GENERAL SCOTT AND HIS ARMY
"There they come! They are going to march right in! But what I want,
most of all, is to see the general himself. There he is!"
Telescope in hand, Ned Crawford was standing on the parapet, near one of
the southerly gates of Vera Cruz, watching the triumphant entrance of
the American army. He could hardly have told whether he was more glad to
see them come, or because the siege and the bombardment were over. He
was already familiar with the various troops of Mexico, and he knew that
some of them, but not many, could perform their military evolutions in
pretty good style. The one thing which struck him most forcibly now,
however, as his glass was aimed here and there over the approaching
columns and lines, was that at no point was there a flaw or a defect in
the orderly movements of the American soldiers. With admirable drill
and under perfect management, they swung forward across the broad level
between their earthwork batteries and the badly shattered wall of the
captured city. Compared with them, the garrison which had surrendered
was, for the greater part, only a little better than an ill-provided,
half-armed, undisciplined mob. Wealth, arms, civilization, scientific
generalship, had all been on the side of the great republic of the
North, and there had been no doubt, from the beginning, as to what the
result must be. The one important seaport of Mexico, with all its
foreign commerce, was now under the control of the United States, and
could not be taken from them.
Ned saw one of the advancing lines melt beautifully into the shape of a
long column, and file through the gate near him. Then followed a section
of field artillery and a small detachment of cavalry. All these were to
be admired, of course, but his eyes watched them only for a moment, for
just behind the horsemen came an exceedingly brilliant cavalcade, in
front of which rode the remarkable man whom Ned was most anxious to see.
Beyond a doubt, General Winfield Scott had many severe critics and not a
few personal enemies. By these, he was said to be arrogant, blunt in
manners, opinionated, and also a military martinet with terribly
unvolunteer ideas relating to the rigid discipline required for success
in war. He had seen, however, a deal of hard service in the war of 1812
and otherwise, and his military record was without a flaw. There were
good judges, both in America and Europe, who believed and declared that
for the management of a difficult campaign he had no superior among the
generals then living. He was now actually called upon to prove that he
could perform apparent impossibilities under very trying circumstances
and with somewhat limited resources. Physically, he was a large,
fine-looking man, and he was even excessively particular concerning the
fit and elegance of his parade uniform. He was therefore looking his
best when he rode in to take possession of Vera Cruz.
Ned went down a ladder as soon as he could, after breathlessly staring
at the great commander, but he did not succeed in witnessing the
formalities of the surrender, whatever they were. The crowds in his way
were too much for him, but not long after General Scott and his staff
disappeared through the portal of the building which had been the
headquarters of poor General Morales, Ned worked his way through a
throng of downcast Mexicans toward a young officer who appeared to be in
command of about a half company of infantry. From the excitement of the
moment and from a good many months of daily custom, he spoke to the
lieutenant in Mexican Spanish, in a recklessly eager manner and without
touching his hat.
"What on earth do you want?" was the curt and gruff reply. "I'm only
Lieutenant Grant. You'll have to see somebody else, whatever it is. You
had better go and speak to one of the staff."
If Ned had really been a young Mexican, speaking no tongue but his own,
he might not have understood that perfectly. As it was, however, he at
once broke out with energy into a language to which he had for some time
been unaccustomed. Even now, nevertheless, he forgot to touch his hat.
"Well, Mr. Grant," he said, "I've been all over the country. I've been
in the city of Mexico and among their troops, and I believe I know a lot
of things that I ought to report to General Scott, or somebody."
It was a patriotic idea which had been growing in his mind all that
morning, and it had driven out of him every ounce of bashfulness.
"You have, have you?" said Grant. "I declare. Seems to me you speak
English pretty well for a greaser--almost like a born American. I guess
the general's willing to hear almost anything. But you will have to see
some member of the staff. Hullo! I say! Captain Lee! Here's a kind of
spy. I think you'd better hear him. I can't leave my post."
"Spy?" exclaimed Ned. "No, I'm not any such thing, but my name is Edward
Crawford, and I'm from New York. I got stuck in Mexico and I couldn't
get out. I've been all around everywhere. Things are mixed--"
"Grant," said Captain Lee, "he may have something worth while. I'll take
him in to see Schuyler Hamilton. Let the captain pump him."
Captain Robert E. Lee was not exactly off duty at that hour, for he and
other engineer officers had been ordered to make a survey of the
fortifications, but he was there to receive instructions and he could
take Ned in with him. He was a taller, handsomer fellow than Grant, and
he was all of three times as polite in his treatment of Ned. Perhaps,
however, Grant's first manners had been damaged by being addressed in
such a style, in Spanish, by an excited young Mexican.
In went Ned and Lee, and there was no difficulty in obtaining an
interview with Captain Hamilton. Ned had never heard of him before, but
he was now aware, from Captain Lee, that he was a descendant of General
Philip Schuyler and General Alexander Hamilton of the Revolutionary War.
Ned thought of Senora Tassara's great ancestors for a moment, and then
he did not really care a cent for pedigree. He even startled Hamilton
himself by the energy and rapidity with which he told what he knew of
the condition of things throughout the country, the movements of Santa
Anna, and the political plots and conspiracies. Hamilton was a slender,
graceful young man, handsomer than even Lee, and with piercing black
eyes.
"Lee," he said, "the cub is a genuine curiosity. I can't imagine how on
earth he learned so much. He isn't a fool, by any means. General Scott
will be at liberty in a few minutes, and Crawford must see him."
"All right," said Lee. "I have my instructions now, and I'll leave him
with you. They say the old castle's badly knocked in pieces."
If, as Lee intimated, the fortress of San Juan de Ulua was just then in
bad condition, so was Ned when he heard what they were going to do with
him. He had supposed that his errand had been completely done to the
sharp-eyed staff officer, but now they threatened to bring him before
the general, whom he considered the most tremendous man on the earth. It
was a little too much, but he drew a long breath and stood as straight
as a ramrod, looking very red indeed. In three minutes more he was
brought face to face with the commander-in-chief of the armies of the
United States, and he felt as if he had been surrounded and compelled to
surrender. Captain Hamilton reported the matter in the fewest words
possible, but all the while the general had been watching Ned, looking
right through him, and in a moment Ned found himself feeling perfectly
easy. If General Scott had been his uncle, he could not have spoken to
him in a kinder or more carelessly familiar way. He questioned him about
all his experiences, and an acute listener might have gathered that he
paid more attention to Ned's political information than to anything of
a strictly military nature.
"Hamilton," he slowly remarked, at last, "General Taylor did an
exceedingly good thing for us down here, after all. The battle of Buena
Vista was our own battle. Santa Anna will not be able to raise another
army like the one that was so roughly handled up there. If it had been
here, in good shape, we would have had ten times as much trouble in
taking Vera Cruz. Santa Anna's power is already half broken."
"Perhaps a little more," suggested Hamilton.
"Perhaps," said the general, "but our patriotic young friend here has
made a valuable report. Ah, McClellan! You and Beauregard are to make
the inspection of the castle with Captain Lee. Take Crawford back to
Grant, as you go. He may serve with the Seventh as an unenlisted man.
Let him have his orders, Hamilton. He is a brave fellow."
Out went Ned with a pair of as yet undistinguished officers, both of
whom were to be heard of again in after time, and it did not occur to
the very much elated "scout," as he now considered himself, to correct
General Scott's apparent idea that Lieutenant Ulysses S. Grant was a
particular friend and guardian of his.
"Now, if this isn't bully!" he thought. "I've been on the Mexican side
all the while till now. I've been kind of part of the garrison of Vera
Cruz, but I've been praised by General Scott, for all that. I wonder
what our folks at home would say to it!"
It was a grand thing to think of, and Ned felt as proud as if he had
been promoted for storming an enemy's entrenchments.
There was another experience of an entirely unexpected character just
before him, however. Hardly had McClellan and Beauregard turned him over
to Grant, and while the latter was inspecting the order written by
Captain Hamilton, Ned was suddenly shaken from head to foot. Not that
anybody, Mexican or American, was actually handling him roughly, but
that a hoarse, eager voice at his right ear exclaimed:
"Edward! My son! Is this you? Are you a prisoner?"
"No, Mister," responded Grant, before Ned could gather his wits to utter
a word. "He isn't a prisoner, but I'm ordered to stick him into the
outside of the Seventh somewhere. Is he your son?"
"He is, lieutenant," said Mr. Crawford. "And, oh, how glad I am!"
"Father!" Ned had shouted, as a pair of strong arms went around him.
"How did you happen to be here?"
"I came on one of our own supply-ships," said Mr. Crawford. "I'll tell
you all about it by and by. I had all but given up hearing anything of
you, and we sail for New York to-morrow. Lieutenant, I haven't seen him
for more'n a year. I want a good long talk."
"Of course you do!" said Grant, heartily. "Take him along, and let him
report at the camp of the Seventh to-morrow morning. You may go now, my
young greaser, but you'd better get on another rig than that before you
come."
"He will do that," said Mr. Crawford. "Come along, Ned. Let's go where
we can be by ourselves. I want to hear your whole yarn, from beginning
to end, and I've all sorts of things to tell you."
"Father," said Ned, "I know just the place. We'll go and get supper at
old Anita's, and we can talk all the way. Hurrah! How's mother?"
All the most important home news followed quickly after that, and Ned
felt that the capture of Vera Cruz was more important than ever.
"I am going to let you stay here, though," said his father. "You can
learn more than in any other way that I know of."
"That's what I want," said Ned. "And now I shall be in our army."
The father and son were not walking very fast, but they could talk
rapidly, and they had a great many things to say. They had some things
to see, as well, for everywhere, as they went, they encountered
detachments of United States soldiers patrolling the city, restoring
order and setting things to rights. That they were doing so appeared to
be a tremendous surprise to large numbers of the inhabitants, who had
almost been expecting to be ruthlessly plundered, if not murdered
outright, by these cruel barbarians from the awful republic of the
North. Not all of them were panic-stricken in this way, however, for
when the house of old Anita was reached, she was standing in the
doorway, and she greeted them loudly with:
"O Senor Carfora! I knew all the while that you were a gringo. I am so
glad that we have surrendered! Santa Maria Gloriosa! Praise all the
saints! We shall have no more cannonading! We shall have plenty to eat!"
"That is just what we want, Anita," replied Ned. "This is my father. He
has come to see me, and you must give him some dinner. Then I will tell
you all about General Scott and the American soldiers."
She had neighbors with her, as usual, and some of them had become
accustomed to regarding Ned as a kind of newsboy. They were now also
prepared to thank a large number of religious personages that he was a
genuine gringo, and on good terms with the conquering invaders, who were
henceforth to have the control of affairs in Vera Cruz.
It was late that night when Ned said good-by to his father, and it was
like pulling teeth to let him go, but there was no help for it, as the
sailing of the supply-ship could not be delayed. Ned was once more alone
in Mexico, and it took all his enthusiasm for his expected army life to
reconcile him to the situation. Perhaps there was not a great deal of
sound sleeping done, in the hammock that swung in the little room in the
Tassara mansion, but at an early hour next morning he was on his way to
hunt up the camp of the Seventh Infantry and the tent of Lieutenant
Grant. This was accomplished without much difficulty, and almost
immediately Ned made a discovery. His probable coming had, of course,
been reported to the colonel commanding the regiment, and that
officer's common-sense remark was:
"Unenlisted orderly, eh? Yankee boy that can speak Spanish, and that
knows every corner of this miserable city? Just what we want. I'm glad
old Fuss and Feathers sent him to us. He is the greatest general in the
world. Send your scout right here to me. I've errands for him."
Therefore, the next chapter in Ned's Mexican experiences was that he
found himself sent out, soldierlike, upon a long list of duties, for
which he was peculiarly well prepared by knowing where to find streets
and houses which were as yet unknown to the rank and file of the gallant
Seventh. The men, on their part, soon came to regard him as a soldier
boy, like themselves, and he had a fine opportunity for learning, from
day to day, the processes by which General Scott was organizing his
force for his intended march across the sierra, on the road he had
selected for reaching the city of Mexico. It was soon to be plainly
understood that, whenever that army should march, it would do so as a
sort of human machine, ready to perform any military work which its
commander might require of it.