The Indian Chief: The Story of a Revolution

  CHAPTER V.

  THE FIRST POWDER BURNT.

  The emotion caused by the general's visit gradually calmed down. TheFrenchmen, so long the sport of Mexican bad faith, experienced almostjoy at seeing themselves at length liberated from the inextricable webof trickery which had encompassed them. With that carelessness whichforms the basis of the national character, they began laughing andjibing at the Mexicans generally, and especially at the authorities ofthe country, of whom they had to complain so greatly, though withoutdaring to offer the least observation, through respect for their chief.Full of confidence in the count, without calculating that they were onlya handful of men abandoned to their own resources, without help orpossible protection, more than six thousand leagues from their country,they indulged to the fullest extent of their imagination in the wildestdreams, discussing among themselves the most extraordinary and daringplans, without ever supposing, in their candid filibustering simplicity,that even the least extravagant of their dreams was impossible torealise.

  Louis would not allow the ardour of his volunteers to be chilled. Afterconsulting with his officers, to whom he submitted his plans, which theyaccepted enthusiastically, by Valentine's advice he ordered a generalassembly of the company. The bugles at once sounded, and the adventurerscollected around headquarters.

  "Gentlemen," the count said, "you see in what a position the breach offaith of the Mexican authorities has placed us; but this position, in myopinion, is far from being desperate. Still I must not conceal from youthat it is extremely grave, and, from certain information I have froma good source, it threatens to become still more so. We have two modesin which to act. The first is to proceed by forced marches to Guaymas,seize a vessel, and embark ere our enemies have thought about opposingour departure."

  A long murmur of dissatisfaction greeted these words.

  "Gentlemen," the count continued, "it was my duty to submit thisproposition to you, and you will discuss it amongst yourselves. Ifit does not suit you, no more need be said. And now for the second.Mexico, since its emancipation, has languished in a state of the mostscandalous barbarism. It would be grand to regenerate this people, orat least attempt it. The American emigration from the United Statesis at this moment invading California, leaving other emigrants nomeans, I will not say of prospering, but even of keeping on a footingof equality with the Yankees. We are here in Sonora, 200 resoluteFrenchmen, well armed and disciplined. Let us seize a large town to havea basis of operations; then we will summon to us the French emigrantsfrom California and all America. Let us emancipate Sonora, make it freeand strong, civilise it in spite of itself, and not only shall we havecreated an outlet for French immigration, but have regenerated a peopleand formed a colony which will advantageously balance American influenceon these shores, and oppose a dyke to its incessant encroachments.We shall have acquired a claim to the gratitude of our country, andhave avenged ourselves on our enemies in the way Frenchmen revengethemselves; that is to say, by responding to their insults by kindness.Such, gentlemen, are the two sole methods we can select which wouldbe worthy of men like us. Weigh my words carefully; reflect on mypropositions; and tomorrow, at sunrise, you will inform me of yourintentions through the channel of your officers. Remember one thingbefore all, comrades, and that is, you must maintain strict disciplineamong yourselves. Obey me passively, and place unbounded faith in me.If you fail in one of the duties I impose on you at this moment, weare all lost; for the struggle will become impossible, and consequentlyour enemies will gain an easy victory over us. In conclusion, brethren,accept my word that whatever may be the circumstances in which we findourselves--however magnificent the offers that may be made me--I willnever abandon you. We will perish or succeed together."

  This speech was greeted as it deserved to be; that is to say, withan enthusiasm impossible to describe. The count then withdrew withValentine.

  "Alas, brother!" he said to him, with an expression of heart-rendingsorrow, "the die is now cast. I, Count de Prebois Crance, am a rebel, apirate: I am at open war with a recognised power, with a constitutionalGovernment. What can I do with the few men I command? I shall perishin the first battle--the combat is senseless. I shall be ere long thelaughing stock of the world. Who could have predicted this when I leftSan Francisco, full of hope, to work those mines which I shall neversee? What has become of my fair dreams, my seductive hopes?"

  "Do not allow yourself to be downcast, brother," Valentine answered."At present, above all, you need all your intellect and all your energyto fulfil worthily the task accident imposes on you. Remember that fromthis intellect and this energy depends the safety of two hundred of yourcountrymen, whom you have sworn to lead back to the seashore; and youmust keep your oath."

  "I will die with them. What more can they demand?"

  "That you should save them," the hunter replied sternly.

  "That is my most anxious desire."

  "Your position is a fine one--you are not so alone as you fancy."

  "How so?"

  "Have you not the French colony of Guetzalli, founded by the Count deLhorailles?"

  "Yes," Louis answered sadly; "but the count is dead."

  "He is; but the colony exists, and is prosperous. You will find therefifty to sixty resolute men, who ask no better than to join you, even ifmerely through the spirit of adventure."

  "Fifty men are very few."

  "Nonsense! They are more than you need when dealing with Mexicans.Do one thing more: prepare an insurrection among the half savagepopulation, whose alcaldes pine secretly at their secondary position,and the species of vassaldom into which the Mexican Government forcesthem."

  "Oh, oh!" Louis said, "that is a good idea. But where is the man whowill undertake to visit this people, and negotiate with the alcaldes ofthe Pueblos?"

  "I will, if you like."

  "I did not dare ask it. Thank you. I, for my part, will prepareeverything in order to begin with a terrible blow, which will startlethe Mexican Government by giving it an idea of our strength."

  "Good! Before all, do not forget that, until fresh orders, the war youundertake must be an uninterrupted succession of daring blows."

  "Oh! you may be at ease. Now that the Mexicans have lifted the mask,and forced me to defend myself, they will learn to know the men theyhave so long despised, and whom they fancied cowards because they weregood-hearted."

  "Has Colonel Flores left?"

  "No, not yet."

  "Keep him here till tomorrow, no matter by what pretext."

  "Why so?"

  "Let me alone: you shall know. And now prepare to sustain an attack fromthe Indians: if my presentiments do not deceive me, it will be warm."

  "What makes you suppose that?"

  "Certain information I picked up for myself, and other still moreimportant I obtained from Curumilla. So try to prevent the Mexicancolonel leaving the camp, but do not let him suspect he is watched."

  "It shall be done. You know that I trust to you for the precautions tobe taken?"

  "Externally, yes; but do you watch that the lines are not forced."

  The greatest animation prevailed in the camp. Armories and smiths werebusily working with feverish ardour to place weapons, carts, and guncarriages in working condition. On all sides joyous shouts and bursts oflaughter could be heard; for these worthy adventurers had regained alltheir gaiety, now that there was a prospect of fighting; that is, ofdealing and receiving blows.

  Colonel Flores wandered about rather sadly in the midst of theconfusion: his position was becoming difficult, and he felt it. Stillhe did not know how to prolong his stay among the Frenchmen, now thatwar was declared, and the interests of the company of which he wasthe delegate were completely laid aside; and thus the only plausiblereason he could allege for remaining was cut away. Since the Frenchmen'sarrival in Mexico the double character played by the colonel brought himhandsome sums: his profession of spy, rendered easy by the confidingfrankness of the adventurers, had been to him a source of enormousprofit, an
d people do not give up without pain a lucrative engagement.

  Thus the colonel's brow was anxious, for he racked his brains invain for a plausible excuse to offer the count. In the height of hisdiplomatic combinations Valentine came to him, and told him, with themost innocent air possible, that Don Louis was seeking for him, andwished to speak with him. The colonel shuddered at the news: he thankedthe hunter, and hastened to the count. Valentine looked after him withan ironical smile; and, certain that Louis would detain him long enoughby his side, he commenced the execution of the plan he had prepared.

  While all this was occurring night had set in--a gloomy and sad night,without a star in the sky. The clouds shot rapidly across the sicklydisc of the moon, and intercepted its rays. The wind lamented sadly asit whistled through the branches of the trees, which dashed against eachother with a lugubrious sound. In the mysterious depths of the forestcould be heard growls and savage yells, mingled with the dashing of thecascade and the monotonous clashing of the pebbles rolled on the bank bythe river. It was one of those nights in which nature seems to associateherself with human sorrows, and lament at the crimes for which hergloomy shadows serve as a veil.

  By Valentine's orders the trees had been cut down for a distance offifty yards round the camp, in order to clear the ground, and deprivethe enemy of the chance of creeping up to the intrenchments unseen.On the space thus left free enormous fires were kindled at regularintervals. These fires, whose tall flames illumined the prairie for aconsiderable distance, formed a brilliant circle round the camp, whichwas itself plunged in complete obscurity. Not the slightest lightflashed in the mission. The intrenchments appeared to be deserted--nota sentry could be seen. The mission had fallen back into the silence ofsolitude--all was calm and tranquil.

  But this calm concealed the tempest. In the shadow palpitated theanxious hearts of the men who, with ear on the watch, and finger on thetrigger, awaited motionless the arrival of their enemies. The hours,however, passed away slowly one after the other, and nothing justifiedthe apprehensions expressed by Valentine as to a speedy attack.

  The count was walking up and down the church which served as hisretreat, listening anxiously to the slightest sounds that interruptedthe silence at intervals. At times he turned an angry and impatient lookupon the desert country, but nothing stirred--the same calm continuedever to oppress nature. Wearied by this long and enervating delay,he quitted the church, and proceeded toward the intrenchments. Theadventurers were at their posts, stretched on the ground, each man withhis hand on the trigger.

  "Have you seen or heard nothing yet?" the count asked, though he knewbeforehand the answer he would receive, and rather for the purpose ofdeceiving his impatience than with any other object.

  "Nothing," Don Cornelio answered coldly, who happened to be close to him.

  "Ah! it is you," the count said. "And Colonel Flores, what have you donewith him?"

  "I followed your instructions, commandant. He is asleep."

  "You are sure of it?"

  The Spaniard smiled.

  "I guarantee that he will sleep at least till sunrise," he said. "Imanaged matters well."

  "Very good; in that case we have nothing to fear from him."

  "Nothing at all."

  "Has anyone seen Don Valentine or the Indian chief?"

  "No; they both went out at sunset, and have not reappeared since."

  While speaking thus the two men were looking out, and their eyesattentively examined the plain: hence they made a gesture of surprise,almost of alarm, on suddenly perceiving a man who seemed to emerge fromthe ground, and rose between them like a phantom.

  "_Valgame Dios!_" the superstitious Spaniard said as he crossed himself,"what is this?"

  The count quickly drew a revolver from his girdle.

  "Do not fire," the newcomer said as he laid his hand on the count's arm.

  "Curumilla!" the count exclaimed in surprise.

  "Silence!" the Araucano commanded.

  "Where is Valentine?"

  "He sent me."

  "Then the redskins will not attack us this night?"

  Curumilla regarded the count with amazement.

  "Does not my brother see them?" he said.

  "Where?" the count asked in astonishment.

  "There!" Curumilla answered, stretching out his arm in the direction ofthe plain.

  Don Louis and Don Cornelio looked out for several instants with the mostsustained attention; but, in spite of all their efforts, they perceivednothing. The plain was still just as naked, lighted up by the ruddyglare from the braseros: here and there alone lay the trunks of thetrees felled during the day to leave an open prospect.

  "No," they said at length, "we see nothing."

  "The eyes of the white men are closed at night," the chief mutteredsententiously.

  "But where are they?" the count asked impatiently. "Why did you not warnus?"

  "My brother Koutonepi sends me for that purpose."

  The name of Koutonepi--that is to say, the Valiant--had been given toValentine by the Araucanos on his arrival in America, and Curumillanever called him otherwise.

  "Then make haste to teach us, chief, that we may foil the accursedstratagem which these demons have doubtlessly invented."

  "Let my brother warn his brothers to be ready to fight."

  The word ran immediately along the line from one to the other. Curumillathen tranquilly shouldered his rifle, and aimed at a trunk of a treerather nearer the intrenchments than the rest.

  Never did a shot produce such an effect. A horrible yell rose fromthe plain, and a swarm of redskins, rising, as if moved by a spring,from behind the stems of trees that sheltered them, rushed toward theintrenchments, bounding like coyotes, uttering fearful yells, andbrandishing their weapons furiously.

  But the Frenchmen were prepared for this attack: they received theIndians at the bayonet point without recoiling an inch, and answeringtheir ferocious yells with the unanimous shout of "VIVE LA FRANCE!"

  From this moment war was, _de facto_, declared. The French had smelledpowder, and the Mexicans were about to learn, at their own expense, whatrude enemies they had so madly brought on themselves.

  Still the redskins, led and animated by their chief, fought withextraordinary obstinacy. The majority of the Frenchmen who composedthe company were ignorant of the way of fighting with the Indians, andit was the first time they had come into collision with them. Whilevaliantly resisting them, and inflicting on them terrible losses, theycould not refrain from admiring the audacious temerity of these men,who, half naked and wielding wretched weapons, yet rushed upon them withinvincible courage, and only fell back when dead.

  Suddenly a second band, more numerous than the first, and composedentirely of horsemen, burst on to the battlefield, and sustained theefforts of the assailants. The latter, feeling themselves supported,redoubled their yells and efforts. The medley became terrible: thecombatants fought hand to hand, lacerating each other like wild beasts.

  The French bugles and drums sounded the charge heartily.

  "A sortie--a sortie!" the adventurers shouted, ashamed at being thusheld in check by enemies apparently so insignificant.

  "Kill, kill!"

  The Indians responded with their war cry.

  An Indian chief, mounted on a magnificent black horse, and with his bodynaked to the waist, curveted in the front rank of his men, droppingwith his club every man that came within reach of his arm. Twice hehad made his steed leap at the barricades, and twice he scaled them,though unable to clear them completely. This chief was Mixcoatzin. Hisblack eye flashed with a sombre fire; his arm seemed indefatigable;and everyone withdrew from this terrible enemy, who was apparentlyinvincible.

  The sachem redoubled his boldness, incessantly urging on his men, andinsulting the whites by his shouts and ironical gestures.

  Suddenly a third troop appeared on the battlefield, which, owing tothe braziers, was as light as day. But this troop, composed, likethe second, of horsemen, instead
of joining the Indians, formed asemicircle, and charged them furiously, shouting,--

  "_A muerte_--_a muerte!_"

  Valentine's powerful voice at this moment rose above the tumult ofbattle, and even reached those he wished to warn.

  "Now is the time!" he shouted.

  The count heard him. Turning then to fifty of the adventurers whobad remained inactive since the beginning of the action, chafing andtrailing their arms,--

  "It is our turn, comrades!" he shouted as he drew his long sword. Then,opening the wicket, he bounded boldly into the _melee_, followed by hisparty, who rushed after him with shouts of joy. The Indians were caughtbetween two fires--a thing which rarely happens--and compelled tofight in the open. Still they were not discouraged, for Indian braverysurpasses all belief. Finding themselves surrounded, they resolved todie bravely sooner than surrender; and though not nearly so well armedas their enemies, they received their attack with unlessened resolution.

  But the Indians, on this occasion, had not to do with Mexicans, and soondiscovered the difference. The charge of the Frenchmen was irresistible:they passed like a tornado through the redskins, who, in spite of theirresolution, were compelled to give ground. But flight was impossible.Recalled by the voices of their chiefs, who, while themselves fightingbravely, did not cease to urge them to redouble their efforts, theyreturned to the combat. The struggle then assumed the giganticproportions of a horrible carnage. It was no longer a battle, but abutchery, in which each sought to kill, caring little about fallinghimself, so long as he dragged down his foeman with him.

  Valentine, the greater part of whose life had been spent in the desert,and who had frequently encountered the Indians, had never before seenthem display so great animosity, and, above all, such obstinacy; forusually, when they suffer a check, far from obstinately continuing afight without any possible advantageous result for themselves, theyretire immediately, and seek safety in a hurried flight; but this timetheir mode of fighting was completely changed, and it seemed that themore they recognised the impossibility of victory, the more anxious theyfelt to resist.

  The count, ever in front of his comrades, whom he encouraged by hisgestures and voice, tried to approach Mixcoatzin, who, still curvetingon his black horse, performed prodigies of valour, which electrifiedhis men, and threatened, if not to change the face of the combat, atany rate to prolong it. But each time that chance brought him in frontof the chief, and he prepared to rush upon him, a crowd of combatants,driven back by the changing incidents of the fight, came between them,and neutralised his efforts.

  For his part, the sachem also strove to approach the count, with whom heburned to measure himself, persuaded that, if he succeeded in killingthe chief of the palefaces, the latter would be struck with terror, andabandon the battlefield.

  At length, as if by mutual agreement, the white men and Indians fellback a few paces, doubtlessly to prepare for a final contest; and itwas then that, for the first time since the combat, the count and thesachem found themselves face to face. The two men exchanged a flashingglance, and rushed upon each other furiously. Neither of the chiefs hadfirearms: the sachem brandished his terrible club, and the count wavedhis long sword, which was reddened to the hilt.

  "At last!" the count shouted, as he raised his weapon over his head.

  "Begging dog of the palefaces," the Indian said with a grin, "you bringme, then, your scalp, that I may attach it to the entrance of my cabin!"

  They were only two paces from each other, each awaiting the favourablemoment to rush on his enemy. On seeing their chiefs ready to engage, thetwo parties rushed forward impetuously, in order to separate them andrecommence the combat; bat Don Louis, with a gesture of supreme command,ordered his companions not to interfere. The adventurers remainedmotionless. On his side, Mixcoatzin, seeing the noble and gallantcourtesy of the count, commanded his comrades to keep back. The redskinsobeyed, and the question was left to be decided between Don Louis andthe sachem.