Cornelius Vanderbilt was not a person who could be bluffed or
frightened. Infuriated at the action of the filibuster President, he
immediately withdrew from service the ships of the Transit Company in
both oceans, thus cutting off communication between Nicaragua and the
United States, and thereby Walker's source of supplies. But the grim old
financier was not content with that. Recruiting a force of foreign
adventurers on his own account, he despatched them to Central America
with orders to assist the Costa Ricans, whom he liberally supplied with
money, arms, and ammunition, in their war against Walker. Turning then
to Washington, he had little difficulty in inducing Secretary of State
Marcy, who was known to be one of his creatures, to use the government
forces in driving Walker out of Nicaragua. To Commodore Mervin, who was
his personal friend, Secretary Marcy communicated his wishes, or rather
Vanderbilt's wishes, and these Mervin in turn transmitted to Captain
Davis, commanding the man-of-war _St. Mary's_, who was ordered to
proceed at full speed to San Juan del Sur, on the Pacific coast of
Nicaragua, and to force Walker out of that country. Never has the
government of the United States lent itself to the designs of predatory
wealth so disgracefully and so flagrantly as it did when, at the
dictation of Cornelius Vanderbilt, and without a shadow of right or
excuse, it used the American navy to oust William Walker from the
presidency to which he had been legally elected by a sovereign people.
Its unjustified persecution of Walker to serve the spite of a money-lord
forms one of the darkest stains on our national history.
When Davis arrived in Nicaragua he found Walker, his forces terribly
reduced by death, fever, and desertion (for his means of supply had, as
I have said, been stopped), besieged by the allies in the town of Rivas.
Food was running short, the hospital was filled with wounded, and many
of his men were helpless from fever. Captain Davis demanded that Walker
surrender to him upon the ground of humanity, but the indomitable
filibuster replied that when he did not have enough men left to man the
guns he intended to take refuge on board his little schooner, the
_Granada_, which lay in the harbor, and seek his fortune elsewhere. "You
will not do that," answered Davis, "for I am going to seize your
vessel." With his only hope of escape thus cut off, there was nothing
for Walker to do but capitulate. Therefore, on May 1, 1857, William
Walker, President of Nicaragua, whose title was as legally sound as that
of any ruler in the world, surrendered to the forces his own country had
sent against him, and one more argument was given to those who claimed
that it was not liberty which we upheld and worshipped, but the almighty
dollar. When Walker arrived in New York a few weeks later he found the
city bedecked with flags and bunting in his honor. On but two other
occasions has the American metropolis given such a reception to a
visitor: once when Kossuth, the Hungarian patriot, rode up Broadway, and
years later, when Dewey returned, fresh from his victory at Manila.
Walker's drive from the Battery to Madison Square was like a triumphal
progress, for his gallantry in action and his successes against
overwhelming odds had aroused the admiration of his countrymen, just as
his outrageous treatment by the government had excited their
indignation. Though legally he had serious grounds for complaint, he
received scant consideration when he placed his demands for reparation
before the Department of State at Washington. But the cold shoulder
turned toward him by official Washington was more than made up for by
the welcome he received in the South, where he was acclaimed as a hero
and a martyr. He was banqueted in every town and city from Baltimore to
New Orleans, and when he entered a box in the opera-house of the latter
place, the audience, forgetting the play, rose as one man to cheer him.
Within a month Walker had raised enough money and recruits in the South
to enable him to try his fortunes once more in Nicaragua. Sailing from
New Orleans with one hundred and fifty men, he landed at San Juan del
Norte, on the Caribbean side, marched upon and captured the town of
Castillo Viejo together with four of the Transit Company's steamers, and
was, indeed, in a fair way to again make himself master of Nicaragua
when the United States once more interfered, the frigate _Wabash_, under
command of Commodore Hiram Pawlding, dropping anchor in a position where
her guns commanded the filibusters' camp, her commander demanding
Walker's immediate surrender. The flag-officer who presented Walker with
Pawlding's demand tactlessly remarked: "General, I'm sorry to see you
here. A man like you deserves to command better men." "If I had even a
third of the force you have brought against me," Walker responded
grimly, "I'd soon show you who commands the better men." For the third
time in his career Walker was forced to surrender to his own countrymen,
and was sent north under parole as a prisoner of war. But, although
Pawlding had acted precisely as Davis had done, President Buchanan,
instead of thanking him, not only publicly reprimanded him, but retired
him from active service, and when Walker presented himself at the White
House as a prisoner, refused to receive his surrender, or to recognize
him as being in the custody of the United States. All of which, however,
was scant consolation for Walker.
To regain the presidency of which he had been unjustly deprived had now
become an obsession with Walker. In spite of a proclamation issued by
President Buchanan forbidding him to take further part in Central
American affairs, he sailed from Mobile, on December 1, 1858, with a
hundred and fifty of his veterans. His voyage was brought to a sudden
and wholly unlooked-for termination, however, for he was wrecked in a
gale off the coast of Honduras, whence he was rescued by a British
war-ship which happened to be in the vicinity and brought back to the
United States. By this time Walker had become almost as much of a
nightmare to the governments of the United States and Great Britain (for
the latter, both because of the proximity of her colony of British
Honduras and of her large financial interests in the other Central
American countries, had no desire to see that region again plunged into
war) as Napoleon was to the Holy Alliance, and as a result both the
Atlantic and Pacific coasts of Nicaragua were patrolled by the
war-ships of the two nations to prevent Walker's return. Appreciating
that, under the circumstances, it was about as easy for him to land on
Nicaraguan soil as it was to land on the moon, Walker, with a hundred of
his devoted followers, slipped silently out of Mobile harbor on an
August night in 1860, and landed, a few days later, on a little island
off the coast of Honduras known as Ruatan.
And so we come to the last chapter in this extraordinary man's
extraordinary career. Within a day after his landing at Ruatan, Walker
had crossed to the mainland and captured the important seaport of
Trujillo. But the ill-fortune which from the beginning had dogged him
like a shadow was not to desert him now, for scarcely had the flag of
Honduras which fluttered above the barracks been replaced by the
blue-and-white banner of the filibusters when a British frigate dropped
anchor off the town. Twenty minutes later a boat's crew of British
bluejackets tossed their oars as they ran alongside Trujillo wharf, and
a naval officer immaculate in white and gold, stepping ashore, inquired
for General Walker, and presented him with a message. It was from
Captain Salmon, commanding the British man-of-war _Icarus_, which lay
outside, and demanded the immediate evacuation of the city by the
filibusters, as the British Government held a mortgage on the revenues
of the port and intended to protect them, by force if necessary. Walker
answered that as he had made Trujillo a free port, the British claims
were no longer valid. "Captain Salmon instructs me to inform you, sir,"
replied the British officer, as he prepared to re-enter his gig, "that
he will give you until to-morrow morning to make your decision. If you
do not then surrender he will be compelled to bombard the town." As a
strong force of Hondurans had in the mean time appeared on the land side
of the city and were preparing to attack, Walker realized that his
position had become untenable, so that night he and his men slipped
silently out of the sleeping city and started down the coast with the
intention of making their way overland to Nicaragua. When the British
landed the next morning they were only just in time to prevent the sick
and wounded whom Walker had been forced to leave behind him in his
retreat from falling into the hands of the ferocious Hondurans. Learning
of Walker's flight, Salmon immediately started down the coast on the
_Icarus_ in pursuit.
They overtook Walker at a little fishing village near the mouth of the
Rio Negro, several boat-loads of sailors and marines being sent up the
river to take him. But the coast of Honduras is a good second to the
Gold Coast in the deadliness of its climate, so that when the landing
party reached the little cluster of wretched hovels where Walker and his
men had taken refuge, they found the filibusters too far gone with fever
to oppose them. To Captain Salmon's demand for an unconditional
surrender, Walker, who was so weak that he could scarcely stand,
inquired if he was surrendering to the English or to the Hondurans.
Captain Salmon twice assured him distinctly that it was to the English,
whereupon the filibusters, at Walker's orders, laid down their arms and
were taken aboard the _Icarus_. No sooner had he arrived back at
Trujillo, however, than Captain Salmon, breaking the word he had given
as an officer and a gentleman, and in defiance of every law of humanity,
turned his prisoners over to the Honduran authorities. Salmon, who was
young and pompous and had a life-size opinion of himself and his
position, interceded for all of the prisoners except Walker, and
obtained their release, but he informed the filibuster chieftain that he
would plead for him only on condition that he would ask his intercession
as an American citizen. But Walker, imbittered by the treatment he had
received at the hands of his own government and disdaining to turn to it
for assistance in his adversity, answered proudly: "The President of
Nicaragua is a citizen of Nicaragua," and turned his back upon the
Englishman who had betrayed him.
He was tried by court martial on September 11, 1860, and after the
barest formalities was sentenced to be shot at daybreak the next
morning. The place selected for his execution was a strip of sandy
beach, and to it the condemned man walked as coolly as though taking a
morning stroll. Before him tramped a detachment of slovenly Honduran
infantry, who, with their brown, wizened faces, their ill-fitting
uniforms, and their jaunty caps, looked more like monkeys than men;
behind him marched the firing-party, with weapons at the charge; beside
him was a priest bearing a crucifix and murmuring the prayers for the
dying. As the little procession came to a halt within the hollow square
of soldiery, Walker waved away the handkerchief with which they would
have blindfolded him, and, cool and straight and soldierly as though in
command of his Phalanx, took his stand before the firing-party.
"I die a Roman Catholic," he said in Spanish in a voice clear and
unafraid. "The war which I made upon you was wrong and I take this
opportunity of asking your pardon. I die with resignation, though it
would be a consolation for me to feel that my death is for the good of
society." As he ceased speaking, the officer in command of the troops
dropped the point of his sword, the levelled rifles of the firing-party
spoke as one, and Walker fell. But, though every bullet entered his
body, he still lived. So a sergeant stepped forward with a cocked
revolver and blew out his brains. With that shot there passed the soul
of a very brave and gallant gentleman who deserved from his country
better treatment than he received.