The Rebel Chief: A Tale of Guerilla Life

The inspection held by the General was short and conscientious. It was not one of those reviews which rulers now and then offer the people as an amusement. On leaving the city these troops were going to march straight into action, and the great object was to know whether they were really in a condition to face the foe, whom they would attack a few hours later. The General's orders had been scrupulously carried out, the troops were well armed, and they had a martial air which it was a pleasure to see. When the President had passed along the ranks, now and then addressing soldiers whom he recognised, or pretended to recognize, – an old method which always succeeds, as it flatters the soldier's self-esteem – he stationed himself in the centre of the Paseo, and ordered several manoeuvres in order to gain an idea of the training of the troops. These manoeuvres, some of which were rather difficult, were executed with very satisfactory precision. The President warmly congratulated the commanding officers, and then the marching past began; but, after passing in front of the President, the troops resumed their former positions, and established a temporary bivouac.

Miramón, not wishing uselessly to fatigue his troops by compelling them to march during the great heat, had resolved not to set out till nightfall. Up to that moment the troops would bivouac on the Paseo. Among the officers who composed the President's staff, and returned with him to the palace, were Don Melchior de la Cruz, Don Antonio Cacerbas, and Don Jaime. Don Melchior, though he was rather surprised at seeing in military uniform a man whom he had hitherto only known by the name of Don Adolfo, and whom he supposed to be engaged in smuggling transactions, saluted him with an ironical smile. Don Jaime duly returned his salute, and got away, as he was not at all desirous of entering into conversation with him. As for Don Antonio, as he had never seen Don Jaime with his face uncovered, he paid no attention to him.

While the President was returning to the palace, Don Jaime, who had stopped on the Plaza Mayor, dismounted, and was joined by the Count and Dominique, with whom he had made an appointment, though they would not have recognised him, had he not taken the precaution of walking straight up to them.

"Are you going with the army?" they asked him.

"Yes, my friends, I am: but I shall be back here: unfortunately the campaign will not be a long one. During my absence, redouble your vigilance, I implore you: do not let my sister's house out of sight; one of our enemies will remain in the city."

"Only one?" said Dominique.

"Yes; but he is the more formidable of the two; the one whose life you so clumsily saved, Dominique."

"Good; I know him," the young man answered, "he had better look out."

"And Don Melchior?" the Count asked.

"He will not trouble us," Don Jaime answered, with a singular accent. "So, my dear friends, watch attentively, and do not allow yourselves to be surprised."

"If necessary we will make Leo Carral and our servants help us."

"That will be more prudent; and perhaps you would act wisely by lodging them in the house."

"We will attend to that."

"Now let us part, I have business at the palace. Good-bye for the present, my friends."

They separated. Don Jaime entered the palace and proceeded to the President's cabinet. The usher knew him, and raised no difficulty about letting him pass. Miramón was listening to the reports several scouts made him touching the enemy's movements. Don Jaime sat down and waited patiently till the President had finished his examination. At length the last scout completed his report and withdrew.

"Well," the President said, with a laugh, "have you seen the ambassador?"

"Certainly, General. Last night, after leaving you."

"And the famous letter?"

"Here it is," he said, handing it to him.

The General took the paper with a start of surprise, and rapidly perused it.

"Well?" Don Jaime asked him.

"We have not only carte blanche?" he answered; "But I am even begged to act severely against this man; it is wonderful, on my honour. You have more than carried out my promises. How did you manage it?"

"I simply asked for the letter."

"You are the most mysterious man I know: it is now my turn to fulfil my promise."

"There is no hurry."

"Do you no longer wish to have him arrested?"

"On the contrary: but not till our return."

"As you please: but what shall we do in the meanwhile?"

"We will leave him under the orders of the Town Commandant."

"By Jove, you are right."

The President wrote an order, sealed it, and called the usher. "Is Colonel Cacerbas here?" he asked.

"Yes, Excellency."

"Let him carry this order to the Town Commandant."

The usher took the order and went away.

"That is done," said the President

Don Jaime remained with the General till the hour for departure. At nightfall, the troops began defiling on the plaza, surrounded by the people, who shouted lustily. When all the troops had passed, the General left the palace, in his turn, with his staff. A large squadron of cavalry was drawn up in the plaza.

"Whose are those horsemen?" the General asked.

"My cuadrilla," Don Jaime answered with a bow.

These horsemen, wrapped in long heavy cloaks, and wearing broad brimmed hats, only allowed the end of their beard to be seen. It was in vain that the President examined them, trying to distinguish their faces.

"You cannot recognise them," Don Jaime said to him, in a low voice, "the beards are false, their dress is in itself a disguise; but, believe me, they will not fight the less bravely in action."

"I am persuaded of that, and thank you."

They set out. Don Jaime raised his sword, the horsemen wheeled and stationed themselves as a rear guard, they were three hundred in number. Differing from the Mexican cavalry, whose favourite weapon is the lance, they were armed with a carbine, the straight sabre of the French chasseur d'Afrique, and pistols in their holsters. At midnight the troops camped, orders were given not to light any bivouac fires. At about three in the morning a scout arrived. He was at once conducted to the President.

"Ah, ah! It is you, Lopez?" the General said, on recognising him.

"Yes, General," Lopez replied, with a smile to Don Jaime, who was seating by the President's side negligently smoking a cigarette.

"What news? Have you heard anything about the enemy?" Miramón asked.

"Yes, General, and quite fresh."

"All the better: where is he?"

"Four leagues from here."

"Good, we shall soon be there then. Which corps is it?"

"That of General Don Gonzalez Ortega."

"Bravo," the President said joyously, "you are a precious lad: here is something for you."

He placed several pieces of gold in his hand, "Give me the details," he continued.

"General Ortega is at the head of eleven thousand men, of whom three thousand are cavalry, and thirty-five guns."

"Have you seen them?"

"I marched with them for more than an hour."

"In what temper are they?"

"Well, General, they are furious against you."

"Good, rest yourself, you have an hour to sleep."

Lopez bowed and withdrew.

"At last then," said Miramón, "we are going to meet face to face."

"How many troops have you, General?" Don Jaime asked.

"Six thousand, of whom eleven hundred are cavalry and twenty guns."

"Hum," said Don Jaime, "against eleven thousand! It is not quite the double my friend, courage will make up for the deficiency."

"May heaven grant it!"

At four o'clock the camp was raised: Lopez acted; as guide. The troops, shivering with cold, were in a very unsatisfactory temper. At about seven they; halted, the army was drawn up in battle array in a very advantageous position and the guns placed in battery. Don Jaime drew up his horse behind the regular cavalry. Then, all arrangements being made, they breakfasted. At eight o'clock, what the Spaniards call a tiroteo began to be heard: the outposts were falling back before the heads of Ortega's columns, which were debouching on the battlefield selected by Miramón, and were exchanging shots with them.

Nothing would have been easier for the President than to avoid the battle, but he did not wish it, as he longed for the end. Miramón was surrounded by his surest lieutenants, Velez Cobos, Negrite, Ayestaran and Márquez. On perceiving the enemy he mounted his horse, rode along the ranks of his small army, gave his instructions in a loud sharp voice, strove to communicate to all the valiant ardor that inflated him, and raising his sword in the air, shouted – "Forward!"

The battle at once commenced. The Juarist army forced to form under the enemy's fire, had a marked disadvantage. Miramón's troops, excited by the example of their young chief, who was only twenty-six years of age, fought like lions and performed prodigies of valour. In vain did the Juarists try to establish themselves in the position they had chosen; they were driven back several times by the vigorous charges of the enemy. In spite of their numerical superiority, the soldiers only advanced inch by inch, and were constantly driven back and broken by the President's troops.

Miramón's lieutenants, into whom his soul seemed to have passed, placed themselves at the head of the troops, drew them after them, and dashed into the thickest of the fight. One more effort, and the battle was gained, and Ortega forced to retreat. Miramón hurried up. He judged the position with an infallible glance. The moment had arrived to hurl his cavalry on the centre of the Juarists, and break it by a decisive charge. The President shouted: "charge!" The cavalry hesitated. Miramón repeated the order. The cavalry set out, but, instead charging, one-half went over to the enemy, and charged with couched lances, the other half that still remained faithful. Demoralized by this sudden desertion, the cavalry who remained faithful turned round, and dispersed in all directions. The infantry, on seeing themselves thus cowardly deserted, fought without energy.

Cries of "treachery, treachery!" ran along the ranks. In vain did the officers try to lead the soldiers again against the enemy. They were demoralized. Ere long the flight became general. Miramón's army no longer existed. Ortega was once again the victor but through a shameful treachery at the very moment when he had lost the battle.

We have said that Don Jaime took up a position with his cuadrilla in the rear of Miramón's cavalry. Certainly, if three hundred men could have changed the issue of the battle, these brave horsemen would have accomplished the prodigy. Even when the rout was general, they continued fighting with unparalleled obstinacy against the Juarist cavalry, sent in pursuit of the fugitives. Don Jaime had an object in prolonging this unequal combat. As a witness of the unworthy treachery which had caused the loss of the battle, he had seen the officer who was the first to pass over to the enemy with his soldiers. This officer was Don Melchior. Don Jaime recognized him, and swore to capture him. The adventurer's cuadrilla was not composed of common horsemen, as they had already proved and would prove again. In a few hurried words, Don Jaime explained his intention. The horsemen uttered a yell of fury, and resolutely charged the enemy. There was a gigantic struggle of three hundred men against three thousand. The cuadrilla entirely disappeared, as if it had been suddenly buried beneath the formidable mass of its adversaries. Then the Juarists began oscillating. Their ranks became loosened. There a gap, and through this gap the cuadrilla passed, carrying off Don Melchior in its centre – a prisoner.

"To the President! To the President!" Don Jaime shouted, as he dashed with his whole band up to Miramón, who was vainly trying to rally a few detachments.

Miramón's lieutenants, who were all his friends, had not abandoned him. They had sworn to die with him. The cuadrilla made a last charge for the purpose of disengaging the general. Then, after taking one despairing glance at the battlefield, Miramón consented to listen to his friends, and retreat. Of his whole army, scarce a thousand men remained to him. The rest were dead, dispersed, or had gone over to the enemy.

The first moments of the retreat were terrible. Miramón was suffering from a fearful sorrow, caused not by his defeat, which he had foreseen, but by the cowardly treachery of which he was the victim. When they no longer feared being caught up by the enemy, the President ordered a halt, to enable the horses to breathe. Miramón, leaning against a tree, with folded arms and drooping head, maintained a stern silence, which his generals, standing near him, did not venture to break.

Don Jaime advanced, and, stopping two paces from the President, said: "General!"

At the sound of this friendly voice, Miramón raised his head, and offered his hand to the adventurer.

"Is it you?" he said, "My friend? Oh! Why did I so obstinately refuse to believe you?"

"What is done is done, General," the adventurer roughly answered. "We cannot recall it. But, before leaving the spot where we now are, you have a duty to fulfil – an exemplary act of justice to perform."

"What do you mean?" he asked with amazement.

The other generals drew nearer, no less surprised than he.

"You know why we were defeated?" the adventurer continued.

"Because we were betrayed."

"But do you know the traitor, General?"

"No, I do not," he said, passionately.

"Well, I do. I was there when he carried out his cowardly project, and was watching him; for I had been suspecting him for some time past."

"What matter? The villain cannot be reached now."

"You are mistaken, General, for I have brought him to you. I went to fetch him in the midst of his new comrades: and would have gone to the infernal regions to seize him."

At these words a quiver of joy ran along the ranks.

"By Heaven!" Cobos exclaimed; "the villain deserves quartering."

"Bring the man here," Miramón said, sadly; for his heart was painfully affected at being forced to act severely; "he shall be tried."

"That will not take long," said General Negrite; "he will meet with the death of traitors – shot from behind."

"We have only to prove his identity, and have him executed," Cobos added.

Don Jaime gave a signal, and Don Melchior was brought up by two. He was pale and haggard; his torn clothes were stained with blood and mud: his hands were fastened behind his back. The officers formed a court martial under the presidency of General Cobos.

"Your name?" the latter asked.

"Don Melchior de la Cruz," he replied in a hollow voice.

"Do you acknowledge that you went over to the enemy, taking your command with you?"

He made no answer, but his whole body was agitated by a convulsive tremor.

"The court is certain of this man's treachery," Cobos continued; "what punishment has he deserved?"

"That of traitors!" the officers unanimously replied.

"Let it be carried into effect," said Cobos.

The condemned was forced on his knees. Ten corporals formed a firing party, and placed themselves six paces behind him.

General Cobos then approached the condemned man. "Coward and traitor," he said to him, "you are unworthy of the rank to which you were raised. In the name of all our companions I declare you to be degraded and rejected from our midst."

A soldier then removed the symbols of Don Melchior's rank, and gave him a blow in the face. The young man uttered a tiger's yell at this insult, looked around him in horror, and made a movement to rise.

"Fire!" General Cobos shouted.

A detonation was heard; the criminal uttered a fearful cry of agony, and fell with his face on the ground, writhing in awful convulsions.

"Finish him!" Miramón said, pityingly.

"No!" Cobos cried, roughly; "Let him die like a dog. The more he suffers, the more perfect our vengeance will be."

Miramón gave a look of disgust, and ordered the boot and saddle to be sounded. The troops set out. Only two men remained with the wretched man, watching him writhe at their feet in atrocious agony. These two men were General Cobos and Don Jaime. Don Jaime bent down to him, raised his head, and forcing him to fix his glassy eyes on him, said in a hollow voice —

"Parricide! Traitor to your country and your brothers, the latter avenge themselves today. Die, like the dog you are. Your soul will go to the fiend who awaits it, and your body, deprived of sepulture, will be the prey of wild beasts!"

"Mercy!" the wretch cried, as he fell back. "Mercy!"

A final convulsion agitated his body, his crisped features became hideous; he uttered a horrible yell, and stirred no more. Don Jaime kicked him. He was dead!

"One!" the adventurer said, hoarsely, as he remounted.

"What?" asked General Cobos.

"Nothing; it is an account I am going over," he replied, with a burst of mocking laughter.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

FACE TO FACE

When General Miramón arrived in Mexico, the news of his defeat was already public. Then a singular fact occurred. The clergy and the aristocracy, whom President Miramón had always supported and defended, and yet whose indifference and egotism had caused his ruin and entailed his destruction, now deplored the way in which they had behaved to the man who was alone able of saving them. If Miramón had wished in this supreme hour to make an appeal to the people, they would immediately have gathered round him, and it would have been easy for him to organise a vigorous defence. The idea did not even occur to him. He was disgusted with power, and only longed to give it up, and retire into private life. His first care, immediately he arrived in Mexico, was; to assemble the diplomatic body, and beg its members to interpose for the sake of saving the city, by putting an end to a state of war which was no longer necessary from the moment when Mexico was prepared to open its gates to the Federal troops without a blow.

A deputation, composed of the ministers of France and Spain, General Bercozabal, the prisoner of Toluca, and General Ayestaran, a particular friend of Miramón, at once proceeded to General Ortega, in order to obtain an honorable capitulation. Don Antonio de Cacerbas had tried to join the deputation. He had heard of the deplorable end of his friend, Don Melchior, and a gloomy presentiment warned him that a similar fate impended over him. But the gates of the city were carefully guarded; no one could leave without a pass signed by the Town Commandant: and so, Don Antonio was forced to remain in Mexico. A letter he received restored him a little hope, by allowing him a glimpse of a speedier conclusion than he believed of plans, whose execution he had so long been pursuing. Still, as Don Antonio Cacerbas was a very prudent man, and as the gloomy machinations to which he had devoted his dark existence had accustomed him to be constantly on his guard, while remaining at home, as he was requested to do in the letter he had received, he summoned a dozen distinguished cutthroats, and concealed them behind the tapestry, in order to be ready for any event. It was the day of Miramón's return to Mexico, and about nine o'clock at night. Don Antonio had retired to his bedroom, and was reading, or rather, trying to read; for his troubled conscience did not allow him the necessary calmness of mind to take this innocent amusement, when he heard someone talking rather loudly in his anteroom. He at once rose and prepared to open his door, in order to enquire the cause of the noise he had heard, when this door opened, and his confidential servant appeared, acting as introducer of several persons. They were nine in number; six masked men wrapped in zarapés and three ladies. On seeing them, Don Antonio gave a nervous start, but immediately recovering himself, he remained standing at the table, probably waiting till one of the strangers resolved on speaking. This really happened.

"Señor Don Antonio," one of them said, advancing a step, "I bring you Doña Maria, Duchess de Tobar, your sister-in-law, Doña Carmen de Tobar, your niece, and Doña Dolores de la Cruz."

At these words, uttered with an accent of cutting irony, Don Antonio fell back a step, and his face, was covered with an earthy paleness.

"I do not understand you," he said in a voice which he strove in vain to render firm, but which trembled.

"Do you not recognise me, Don Horacio?" Doña Maria then said in a soft voice; "Has grief so completely altered my features that it is possible for you to deny that I am the unhappy wife of the brother whom you assassinated?"

"What means this farce?" Don Antonio exclaimed violently. "This woman is mad! And you, scoundrel, who dare to play with me, take care!"

The man to whom these words were addressed only replied by a laugh of contempt, raising his voice.

"You wish for witnesses to what is going to take place here, caballero? I presume you consider there are not enough of us to hear what is going to be said. Well, I consent; come out of your hiding places, señores; and you, caballeros, come."

At the same instant the tapestry was raised, the door opened, and some twenty persons entered the room.

"Ah! you are calling witnesses!" Don Antonio said in a mocking voice. "Well, then, your blood be on your own head!" And turning to his men standing behind him, he shouted, "Upon these scoundrels; kill them like dogs!" and he leaped on a brace of revolvers which were laid on a table within reach.

But no one stirred.

"Down with their masks," the person who had alone spoken hitherto said, "they are unnecessary now. We must speak to this gentleman with uncovered faces."

With a gesture he removed the mask that covered his face: his companions imitated him. The reader will have recognised them already. They were Don Jaime, Domingo, Count Ludovic, Leo Carral, Don Diego, and Loïck, the ranchero.

"Now, señor," Don Jaime continued, "put off your borrowed name, as we have thrown away our masks. Do you recognise me? I am Don Jaime de Birau, your sister-in-law's brother. For twenty-two years I have been following you step by step, Señor Don Horacio de Tobar, watching all your movements, and seeking the vengeance which Heaven at length grants me, great and complete as I dreamed of it."

Don Horacio haughtily raised his head, and surveying Don Jaime with a glance of sovereign contempt, he said to him – "Well, what next, my noble brother-in-law, for, as you desire, I give up all feigning, and consent to recognise you. What so grand and complete vengeance have you gained at the end of twenty-two years, noble descendant of the cid Campiada? – That of compelling me to kill myself – a fine profit. Is not a man of my stamp always ready to die? What more can you do? – Nothing. Suppose that I writhe bleeding at your feet, I shall bear with me to the tomb the secret of this vengeance which you do not suspect, and all whose profit remains with me, for I shall leave you on my death a more profound despair than that which turned your sister's hair white in a single night."

"Undeceive yourself, Don Horacio," Don Jaime answered; "I know all your secrets: and, as for your killing yourself, that consideration only takes the second place in my plan of vengeance. I, too, will kill you, but by the hangman's hand. You shall die dishonoured, the death of the infamous – by the garote, in a word."

"You lie, villain!" Don Horacio exclaimed, with a roar like a wild beast; "I – I – the Duke de Tobar, noble as the king! I, who belong to one of the oldest and most powerful families in Spain, die by the garote! Hatred has turned your brain – you are mad. I tell you, there is a Spanish ambassador in Mexico."

"Yes," Don Jaime answered, "but that ambassador leaves you to all the rigour of the Mexican laws."

"He, my friend, my protector, who introduced me to President Miramón? It is not so, it cannot be. Besides, what have I, a foreigner, to fear from the laws of this country?"

"Yes, a foreigner who took service with the Mexican government, in order to betray it to the profit of another. That letter, which you demanded so earnestly from Colonel Don Felipe, and which he refused to sell you, he gave me for nothing; and the compromising letters which were taken from you at Puebla, thanks to Don Estevan, whom you do not know, but who is your cousin, are at this moment in Juárez' hands. Hence you are hopelessly lost in that quarter; for, as you are aware, clemency is not one of Señor Don Benito Juárez' striking virtues. Lastly, I also possess your most precious secret – that which you believed so well guarded. I know of the existence of Doña Carmen's twin brother; I know also where he is, and can, if I like, suddenly bring him before you. See, here is the man to whom you sold your nephew," he added, pointing to Loïck, who was standing motionless by his side.