THE BIVOUAC.
As we have already said, Texas had reached a decisive epoch:
unfortunately, her future seemed as gloomy as that of the conquered: in
spite of the heroic efforts attempted by the Insurgents, the rapid
progress of the invasion was watched with terror, and no possible means
of resistance could be seen. Still it was this moment, when all appeared
desperate, which the Convention, calm and moved by a love of liberty
more ardent than ever, selected to hurl a last and supreme defiance at
the invaders. Not allowing itself to be intimidated by evil fortune, the
convention replied to the menaces of the conquerors by a statement of
rights, and the definitive declaration of the independence of a country
which was almost entirely occupied by, and in the power of the Mexicans.
It improvised a constitution, created a provisional executive authority,
decreed all the measures of urgency which the gravity of circumstances
demanded, and finally nominated General Sam Houston Commander-in-Chief,
with the most widely extended powers.
Unhappily the Texan army no longer existed, for its previous defeats
had completely annihilated it. But if military organization might be
lacking, the enthusiasm was more ardent than ever. The Texans had sworn
to bury themselves under the smoking ruins of their plundered towns and
villages, sooner than return beneath the detested yoke of their
oppressors. And this oath they were not only prepared to keep, but had
already kept at Bejar and Goliad: however low a people may appear, and
is really in the sight of its tyrants, when all its acting strength is
concentrated in the firm and immutable will, to live free or die, it is
certain to recover from its defeats, and to rise again one day a
conqueror, and regenerated by the blood of the martyrs who have
succumbed in the supreme struggle of liberty against slavery.
General Houston had scarce been appointed ere he prepared to obey, and
he reached the banks of the Guadalupe three days after the capture of
the Alamo. The Texan troops amounted to _three hundred_ men, badly
armed, badly clothed, almost dying of hunger, but burning to take their
revenge. General Houston was a stern and sincere patriot; his name is
revered in Texas, like that of Washington in the United States, or of
Lafayette in France. Houston was a precursor, or one of those geniuses
whom it pleases God to create when He desires to render a people free.
At the sight of this army of three hundred men, Houston was not
discouraged; on the contrary, he felt his enthusiasm redoubled, the
heroic relics of the ten thousand victims who had succumbed since the
beginning of the war had not despaired of the salvation of their
country: like their predecessors, they were ready to die for her. It was
a sacred phalanx with which he would achieve miracles.
Still, it was not with these three hundred men, however brave and
resolute they might be, that General Houston could entertain a hope of
defeating the Mexicans, who, rendered presumptuous by their past
successes, eagerly sought the opportunity to finish once for all with
the Insurgents, by crushing the last relics of their army. General
Houston, before risking an action on which the fate of his new country
would doubtless depend, resolved to form an army once more; for this
purpose, instead of marching on the enemy, he fell back on the Colorado,
and thence on the Brazos, burning and destroying everything in his
passage, in order to starve the Mexicans out.
These clever tactics obtained all the success the General expected from
them; for a very simple reason: as he fell back on the Mexican frontier,
his army was daily augmented by fresh recruits, who, on the report of
his approach, left their houses or farms to enlist under his banner;
while the contrary happened to the Mexicans, who at each march they made
in pursuit of the Insurgents, left a few laggards behind, who by so much
diminished their strength.
The Texan General had a powerful motive for falling back on the American
frontier; he hoped to obtain some help from General Gaines, who, by the
order of President Jackson, had advanced on Texan territory as far as
the town of Nagogdoches. Such was the state of affairs between Houston
and Santa Anna, the one retreating, the other continually advancing;
though ere long they must meet face to face, in a battle which would
decide the great question of a nation's emancipation or servitude.
On the day when we resume our narrative it was about eight in the
evening, the heat had been stifling throughout the day, and although
night had fallen long before, this heat, far from diminishing, had but
increased; there was not a breath of air, the atmosphere was oppressive,
and low lightning-laden clouds rolled heavily athwart the sky; all, in
fact, foreboded a storm.
On the banks of a rather wide stream, whose yellowish and turbid waters
flowed mournfully between banks clothed with cotton-wood trees, the
bivouac fires of a small detachment of cavalry might be seen glistening
like stars in the darkness. This stream was a confluent of the Colorado,
and the men encamped on its banks were Texans. They were but twenty-five
in number, and composed the entire cavalry of the Army of Independence:
they were commanded by the Jaguar.
While the horsemen were sadly crouching over the fires, not far from
which their horses were hobbled, and conversing in a low voice; their
Chief, who had retired to a jacal made of branches and lighted by a
smoky candil, was sitting on an equipal with his back leant against a
tree trunk, with his arms folded on his chest and gazing at vacancy. The
Jaguar was no longer the young and ardent man we introduced to our
readers; his face was pale, his features contracted, and eyes blood-shot
with fever, and, though faith still dwelt in his heart, hope was dead.
The truth was that death had begun to make frightful gaps around him;
his dearest friends, the most devoted supporters of the cause he
defended, had fallen one after the other in this implacable struggle. El
Alferez, Captain Johnson, Ramirez, Fray Antonio, were lying in their
bloody graves; of others he received no news, nor knew what had become
of them; he therefore stood alone, like an oak bowed by the wind and
beaten by the storm, resisting intrepidly, but foreseeing his
approaching fall.
General Houston, in his calculated retreat, had confided the command of
the rear guard, that is to say, the most honourable and dangerous post,
to the Jaguar; a post he had accepted with gloomy joy, as he felt sure
that he would fall gloriously, while watching over the safety of all.
In the meantime the night became blacker and blacker, the horizon more
menacing; a white and sharp rain began piercing the grey fog; the storm
was rapidly approaching, and must soon burst forth. The soldiers watched
with terror the progress of the storm, and instinctively sought shelter
against this convulsion of nature, which was far more terrible than the
other dangers which menaced them. For no one, who has not witnessed it,
can form even a remote idea of an American hurricane, which twists trees
like wisps of straw, fires forests, levels mountains, drives streams
from their bed, and in a few hours convulses the surface of the soil.
Suddenly a dazzling flash furrowed the darkness, and a crashing burst of
thunder broke the majestic silence that brooded over the landscape. At
the same instant the sentry stationed a few paces in front of the
bivouac challenged. The Jaguar sprang up as if he had received an
electric shock, and bounding forward, as he mechanically seized the
weapons lying within reach, listened. The dull sound of horses' hoofs
could he heard on the soddened ground.
"Who's there?" the sentry challenged a second time.
"Friends," a voice replied.
"_¿Qué gente?_"
"Texas."
The Jaguar emerged from the jacal.
"To arms!" he shouted to his men, we must not let ourselves be
surprised.
"Come, come," the voice continued, "I see that I have not diverged from
the track, since I can hear the Jaguar."
"Halloh!" the latter said in surprise, "who are you, that you know me so
well?"
"By Jove! A friend whose voice should be familiar to you, at any rate."
"John Davis!" the young man exclaimed with a joy he did not attempt to
conceal.
"All right!" the American continued gaily. "I thought that we should
understand one another presently."
"Come, come; let him pass, men, he is a friend."
Five or six horsemen entered the camp and dismounted.
At this moment the storm burst forth furiously, passing like a whirlwind
over the plain, the twisted trees on which were in a second uprooted and
borne away by the hurricane. The Texans had made their horses lie down,
and were themselves lying down by their side on the Wet soil, in the
hope of offering a smaller surface to the gusts that passed with a
mournful howl above their heads. It was a spectacle full of wild
grandeur, presented by this ravaged plain, incessantly crossed by
flashes which illuminated the landscape with fantastic hues, while the
thunder rolled hoarsely in the depths of the Heavens, and the clouds
scudded along like a routed army, dashing against each other with
electric collisions.
For nearly three hours the hurricane raged, levelling everything in its
passage; at length, at about one in the morning, the rain became less
dense, the wind gradually calmed, the thunder rolled at longer
intervals, and the sky, swept clean by a final effort of the tempest,
appeared again blue and star-spangled; the hurricane had gone away to
vent its fury in other regions. The men and horses rose; all breathed
again, and tried to restore a little order in the camp. This was no easy
task, for the jacal had been carried away, the fires extinguished, and
the logs dispersed in all directions; but the Texans were tried men,
long accustomed to the dangers and fatigues of desert life. The tempest,
instead of crushing them, had, on the contrary, restored their strength
and patience, though not their courage, for that had never failed them.
They set gaily to work, and in two hours all the injury caused by the
tempest was repaired as well as the precarious resources they had at
their disposal permitted; the fires were lighted again, and the jacal
reconstructed. Any stranger who had entered the camp at this moment
would not have supposed that so short a time previously they had been
assailed by so fearful a hurricane. The Jaguar was anxious to talk with
John Davis, whom he had only seen since his arrival, and had found it
impossible to exchange a syllable. When order was restored, therefore,
he went up to him and begged him to enter the jacal.
"Permit me," the American said, "to bring with me three of my comrades
whom I am convinced you will be delighted to meet."
"Do so," the Jaguar answered; "who are they?"
"I will not deprive you," Davis, said, with a smile, "of the pleasure of
recognizing them yourself."
The young Chief did not press the matter, for he knew the ex-slave
dealer too well not to place the most perfect confidence in him. A few
minutes later, according to his promise, Davis entered the jacal with
his comrades; the Jaguar gave a start of joy at seeing them, and quickly
walked up to offer his hand. These three men were Lanzi, Quoniam, and
Black-deer.
"Oh, oh!" he exclaimed, "Here you are, then. Heaven be praised! I did
not dare hope for your return."
"Why not?" Lanzi asked; "As we are still alive, thanks to God! You ought
to have expected us."
"So many things have happened since our parting, so many misfortunes
have assailed us, so many of our friends have fallen not to rise again,
that, on receiving no news of you, I trembled at the thought that you
might also be dead."
"You know, my friend," the American said, "that we have been absent a
very long time, and are consequently quite ignorant of what has happened
since our departure."
"Well, I will tell you all. But first one word."
"Speak."
"Where is Tranquil?"
"Only a few leagues from here, and you will soon see him; he sent me
forward, indeed, to warn you of his speedy arrival."
"Thanks," the young man replied, pensively.
"Is that all you desire to know?"
"Nearly so, for of course you have received no news of ----?"
"News of whom?" the American asked, seeing that the Jaguar hesitated.
"Of Carmela?" he at length said, with a tremendous effort.
"Of Carmela?" John Davis exclaimed, in surprise: "How could we have
received any news? Tranquil, on the contrary, hopes to hear some from
you."
"From me?"
"Hang it! You must know better than any of us how the dear child is."
"I do not understand you."
"And yet it is very clear. I will not remind you in what way we
succeeded, after the capture of the Larch-tree, in saving the poor girl
from that villain who carried her off; I will merely remind you that on
the very day when Tranquil and I, by your express orders, started to
join Loyal Heart, the maiden was confided in your presence to Captain
Johnson, who would convey her to the house of a respectable lady at
Galveston, who was willing to offer her a shelter."
"Well?"
"What do you mean by, well?"
"Yes, I knew all that, so it was useless to tell it me. What I ask you
is, whether, since Carmela went to, Galveston, you have received any
news of her?"
"Why, it is impossible, my friend; how could we have received any?
Remember that we proceeded to the desert."
"That is true," the young man replied, disconsolately; "I am mad.
Forgive me."
"What is the matter? Why this pallor, my friend, this restlessness I see
in your eyes?"
"Ah!" he said, with a sigh, "It is because I have received news of
Carmela, if you have not."
"You, my friend?"
"Yes, I."
"A long time ago, I presume?"
"No--yesterday evening," he said, with a bitter smile.
"I do not at all understand you."
"Well, listen to me. What I am going to tell you is not long, but it is
important, I promise you."
"I am listening."
"We form, as you are doubtless aware, the extreme rear guard of the Army
of Liberation."
"Yes, I know that, and it helped me in finding your trail."
"Very good; hence hardly a day passes in which we do not exchange musket
shots and sabre cuts with the Mexicans."
"Go on."
"Yesterday--you see it is not stale--we were suddenly charged by forty
Mexican Horse; it was about three in the afternoon, when General Houston
was crossing the river with the main body. We had orders to offer a
desperate resistance, in order to protect the retreat. This order was
needless; at the sight of the Mexicans we rushed madly upon them, and
the action at once commenced. After a few minutes' fighting the Mexicans
gave way, and finally fled, leaving three or four dead on the
battlefield. Too weak to pursue the enemy, I had given my soldiers
orders to return, and was myself preparing to do the same, when two
flying Mexicans, instead of continuing their flight, stopped, and
fastening their handkerchiefs to their sabre blades, made me a signal
that they desired to parley. I approached the two men, who bore a
greater likeness to bandits than to soldiers; and one of them, a man of
tall stature and furious looks, said to me at once, when I asked them
what they wanted--
"'To do you a service, if you are, as I suppose, the Jaguar.'
"'Yes, I am he,' I answered, 'but what is your name? Who are you?'
"'It is of little consequence who I am, provided that my intentions are
good.'
"'Still, I must know them.'
"'Hum!' he said, 'you are very distrustful, Comirado.'
"'Come, Sandoval,' the other horseman said, in a voice gentle as a
woman's, as he suddenly joined in the conversation, 'do not beat about
thus, but finish your business.'
"'I ask nothing better than to finish,' he replied, coarsely; 'it is
this gentleman who compels me to swerve, when I wished to go straight
ahead.'
"The second rider, shrugged his shoulders with a disdainful smile, and
turned to me.
"'In a word, Caballero, here is a paper, which a person, in whom you
take great interest, requested us to deliver to you.'"
"I eagerly seized the paper, and prepared to open it, for a secret
foreboding warned me of misfortune.
"'No,' the Mexican continued eagerly arresting my hand, 'wait till you
have joined your men again, to read that letter.'
"'I consent,' I said, 'but I presume you do not intend to do me a
gratuitous service, whatever its nature may be?'
"'Why so?'
"'Because you do not know me, and the interest you take in me must be
very slight.'
"'Perhaps so,' the rider answered; 'still, pledge yourself to nothing, I
warn you, till you know the contents of that letter.'
"Then he made a signal to his comrade, and after bowing slightly, they
started at a gallop, and left me considerably embarrassed at the way in
which this singular interview had ended, and twisting in my fingers the
letter I did not dare open."
"Well," the American muttered, "what did you, so soon as the men left
you alone?"
"I looked after them a long time, and then, suddenly recalled to my duty
by several carbine shots whose bullets whizzed past my ears, I bent down
over my horse's neck and regained the bivouac at full gallop. On
arriving, I opened the letter, for I was burning with impatience and
curiosity."
"And it was?"
"From Carmela."
"By Heavens!" the American said, as he slapped his thigh; "I would have
wagered it."