"I have not time at this moment to read the despatch," he said, drily.

At the period when our history takes place, General Don Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna was thirty-nine to forty years of age; he was tall and finely built; he had a lofty and projecting forehead, rounded chin, and slightly aquiline nose, large black eyes, full of expression, and a flexible mouth, which gave him an air of remarkable n.o.bility, while his black and curly hair, which formed a contrast to the yellowish tinge of his complexion, covered his temples and his high-boned cheeks. Such, physically, was the man who, for thirty years, has been the evil genius of Mexico, and has led it to infallible ruin by making himself the cause or pretext of all the wars and revolutions which, since his first a.s.sumption of power, have incessantly overwhelmed this unhappy country.

We must now ask our reader's pardon, but we must talk a little politics, and describe cursorily the facts which preceded and led to the denouement of the too lengthy story we have undertaken to narrate.

If the Mexicans had gained an important advantage over the Texans, in another portion of the revolted territory they had experienced a check, whose consequences must prove immense for them. The Mexican General Cos was besieged in the town of Bejar by the Texans; the latter, with that want of foresight so natural to volunteers of all countries, believing that they had only a campaign of a few days, had laid in no provisions or winter clothing, though the rainy season was at hand, hence they were beginning to grow discouraged and talk about raising the siege; when El Alferez, that mysterious personage we have come across several times, went to the General in Chief and pledged himself to compel the Mexicans to capitulate, if three hundred men were given him.

The young partizan's reputation for intrepidity had long been famed among the Texans, and hence his offer was accepted with enthusiasm. El Alferez performed his promise. The town was captured after four terrible a.s.saults; but the young Chief, struck by a bullet in the forehead, fell in the breach, with his triumph as his winding sheet. A fact was then ascertained which had hitherto been only vaguely suspected:--El Alferez, the daring and formidable partisan, was a woman. General Cos, his staff, and one thousand five hundred Mexicans laid down their arms, and all filed, in the presence of the handful of insurgents who had survived the a.s.saults and the corpse of their intrepid Chieftain, which was clothed in feminine attire, and seated in a chair covered with the flags taken from the vanquished. The Mexicans left the territory of the New Republic, after pledging their word of honour not to oppose the recognition of independence.

Santa Anna received news of the defeat at Bejar while stationed at San Luis de Potosi. Furious at the affront the Mexican arms had received, the President, after flying into a furious pa.s.sion with the generals who had hitherto directed the military operations, swore to avenge the honour of Mexico, which was so disgracefully compromised, and finally finish with these rebels whom no one had yet been able to conquer. The President organized an army of six thousand men, a truly formidable army, if we take into account the resources of the country in which these events occurred. The preparations, urged on by that vigour produced by wounded pride and the hope of vengeance, were soon completed, and Santa Anna entered Texas, after dividing his army into three corps, under the orders of Filisola, Cos, Urrea, and Garrey.

After effecting his junction with General Rubio, to whom he had sent an aide-de-camp with orders to remain in his quarters and not risk a battle before his arrival, an order which the General received too late, the President determined to deal a decisive blow by recapturing Bejar and seizing on Goliad.

Bejar and Goliad are two Spanish towns; roads run from them to a common centre, the heart of the Anglo-American settlements. The capture of these two towns, as the basis of operations, was, consequently, of the highest importance to the Mexicans. The Texans, weakened and demoralized by their last defeat, were unable to resist so formidable an invasion as the one with which they saw themselves menaced. The Mexican army carried on a true war of savages, pa.s.sing like a flood over this hapless country, plundering and burning the towns. The two first months that followed Santa Anna's arrival in Texas were an uninterrupted series of successes for the Mexicans, and seemed to justify the new method inaugurated by the President, however barbarous and inhuman it might be in its results. The Texans found themselves in a moment reduced to so precarious a condition, that their ruin appeared to competent men inevitable, and merely a question of time.

Let us describe, in a few words, the operations of the Mexican army.

Before resuming our narrative at the point where we left it, we have said already that the Mexican forces had been divided into three corps.

Three thousand men, that is to say, one moiety of the Mexican army, commanded by Generals Santa Anna and Cos, and well supplied with artillery, proceeded to lay siege to Bejar. This town had only a feeble garrison of one hundred and eighty men, but this garrison was commanded by Colonel Travis, one of the greatest and purest heroes of the War of Independence. When completely invested, Travis withdrew to the citadel, not feeling at all alarmed by the numbers he had to fight. He was summoned to surrender.

"Nonsense!" he answered with a smile; "we will all die, but your victory will cost you so dearly that a defeat would be better for you."

And he loyally kept his word, resisting for a whole fortnight with unexampled bravery, and incessantly exhorting his comrades. Thirty-two Texans managed to throw themselves into the fort, after traversing the entire Mexican army.

"We have come to die with you," the chief of this heroic forlorn hope said to him.

"Thanks," was all the answer.

Santa Anna, whose strength had been more than doubled during the siege, summoned Colonel Travis for the last time, saying there would be madness in risking an a.s.sault with a practicable breach.

"We will fill it up with our dead bodies," the Colonel n.o.bly answered.

The President ordered the a.s.sault, and the Texans were killed to the last man. The Mexicans then entered the citadel, not as conquerors, but with a secret apprehension, and as if ashamed of their triumph. They had lost fifteen hundred men.[1]

"Oh!" Santa Anna exclaimed bitterly, "another such victory and we are lost!"

So soon as Bejar was reduced, attention was turned to Goliad. But here one of those facts occurred which history is compelled to register, were it only to stigmatize and eternally brand the men who have been guilty.

Goliad is an open town, without walls or citadel to arrest an enemy, and Colonel Fanni had abandoned it, as he had only five hundred Texan Volunteers with him. Compelled to leave his ammunition and baggage behind, in order to effect his retreat with greater speed, he was suddenly attacked on the prairie by General Urrea's Mexican division, nineteen hundred strong. Obeying their Colonel's orders, the Texans formed square, and for a whole day endured the attack of the foe without flinching. The Mexicans involuntarily admiring the desperate heroism of these men, who had no hope of salvation, implored them to surrender, while offering them good and honourable conditions. The Texans hesitated for a long time, for, as they did not dare trust the word of their enemies, they preferred to die. Still, when one hundred and forty Texans had fallen, the Colonel resolved to lay down his arms, on the condition that his soldiers and himself should be regarded as prisoners of war, treated as such, and that the American Volunteers should be embarked for the United States at the charges of the Mexican Government. These conditions having been accepted by General Urrea, the Texans surrendered.

Santa Anna, who was still at Bejar, refused to ratify the treaty; and by his _express orders_, in spite of the prayers and supplications of all his generals, he directed the ma.s.sacre of the prisoners. The three hundred and fifty prisoners were murdered in cold blood, on a prairie situated between Goliad and the sea. General Urrea, whom this infamous treason dishonoured, broke his sword, weeping with rage. This horrible ma.s.sacre was the signal for a general upheaval, and all ran to arms; despair restored the energy of the Insurgents, and a new army seemed to spring from the ground as if by enchantment. General Houston was appointed Commander-in-Chief, and on both sides preparations were made for the supreme and decisive struggle.

[1] It was at this marvellous siege, better known as that of the Alamo, that Colonels Crockett and Bowie were killed.--L.W.

CHAPTER XX.

THE BIVOUAC.

As we have already said, Texas had reached a decisive epoch: unfortunately, her future seemed as gloomy as that of the conquered: in spite of the heroic efforts attempted by the Insurgents, the rapid progress of the invasion was watched with terror, and no possible means of resistance could be seen. Still it was this moment, when all appeared desperate, which the Convention, calm and moved by a love of liberty more ardent than ever, selected to hurl a last and supreme defiance at the invaders. Not allowing itself to be intimidated by evil fortune, the convention replied to the menaces of the conquerors by a statement of rights, and the definitive declaration of the independence of a country which was almost entirely occupied by, and in the power of the Mexicans.

It improvised a const.i.tution, created a provisional executive authority, decreed all the measures of urgency which the gravity of circ.u.mstances demanded, and finally nominated General Sam Houston Commander-in-Chief, with the most widely extended powers.

Unhappily the Texan army no longer existed, for its previous defeats had completely annihilated it. But if military organization might be lacking, the enthusiasm was more ardent than ever. The Texans had sworn to bury themselves under the smoking ruins of their plundered towns and villages, sooner than return beneath the detested yoke of their oppressors. And this oath they were not only prepared to keep, but had already kept at Bejar and Goliad: however low a people may appear, and is really in the sight of its tyrants, when all its acting strength is concentrated in the firm and immutable will, to live free or die, it is certain to recover from its defeats, and to rise again one day a conqueror, and regenerated by the blood of the martyrs who have succ.u.mbed in the supreme struggle of liberty against slavery.

General Houston had scarce been appointed ere he prepared to obey, and he reached the banks of the Guadalupe three days after the capture of the Alamo. The Texan troops amounted to _three hundred_ men, badly armed, badly clothed, almost dying of hunger, but burning to take their revenge. General Houston was a stern and sincere patriot; his name is revered in Texas, like that of Washington in the United States, or of Lafayette in France. Houston was a precursor, or one of those geniuses whom it pleases G.o.d to create when He desires to render a people free.

At the sight of this army of three hundred men, Houston was not discouraged; on the contrary, he felt his enthusiasm redoubled, the heroic relics of the ten thousand victims who had succ.u.mbed since the beginning of the war had not despaired of the salvation of their country: like their predecessors, they were ready to die for her. It was a sacred phalanx with which he would achieve miracles.

Still, it was not with these three hundred men, however brave and resolute they might be, that General Houston could entertain a hope of defeating the Mexicans, who, rendered presumptuous by their past successes, eagerly sought the opportunity to finish once for all with the Insurgents, by crushing the last relics of their army. General Houston, before risking an action on which the fate of his new country would doubtless depend, resolved to form an army once more; for this purpose, instead of marching on the enemy, he fell back on the Colorado, and thence on the Brazos, burning and destroying everything in his pa.s.sage, in order to starve the Mexicans out.

These clever tactics obtained all the success the General expected from them; for a very simple reason: as he fell back on the Mexican frontier, his army was daily augmented by fresh recruits, who, on the report of his approach, left their houses or farms to enlist under his banner; while the contrary happened to the Mexicans, who at each march they made in pursuit of the Insurgents, left a few laggards behind, who by so much diminished their strength.

The Texan General had a powerful motive for falling back on the American frontier; he hoped to obtain some help from General Gaines, who, by the order of President Jackson, had advanced on Texan territory as far as the town of Nagogdoches. Such was the state of affairs between Houston and Santa Anna, the one retreating, the other continually advancing; though ere long they must meet face to face, in a battle which would decide the great question of a nation's emanc.i.p.ation or servitude.

On the day when we resume our narrative it was about eight in the evening, the heat had been stifling throughout the day, and although night had fallen long before, this heat, far from diminishing, had but increased; there was not a breath of air, the atmosphere was oppressive, and low lightning-laden clouds rolled heavily athwart the sky; all, in fact, foreboded a storm.

On the banks of a rather wide stream, whose yellowish and turbid waters flowed mournfully between banks clothed with cotton-wood trees, the bivouac fires of a small detachment of cavalry might be seen glistening like stars in the darkness. This stream was a confluent of the Colorado, and the men encamped on its banks were Texans. They were but twenty-five in number, and composed the entire cavalry of the Army of Independence: they were commanded by the Jaguar.

While the hors.e.m.e.n were sadly crouching over the fires, not far from which their horses were hobbled, and conversing in a low voice; their Chief, who had retired to a jacal made of branches and lighted by a smoky candil, was sitting on an equipal with his back leant against a tree trunk, with his arms folded on his chest and gazing at vacancy. The Jaguar was no longer the young and ardent man we introduced to our readers; his face was pale, his features contracted, and eyes blood-shot with fever, and, though faith still dwelt in his heart, hope was dead.

The truth was that death had begun to make frightful gaps around him; his dearest friends, the most devoted supporters of the cause he defended, had fallen one after the other in this implacable struggle. El Alferez, Captain Johnson, Ramirez, Fray Antonio, were lying in their b.l.o.o.d.y graves; of others he received no news, nor knew what had become of them; he therefore stood alone, like an oak bowed by the wind and beaten by the storm, resisting intrepidly, but foreseeing his approaching fall.

General Houston, in his calculated retreat, had confided the command of the rear guard, that is to say, the most honourable and dangerous post, to the Jaguar; a post he had accepted with gloomy joy, as he felt sure that he would fall gloriously, while watching over the safety of all.

In the meantime the night became blacker and blacker, the horizon more menacing; a white and sharp rain began piercing the grey fog; the storm was rapidly approaching, and must soon burst forth. The soldiers watched with terror the progress of the storm, and instinctively sought shelter against this convulsion of nature, which was far more terrible than the other dangers which menaced them. For no one, who has not witnessed it, can form even a remote idea of an American hurricane, which twists trees like wisps of straw, fires forests, levels mountains, drives streams from their bed, and in a few hours convulses the surface of the soil.

Suddenly a dazzling flash furrowed the darkness, and a crashing burst of thunder broke the majestic silence that brooded over the landscape. At the same instant the sentry stationed a few paces in front of the bivouac challenged. The Jaguar sprang up as if he had received an electric shock, and bounding forward, as he mechanically seized the weapons lying within reach, listened. The dull sound of horses' hoofs could he heard on the soddened ground.

"Who's there?" the sentry challenged a second time.

"Friends," a voice replied.

"_Que gente?_"

"Texas."

The Jaguar emerged from the jacal.

"To arms!" he shouted to his men, we must not let ourselves be surprised.

"Come, come," the voice continued, "I see that I have not diverged from the track, since I can hear the Jaguar."

"Halloh!" the latter said in surprise, "who are you, that you know me so well?"

"By Jove! A friend whose voice should be familiar to you, at any rate."

"John Davis!" the young man exclaimed with a joy he did not attempt to conceal.

"All right!" the American continued gaily. "I thought that we should understand one another presently."