The Indian Chief: The Story of a Revolution

by Gustave Aimard

  CHAPTER XXI.

  THE CAPTURE OF HERMOSILLO.

  Although the horses ridden by the count's escort were good, the hunterswere mounted on such fast mustangs that they caught up Don Louis withintwenty minutes of his leaving the hacienda. On hearing hurried footfallsbehind them, the Frenchmen, not knowing who could be coming like atornado after them, bravely wheeled round; but Belhumeur prevented anymisunderstanding by making himself known.

  "You are welcome, you and your companions, Belhumeur," the count said tohim. "But what urgent reason compels you to gallop so late along theroads?"

  "A service I want to ask of you, Don Louis," the Canadian franklyreplied.

  "A service! Speak, my friend: whatever it may be, if it depends on me,it is granted before asking."

  "What I want _does_ depend on you."

  "What is it?"

  "My comrades and myself wish to have the honour of fighting by your sidetomorrow."

  "Is that the service you had to ask of me, Belhumeur?"

  "Yes, and no other."

  "Then you are mistaken, my friend: you mean to say a service to renderme. I heartily accept your proposition, and thank you for it cordially."

  "Then that is arranged. You admit us into your ranks?"

  "By Jove! I should be mad not to do so."

  Belhumeur informed his friends of the success of his negotiation, andthey rejoiced at it as if they had received the handsomest possiblepresent. After this slight incident, the party, increased by the threenew recruits, went onwards. The Frenchmen trotted on in the darknesslike a troop of silent phantoms, bending over the necks of their horses,eagerly questioning the sounds that rose from the desert, and soundingthe gloom in order to obtain some sign that they were approaching theircomrades.

  Captain Charles de Laville, though still very young, seemed predestinedfor the part he was playing at this moment. His glance was infallible,both as superior chief and as a subordinate leader: he not onlyunderstood with extreme rapidity the orders he received, but seizedtheir meaning and carried them out with rare intelligence.[1] Thecount had not been in error for a moment about de Laville's brilliantqualities. Hence he had made him a favourite, and, whenever he had adifficult duty to intrust to anyone, he gave it to him, certain thathe would perform it with honour. The success surpassed his hopes onthis occasion; for De Laville executed the advance movement with suchprecision and in such profound silence that the count almost foundhimself up with the rear before he suspected he was anywhere near it.

  In order to march more rapidly, and not be in any way detained, thecaptain had left his wagons and baggage at a deserted rancho about aleague from the city, under the guard of the invalids, who, althoughtoo weak to fight in the ranks of the company, could yet, behindintrenchments, offer a sufficiently lengthened resistance to allow theircomrades to come to their assistance.

  The count passed through the ranks, saluted in an affectionate voice byhis men, and placed himself at the head of the column. For two monthspast the fatigue Don Louis had endured, and the constant state ofexcitement in which events kept him, had seriously injured his health;and it was only by his energy and will that he succeeded in conqueringhis illness and keeping upright. He understood that if he gave way allwas lost: hence he wrestled with his sufferings, and though a feverdevoured him, his face remained calm, and nothing revealed to hiscomrades the sufferings he endured with the courage of a stoic. Still hesuddenly felt himself attacked by such a feeling of weakness, that hadnot Valentine, who guessed his condition, and watched over him like amother, held him in his arms, he must have fallen from his horse.

  "What is the matter, brother?" the hunter asked him affectionately.

  "Nothing," he answered, as he passed his hand over his forehead, whichwas dank with icy perspiration and fatigue; "but," he added, "it hasgone off now."

  "Take care, brother," he said to him with a sad shrug of his shoulders:"you do not nurse yourself enough."

  "Eh? Can I do it? But be not alarmed. I know what I want: the smell ofpowder will restore me. Look, look! we have reached our destination atlast."

  In fact, by the first rays of the sun, which rose majestically above thehorizon, Hermosillo, with its white houses glistening, now was visibleabout a cannon shot off. An immense shout of joy from the whole companygreeted the so-ardently-desired appearance of the city. The order tohalt was given. The city was silent--it seemed deserted: not a sound washeard within its walls. So calm, quiet, and dumb was it, that you mighthave fancied that you had before you that city in the Arabian Nightswhich a wicked enchanter struck with his wand and plunged into eternalsleep.

  The country was deserted. Only here and there the fragments of arms,uniforms, sandals, the footsteps of horses, and the furrows of cartsindicated the recent passage of General Guerrero's troops. The countexamined the city for a while with the utmost attention, in order tomake his final arrangements, when suddenly two horsemen appeared onthe bridge to which we have already alluded, and galloped toward thecompany, waving a flag of truce.

  "Let us see what these persons want," the count said.

  And he galloped up to them.

  "What do you want, gentlemen, and who are you?" he said when he came upto them.

  "We wish," one of them said, "to speak with the Count de Prebois Crance."

  "I am the count. Be good enough to tell me what brings you here."

  "Monsieur le comte, I am a Frenchman," the first speaker said.

  "I recognise you, sir. Your name is Thollus, I believe, and you are amerchant at Hermosillo."

  "Quite correct, monsieur le comte. My companion is Senor ----"

  "Don Jacinto Jabali,[2] a _juez de letras_, I suppose, or something ofthat sort, a great friend of General Guerrero. Well, gentlemen, I do notexactly see what we can have in common."

  "Pardon me, sir, we are sent to you by Senor Don Flavio Agustado,Prefect of Hermosillo, in order to make certain propositions to you."

  "Ah, ah!" the count said, champing his moustache. "Are you really?"

  "Yes, sir, and very advantageous propositions too," the merchant said inan insinuating tone.

  "For you possibly, sir, who sell calico and false jewellery, but Ihardly think so for me."

  "Still, if you would permit me to fulfil my mission, and tell you theseconditions, it is possible----"

  "What do you say? Why, my good sir, I want nothing better. Acquityourself of your mission--that is only too proper; still, make haste,for I am pressed for time."

  M. Thollus drew himself up, and after consulting for a moment with hiscompanion, he continued his speech, Don Louis standing coldly and like arock of granite before him.

  "Monsieur le comte, Don Flavio Agustado, Prefect of Hermosillo, whom Ihave the honour to represent----"

  "That is all settled. Come to the fact," Don Louis interrupted himimpatiently.

  "Offers you, if you consent to retire with your army without making anattempt on the city," the negotiator continued--"offers you, I say, thesum of----"

  "Enough, sir!" the count exclaimed, red with indignation; "a word morewould be an insult which, in spite of your quality as a flag of truce,I might not have the patience to let pass unpunished. And it is you,sir, a man who calls himself a Frenchman, who dares to become the bearerof such dishonouring conditions? You lie, you are not my countryman--Idisown you as such."

  "Still, monsieur le comte----" the poor fellow stammered, completelytaken aback by this galling reprimand, and not knowing how to look.

  "Enough!" the count interrupted him; and drawing his watch from hispocket, he said in a peremptory tone, which admitted of no reply, andterrified the negotiators. "It is now eight o'clock. Go and tell yourprefect that in two hours I shall attack the city, and at eleven shallbe master of it. Begone!"

  And with a gesture of supreme contempt he ordered them to retire. Theunlucky envoys did not wait to hear the order repeated; they turned backat once, and regained the city with hanging heads. The count gallopedup to the head of the column
, where the officers were assembledslightly in advance of the ranks, impatiently awaiting the result of theconference.

  "Gentlemen," the count said to them on coming up, "get ready to fight."

  The news was greeted with a shout of joy, which had the effect ofincreasing the speed of the negotiators, in whose ears it echoedlike a death knell. After this the count, with extreme simplicityand clearness, pointed out to each officer the post he must occupyduring the action. He placed the whole of the cavalry under the ordersof Captain de Laville; selected Don Cornelio, who had only rejoinedthe company on the previous evening, as his aide-de-camp; and, atValentine's request, he placed under the latter's orders the Canadianhunters and the Indians, with authority to act as he thought proper, andin whatever way he considered most advantageous to the common welfare.

  De Laville, sent forward with a dozen horsemen to reconnoitre, soonreturned, announcing that the city appeared to be in a complete state ofdefence, that the roofs of the houses were covered with soldiers, thatthe tocsin was pealing from all the churches, and the drums making afrightful disturbance. At this moment a spy announced that a body of twoto three hundred Indians was apparently threatening the baggage, and thecount at once sent off ten men to reinforce the small garrison he hadleft in the rear. This final duty accomplished, he ordered the companyto form a circle, and placed himself in the centre. Then he spoke in avoice trembling with emotion.

  "Comrades," he said, "the hour to avenge ourselves for all the villainypractised on us during the last four months, and the atrocious calumniesspread about us, has at length struck. But let us not forget that weare Frenchmen; and if we have been patient under insults, let us hemagnanimous after victory. We did not desire war; it was forced upon us,and we accept it. But remember that we are fighting for the liberty of apeople, and that our enemies of today will be our brothers tomorrow. Letus be terrible during the combat, merciful after the battle. One lastword, or rather a final prayer. Leave the Mexicans the responsibilityof firing the first shot, so that it may be evident that up to the lastmoment we desired peace. Now, brothers, long live France!"

  "Long live France!" the adventurers shouted as they brandished theirweapons.

  "Each to his post!" the count commanded.

  The order was executed with marvellous precision. Don Louis drew outhis watch: it was ten o'clock. Then he unsheathed his sabre, wielded itround his head, and turning to the company, every man in which had hiseyes fixed on the leader, he shouted in a sonorous voice,--

  "Forward!"

  "Forward!" the officers repeated.

  The column started in good order, marching at quick step, with trailedarms.

  We have mentioned the bridge which alone gave admission to the city:this bridge was barricaded, and at the other end was a house crowdedwith soldiers from the cellars to the _azotea_. A silence of deathbrooded over the plain. The Frenchmen marched on coolly, as if onparade, with heads raised and flashing eyes. On arriving within musketshot the walls were begirt with a line of fire, and a frightfuldischarge scattered death among the Frenchmen. The company at once brokeinto skirmishing order, and rushed onwards.

  At this moment an unheard-of, incredible thing was seen--a city of10,000 souls, surrounded by walls, and defended by a numerous garrison,attacked by 250 men fighting in the Indian way; that is, in skirmishingorder. The artillery, dragged by its gunners, advanced at the samespeed, and only stopped to load and fire.

  Even before the Mexicans had time to look round the Frenchmen were onthem like a whirlwind, attacked them at the bayonet's point, droveback the defenders of the bridge, and entered without a check thecity, sweeping before them, in their irresistible attack, all thatopposed their passage. Then the real battle began. The Frenchmen foundthemselves opposite four guns loaded with grape, which swept the wholelength of the street at the end of which they were; while to the rightand left, from windows and roofs, a shower of bullets pattered on them.The position was becoming critical. The count dismounted, and turning tohis soldiers with the shout, "Who'll take the guns?" he rushed forward.

  "We, we!" the Frenchmen yelled, as they chased after him with unexampledfrenzy.

  The artillerymen were sabred at their guns, the muzzles of which wereimmediately turned on the Mexicans. At this moment the count perceived,as in a cloud, Valentine and his hunters, who were fighting like demons,and massacring the Indians pitilessly, who tried in vain to resist them.

  "Good heavens!" Black Elk said with beatitude at every blow he dealt,"it was a lucky idea of mine to come."

  "It really was," Belhumeur replied; and he redoubled his blows.

  Valentine had turned the city, and taking advantage of a forgottenladder, escaladed the wall, and, without striking a blow, made prisonersthe post stationed there, which was commanded by an officer.

  "Thanks for the ladder, comrade," he said to the latter with a grin; andopening the gate of the city, he allowed the cavalry to enter.

  Still the Mexicans fought with the energy of despair. General Guerrero,who flattered himself with the hope of giving the French a severelesson, surprised and terrified by their fury, no longer knew whatmeasures to take in order to resist these invincible demons, as hecalled them, whom nothing could arrest, and who, without deigning toreply to their enemies' fire, had only fought with the bayonet sincetheir first discharge.

  Driven in on all sides, the general concentrated his troops on theAlameda, and protected the approaches by guns loaded with canister. Inspite of the enormous losses they had suffered, the Mexicans were stillmore than six hundred combatants, resolved to defend themselves to thedeath. The count sent Don Cornelio to Captain de Laville with orders tocharge and sabre the last defenders of the city, while he made a flankmovement with the infantry. The captain started immediately at a gallop,overthrowing with his horse's chest all obstacles. His pace was sohurried that he arrived alone in front of the enemy.

  The Mexicans, terrified at the extraordinary audacity of this man,hesitated for a moment; but at the repeated orders of their chiefs theyopened their fire on de Laville, who seemed to mock them, and the ballsbegan whistling like hail past the ears of the intrepid Frenchman,who remained calm and motionless in the midst of this shower of lead.Valentine, frightened by the captain's boldness, doubled his speed, andbrought up all the cavalry.

  "Hang it, de Laville!" he exclaimed with admiration, "what are you doingthere?"

  "You see, my friend," the latter answered with charming simplicity, "Iam waiting for you."[3]

  Electrified by these noble words, the French dashed on the Alameda, andcharged to the other end with shouts of "Long live France!" a shout towhich the count's infantry responded from the other side of the Alameda,while attacking the Mexicans at the bayonet's point.

  There were a few moments of deadly struggling and a horrible carnage.The count, in the height of the medley, fought like the meanest of hissoldiers, exciting them incessantly, and urging them forward. At last,in spite of their desperate resistance, the Mexicans, pitilessly sabredby the French, no longer able to organise any effectual defence, andfrightened by the ardour and invincible courage of their adversaries,whom they regarded as demons, began to break and fly in every direction.In spite of the fatigue of the horses, de Laville started in pursuitwith his cavalry.

  Hermosillo was taken--the Count de Prebois Crance was victorious.Stopping in the midst of the pile of corpses which surrounded him, hedrew his watch coldly, and consulted it. It was eleven o'clock, as thecount had told the envoys in the morning: he had become master of thecity at eleven o'clock exactly. The battle had lasted an hour.

  "Now, brothers," the count said, as he returned his sabre to thescabbard, "the city is ours! Enough blood has been shed: let us think ofaiding the wounded. Long live France!"

  "Long live France!" the adventurers shouted with maddening delight.

  [1] We must be pardoned for laying such stress on the character of theyoung chieftain of Guetzalli, who has doubtless been already recognised,and whose name we are now a
uthorised, to our great delight, to reveal.After the hapless end of the Marquis de Pindray the colony of Cocosperaunanimously chose as his successor Monsieur O. de la Chapelle, a youngman whom his eminent qualifications recommended for all suffrages. It ishe who figures in our story under the pseudonym of de Laville. MonsieurO. de la Chapelle died at an early age. This premature end was deeplyfelt by all his friends, among whom the author, though he knew him butvery slightly, is happy to call himself, and to testify it by showingthe heroic part he played in the glorious expedition which forms thesubject matter of this work.--G.A.

  [2] Wild boar.

  [3] Fact.