. In this view
he was entirely supported by Davis, who, it will be remembered, had
urgently, though vainly, begged the Commander-in-Chief to give up his
plan. The two men, who had been so long acquainted, understood each
other at the first word, and John Davis immediately spread out his men,
as a forlorn hope, on either side of the road. The Jaguar proceeded to
the cart after this, and addressed the hunter.
"Well, Tranquil," he said to him, "how do you find yourself?"
"Better," the other answered; "I hope within a few days to be
sufficiently recovered to give up this wearisome position."
"And your strength?"
"Is rapidly returning."
"All the better. Would you be capable of firing in your own defence,
without leaving the cart?"
"I think so. But do you fear any trap? The spot where we now are,
appears most favourable for it."
"Does it not! Well, you have spoken the truth, I fear an ambuscade. Here
is a rifle, and if needs must, make use of it."
"Trust to me. Thanks," he added, as he clutched the weapon with a
delight he did not attempt to conceal.
The Jaguar then placed himself at the head of his troop, and gave orders
to set out again. Long before this, the main body of the army had passed
the cross, the heads of the columns were already entering the defile, a
movement which, owing to the narrowness, produced some disorder the
leaders were trying to repress, when suddenly a shower of canister burst
from the Cerro Pardo, and made wide gaps in the crowded ranks of the
Texans. At the same instant a terrible, shout was heard from the other
end of the gorge, and Don Felix Paz' cuadrilla appeared galloping at
full speed toward the main body.
At the first moment the Texans had to make way for these horsemen, whom
they supposed to be closely pursued by a still invisible enemy; but
their surprise changed into terror and stupor when they saw this
vanguard dash at them and mercilessly sabre them with shouts of "Mejico!
Mejico! Federación!"
The Texans were betrayed! Suffering from a terror that almost attained
to madness, unable to form in this limited spot, decimated by the
canister incessantly discharged at them, and sabred by Don Felix'
cuadrilla, they had but one thought--that of flight. But at the moment
when they tried to turn, the terrible cry of "Mejico! Mejico! mueran los
rebeldes!" resounded like a funeral knell in their rear, and Colonel
Melendez, at the head of his five hundred horses, dashed at the Texans,
who were thus caught between two fires.
The medley then assumed the fearful proportions of one of those mediæval
butcheries in which man, having attained the paroxysm of fury,
intoxicated by the sharp smell of blood, the powder, smoke, and the din
of battle, kills for the sake of killing with the pleasure of a wild
beast, growing excited by the massacre of every victim that falls, and
far from satiating his hatred, finds it increase in proportion to the
corpses piled up on the blood-stained ground.
Flight was impossible, and resistance seemed the same. At this supreme
hour, when all appeared lost and the cause of liberty was about to be
eternally buried under the pile of corpses, an irresistible movement
suddenly took place in the terrified crowd, which opened like a ripe
fruit through the bloody track thus made by main force. The Jaguar now
dashed forward, splendid in his wrath and despair, brandishing his
machete above his head, and followed by his brave cuadrilla. A cry of
delight saluted the arrival of the daring freebooter, who had been
obliged to cut his way through Colonel Melendez' Mexicans, as they
vainly strove to stop his passage.
"My lads!" the Jaguar shouted, in a voice that rose above the din of
battle, "We are surrounded by the enemy, and have been betrayed and led
into a trap by a coward. Let us show these Mexicans, who believe us
already conquered, and are congratulating themselves on their easy
victory, what men like ourselves are capable of. Follow me--forward!
Forward!"
"Forward!" the Texans vociferated, electrified by these daring words.
The Jaguar made his horse bound, and dashed at the side of the mountain.
His military instinct had not deserted him, for that was, in fact, the
key of the battle. The Texans rushed after him, brandishing their
weapons and uttering yells of fury. But at this moment the troops of
General Rubio made their appearance, who had hitherto remained ambushed
behind the trees and bushes; they crowned the heights, lined the sides
of the road, and the fight began again more terrible and obstinate than
before. The efforts were useless; the Texans returned eight times to the
assault of the Cerro Pardo, and eight times were driven back in disorder
to the foot of the mountain, which they were unable to scale.
In vain did the Jaguar, Davis, Fray Antonio, El Alferez, and the other
Chiefs perform prodigies of valour; the Mexican bullets decimated their
soldiers, who at length growing discouraged, refused any longer to
continue an impossible contest. The Commander-in-Chief of the army, who
by his imprudence had caused this grave disaster, resolved to make a
final and supreme effort. Collecting around him all the willing men who
still attempted resistance, he formed them into a column of attack, and
dashed like a whirlwind at the Mexican guns, the artillerymen of which
were cut down without yielding an inch. Surprised by this sudden and
furious charge, the Mexicans broke and abandoned the battery; this
audacious attempt might change the issue of the battle. Already the
Texans, who were almost masters of the plateau, were preparing to take
advantage of this fortuitous and unhoped-for success; but unfortunately,
the revolutionary army, nearly entirely demoralized, did not support
with the necessary vigour the heroic effort of these few chosen braves;
the Mexicans had time to recover from their surprise and compare their
strength with that of their foes. Ashamed at the check they had
suffered, they rushed upon the enemy, and after a frightful hand-to-hand
fight, they succeeded in driving the Texans from the plateau at the
moment when the latter formed hopes of holding it.
Colonel Melendez and Don Felix Paz had at length effected their
junction; the Texans had not even the possibility of flight left them,
but the Jaguar did not yet despair; still, since he could no longer
conquer, he would at least save Carmela. But between her and him stood a
human wall, through which he must clear a road. The young man did not
hesitate; turning like a wounded lion, he bounded into the midst of the
enemy's ranks, summoning his comrades, and waving round his head the
terrible machete he had employed so well during the action. A man boldly
rushed to meet him with uplifted sabre.
"Ah! the traitor Don Felix!" the Jaguar shouted, on recognising him, and
split his skull open.
Then he rushed like an avalanche down the mountain side, overthrowing
every one he came across; and followed by a few of his most devoted
companions, the ranks of the Mexicans opened to let them pass.
"Thanks, brother," the Jaguar shouted with considerable emotion to
Colonel Melendez, who had given his soldiers a sign to let him pass.
The Colonel turned away and made no answer. The carnage lasted a long
time yet, as the Texans would not accept quarter. Six hundred Texans
fell into the hands of the victors, while eight hundred found death on
the field of battle.
The same evening General Rubio re-entered Galveston at the head of his
victorious army; the insurrectionists fled in terror in all directions,
without hope of ever again collecting. The cause of Texan liberty seemed
lost for a long time, if not for ever.
The Jaguar, on reaching the cross roads, found the cart smashed, and
most of its defenders lying dead on the ground. Singular to say, they
had all been scalped. Tranquil, Quoniam, Carmela, and Lanzi had
disappeared. What terrible drama could have been performed at this spot?