The Queen of the Savannah: A Story of the Mexican War

"We know it perfectly well," the count interrupted; "but how does that advance us?"

"Pardon me, Excellency, but I am acquainted with Indian habits. During the fifteen years I have been traversing the desert in all directions I have had time to study them, hence I believe myself in a position to give you good advice."

"Speak, my friend, speak," the count exclaimed.

"Explain yourself, caballero," the young man said imploringly.

"One of two things will happen," the Canadian continued. "Either the redskins have seized Doña Emilia and her daughter in order to massacre them, or they have carried them off for the purpose of obtaining a ransom. In the first place they will not kill them for a week, because if it be a revenge, as you say, they desire to take on their enemies, they will sacrifice their victims in the presence of the whole nation assembled for a species of holiday, which will necessitate a great loss of time in convening the scattered tribes. In the second case, you have nothing to fear for the life of the ladies; and tomorrow, possibly today, they will send to the hacienda a messenger to settle the amount of ransom."

"Hum! What you do us the honour of telling us is doubtless very sensible," the count remarked; "but I do not yet see the nature of the advice you wish to give us."

"Patience," the Canadian continued with a shake of his head, "my advice is this. Tomorrow, at sunrise, I will start for the Hacienda del Barrio. If no Indian has appeared, after reporting the result of my embassy, and warning Don Aníbal of what has happened, I will have a talk with my friend Moonshine. He knows the Indians as well as I do, perhaps better. Well, if he shares my opinion, we will both start on the trail of the redskins, and they will be very cunning, I swear, if we do not discover them. That is my advice."

"Yes," the count answered, "your reasoning is excellent, and the plan you propose is the only one feasible; but what can two men do alone against several hundreds? You will be killed without any advantage."

"Well, if you can hit on a better scheme, I shall not oppose it."

"I do not say that I can. I merely believe that your idea, good in principle, is bad in its mode of execution; that is to say, where two men would perish, ten or fifteen would infallibly succeed."

"But where will you find that number of men to volunteer running such risks?"

"I will be the first," Don Melchior said warmly.

"And I the second," the count said more calmly.

"You?" the Canadian remarked, with surprise.

"Yes, I, my friend," he continued. "I have an old account to settle with the redskins generally, and the Red Buffaloes particularly. They are my enemies also. The marks of their claws have been for a long time imprinted on my flesh. Who knows whether I shall not avenge myself, while fancying that I am only avenging a friend?"

"Hence," said Don Melchior, "we will start tomorrow at sunrise."

"I alone," the Canadian answered; "your presence at the hacienda would be more injurious than useful. Allow Don Aníbal's grief time to calm before presenting yourself to him."

The young man felt the force of the adventurer's reasoning, and hung his head sadly, though without offering any objection.

"I will accompany you, señor," said the count. "I trust that my intervention with Don Aníbal will not prove in vain."

"What are you thinking of, Excellency? In the present state of affairs, do you not fear being regarded as an enemy?"

"Politics have nothing to do with the step I propose taking in your company, señor. Moreover, do you not remember that I have sworn never more to serve the Spanish government? I am, therefore, free to act as I please."

"I have no remarks to make to you on that subject, Excellency; perhaps it is better that it should be so; besides, you know better than I do what line of conduct you ought to hold."

"Believe me, my friend, that the one I am adopting is the best."

"Then," Don Melchior remarked, sadly, "you condemn me to remain here?"

"Yes, till you receive fresh orders, my friend," the Canadian said good-humouredly; "but do not feel vexed, young gentleman; get well again as quickly as you can, and you shall enter on the campaign against the redskins in our company."

"Do you promise me that?" the young man asked, with a start of joy.

"I swear it, on the faith of Oliver Clary. You are too brave to be left behind."

The young man thanked him warmly, and feeling easier in his mind, he fell back on his bed, and was soon fast asleep. On the morrow at sunrise the count and the Canadian entered the chamber of the wounded man to take leave of him, but they found him dressed and ready to start.

"You know very well that you are not to accompany us."

"It is not my intention either," he answered.

"Still you are preparing to leave the hacienda."

"Yes, and probably at the same time as yourself."

"Hum!" said the Canadian, as he took a side glance at the young man, whose handsome masculine face, pale with suffering, had an expression of energetic will. "You seem quite resolved," he said.

"Whatever may happen, yes."

There was a silence.

"Very good," the Canadian continued; "wait for me here for six hours."

"What are you going to do?" Don Melchior exclaimed.

"On my return I will tell you: do you pledge me your word?"

"I do."

"Very good."

Without adding a word, Oliver went out, making the count a sign to follow him.

CHAPTER XXIX.

THE REVOLUTION

We will now return to the Hacienda del Barrio, in order to explain to the reader certain important events which had occurred, the knowledge of which is indispensable to understand coming facts. The conspirators, after the departure of Count de Melgosa, whose unexpected visit had so disagreeably surprised them, had immediately separated, not through any fear of the consequences which this visit might have for them, but, on the contrary, to arm their peons and adherents, and put themselves as quickly as possible in a position to resist any attempted aggression on the part of the Spanish government.

The Mexicans, instructed and hardened to war by ten years' fighting and their numerous defeats, were no longer the half-savage men who marched without order or discipline, impelled solely by religious fanaticism or the ardent love of liberty, and let themselves be bravely slaughtered by the old Spanish bands on the plains of Calderón. Hidalgo and Morelos, those sublime champions of liberty, had lost their lives in their generous attempts at emancipation; but their blood had not in vain bedewed that Mexican soil which the Spaniards fancied enslaved forever. Other chiefs, electrified by the heroic devotion of their predecessors, had risen in their turn, and, profiting by past errors, organized the revolt, and gradually, by their skilful and incessant guidance, the insurrection, at first timid and retired, extended, and eventually became a revolution.

The knell of Spain had rung: her power, ruined on all sides, crumbled away in hands too feeble to hold it. The Viceroys of New Spain, incessantly pressed, were involuntarily forced to try concessions – a fatal resolve for tyranny, which it is impossible to check, for no sooner is one difficulty smoothed than another larger and more formidable rises up. The supreme struggle began. The proclamation of Iguala, published by General Iturbide – that is to say, the independence of New Spain, union between the Spanish and Mexican races, and the exclusive maintenance of the Catholic religion – gave the signal for revolt. It was general; insurgent bands were organized on all sides.

Don Pelagio Sandoval summoned all the hacenderos of the province, and two days after the conference we have described, the insurgent forces, amounting to more than ten thousand well-armed men, infantry and cavalry, and having a battery of six mountain guns, quitted the Hacienda del Barrio, where their chief only left a weak garrison to hold the Indians in check, and advanced by forced marches on Coahuila. This capital of the province was a town of nine or ten thousand souls, built on an affluent of the Río Sabina, surrounded by walls, and; owing to the arrangements made long before by General Cárdenas, it was perfectly defended from a surprise. The progress of the insurrectionary army was truly a triumphant march. At each step reinforcements reached it, and the Mexicans everywhere took up arms. Leona Vicario, Castanuello, Parras, Nueva Bilbao, and Santa Rosa expelled the Spaniards, and proclaimed their independence by hoisting the green, white, and red flag, the emblem of the three guarantees of the treaty of Iguala, independence, union, and religion.

Don Pelagio Sandoval, not wishing to leave any enemy in his rear, suddenly attacked the Presidio of the Río Grande as well as the forts of the Agua Verde and Bahia, built on the Río del Norte, in order to protect the border against Indian forays, and after a vigorous resistance, carried them by storm. The insurgent general, in order not to embarrass his army with prisoners, contented himself with disarming the Spanish garrisons, and left them free to retire wherever they pleased. This merciful policy formed too great a contrast with the rigorous system hitherto adopted by the government, not to produce a good result, whose effect was immediately felt; many officers and soldiers, natives of New Spain, offered their swords to the insurrection, and passed into the ranks of the Mexican army. One town alone still resisted the general movement and remained faithful to Spain; this town was Coahuila.

General Don López de Cárdenas, at the first insurrectionary movement, called in all the Spanish garrisons scattered through the other towns, which he despaired of defending effectually against the formidable forces of the insurgents, and shut himself up in Coahuila, resolved to bury himself beneath the smoking ashes sooner than open the gates to men whom he regarded as miserable rebels, deceived and seduced by a fanatic priest. After proclaiming independence in all the towns of the province, and establishing the national government, Don Pelagio led on Coahuila the forces at his disposal, which, as we said, had been largely augmented by the contingents constantly supplied by the liberals, and now rose to the really formidable number of 25,000 men.

The Mexicans reached the town after meeting with no further obstacle than a considerable cavalry corps, probably sent to reconnoitre, and which, after exchanging a few carbine shots with the vanguard, declined a contest and fell back. The town was immediately invested. General Cárdenas was not only an old soldier, but also a skilful strategist; in the prevision of a revolt, he had abundance of arms and ammunition at Coahuila, and so soon as he was shut up in the town, he had earth breastworks thrown up, and wide ditches dug. Hence a regular siege was about to begin against an enemy who was too well aware of the hatred he had aroused not to offer a vigorous resistance. The priest's first care was to trace a parallel, and throw up entrenchments. The flag of independence was haughtily hoisted on the jacal, which served as headquarters, and Don Pelagio summoned the town to surrender. On hearing the Mexican bugles, General Cárdenas appeared on the ramparts, surrounded by a large party of Spanish officers, smart as gold lace could make them.

"Who are you and what do you want?" he said in a haughty voice, addressing the officer who commanded the Spanish detachment.

This officer was Don Aníbal de Saldibar, whom General Sandoval had made his first aide-de-camp and major-general. Don Aníbal held in his hand his drawn sword, to the blade of which a white scarf was fastened.

"Who are you?" he answered; "I have orders only to address Don López de Cárdenas, commanding the town."

"And governor of the province," the general interrupted sarcastically.

"The province no longer recognizes the power of the Spanish government."

"Indeed," he said; "and pray what do you want with General Cárdenas?"

"I can only tell that to himself."

"Well, speak without further delay, for he is listening to you."

Don Aníbal bowed.

"I have orders," he said, "to summon you to surrender the town immediately to General Don Pelagio Sandoval, commander-in-chief of the Mexican forces of the province of Coahuila."

"Ah, ah!" said the general, biting his moustache.

"General Sandoval," Don Aníbal continued, "invites you to arrange an interview with him in order to discuss the terms of the capitulation."

General Cárdenas could not stand this any longer; the demands of the insurgents seemed to him so absurd, that he burst into a laugh, in which his officers joined. Don Aníbal was not at all affected by this unseasonable hilarity; he stood coldly with folded arms, waiting till the general thought proper to become serious again.

"Well, my good fellow," the latter said presently; "are you still there?"

"Certainly, General, and shall remain till you are pleased to answer me."

"Diablos, your pretensions are too exaggerated. Learn that I know no other army in New Spain but the Spanish. As for the cuadrilla of bandits surrounding the town at this moment, and the cabecilla who commands it, to whom you dare give the title of general, listen carefully to this: I do not treat with rebels, wretched slaves who have revolted against their masters. I consented to listen to you to the end, and not have you shot at once, but do not try my patience too far. Retire and be careful not to be the bearer of such messages in future, for a misfortune would happen to you; that is the only answer I can and will give you. Now, make haste to be off, if you do not wish me to give the order to treat you as you deserve."

"Take care, General," Don Aníbal answered intrepidly, "the struggle you are hurrying on is an impious one, the cause you defend is a lost one. Through humanity, if not through conviction, spare the useless shedding of innocent blood, which will fall on your head."

"Send a couple of bullets at that chatterer," the general said with a shrug of his shoulders, as he turned to the troops present at this interview.

The soldiers obeyed, and several bullets, badly aimed, perhaps purposely so, whistled portentously past the ears of the brave hacendero. The latter, who had fully heard the order given by the general, did not attempt to avoid them, but merely removed the white scarf from his sword and threw it from him.

"Of what use is a flag of truce," he said, "when you have to deal with hangmen who despise the law of nations. Farewell, General Cárdenas; I had forgotten the name which the inhabitants of this province have branded you with; you have just reminded me of it." After bowing ironically to the Spaniards, he made a sign to his escort to follow him, and retired with a slow, calm step, as if he had nothing to fear from the man whom he thus outraged. The general had raised his head and opened his mouth, probably to give some terrible order; but he succeeded in restraining himself. He smiled cunningly as he looked after the flag of truce who had so audaciously braved him, and, as he left the ramparts, said —

"Come, caballeros, we will return to the cabildo. The bark of those scoundrels is worse than their bite. I trust before long to prove to them that they were right to christen me 'the Shark.'"

Don Aníbal returned to the jacal, where Father Sandoval was waiting for him, surrounded by his staff. The general of the insurgents knew perfectly well that the summons he sent his enemy would remain unanswered, or, if he deigned to give one, that it would be of an insulting nature; but he thought himself bound to take this step, in order to have right entirely on his side, by forcing General Cárdenas, with whose character he was thoroughly acquainted, to commit one of those bloodthirsty acts to which he was accustomed. Such a deed would permit him to make every effort to carry the town and capture the general, of whom he purposed to make an example. Father Sandoval's calculations were perfectly correct. General Cárdenas had not hesitated to give orders to fire on a flag of truce. He had done even more, as the Mexican officers soon learned from the formidable clamour that ran along the whole army.

During the skirmish which took place a short distance from the town, the Spaniards took six or seven prisoners – poor peons, not so well mounted as their comrades, and who had not been able to rejoin the army so speedily as they might have liked. These prisoners were taken into the town, and as ill luck would have it the general perceived them as he entered the cabildo. On seeing them he could not restrain his fury, but ordered that they should at once be led to the ramparts, and hung in the sight of the Mexican army. In vain did the officers try to dissuade him. The general was inexorable, and the poor fellows were hung without any trial. They heaved their last sigh at the very moment when Don Aníbal de Saldibar entered the jacal, and the army burst into a fearful clamour, which caused the Mexican general and his officers to shudder with horror and passion.

The siege consequently began under mournful auspices. Every insurgent who fell into the hands of the Spaniards was hung on the ramparts. General Cárdenas had sworn to make a wall of corpses round the town. On their side, the Mexicans mercilessly massacred the hapless Spaniards whom the chances of war delivered into their hands. It was in vain that Padre Sandoval implored his comrades to spare their enemies. The exasperation of the Mexicans was at its height, and they remained deaf to the prayers and orders of their chief. At the same time the Spanish general defended himself like a lion. Every patch of ground gained by the insurgents was disputed inch by inch, and cost streams of blood.

The town had been invested for seven days, and as yet there was no prospect that it would be soon captured. On the eighth day, Father Sandoval received a copy of the treaty signed by General Iturbide and the Viceroy O'Donojú. This treaty stated substantially that Mexico was declared independent, on the condition of establishing a constitutional and representative monarchy, of which a member of the family of the Spanish Bourbons should be nominated King. The Viceroy understood the critical position in which the interests of the home country were placed, and despairing completely to preserve to Spain the possession of this rich colony, he skilfully turned the question, so as to save as much as he could.

This treaty terminated the war; but Father Sandoval did not know how to communicate the fact to General Cárdenas. After the menaces made by that general, and the summary executions that followed them, no one cared to go to him. Don Aníbal, ever ready to sacrifice himself for the common welfare, offered to proceed to the general. The latter, contrary to expectation, let the flag of truce enter the town, and even received him with a certain amount of courtesy, which surprised Don Aníbal himself, especially after the manner in which the first interview he had with him ended.

The hacendero handed the general a copy of the treaty, adding that he hoped this document would put a stop to the bloodshed. The general took the paper, which he read attentively twice, as if weighing all its clauses. While he was perusing it, Don Aníbal tried in vain to follow on his face the effect it produced; but the general's features seemed carved in marble, and no emotion was visible on them.

"My answer will be brief, caballero," he said, in a dry voice, but with an accent of gloomy resolution. "In my opinion, the Viceroy O'Donojú has no power to settle so serious a question as the independence of New Spain. The king, my master and his, delegated him, not to throw away this colony, but to keep it for him at all risks. This deed is therefore null, so long as the King of Spain and the Indies has not ratified it. As for me, caballero, I shall not resign the authority entrusted to me. A royal order alone will make me return my sword to the scabbard from which I have drawn it. Whatever the consequences of this resolution may be to me, I shall wait for that order. Good day."

The general bowed slightly to the flag of truce, and turned away as if to make him understand that his audience was over. Don Aníbal withdrew, and was conducted to the advanced posts with bandaged eyes, although treated with the utmost respect by the soldiers told off as his escort. The chief of the Liberals was most anxiously awaiting the return of his emissary, as he feared, with some show of reason, that the general, despising, as usual, the law of nations, had made him undergo unworthy treatment. Hence it was with extreme pleasure that he saw Don Aníbal return. Unhappily, the reply brought by the hacendero did not leave the slightest hope of peace. Father Sandoval, though recognizing in his heart the wisdom of his enemy's conduct, resolved with a sigh of regret to deal a heavy blow, and made his preparations accordingly.

CHAPTER XXX.

ON THE TRAIL

Oliver Clary left Don Melchior's room in a very thoughtful state; the count followed him, not venturing to address him, as he seemed so preoccupied. On reaching the patio, where peons were holding two horses for them, the adventurer stopped, struck his forehead, and then turning to the count, said —

"You cannot come with me."

"Why not?" the count asked; "Where are you going?"

"How do I know? That young man's calm and resigned grief crushes my heart, and I am going to seek some consolation for him at all hazards."

"You are kind."

"No, I have suffered. I know grief, and pity the unhappy; that is all. Remain here; you will not be of the slightest use to me in what I am about to attempt; your presence, on the contrary, might be injurious to me and to yourself. You had better wait for me here. Watch that young man carefully and show him the greatest kindness. Perhaps, on my return I shall tell you more; I have a doubt on my mind which I am anxious to clear up. Heaven grant that I may meet the man in search of whom I am going. One word more: if I do not return at the hour settled, use your influence over Don Melchior to keep him patient. Farewell, I am about to attempt impossibilities."

And leaving the count amazed, and not at all understanding these mysterious and apparently unconnected remarks, the adventurer leapt on his horse, and galloped down the steep hill at the risk of breaking his neck twenty times. So soon as he had crossed the stream and found himself in the open country, the Canadian checked his horse's pace, turned its head in the direction of the Río Grande del Norte, and put on his considering cap.

The worthy Canadian, with the reckless temerity characteristic of the wood rangers, had formed the plan of setting out in search of a village or encampment of Indios bravos, as he felt convinced, after what had occurred a few days previously, that there must be one in the neighbourhood. By joining the redskins he would have no difficulty, thanks to his thorough knowledge of Indian manners, in obtaining information about the fate of the ladies, which would enable him afterwards to attempt one of those daring strokes to which he was accustomed, and which had so often proved successful.

The idea was good, but the execution offered extraordinary difficulties. A trail is a very awkward thing to follow in a desert or in a savage country, where there are no other tracks but those made by wild beasts. Still, a good wood ranger, when he has once discovered the beginning of a trail, however confused it may be, always succeeds in reaching the other end. But the trail must exist, that is to say, some sign, however fugitive or slight, must warn the hunter in what direction the people he is pursuing have gone. But, under the present circumstances, that was not the Canadian's situation; the trail he proposed to follow he must, to a certain extent, invent, as he was entering the desert without any settled purpose, and entirely trusting to chance, that great performer of miracles.

The adventurer did not conceal from himself the difficulties of his enterprise, hence, he tried, as far as possible, to get chance over to his side. When he had forded the river and found himself on Indian territory, the hunter carefully inspected his weapons, in the probable event of his being obliged to use them; then, after riding for about a mile straight ahead, he threw the bridle on his horse's neck and let it follow its own impulses, and that infallible instinct which animals possess, and which puts human reason to shame. After a few moments' hesitation, the noble animal shook its head several times, stretched out its neck, and suddenly seeming to form a determination, started in a direction exactly opposite to that which its master had hitherto compelled it to follow.