We are better treated--Captain Avalos again--His privations--The
sergeant shot--Mr. Buela--Cambiaso’s discipline--His code of
laws--Personal appearance--His vanity--Threats of poison--Improved
fare--The coffee--The mate secures the E. Cornish--Cambiaso and
Garcia visit me--I go on board the Florida--My steward.
After the departure of the steamer, the severity of our imprisonment
was very much relaxed. The prisoners were allowed to walk about every
day, accompanied by a guard, and were even allowed some communication
with each other. I saw captain Avalos again, and shook hands earnestly
with him. He told me that he had thought that I had been shot with
captain Talbot and Mr. Shaw. Captain Avalos had been confined in the
same building with captain Salas, and with the first lieutenant of
the troops under Gamero, of whom Cambiaso had been second lieutenant.
He told me that captain Salas had made several attempts to hold
communication with some of the soldiers under his command, but that
they had been strictly watched by Cambiaso, who feared treachery. One
morning, before the execution of Mr. Shaw and the governor, a sergeant
who had formerly been a convict, but had been promoted for good conduct
was detected receiving a bottle of brandy from captain Salas, and was
immediately seized, tried by a summary court martial, and put to death
as a traitor, under the sanguinary code established by Cambiaso. After
this, the officers in confinement had been more strictly watched, and
forbidden to hold any communication with the soldiers on duty.
Mr. Dunn, the secretary, I often met in my walks, and we generally
managed to exchange a greeting, and to convey some information to each
other in English, as we passed. Mr. Buela I also saw again at this
time. He had suffered much privation, being confined in the same room
of six feet square in which he was first put with my crew, where they
were so crowded that they were obliged to stand up most of the time.
It was good policy in me to cultivate all friendly relations with my
captors; and for this reason, I began, at this time, to mingle in their
sports, at least as a spectator. In the evenings, the men and women
would often collect under a large tent, and dance the Fandango, the so
well known Spanish dance. They danced it with handkerchiefs, waving
them as each couple separated and retired to the right and left. One
evening Cambiaso came up to me as I was standing by the tent ropes, and
asked me to join the dance. I had no heart to do this, but pleaded in
excuse my American ignorance of the figures. These evenings generally
ended with a feast--a pig or calf barbecued.
One night’s rude and cruel amusement I cannot even now think of without
a shudder. All the dogs of the encampment were driven into a circle,
and then chased with clubs. The cries of the poor frightened animals,
the howlings of those who were knocked down, rang in my ears all night;
and next morning their carcasses could be seen lying around on every
side.
I also did my best, during my walks, to keep up my friendly
intercourse with the prisoners I had brought down to the Straits with
me, and who had been allowed their liberty, on swearing allegiance
to Cambiaso. Some of them were very friendly, and brought me such
information as they thought would interest me. From them I learnt much
of the discipline which Cambiaso had established, and of the sanguinary
code of laws which he had drawn up.
Immediately after the escape of the governor, and the success of the
insurrection, Cambiaso was proclaimed Commandante by the rebels.
Afterwards his title was Major General, and Garcia’s, General, or
_little_ general, as he was called by most of the soldiers, by way
of distinction. On the same day, by order of Cambiaso, the hospital,
chapel, with all the sacred vessels on the altar, the house and robes
of the priest, were burnt; Cambiaso declaring that he would have
nothing to do with any religious rites. A red flag was hoisted, having
upon it a scull and cross-bones, with the motto, “I give no quarter;”
and upon it the soldiers and released convicts all swore fidelity.
This flag I often saw raised in the colony, on parade days, during
my imprisonment. I give below the code of laws, a copy of which I
afterwards obtained at Valparaiso. Of its atrocity I need say nothing,
as it speaks for itself.
MILITARY CRIMES,
AND THEIR CORRESPONDING PUNISHMENTS.
ARTICLE I.
Every inferior who speaks disrespectfully of his superior officer,
shall be immediately shot.
ART. II.
Every inferior who should raise his hand against his superior
officer, shall be immediately hung.
ART. III.
If an inferior strikes his superior officers, with or without arms,
he shall be burnt alive.
ART. IV.
He who should be a traitor to the flag we have sworn, shall be cut in
pieces, alive, and afterwards burnt.
ART. V.
He who is guilty of perjury, incurs the same punishment.
ART. VI.
He who communicates with the enemy, incurs the same punishment.
ART. VII.
He who speaks against the service, incurs the same punishment.
ART. VIII.
ROBBERY. He who steals any object, money, or any article whatsoever,
shall be hung.
ART. IX.
WANT OF PUNCTUALITY. If any person in the military service, (no
matter in what capacity,) be wanting in his duty, and does not
present himself in the place and at the hour at which he has been
ordered to appear, he shall be tried and shot.
ART. X.
COWARDICE. Every man who, for want of courage, flies from the enemy,
shall be put to death by the bayonet; and his eyes shall be taken
out to prove the fact. The body of a coward shall be burnt.
ART. XI.
If any traitor be seized, his tongue shall be cut out, it being the
instrument of his falsehood. He shall be burnt with a red hot iron,
and he shall afterwards suffer the punishments he has incurred,
according to Articles 4th, 5th, and 6th.
ART. XII.
Sentinels found asleep at their posts, shall be immediately hung;
they being the only persons responsible for said post’s security.
Therefore, the sergeants are requested to visit the posts every ten
minutes, for the observation of this article.
ART. XIII.
He who in battle gives quarter to an enemy, out of pity, or any other
consideration, shall be immediately shot.
ART. XIV.
The officer, sergeant, or soldier who is not vigilant when on guard,
shall be tried and shot.
ART. XV.
The infractor of any of these laws, if an officer, shall be hung; if
a soldier, shot.
ART. XVI.
All military persons are charged with the fulfilment of the preceding
articles. This is particularly recommended to superior officers: and
they are requested to inform their troops that want of information
on this head will not excuse them from undergoing the punishments
expressed.
ART. XVII.
He who should steal or hide (or abet another in so doing,) any
powder, balls, or article of war, shall be burnt alive.
ART. XVIII.
He who in battle or on march should throw away the cartridges given
him, desirous of not injuring the enemy, or of relieving himself of
their weight, shall be cut in pieces alive, joint by joint, beginning
in preference with the fingers of the right hand. His remains shall
afterwards be burnt.
ART. XIX.
If, on arriving in any province, a _Montista_ be discovered, his
house shall be sacked, and the owner or tenant thereof shall be burnt
in the said house.
ART. XX.
If any person in the troops under my command sells any article with
usury, he shall receive one hundred lashes.
ART. XXI.
The chiefs of this division, desirous of preventing all fraud,
prohibit, under pain of the gallows, any attempt to give money on
gage, or with any kind of interest.
ART. XXII.
He who, from this time forward, should lend money on gage, shall lose
all right to the gage given him; losing also what he gave on it, and
receiving two hundred lashes in punishment.
ART. XXIII.
The sentinel or advanced post who on seeing the enemy approach, does
not give the alarm, shall be cut in pieces alive; considering that
from his omission great danger may arise.
ART. XXIV.
The chief, officer, sergeant, or soldier who shall not defend his
post unto death, shall be burnt alive; no excuse to be admitted on
account of the greater force of the enemy, the bad state of the
armament, or any thing else tending to cover his cowardice.
ART. XXV.
Any officer ordered to assault a post, shall take it, or lose his
life in the attempt; if he returns unsuccessful, though he have lost
all his soldiers, he shall be immediately shot.
ART. XXVI.
If any sentinel gives the “_qui vive_” and does not receive in
answer, “General Cruz,” he shall immediately fire at the person
interrogated.
ART. XXVII.
This government, desirous that every individual shall preserve his
money, and employ it for useful objects, prohibits all kinds of
hazardous games; and if any is resorted to in order to while away
time, it must be lottery, and without interest. He who infringes this
article, shall be hung.
ART. XXVIII.
An ounce of gold shall be given to every body who gives information
of the infringement of the preceding Article.
ART. XXIX.
Any sentinel who abandons the post committed to his care, shall be
pinched with red hot tongs until he expires. After this, his body
shall be exposed publicly during eight days; after which it shall be
burnt, and its ashes cast into the air.
Given in the camp of Punta Arena, December 13, 1851.
On reading over this code of laws and punishments, many proofs may be
seen of either present or intended communication with the insurgents in
the province of Conception, under general Cruz. Articles 18, 19, and
25 would indicate that Cambiaso had in contemplation a march through
the country, to join his forces with those of the revolutionists. By “a
Montista,” is meant an adherent of the government at Santiago, under
President Monté.
At this time, I very frequently saw Cambiaso; sometimes on horseback,
surrounded by his aids; sometimes walking on the parade ground. He
rode well, and generally on a very spirited horse; and always went
armed with sword, dirk knife and pistol. His personal appearance was
fine;--an open forehead, a fair complexion, with a profusion of dark
hair, an ample moustache, and heavy beard. His nose was aquiline, and
his profile finely marked, and what an artist would call the coloring
of his face, was admirable; the bright red lips, fair forehead, and
dark hair, softened down by the lighter colored beard and moustache,
gave a beauty to his face that would have been a study for a painter.
But his eyes revealed the evil passions hid under that fair exterior.
They were long, and dark, and hid under their lashes, from beneath
which he cast sudden and covert glances. When he was talking to me, he
never looked steadily at me, but after ending his remarks, would give
me a sideway glance, as if marking the effect of what he said; and in
that glance there was something to me stealthy and cat-like. After I
observed this, I always took care, during our conversations, to look
him directly in the eye, as if afraid I might lose a word, but in fact
because I felt and knew that he could not endure any look, much less
one so intently given.
From my observation of his character, I should not have called him a
brave man. He was very vain, very fond of being admired, and often to
gain the applause of his own men, would assume an air of bravado; and
doubtless the same love of admiration would have led him into daring
acts; but he talked too much of his valor, to impress me with any
strong belief in it. He doubtless had the animal courage which belongs
to an uneducated man, and one brought up in the profession of arms;
but I am convinced that in any situation calling for self reliance and
presence of mind, his boasted courage would have failed him. But I am
giving now rather the conclusions I drew from all I ever knew of him,
than any opinion I could form at this time.
Cambiaso was a young man, not more than twenty-five or six years of
age; in person, rather thin than stout, and of not more than middle
size. He was vain of his beauty, and fond of ornaments. The day after
my capture, he sent word to me that he wanted my watch and chain. I
handed them to the officer who brought the message. The watch I never
saw again; but the chain I sometimes recognized among the ornaments on
Cambiaso’s person.
Indeed, it was no uncommon thing for me to recognize my own pistols,
cutlasses, and so forth, carried by the officers and guards
who surrounded me. And I am conscious of a singular feeling of
indignation,--or, to use a more accurate word, of impatience--which
would cross my mind whenever I reflected that I might at any moment
receive my death-wound from a stroke or a shot from one of my own
weapons. At this time I was destitute of even a change of clothing;
my trunks, with those of all my passengers, being left on board the
Florida, and soon broken open and rifled of their contents, by Cambiaso
and his men.
In my conversations with Cambiaso, which now occurred very frequently,
I often begged permission to go on board my vessel, and be under guard
there, knowing that some of his followers, with their wives, were
living on board the Florida; but his answer constantly was, “No: I am
making up my mind what to do with you all.” At times he would threaten
to shoot us at once; this was when he was made angry by reports of the
trouble which the care of us gave. These threats were reported to me by
the Chilian prisoners; but during his conversations with me, he never
broke out into violent expressions, but seemed rather to keep a control
over himself, as if to impress me with a sense of his self command.
A few days after the visit of the Virago, I was told that Cambiaso
had been heard to say that he had made up his mind to poison me. This
seemed to me so idle a threat, when he had me so completely in his
power, that it did not make much impression upon me, until I found that
a great difference was made in our fare. We were allowed to eat with
the guards in the outer apartment, instead of having our food brought
to our own room; and the dishes put before us were much better than I
had formerly seen served to the soldiers.
I told my suspicions to the mate, and we determined to taste only
those dishes which we saw the soldiers eat of. This, however, it was
difficult to do when any new dish was sent to us, for the guard being
first served, would eat ravenously of the delicacy, and often leave
nothing for us.
One morning, a cup of coffee was sent to me, and to me alone, from
Cambiaso’s own table. I put it down before me, and hesitated; for the
conviction flashed across me that the poison was in this coffee; but
looking up, I saw the eyes of all the soldiers and the mate fixed upon
me. They had all heard of Cambiaso’s threat, and probably the same idea
was in their minds as in mine. Their fixed gaze roused my pride, and
reflecting that I might as well drink it first as last, and indeed,
that my death by Cambiaso’s hands in one way or other was almost
certain, I raised the cup and drank the coffee at one draught. No evil
consequences followed, and from that time a cup was sent me every
morning; but I never could divest myself of the idea that into some of
them the poison would be put.
The weather throughout the time of our imprisonment had been very warm,
but interrupted by heavy north-west winds, which swept from between
the hills, and sometimes drove across the harbor. The E. Cornish and
the Florida had been anchored by the rebels, with two anchors each;
but this was done in a very unseamanlike manner, and in one of these
high winds the E. Cornish began to drag her anchors. This was reported
to me by some of the friendly Chilians, who had been on board, and I
began to fear that we should lose the brig. Not that I had any definite
idea of any succor which could arise to us from Cambiaso’s retaining
the vessels, but they seemed a tie between ourselves and our homes;
and as long as they were safe, we had at least the means by which we
could leave the place, in case it was ever in our power so to do.
I therefore advised the mate to send word to Cambiaso by one of his
guards, that if he was allowed to go on board his vessel, he could
remedy the difficulty; and at the same time I told all our visitors,
who were quite plenty at this time, that they should use their
influence with the general, to allow the mate to secure the brig for
them.
Cambiaso immediately sent an order for the mate to be sent off to the
E. Cornish in one of the shore boats, accompanied by three or four of
his soldiers, as guards. This was in the evening; and after he left,
I was visited by several of the officers, and at last by Cambiaso
himself. I fancied I saw some anxiety amongst them, with regard to the
mate’s proceedings. They were so ignorant of all that pertained to
navigation, that I believe they thought it possible for one man to
navigate a vessel by himself, and had some idea that the mate’s request
to go on board was part of a concerted plan between us, by which he
could make his escape, and bring succor to the other prisoners. The
next morning the wind shifted, and blew directly in shore very fresh,
with a heavy sea. Cambiaso at once ran up a flag on the flag-staff, as
a signal for the boat to return to shore. I was walking on the platform
at the time, and saw her leave the vessel, with four men in her; but
the distance was too great for me to distinguish whether or no the
mate was among them. As the boat neared the shore, and got among the
breakers, I could see that she was rowed very unsteadily, as if by
landsmen. Suddenly she was capsized, and the men in the water. Three
of the men struggled to the shore, but the fourth was drowned. He never
rose after the first struggle. As the remainder came into the barracks,
I pressed eagerly forward, to see if my fellow prisoner was with them,
and learned that he had remained on the brig. The circumstance of his
remaining, added to their half formed suspicions, and during the rest
of that day, I was obliged to calm the hourly increasing excitement,
by assuring each new visitor to my prison, that the mate was doubtless
doing his best to make the brig hold to her anchors; that it was not
yet safe for him to leave her, and so forth. That evening, to my great
relief, he made his appearance, and I immediately gave him his cue as
to what account he should give of his delay. I felt, however, that I
had run a great risk, which nothing but the strongest necessity should
make me incur again.
During the third week in December, I had frequent visits from Cambiaso
and Garcia, during which they questioned me very closely in regard to
my knowledge of navigation, sometimes turning to the English mate,
and comparing his answer with mine. They asked what I knew of the
navigation of the Straits; and would often seem to be cross-examining
me with regard to the lay of the shore, and the appearance of the
headlands.
I took advantage of their visits, to beg for more indulgence to my
crew, who were still shut up in the crowded place where they had first
been put, and deprived of almost the necessaries of existence; but it
was evident, from Cambiaso’s answers, that he had not yet determined
what course to take with regard to us.
About the 20th of the month, I received permission from Cambiaso to go
on board my vessel, and remain there; and on the same day my crew were
released from their prison, and allowed to run at large in the yard,
and cook for themselves. After my long confinement in the barracks,
under the constant supervision of the guard, never allowed to eat or
sleep without being watched, the Florida seemed like home to me, and
the face of my steward like that of an old friend. He had been kept on
board to cook for the men who were living in the Florida, at the head
of whom was an officer by the name of Tapia, (the one who brought my
first and second letters to me,) and his wife. My steward had often
asked for me while I was on shore, and Tapia would sometimes tease
him, by telling him that I was shot or hung, that he would never see
me again, and so forth; at which he would cry like a child; and when
he saw me come on board, he danced and skipped around me with a true
negro-like expression of delight.
I asked him if he wanted to stay in that country with those rebels and
pirates. “No, massa; no, massa Captain,” he replied, “I want to be
with you; I feel safe while you are by me.”