SAN JACINTO.
The news told White Scalper by the scout was true; Tranquil and his
comrades, after turning the Mexican lines with that craft characteristic
of the Indians, had effected their junction with the Texan army; that is
to say, with the vanguard, commanded by the Jaguar. Unfortunately, they
only found John Davis, who told them that the Jaguar had gone to make an
important communication to General Houston.
If the American had spoken to Tranquil about his daughter, and given him
news of her, he would have been forced to reveal the bargain proposed by
the Chief of the Pirates, and he did not feel justified in divulging a
secret of that importance which was not his own. The Canadian
consequently remained ignorant of what was going on, and was far from
suspecting that his daughter was so near him; besides, the moment was a
bad one for questioning; the march had begun again; and during a retreat
the officers who command the rearguard have something else to do than
talk.
At sunset the Jaguar rejoined his cuadrilla. He was delighted at the
arrival of the Comanches, and warmly pressed Tranquil's hand; but as the
order had been given to advance by forced marches, and the enemy was at
hand, the young man had no time either to tell his old friend anything.
The General had combined his movement with great cleverness, in order
to draw the enemy after him by constantly refusing to fight. The
Mexicans, puffed up by their early successes, and burning with the
desire to crush what they called a revolt, did not require to be excited
to pursue their unseizable enemy.
The retreat and pursuit continued thus for three days, when the Texans
suddenly wheeled, and advanced resolutely to meet the Mexicans. The
latter, surprised by this sudden return, which they were far from
expecting, halted with some hesitation, and formed their line of battle.
It was the twenty-first of August, 1836, a day ever memorable in the
annals of Texas. The two armies were at length face to face on the
plains of San Jacinto, and were commanded in person by the chiefs of
their respective republics, Generals Santa Anna and Houston. The
Mexicans numbered seventeen hundred well armed, veteran soldiers; the
Texans amounted to only seven hundred and eighty-three, of whom
sixty-one were cavalry.
General Houston had been compelled, on the previous evening, to detach
the Jaguar's cuadrilla, which the Comanches and the hunters had joined;
for, contrary to Sandoval's expectations, his men had refused to ratify
the bargain he had made in their names with the Jaguar. Not that they
were actuated by any patriotic feeling, we are bound to state, but
merely because they had come across a hacienda, which seemed to offer
them the prospect of splendid plunder. Hence, without caring for either
party, they had shut themselves up in the hacienda, and refused to quit
it, in spite of the entreaties and threats of the Chief, who, seeing
that they had made up their minds, at length followed their example. The
Jaguar was therefore detached by the General to dislodge these dangerous
visitors, and the young man obeyed, though, unwillingly, for he foresaw
that he should miss the battle.
General Houston gave Colonel Lamar, who was at a later date President of
Texas, the command of the sixty horsemen left him, and resolutely
prepared for action, in spite of the numerical disproportion of his
forces. The two armies, whose struggle would decide the fate of a
country, were hardly as numerous as a French regiment. At sunrise the
battle commenced with extreme fury. The Texans, formed in square,
advanced silently, within musket shot of the enemy.
"Boys!" General Houston suddenly shouted, as he drew his sword, "Boys!
REMEMBER THE ALAMO!"
A terrible fire answered him, and the Texans rushed on the enemy, who
were already wavering. The battle lasted eighteen minutes! At the
expiration of that time, the Mexicans were broken, and in full flight;
their flags, their camp, with arms, baggage, provisions, and equipage,
fell into the hands of the victors. Considering the limited number of
combatants, the carnage was immense, for six hundred Mexicans, including
a General and four Colonels, were killed, two hundred and eighty-three
wounded, and seven hundred made prisoners; only sixty men, among them
being Santa Anna, succeeded in effecting their escape.
As for the Texans, owing to the impetuosity of their attack, they had
only two men killed and twenty-three wounded, though six of these died
afterwards--an insignificant loss, which proves once again, the
superiority of resolution over hesitation, for most of the Mexicans were
killed during the rout.
The Texans slept in the field of battle. General Houston, when sending
off the Jaguar against the pirates, had said to him:--
"Finish with those villains speedily, and perhaps you will return in
time for the battle."
These words were sufficient to give the Chief of the partisans wings;
still, however great his speed might be, night surprised him, when still
ten leagues from the hacienda, and he was compelled to halt, for both
men and horses were utterly worn out. On the morrow, at the moment when
he was about to start again, he received news of the battle of the
previous day, in a very singular manner.
John Davis, while prowling among the chaparral according to his wont,
discovered a man hidden in the tall grass, who was trembling all over.
The American, taking him naturally enough for a Mexican spy, ordered him
to get up. The man then fell on his knees, _kissed his hands_, and
implored him to let him go, offering him all the gold and jewels he had
about him. These supplications and intreaties produced no other effect
on the American than converting his suspicions into certainty.
"Come, come," he said roughly to his prisoner, as he cocked a pistol,
"enough of this folly; go on before me, or I will blow out your brains."
The sight of the weapon produced all the effect desired on the stranger,
he bowed his head piteously, and followed his captor to the bivouac,
with no further attempts to seduce him.
"Who the deuce have you brought us?" the Jaguar asked sharply.
"On my word," the American answered, "I do not know. He's a scamp I
found in the tall grass, who looks to me precious like a spy."
"Ah, ah!" the Jaguar said with an ugly smile, "His business will soon be
settled: have him shot."
The prisoner started, and his face assumed an earthy hue.
"One moment, Caballeros," he exclaimed, while struggling in the utmost
terror with the men who had already seized him--"one moment; I am not
what you suppose."
"Nonsense," the Jaguar said with a grin, "you are a Mexican, and that is
sufficient."
"I am," the prisoner exclaimed, "Don Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna,
President of the Mexican Republic."
"What?" the Jaguar exclaimed in amazement, "You are Santa Anna."
"Alas! Yes," the President answered, piteously, for it was really he.
"What were you doing concealed in the grass?"
"I was trying to fly."
"Then you have been defeated?"
"Oh, yes! My army is destroyed. Oh, your General is not born for common
things, for he has had the glory of conquering the _Napoleon of the
West_."[1]
At this absurd claim, especially in the mouth of such a man, his
hearers, in spite of the respect due to misfortune, could not refrain
from bursting into a loud and contemptuous laugh. To this manifestation
the haughty Mexican was completely insensible; for, now that he was
recognized, he felt sure of not being shot--he cared little for all
else. The Jaguar wrote to General Houston, describing the facts, and
sent off the prisoner to him, under the escort of twenty men, commanded
by John Davis, to whom this honour belonged by right, as he had been the
first to discover the prisoner.
"Well," the Jaguar muttered, as he looked after the escort along the
winding road, "fortune does not favour me--I succeed in nothing."
"Ingrate that you are!" Loyal Heart said to him; "To complain when the
most glorious trophy of the victory was reserved to you; through the
capture of that prisoner, the war is over, and the Independence of Texas
assured for ever."
"That is true," the Jaguar shouted, as he leapt with joy; "I did not
think of that. Viva Dios! You are right, my friend, and I thank you for
having put me on the track. By Jove! I should not have thought of that
without you. Come, come," he gently exclaimed, "let us be off to the
hacienda, comrades! We shall deal the last blow!"
The cuadrilla started under the guidance of its Chief; we will leave the
adventurers to follow their road, and preceding them for a few moments,
enter the hacienda.
The pirates, according to the custom of people of that stamp, had
immediately made themselves at home in the hacienda, whose owner had
fled on seeing the approach of war, and from which Sandoval and his men
expelled the peons and servants. The pillage was immediately organized
on a great scale, and they had naturally begun with the cellars, that is
to say, with the French and Spanish wines and strong liquors, so that
two hours after their arrival, all the villains were as full as butts,
and yells and songs rose from all sides.
Naturally the White Scalper had been compelled to follow the pirates,
and carry Carmela with him. In spite of the precautions taken by the old
man, the maiden heard from the chambers in which she sought shelter the
cries of these raging fellows which reached her, threatening and
sinister as the rolling of thunder in a tempest. Sandoval had not
renounced his plan of revenging himself on the man he regarded as his
enemy, and the intoxication of his men seemed to him an excellent
opportunity for getting rid of him.
White Scalper tried by all the means in his power to oppose this
gigantic orgy, for he knew that these rough and rebellious men, very
difficult to govern when sober, became utterly undisciplined so soon as
intoxication got hold of them. But the pirates had already tasted the
wines and spirits, and, excited by Sandoval, they only answered the
Scalper's representations with murmurs and insults. The latter,
despairing of making them listen to reason, and wishing to spare the
maiden the odious and disgusting spectacle of an orgie, hastened to
return to her, and after trying to calm her, he stationed himself before
the door of the room that served as her refuge, resolved to smash the
first pirate who attempted to approach her.
Several hours passed, and no one thought about disturbing the old man.
He was beginning to hope that all would pass over quietly, when he
suddenly heard a great noise, followed by yells and oaths, and a dozen
pirates appeared at the entrance of the long corridor at the end of
which he was standing sentry, brandishing their weapons and uttering
threats. At the sight of these furious men, whom intoxication rendered
deaf to all remonstrances, the old man understood that a terrible and
deadly struggle was about to begin between them and him. He was alone
against all, but yet he did not despair; a sinister light gleamed in his
eye, his eyebrows met under the might of an implacable will; he drew
himself up to his full height before the door he had sworn to defend,
and in an instant became once more the ferocious and terrible demon who
had so long been the terror of the Western countries.
However, the Scalper's position was not so desperate as it might appear.
Foreseeing all that occurred at this moment, he had taken all the
precautions in his power to save the maiden; the window of the room in
which she was only a couple of feet from the ground, and opened on the
yard of the hacienda, where a ready saddled horse was standing, in the
event of flight becoming necessary. After giving Carmela, who was
kneeling in the middle of the room and praying fervently, a final hint,
the old man prepared to resist his aggressors.
The pirates, at the sight of this man who was awaiting them so
menacingly, stopped involuntarily; the front men even took a timid
glance back, as if to see whether a chance of retreat were left them;
but the passage was interrupted by those who came behind them and thrust
them on. Sandoval, who was well aware with what sort of a man his
comrades would have to deal, had prudently abstained from showing
himself, and remained with some of his friends in the banqueting hall,
drinking and singing.
The delay in the pirates' advance had suggested to the Scalper the idea
of setting the door ajar, so that he might escape with greater facility
when the moment arrived. But the period of hesitation did not last a
second; the yells burst forth again louder than before, and the bandits
prepared to rush on the old man. The latter was still calm, and cold as
a marble statue; he had placed his rifle against the wall, within reach,
and stood with his pistols in his hands awaiting the opportunity to deal
a decisive blow.
"Stop, or I fire!" he shouted, in a thundering voice.
The yells were doubled, and the bandits drew nearer. Two shots were
fired, and two men fell; the Scalper discharged his rifle at the mob,
then taking it by the barrel and using it like a club, he rushed on the
bandits, who were startled by this sudden attack, and ere they could
dream of resistance he drove them to the end of the corridor and down
the stairs. Out of ten pirates six were killed, and four, dangerously
wounded, fled with shrieks of terror.
The Scalper lost no time; bounding like a wild beast, he rushed into the
room, the door of which he closed after him, took in his arms Carmela,
who was lying senseless on the floor, leaped out of window, threw the
girl across his saddle bow, and darting on the horse's back he started
across country with headlong speed. All this took place in less time
than we have required to describe it, and the pirates had not recovered
from their terror ere the Scalper had disappeared.
"Viva Dios!" Sandoval shouted, striking the table with his fist; "Shall
we let him escape? To horse, comrades, to horse!"
"To horse!" the bandits yelled, as they rushed to the corrals, where
their horses were put up. Ten minutes later the pirates dashed off in
pursuit of White Scalper, and the hacienda was thus freed of its
unwelcome guests.
In the meanwhile White Scalper was flying at full speed, without
following any settled direction; he had only one object, thought, or
desire--to save Carmela. The maiden, revived by the fresh air, was
setting up in the saddle, and, with her arms clasped round the old man's
body, constantly repeated, in a voice choking with emotion, while
looking with terror round her:
"Fly, fly! quicker, oh quicker!"
And the horse redoubled its speed, and thus ran with the rapidity of the
stag pursued by a pack of hounds. All at once the old man perceived a
band of horsemen debouching from a hollow way just ahead of him.
"Courage, Carmela!" he shouted; "We are saved."
"Go on, go on," the maiden replied.
This band was the Jaguar's; the young Chief in his impatience to reach
the hacienda, was galloping a long distance ahead of his men. All at
once he perceived the horseman coming towards him.
"Oh!" he exclaimed, with a feeling of deep hatred; "White Scalper."
He at once stopped his horse, so suddenly that the noble animal all but
fell, and raised his rifle.
"Stop, stop, do not fire! In Heaven's name do not fire!" the Canadian
shouted, who was spurring his horse and coming up at full speed,
followed by Loyal Heart and the main body.
But, before the hunter could reach the Jaguar, the latter, who had not
heard, or, probably, had not understood him, pulled the trigger. White
Scalper, struck in the middle of the chest, rolled in the sand, dragging
Carmela down with him in his fall.
"Ah!" Tranquil said, in despair, addressing Loyal Heart, "The unhappy
man has killed his father!"
"Silence!" the latter exclaimed, placing his hand on his mouth;
"Silence, in Heaven's name!"
The Scalper was not dead, however; the Jaguar approached him, probably
to finish him, but Carmela, who was inspecting his wound, drew herself
up like a lioness and repulsed him with horror.
"Back, assassin!" she shrieked.
In spite of himself the young man recoiled, astonished and confounded.
Tranquil rushed toward the wounded man, while Loyal Heart took hold of
the Jaguar, and speaking gently to him, led him from the spot where
White Scalper was writhing in agony. The old man held the maiden's
hands in his own, which were already bathed in a death sweat.
"Carmela, poor Carmela!" he said to her, in a broken voice; "Oh, Heaven,
what will become of you now that I am dying."
"No, no, it is not possible, you will not die," the girl exclaimed,
stifling her sobs.
The old man smiled sadly.
"Alas, poor child!" he had said, "I have but a few moments to live; who
will protect you when I am gone?"
"I!" said the hunter, who had come up.
"You!" the wounded man replied; "you, her father?"
"No, her friend," the hunter remarked, with a melancholy accent, and
drawing from his bosom the necklace Quoniam had torn from the Scalper
during the fight in Galveston Bay, he said with supreme majesty, "James
Watt,[2] embrace your daughter; Carmela, embrace your father."
"Oh!" the wounded man exclaimed, "My heart did not deceive me, then?"
"My father, my father, bless me!" the maiden murmured, falling on her
knees.
White Scalper, or Major Watt, drew himself up as if he had received an
electric shock, and laid his hands on the head of the kneeling girl.
"Bless you, my child!" he said; then after a moment of silence, he
muttered in an almost indistinct voice, "I had a son too."
"He is dead," the hunter answered, as he looked sorrowfully at the
Jaguar.
"May Heaven pardon him!" the old man muttered. And falling back, he
breathed his last sigh.
"My friend," Carmela said to the hunter, "you, whom I no longer dare to
call my father, what do you order me to do in the presence of this
corpse?"
"Live!" the Canadian answered hoarsely, as he pointed to a horseman who
was coming up at full speed, "for you love and are beloved; life is
scarce beginning for you, and you may still be happy."
The rider was Colonel Melendez.
Carmela let her head fall in her hands, and burst into tears.
* * * * *
During my last visit to Texas, I had the honour of being presented to
Doña Carmela, then married to Colonel Melendez, who retired from the
service after the battle of San Jacinto.
Tranquil lived with them, but Loyal Heart had returned to the desert.
The Jaguar, after the events we have described, resumed his adventurous
life, and a year had scarce elapsed ere his death was heard of.
Surprised by Apache Indians, from whom he might easily have escaped, he
insisted on fighting them, and was massacred by these pitiless enemies
of the white race.
Did the Jaguar know that he had killed his father, or was it his despair
at seeing his love despised by Carmela, that determined him to seek
death?
That remained a mystery which no one was ever able to solve. Let us hope
that a merciful and just God pardoned this son his involuntary
parricide!
[1] The sentence is literally true, but was said by Santa Anna to
Houston himself.
[2] See Border Rifles, same publishers.
THE END.