It was a morning of June, just before the commencement of the rainy
season--at that period of the day and year when the tropic sun of
Southern Mexico is least endurable. His fervid rays, striking
perpendicularly downward, had heated like smouldering ashes the dusty
plain of Huajapam, which lay like a vast amphitheatre surrounded by
hills--so distant that their blue outlines were almost confounded with
the azure sky above them. On this plain was presented a tableau of
sadness and desolation, such as the destructive genius of man often
composes with demoniac skill.
On one side, as far as the eye could reach, horsemen could be seen
hurrying about the plain in the midst of pillaged houses--some of which
had been given to the flames. Under the hoofs of these horses, as they
dashed recklessly to and fro, were crushed rich treasures that had been
sacked from the deserted dwellings, and now lay scattered upon the
ground, tempting only the hand of the thievish camp-follower. The soil,
defiled in every way, presented only a scanty growth of bruised herbage,
upon which the horseman disdained to pasture his steed.
Here and there groups of black vultures told where some dead body of
horse or rider had been abandoned to their voracity; while the _coyotes_
trotted in troops far out from the mountain ridge, going to or returning
from their hideous repast.
Looking over the plain in another direction, the standard of Spain could
be seen floating over the tents of the royalist camp, whose night-fires
still sent up their lines of bluish smoke; while from the same quarter
could be heard the neighing of horses, the rolling of drums, and the
startling calls of the cavalry bugles.
Farther off in the same direction--above the low, flat-shaped _azoteas_
of a village--could be seen the domes and belfries of several churches,
all breached with bombs or riddled with round shot. This village lay at
the distance of a few hundred yards from the lines of the royalist camp,
and was evidently besieged by the latter. Rude earthworks could be
perceived extending between the scattered suburbs, upon which a few
pieces of cannon were mounted, and pointing towards the entrenchments of
the Spanish encampment. Between the hostile lines the plain was
unoccupied, save by the dead bodies of men and horses that lay unburied
on the dusty surface of the soil.
The village in question--or town it might rather be called--was the
famous Huajapam, that now for more than three months had been defended
by a body of three hundred insurgents against a royalist force of five
times their number! The heroic leader of this gallant resistance was
Colonel Don Valerio Trujano.
At mention of this name the reader will call to mind the noble muleteer
Trujano, whose firm voice he has heard intoning the _De profundis_ and
_In manus_ while struggling against the inundation. Beyond a doubt his
religious zeal had inspired the besieged of Huajapam: for, every now and
then, from out the sad and desolate town may be heard the voices of his
men, chanting in chorus some sacred song or prayer to the God of
battles!
In that moment when the priests of Huajapam have left the altar to take
part in the defence of their town, there will be observed, neither in
their acts nor words, aught to recall their former profession. At such
a time Don Valerio Trujano may be said to reproduce one of those ascetic
heroes of the old religious wars--great repeaters of _paternosters_,
whose blows always fell without mercy, and who marched into battle
reciting quotations from Scripture. Perhaps he might be more happily
likened to one of the old Templars, careless of personal renown,
kneeling to pray in front of the foe, and charging upon the Saracen to
the accompaniment of that famous psalm, "Quare fremuerunt gentes?"
Such was the appearance which the plain of Huajapam presented on the
morning in question: houses smoking and in ruins--dead bodies scattered
over the ground--vultures wheeling above--the royalist banner face to
face with the banner of the insurrection.
We shall first enter the camp of the besiegers, where the Brigadier
Bonavia, governor of Oajaca, held command--assisted by the Spanish
generals, Caldelas and Regules.
At an early hour of the morning two dragoons, who had been scouring the
distant plain, were seen returning to the lines of the encampment,
conducting with them a third horseman, evidently a stranger to the camp.
This was on the side, opposite to that on which lay the town of
Huajapam. The horseman, guided by these dragoons, was costumed as a
vaquero--that is, he wore a jacket and wide calzoneros of brick-coloured
deerskin, with a huge sombrero of black glaze on his head, and a
speckled blanket folded over the croup of his saddle. He had already
reported himself to the dragoons as the bearer of a message to the
colonel--Don Rafael Tres-Villas. Furthermore, in addition to the horse
on which he rode, he was leading another--a noble steed of a bay-brown
colour.
This animal, startled at the sight and smell of the dead bodies among
which they were passing, gave out from time to time a snorting of a
peculiar character, which had drawn the attention of the dragoons.
These, after conducting the vaquero through a portion of the camp,
halted in front of one of the largest tents. There a groom was saddling
another steed, in strength and beauty but little inferior to that led by
the vaquero. It was the war-horse of Colonel Tres-Villas, of whom the
groom in question was the _assistente_.
"What is your name, _amigo_?" demanded the latter, addressing himself to
the vaquero.
"Julian," replied the stranger. "I am one of the servitors of the
hacienda Del Valle. Colonel Tres-Villas is its proprietor, and I have a
message for him of great importance."
"Very well," responded the other, "I shall tell the Colonel you are
here."
So saying, the _assistente_ entered the tent.
On that day the besieging army was about to make the fifteenth attack
upon the town, defended by Colonel Trujano, and Don Rafael was dressing
himself in full uniform to assist at the council of war, called together
to deliberate on the plan of assault.
At the word "messenger" pronounced by his military servant, a slight
trembling was seen to agitate the frame of Colonel Tres-Villas, while
his countenance became suddenly overspread with pallor.
"Very well," stammered he, after a moment's hesitation, and in a voice
that betrayed emotion. "I know the messenger; you may leave him free; I
shall answer for him. Presently let him come him in."
The _assistente_ stepped out of the tent and delivered this response of
the Colonel. The dragoons rode off, leaving the vaquero free to
communicate to his master the message of which he was the bearer.
It is here necessary for us to detail some portion of the history of Don
Rafael, from the time when he took his departure at full gallop from the
hacienda Del Valle, up to that hour when we again encounter him in the
royalist camp before Huajapam.
When the first shock of grief, caused by the murder of his father--when
that terrible struggle betwixt love and duty, had passed, and his spirit
become a little calmer--the only line of conduct that appeared possible
for him, was to repair at once to Oajaca; and, having found its
governor, Don Bernardino Bonavia, obtain from him a detachment of
troops, with which he might return and punish the insurgent assassins.
Unfortunately for Don Rafael, notwithstanding the distinguished
reception accorded to him by the governor, the latter could not place at
his disposal a single soldier. The province was already in such a state
of fermentation, that all the men under his command were required to
keep in check the revolt that threatened to break out in the provincial
capital itself. Don Rafael therefore could not prevail upon the
governor to enfeeble the garrison of Oajaca, by detaching any portion of
it on so distant a service as an expedition to the hacienda Del Valle.
While negotiating, however, word reached him of a royalist corps that
was being raised at no great distance from Oajaca, by a Spanish officer,
Don Juan Antonio Caldelas. Don Rafael, urged on by a thirst for
vengeance, hastened to join the band of Caldelas, who on his part at
once agreed to place his handful of men at the disposal of the dragoon
captain for the pursuit of Valdez. Of course Caldelas had himself no
personal animosity against the insurgent leader; but believing that the
destruction of his band would crush the insurrection in the province, he
was the more ready to co-operate with Don Rafael.
Both together marched against Valdez, and encountered him and his
followers at the _cerro_ of Chacahua, where the ex-vaquero had
entrenched himself. An action was fought, which resulted in Valdez
being driven from his entrenchments, but without Don Rafael being able
to possess himself of his person, a thing he desired even more than a
victory over his band.
A fortnight was spent in vain searches, and still the guerilla chief
continued to escape the vengeance of his unrelenting pursuer. At the
end of that period, however, the insurgents were once more tempted to
try a battle with the followers of Don Rafael and Caldelas. It proved a
sanguinary action, in which the royalists were victorious. The
scattered followers of Valdez, when reunited at the rendezvous agreed
upon in the event of their being defeated, perceived that their leader
was missing from among them.
Alive they never saw him again. His dead body was found some distance
from the field of battle, and around it the traces of a struggle which
had ended in his death. The body was headless, but the head was
afterwards discovered, nailed to the gate of the hacienda Del Valle,
with the features so disfigured that his most devoted adherents would
not have recognised them but for an inscription underneath. It was the
name of the insurgent, with that of the man who had beheaded him, Don
Rafael Tres-Villas.
Valdez had fled from the field after the defeat of his followers.
Before proceeding far, he heard behind him the hoarse snorting of a
steed. It was the bay-brown of Don Rafael.
In a few bounds the insurgent was overtaken. A short struggle took
place between the two horsemen; but the ex-vaquero, notwithstanding his
equestrian skill, was seized in the powerful grasp of the dragoon
officer, lifted clear out of his saddle, and dashed with violence to the
earth. Before he could recover himself, the lasso of Don Rafael--
equally skilled in the use of this singular weapon--was coiled around
him; and his body, after being dragged for some distance at the tail of
the officer's horse, lay lifeless and mutilated along the ground. Such
was the end of Antonio Valdez.