1838
Before six weeks were out, I was at sea again, on my way to Mexico. My
orders to sail reached me at Luneville, where my brother Nemours had
taken refuge, with a cavalry command, from the desperate endeavours of
the grand-parents to get him married, and whither I had followed him
with the same object. Thanks to my brothers, my memory is crowded with
recollections of Luneville and the camp there, beginning with that of
an unlucky captain who ruined his career by stopping his squadron at
galloping drill, before the prostrate form of General Comte de
M--commanding the division, stretched on the broad of his back by a
lively charger with the ringing word of command--"Obstacle!"
During my short visit I lived with my brother in the Chateau, where one
general whiled away his sleepless hours by playing the French horn,
much to the enjoyment of everybody else! Our evenings were spent at the
theatre, where there was a ballet A corps de ballet at Luneville! The
wily manager had got out of the difficulty by composing a choregraphic
scenario called Les Sabotiers, in which the only sign of skill asked of
the lady performers was to swing the sabots on their feet in cadenced
time. A great noise they made, which did not, however, prevent the
Mayor of Luneville from falling asleep regularly every evening in the
municipal box, where he sat enthroned perched on a curule chair as high
as that of Thomas Diafoirus. He even fell off it, during a performance
at which I was present, and so noisily that the shock interrupted the
evolutions of the ballet; and all the officers of the garrison who
filled the stalls, rose with an anxiety which may have been somewhat
affected, and would not be reassured until Mr. Mayor had been fished up
out of the depths of his box, and replaced upon his perch. I recollect,
too, an ascent of the Donon, one of the peaks of the Vosges, with a
charming family of the name of Chevandier, and in the loveliest weather
What a view there was! All Lorraine, all Alsace, with the spires of
Strasbourg--that beautiful country which my forefathers of the old
monarchy had made so truly French. Alas! Alas!
I went back to my duty. I sailed from Brest on the 1st of September,
under the orders of Admiral Baudin, a man who had a whole career of
valiant deeds behind him. One-armed, tall in stature and energetic in
countenance, he straightway inspired respect, and one soon learnt to
recognize him as a commander as intelligent as he was resolute, and
even impassioned. His flag was hoisted on the frigate Nereide. I
followed, with a small corvette of which I had been given command, and
which I had hastily commissioned. Except for the torpedo-boats, and
such small flotilla craft, I do not believe the whole of our present
navy contains such a small vessel as she was She was armed with four
thirty-pounders, and sixteen carronades, mere children's toys, and her
crew amounted to 100 men. But how pretty she was, careening over, level
with the water, with her huge spars sloping backwards; and how
charmingly she was named--La Creole! She was my first command, and I
was twenty! We were bound on an expedition which might give us a chance
of fighting, and I hoped in my turn to follow the example of my elder
brothers, who had so well upheld the honour of our race at Antwerp and
in Africa.
My emotion on leaving France under such circumstances will be readily
understood. My old aide de-camp Hernoux, and Bruat, escorted me outside
the entrance to the port, and returned in the pilot's boat. The last
link with the soil of the mother-country was broken, Forward then, my
boy!
In a few days we were before Cadiz, that lovely Andalusian city. An
African sun had come to heighten its beauty, and it looked like some
exquisite carving in the whitest marble, rising fairylike out of a
sapphire sea. My landing in the evening was just as full of charm. I
hurried to the Alameda, the public promenade, where the silence was
unbroken, save by the plash of the waves breaking at the foot of the
ramparts, or the whisper of the breeze amongst the palm-trees. I caught
sight of mysterious couples sitting in the shadows of the alamos, black
dresses and mantillas blending with the men's "capas," and from these
formless groups a stifled murmur rose, with the noise of fans, like the
beating wings of an imprisoned bird. I wandered through the streets and
the Plazo Santo Antonio. I saw delightful balconies and glistening eyes
that shone behind the lattices; exquisite forms glided over the white
flags on which the moonlight fell. I saw, in fine, a city, a whole
population, instinct with the breath of love, and I caught the
complaint myself. I dreamt of scaling balconies, and of kisses and
tender words, jealous rivals draped in black cloaks, and knife-thrusts
at street corners under the lamps, and all the struggle and danger and
triumph without which life is not life at all.
There happened to be a bull-fight, during our short stay in this port,
at the Puerto de Santa Maria--one of those bull-fights celebrated in
that famous song that every Spaniard hums even nowadays, "Los Toros del
Puerto." I took good care not to miss it, and I will take still better
care not to describe it, although the chief "espada" was Chiclanero,
the handsomest of all those handsome fellows, and the one who was said
to have roused the most violently passionate fondness in the fair sex.
Fifty years ago there were no railroads in Andalusia, nor carriages
either. Majos and Majas (Goya's Majos and Majas still existed in those
days) arrived on horseback from all quarters under the burning
September sun, and no words of mine can give any idea of the motley
crowd in the most brilliant costumes, the perfect orgie of colour
presented by the neighbourhood of the plaza, on which, as a finishing
touch to the quaintness of the scene, a squadron of yellow dragoons did
duty as police! From Cadiz we sailed in company with the frigates La
Gloire and La Medee and two steam corvettes which we had found there,
and reached Cape Saint Antonio, the most westerly point of Cuba, after
a thirty-six days' passage. Once there, the admiral took all the water
and provisions out of the Gloire and the Creole, and sent us to
revictual at Havana, while he went on his way to Mexico and Vera Cruz.
With my habitual extreme indifference to politics (having, in fact,
always hated them), I have forgotten to say WHY we were going to
Mexico. It was the eternal old story. Demands timidly made and then
spurned, insufficient force for action merely increasing the insolence
of our opponents, and then the necessity for sending a large and
expensive expedition to finish up with. A score of war-vessels,
including four frigates and two bomb-vessels, were soon to be collected
before Vera Cruz, with a certain number of troops to be landed, and to
deal authoritatively with the Mexican Government. Meanwhile we were to
go, Captain Laine and I, to Havana, to lay in provisions, take
everything we could to the squadron on board, and also, so the admiral
had told me confidentially, I was to endeavour personally to get
together all the plans and information possible concerning the towns on
the Mexican coast and the fort of Saint Juan d'Ulloa, which had all
once been Spanish. Nothing could have suited me better than this run to
Havana, where we anchored four days later, and of which place I had
carried away such pleasant memories seven months before. And as soon as
I had paid and returned my official visits, I hurried to the Tacon
Theatre, where, in a stage box that I knew right well, I beheld the
charming woman who had begun my education as a smoker so prettily
during my first visit.
We got the worst of news from Mexico. While Admiral Baudin was hurrying
thither by forced marches, as it were, the ships that had got there
before us had well-nigh raised the blockade. The frigate Herminie had
started for France, which she never was to reach. She was wrecked at
the Bermudas. The Iphigenie, which Captain de Parseval still commanded
had been obliged to depart too, with nothing but a remnant of her crew,
the yellow fever, which was then raging, having made terrible ravages
on board. I heard of the death of many a good friend. Captain de
Parseval had only one officer left (Kerjegu, who in later days was my
colleague in the National Assembly) and one cadet, to help him to get
his frigate away. There had been a tempest too, which had done a great
deal of damage to our cruisers. I saw two come in, the Eclipse,
Commander Jame de Bellecroix, and the Laurier, Captain Duquesne, which
had been dismasted in the gale, and which had rigged up temporary
spars, by means of which they had contrived to crawl into port. All the
sails of the Laurier had been carried away, and she was quite helpless
in the storm, so her captain, Duquesne, and his second officer,
Mazeres, lashed themselves on deck, after having sent the crew below.
The violence of the wind laid the ship so completely over on her beam
ends that Lieutenant Mazeres, who was carried overboard by a wave,
caught hold of the maintop and managed to get back on deck. A moment
later the two masts of the brig were broken by the fury of the sea, and
thus she regained her balance and was saved.
Leaving all these cripples to patch themselves up as best they could,
Captain Laine set sail with his frigate and gave me orders to follow.
We reached Sacrificios, the nearest anchorage to Vera Cruz, after a
rapid passage. Here we learnt that the captain of the Medee, M. Leray,
had been sent on a mission to Mexico. Then the admiral himself went off
to Xalapa, to confer with the Mexican ministers. Meanwhile the blockade
went on, enlivened by privations of every kind, short rations of water,
yellow fever, and so forth. Our water was brought from Havana; it came
in barrels, and was frequently black and nauseous when it came out of
them. Yellow fever stalked abroad. I lingered one night, fishing over
the side of the ship, until eleven o'clock, with a strong, healthy,
first-class cadet, who had been under me in the watch on board the
Didon. A foreboding of some sort seemed to weigh on his mind. I tried
to cheer him up, but all in vain. By six o'clock next morning the
terrible "vomito" had carried him off. Poor Gouin! I was very fond of
him. We buried him on the Sacrificios islet, that gloomy cemetery which
later on the Zouaves christened the "Jardin d'Acclimatation."
But little happened to vary the monotony of those weeks of waiting. I
had gone in my boat one day to take soundings in shore, along the coast
stretching from Vera Cruz to Anton Lizardo, when I saw a squadron of
Mexican Lancers in their great white hats, looking like a squadron of
picadors from a bull-ring, come galloping over the sand-hills. It was
more than likely these gentry might fire their carbines at us, and we
had no arms to reply with. So I bethought me of an expedient, which
turned out quite successful. Instead of retiring as fast as we could
row, I ordered my crew to lie motionless on their oars, while with the
help of two men I made as though I were carefully preparing, loading,
and laying a heavy gun, which was nothing more than a large-sized
telescope with which I happened to be provided. The effect was
electric. We saw the Mexican squadron make off full tear in every
direction, to the delight of my crew. One night we had another
adventure. The admiral sent me, with Messrs. Desfosses and Doret, and
two engineer officers, Commandant Mangin-Lecreux and Captain Chauchard,
to make rather an odd sort of reconnaissance. To understand its nature,
my readers must know that the fort of Saint Juan d'Ulloa is set on a
great reef, separated from Vera Cruz by a narrow arm of the sea. On the
edge of the reef looking towards the town, the walls of the fort, into
which huge iron rings for mooring big ships are built, go
perpendicularly down into the sea. On the opposite side the glacis runs
into a sort of large lake formed by two arms of the reef, level with
the surface of the sea. The admiral wanted to know whether the bed of
this lake was level, whether it was fordable, and whether, in case of
necessity, the glacis and the walls of the fort could be reached from
it, after they had been gutted by the big guns.
We started, then, one fine night, reached the belt of reef far away
from the fort, landed, and walking through the water, which was half
way up to our thighs at the start, we bent our course towards the fort,
taking soundings before us, as we went, with long sticks. We found much
the same depth everywhere, and a sandy bed covered with short seaweed.
The sea had doubtless cast all the sand by degrees over the coral reef,
and the currents had levelled it. After a long and tiring march through
the water, during which we had to stop and take breath every now and
again, whispering to each other, like Raffet's engraving of a similar
reconnaissance, "Smoking is forbidden, but you can sit down if you
like," we had got quite close to the glacis when we heard a shout of
"Alerta!" from the sentries. Commandant Mangin, who was determined to
touch the glacis with his hand, was a few steps ahead of us. Suddenly a
noise arose within the fort, and in the twinkling of an eye we saw
about fifty soldiers appear on the crest of the glacis, with their
musket barrels glancing. They rushed down at full speed and sprang into
the water after us. We of course made off as fast as ever we could. For
some minutes it was a downright trial of speed, and Commandant Mangin
was all but caught. But though hostilities were imminent, they had not
yet actually begun. So the soldiers did not fire, and they soon tired
of pursuing us. We got back without any difficulty, except that great
fishes, whose every movement was visible in the phosphorescent water,
would rush between our legs. Sharks, perhaps! There were numbers of
them in those parts.
The admiral had learnt what he wanted to know. A few days more and the
ball opened. The admiral brought the three frigates, Nereide, Gloire,
and Iphigenie (this last came back from Havana with her crew completed
by that of Duquesne's brig), and the two bomb-vessels, broadside on,
and attacked the fort. I had asked leave to share in the fun, and, to
my great grief, he had refused it. He considered my ship too small and
insignificant. "I can't possibly take you. I have put the frigate Medee
aside too, for I don't consider her guns heavy enough." He sent me to
watch the firing of the bomb-vessels, and rectify it if necessary.
Before the firing began an incident occurred in which I was directly
concerned. As the attack appeared imminent, the ships anchored or
moored close to the fort hastened away, and they all passed close to
the point where I was posted. At that moment the admiral signalled to
me, "Ship in sight looks suspicious; stop her" Ambiguous as our
signalling code is, this order seemed evidently to point to seizing one
or several of the vessels just leaving the port. Of these there were
four, to wit, a Belgian ship, chartered by the admiral to take off the
French subjects resident at Vera Cruz if they should be threatened. It
could not be that one. Then there was an American vessel, a quasi
warship, flying a pennant and armed, what is called a revenue schooner.
Thirdly, the British steam-packet Express, also armed and flying a
pennant, commanded by a lieutenant in the British Navy, and borne on
the Navy List as a ship of war. It could be neither of these two, to my
thinking. There only remained a Hamburg vessel, which I ordered to go
and anchor under the guns of the corvette Naiade. But at this instant a
lieutenant in one of the Nereide's boats came to me and shouted, "The
admiral desires you will take the Mexican pilots off all ships going
out of port."
"Off the English packet too?" I inquired.
"The admiral gave no details, he said all pilots."
Though it seemed a serious matter to me, considering the touchiness of
the English, to take a man off one of their warships, I had no course
but to act. The Express had passed astern of me, and I had exchanged
friendly greetings with her captain, Lieutenant Cooke, with whom I was
acquainted. She was far away already. I hoisted the British flag, and
backed my action with a shot across her bow. She brought to, waited for
the boat and officer I sent, and the following conversation ensued:--
My Officer.--"My orders are to ask you for your pilot."
Lieutenant Cooke.--"I want him to get to Sacrificios."
My Officer.--"It isn't a mere request I make you."
Lieutenant Cooke.--"If I don't give him up, shall you take him by
force?"
My Officer.--"We trust you will give him up with a good grace, and that
we need have no recourse to violence."
Lieutenant Cooke.--"That's very well, sir," and the conversation closed
with a shake of the hand, once the British commander had cleared
himself of responsibility. So the pilot entered my boat, whence the
admiral instantly had him fetched. The American revenue schooner gave
hers up without making any difficulty, only declaring the admiral
responsible for any accident that might happen to the ship for want of
a pilot.
I have related this incident of the pilot of the Express in detail
because it gave rise to a heated discussion in the British Parliament,
during which I was personally taken to task and made responsible for a
"violation of international law."
But the admiral gives the signal to open fire, and the cannonade
begins. In one moment I am wrapped in smoke. I not only cannot see to
watch the firing, I cannot even see where I am going. The lead gives
very little depth, and I see the mud disturbed by my keel rising on the
surface of the water. I cannot stay where I am, so I crowd on sail and
get out of the smoke. I repeat my petition for leave to take part in
the fight to the admiral by signal. His heart is touched, and he
answered by the welcome word "Yes," and then I go down the line of
frigates, all hotly engaged, especially the Iphigenie. Every minute or
two I saw splinters of wood flying into the air, cut out by the shot
striking her. She had a hundred and eight in her hull, without counting
her spars. There were eight in her foremasts alone. It was a perfect
miracle everything did not come by the board. That gallant old fellow
Parseval kept walking up and down the poop, rubbing his hands whenever
a shot struck near him. It was really a fine sight. We waved our hands
to each other, and I went and took up my position at the end of the
line of frigates. There I stayed, going to and fro under sail, amid a
little racket of my own making.
There were hard times within the fort. There had been several
explosions already, and it occurred to me to load al my guns with shell
and turn them on a sort of tower, called in fortification a cavalier,
whence the fire was particularly lively. I had very good gunners, but
from my place as commanding officer I could not see where the shots
took effect for the smoke. My second officer who was forward, could
judge better than me. At the first shot he shouted to me "Good! in the
cavalier." The second, "In the cavalier." The third, "In the cavalier."
The fourth--nothing was to be seen. A huge cloud of smoke white above,
black below, rose from the fort, slowly to a great height above it.
When it cleared a little, driven by the wind, there was no cavalier at
all. The whole thing had blown up. My crew shouted with delight, and
the captain of one of the guns performed a brilliant hornpipe. Was it
my shells? Or did the bombs from the bombship do the job? Not one of my
brave fellows on the Creole have the shadow of a doubt. Every man has a
right to his own opinion.
The fire slackened, and I went to take the admiral's orders. The fort
surrendered during the night. The garrison, two thousand strong,
evacuated the place, and a convention was concluded with the general in
command at Vera Cruz for the abstention of both sides from further
hostilities. We then occupied the fort, and the admiral gave me orders
to moor the Creole under its walls, and together with Comte de Gourdon,
commanding the Cuirassier, to put prize crews on board the vessels of
the Mexican Navy lying there. With the exception of one pretty
corvette, the Iguana, which has been incorporated with our own navy,
these prizes were not worth much.
The unlucky fort was in a terrible condition. Shot and shell and
explosions had destroyed everything. A horrible smell rose from the
numerous corpses buried everywhere under the rubbish. Wherever battle
had not done its work the most revolting filth reigned supreme, and all
this under an equatorial sun and in the midst of the yellow fever. The
crew of the Creole was at once set to sanitary work, in company with
the detachment of engineer sappers attached to the expedition. We dug
out the corpses and towed them out to sea, and several very meritorious
instances of self-sacrifice occurred which were duly and publicly
recognised by the admiral.
My aide-de-camp, M. Desfosses, had drawn up a little code of signals,
by means of coloured shirts, with the house of our consul at Vera Cruz,
in case of any emergency. Within five days of the taking of the fort we
learnt by these signals that the French subjects within the town were
in great danger. We immediately sent all our boats to the mole, which
was thronged by a distracted crowd of men, women, and children, all of
whom we received and transferred to the fort.
At the same time our consul informed us that Santa Anna, who had been
appointed generalissimo, had just arrived with troops, that he had
declared the convention null and void, &c., &c., and that we must be
prepared for anything. The admiral, who was some way off, with the
squadron, at the Green Island anchorage, was at once warned. Luckily it
was fine. If it had not been, no communication with him would have been
practicable The admiral himself came that very night, and took up his
quarters on board the Creole. In his usual resolute way, he had at once
decided to forestall the enemy's action, and, taking advantage of its
surprise, to execute such a coup de main with the feeble means at his
disposal, as would make it impossible for the city and forts of Vera
Cruz to harm us for some time to come at all events. Our night was
therefore spent in preparation. The boats of the squadron came in one
after the other without any mishap, bringing all the men who could be
landed. Counting the three companies of artillery holding the fort,
these amounted to about eleven hundred men. We set out between four and
five o'clock in the morning in a thick fog. A portion of the troops
disembarked, commanded by Captain Parseval, were to scale the small
fort on the left of the town with ladders, and then go round the
ramparts, spiking the guns, and destroying everything they came across.
Another body, under Captain Laine, was to do the same thing on the
right-hand side. And a third column in the centre was to land on the
mole, blow up the sea gate, and march on General de Santa Anna's
headquarters to try and seize his person. My own company, numbering
about sixty men, formed the advance guard of this last column, the bulk
of which consisted of the three companies of artillery.
We started then, with our oars muffled to deaden the noise. We could
hardly find our way in the twilight, and had to strain our eyes to see
the mole through the mist. The great gate of the city was closed, no
sentry outside it. Everything was asleep. We landed in dead silence,
and the column formed up. The sappers ran on ahead, laid the powder
bag, and masked it, then a sergeant of sappers lighted the match and
shrank back behind a projecting bit of wall. Bang! The mask of the
petard just grazed our heads, and one side of the gate lay on the
ground. At the same moment firing began in the direction of Parseval's
column. "Forward! God save the King!" We caught sight of the guard at
the gate bolting off, and then lost it in the fog. There wasn't a cat
in the streets. The noise of the musketry fire had driven in anybody
who might have been out. Led by a guide we passed at a swinging pace
down a street which brought us to the Mexico gate. Here the fog lifted
a little. A few shots and bayonet thrusts got rid of the guard at the
gate. Just at this moment a barouche galloped up from within the town.
It was drawn by six mules with picturesque-looking postilions, in
broad-brimmed hats. It was the barouche which had brought Santa Anna,
trying to get into the open country. We shot down two or three of the
mules, but the carriage was empty.
We then received a heavy discharge of musketry from about a hundred and
fifty soldiers who forthwith disappeared down a side street. They were
the headquarters guard. Off we tore after them, and were just in time
to see the last of them go into a big house which my guide informed me
was the headquarters of the military governor. A huge court with
galleries running round it, and above them on the first floor more
arcades, adorned with flowers in pots and climbing plants, met our gaze
when we entered. A sharp fire poured from the first floor the instant
we appeared in the courtyard. Hesitation would be fatal. We must get
upstairs and bring those folk to their senses. A narrow stairway was
the only road. Well, every man must own to some weakness! When I saw
that staircase, up which I should have to go first, and receive the
first volley alone when I got to the top, I wavered for a moment, and
waving my sword, I shouted, "Volunteers to the front!" My
quartermaster, a Parisian, rushed to the staircase, and the sight
brought me back to a sense of my duty. I rushed after him. We raced
against each other, and I had the satisfaction of getting to the top a
good first, followed indeed by my whole company. There was nothing so
very terrible about it after all. At first we found ourselves in a sort
of vestibule; an ill-directed fire, which wounded two of our officers
only, pouring on us through the doors and windows. Then each of us set
to work on his own account. A second boatswain, of the name of Jadot,
and I threw ourselves against a door and broke it in with our
shoulders. When it gave, I was shot forward by my men pushing on behind
me, and hurled into a room full of smoke and Mexican soldiers. One of
them, in a white uniform and red epaulettes (I see his straight Indian
hair and wicked eye yet), was aiming at me with the barrel of his
musket close to my face. I had just time to say to myself, "I'm done
for." But no, there was no shot, the gun fell on my feet, and I saw my
gentleman roll under a sofa carrying the sword with which Penaud, my
lieutenant, had run him through as quick as lightning, stuck between
his ribs.
I believe I rid myself of another great big fellow next, and then, the
first start having been given, there was a general rout, and I found
myself in another room at the end of which I saw several officers, one
a general, standing together very calmly, with their swords sheathed. I
rushed forward with the boatswain Jadot, to protect them from my men,
who were somewhat excited, and the fight was over. The name of the
general, a tall fair handsome fellow, was Arista. In later days he
became President of the Mexican Republic. He surrendered his sword to
me, and I had him taken downstairs, and left him in the hands of
artillery Commandant Colombel, who sent him to the fort. As for Santa
Anna, we could not find him, though his bed was still warm. We took his
epaulettes, and his commanding officer's baton, and Jadot the
boatswain, who had lost his own straw hat in the scuffle, put on his
gold tipped one.
I lost no time in quitting the house, which was full of blood, and
where I was sickened by the sight of the bodies of two wretched women
who had been killed by the fire through the doors Once outside I met
Captain Laine, coming by the ramparts, and carrying out his task of
destruction as he went. He urged me to march with my company on a point
in the town where Parseval's column was keeping up a steady fire,
keeping an eye meanwhile on the churches, the towers of which were
reported to be armed with cannon. I set out on this true "course au
clocher" and presently got to a large building from which we were fired
upon.
We entered. It was the hospital. There was another shindy in a big room
on the ground floor, full of sick, standing up or kneeling on their
beds, scantily covered with red blankets, and all shouting "Gracia!"
"Mercy!" It was a horrible sight. All the poor wretches were more or
less far gone in yellow fever. We went in at one door and hurried out
at the other, and at last we got into a long straight street, at the
end of which we saw a large house with musketry fire crackling from
every window like a great set piece of fireworks. This huge and solid
building, set astride on the ramparts, with doors on to the town, and
doors into the country, was called the "la Merced barracks. Full of
troops as it was, and with reinforcements constantly coming in from
outside, it had stopped Parseval's column ever since the morning, and
was soon to stop Laine's as well. One great door faced the street up
which we were going. Of course it was shut. We brought a gun to bear on
it, and sent a shell into it. Amid the smoke of the discharge, mingled
with the sort of fog that was still hanging, we thought the door was
broken in, and rushed forward. But when we got near we found the cursed
thing was intact, and we were forced to throw ourselves back into the
side streets for shelter, for in one instant the whole head of our
column, six or seven being officers, had been killed or wounded. We
then set to work, sappers, artillerymen, sailors, and all, to throw up
a barricade across the street, so as to bring up a battery of guns, and
break that door right down before beginning the attack afresh. But just
on this the admiral arrived and the chiefs in command took counsel with
him. Considering half our crews were on shore and that the slightest
change in the weather might prevent their getting back on board ship,
and considering too that the admiral's object had been attained, he
gave orders for us to re-embark. The return journey offered no
difficulty, except at the very last moment, when nobody was left on the
mole but the admiral and a few officers. Then, a great sound of
cheering and of warlike music was heard in the town. It was Santa Anna
coming to drive the Frenchmen into the sea. Out he came, on horseback,
on to the mole, at the head of his men, but the launches from the
frigates which were still lying on each side of the jetty fired grape
shot into the head of the column, and laid everybody low,--Santa Anna
and the rest of them. Some fanatics rushed to the end of the mole in
spite of this, to try and shoot the admiral point blank, and he was in
great danger. His coxswain and the midshipman on duty, Halna Dufretay
(an admiral and a senator when he died), covered him with their own
bodies and were both severely wounded. His secretary, who was with him,
and who carried a double-barrelled rifle, killed two Mexicans in two
shots. A great friend of mine was killed there too, a charming young
fellow who had a great future before him--Chaptal, a first-class cadet.
It was known that I was much attached to him and I was given his
aiguillettes (which I sent to his family) as a remembrance of him. When
I got back to the Creole, bringing two of my midshipmen, Magnier de
Maisonneuve and Gervais, with me, both severely wounded, the admiral
sent me orders to fire a shell into the "la Merced" barracks every five
minutes. This closed the day of my baptism of fire. The military
operations of the campaign were over. The fort of Saint Juan d'Ulloa
remained in our hands in pledge. It was the diplomats' business to
complete the work. The admiral dismissed the greater number of his
ships and soon sent me off to Havana, which place I did not reach
without falling in with two of those violent squalls which are called
norte in the Gulf of Mexico. I was to lie there on the watch, ready to
attack privateers if the Mexican Government should resort to that form
of warfare--the fleetness of the Creole fitting her specially for such
service. Meanwhile my visit was very pleasant to me, after the horrors
of Sacrificio and the yellow fever. The commander of an English
corvette, the Satellite, gave a dinner to M. de Parseval, two other
captains and myself, which was so cordial that towards dessert one of
the captains, who shall be nameless, passed his hand gently across his
brow and, murmuring "I don't feel very well," sank straightway
underneath the table. We took him by the legs and shoulders, Parseval
and the English captain and I, but Parseval and the Englishman laughed
so much that we had some trouble in getting him to a bed, on which we
laid him and where he slept till morning. I know not whether it was for
this wound and feat of arms that his native town raised a statue in his
honour.
Of course I sought and found all my former Havanese acquaintances. One
alone was invisible, the lady of the cigarette. In vain I placed myself
night after night before her box. Nobody there! In vain I paid visits
to houses I knew she frequented. The covers were all blank. I was
sorely grieved. So then I bethought me of a stratagem. The Creole set
sail hurriedly, with much bustle, to go and look for a Mexican ship,
reported, so they said, to be at sea. As soon as the day closed in I
made all sail for the port, and leaving my second officer in command,
with orders to pick me up at four o'clock next morning at a certain
distance and in a certain line from the harbour lights, I jumped into
my boat and went ashore. With a bound I was in the theatre. There she
was! And I laugh still when I think of her grandparents' faces when
they saw me appear; but they raised the quarantine forthwith, and when,
soon after, I gave a ball on board the Iphigenie, that charming young
lady was its chief ornament. Beautiful and quaint that ball was, breezy
with victory and duty well performed, the glorious scars of the old
Iphigenie mingling with the splendour of the flowers and the lights.
After staying a month at Havana, as there was no question of pirates, I
was ordered to take the Creole back to Brest, where I arrived in March,
1839. My monkey was the first to see and point out the land from the
top of the rigging. I had hardly got into the roadstead before the
maritime prefect boarded me to tell me I was made a knight of the
Legion of Honour. The worthy admiral insisted on receiving me as such
before the guard, which had been turned out. He drew his sword to give
me the accolade, and made me a little speech, under the fire of which I
did not flinch, though he was deeply moved.