After anxiously scanning the horizon for five days, Ellis and Philipio saw a schooner sailing south past Nautla. Philipio studied it through a small eyeglass.
“That’s El Tigre, one of Lafitte’s ships,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”
Ellis and his men signalled to the vessel, and Ellis was elated when the crew lowered the white sails. But no boat came ashore. Ellis watched and waved his arms, but the crew finally raised the sails, and the schooner glided on toward Veracruz. Ellis’ arms sagged by his sides and he exhaled deeply, feeling limp, defeated.
“Don’t give up,” Philipio consoled him. “She’ll probably stop on her way north.”
The next morning, Philipio’s shore guard reported seeing a small schooner that appeared to be adrift at the mouth of a river half a mile from Nautla. Ellis loaded his men in three piraguas, then rowed to the little vessel and boarded it. There was no crew on it. They sailed it to Nautla; below decks they found a welcome supply of flour and dried beef.
“I don’t know anything about sailing,” Ellis remarked, “but maybe you can persuade some of these fisherman to get me to New Orleans in her.” He looked expectantly at Philipio.
The black leader shook his head. “No, Elias,” he replied, “she’s only a coaster. She has neither compass nor sextant. She has to stay in sight of land.”
“Damn. I wouldn’t know how to use them anyway.”
The following day, they saw two sails coming north, close to the shore. “The one in the lead is El Tigre," Philipio said. “The other is a brig, and it looks like it’s after her.”
They watched, spellbound, as the brig ran up English colors just before opening fire on the smaller vessel. The schooner sailed swiftly around the brig and shot away its mainmast, then lay to. The brig lowered two longboats and sent them toward El Tigre with a boarding party. Ellis held his breath as the schooner’s guns sank one of the boats and badly damaged the other. The brig sent a launch to pick the men from the water, then limped south in defeat. El Tigre continued on to the north, still close to shore. Ellis and his men signalled frantically and waved their arms in vain.
Deeply discouraged, Ellis slept poorly that night, imagining Morelos surrounded by enemies and desperately looking for help from America. In the morning, a woman who had come down the coast with eggs and poultry to sell told him she’d seen a vessel near the shore a few miles away. It wasn’t moving, she said, and its deck was covered with men.
“It’s probably royalists from Tampico after us,” Ellis said. “We’d better keep them from landing.” Philipio agreed. Ellis and his men hurried up the coast until they saw the motionless vessel, its sails furled. Ellis hid his troops and sent five unarmed men to the beach to hail those on board.
He heard them shouting and the men on the ship replying, then one of the five returned. “It’s El Tigre," he told Ellis. “They’re sending a boat ashore now that they know we’re not royalists.” Ellis hastened to the beach as the boat approached, and was delighted to see that one of the men who stepped ashore was an American.
“What are you doing here?” Ellis asked him.
The American smiled ruefully. “I could ask you the same question,” he replied. “You saw us whip the English brig yesterday?” Ellis nodded. “The Spaniards at Veracruz offered the captain two thousand pesos to capture or sink us. Well, after we ran him off, we had to celebrate.” He pursed his lips. “We overdid it,” he sheepishly admitted. “No one was paying attention to where we were headed, and we ran aground on that damned reef.”
Ellis sent some of his men for the little schooner, and they took El Tigre’s crew to Nautla. From the American, Ellis learned that the U.S. and Britain had been at war for two years.
“I’m on my way to get help for the patriots,” Ellis said. “With a war going on, it’s not a good time for that, but I’ve got to try.” He waited impatiently for ten days while El Tigre’s crew prepared the little schooner for the long voyage. Then, taking as many of El Tigre’s crew as the schooner could carry, they sailed from Nautla.
Several weeks later, they landed at the Lafittes’ headquarters on Grand Terre, a long, low island that lay across Barataria Bay. Jean and Pierre Lafitte, who had come from Haiti, were smugglers and privateers—some called them pirates. They had a large house, a fleet of ships, and a number of warehouses. Ellis left his schooner with them and set out from the bay with an old Frenchman as guide. He led the way through alligator-infested marshes and bayous, under huge trees that were festooned with Spanish moss. Ellis was greatly relieved when they emerged into the sunlight at the Mississippi, nine miles above New Orleans. The old Frenchman left him and returned to Barataria.
After walking along the bank for half an hour, Ellis came to a plantation where an overseer and a gang of slaves were clearing land. When he explained his need to get to New Orleans, the overseer had a slave row him there. Walking past shops owned by Frenchmen, Spaniards, and Americans, Ellis found the government house and called on Governor Claiborne, whose fine clothes and neatly trimmed hair and beard contrasted sharply with Ellis’ shaggy appearance.
“I may not look like a Mexican agent,” Ellis admitted, “but Morelos sent me here to get arms for the patriots. After that, he wants me to organize an invasion of Texas to give him some breathing room.”
Claiborne held his quill pen in his right hand and stroked the end of the feather with his left while he looked Ellis over. “There’s no law against giving or selling arms to the insurgents, ” he said evenly, “ but organizing an expedition against another country on American soil is a crime.” Ellis frowned.
“I hear there’s already been an expedition to Texas,” he said.
“That was organized in the Neutral Ground, where we have no jurisdiction, and I’m partly to blame for not trying to stop it,” Claiborne replied. “The federal government doesn’t intend for it to happen again. It caused a lot of unpleasant diplomatic exchanges and ugly charges of government complicity.” He leaned back in his chair, still toying with his quill pen.
“As you’ll soon know if you don’t already,” he continued, “there are a lot of men—Frenchmen, Mexicans, Americans—in New Orleans who are plotting to send expeditions against Texas and Tampico to help the patriots. General Humbert is one—he was an officer in the Napoleonic wars; now he claims to be a government agent, but everyone considers him a bit daft. Gutiérrez and Alvarez de Toledo invaded Texas in 1812; they had a falling out and lost most of their men as a result. I really don’t expect any of them to do much, but I’m sure that if an expedition of Americans prepares to leave from New Orleans to invade Mexico, federal officials will intervene. Now if Mexican refugees in the Neutral Ground want to fight their way back into Texas, that’s their business. The government will probably look the other way.”
Ellis thanked him for his frankness. On learning that General Humbert was taking a cargo of arms to Nautla in one of the Lafittes’ ships, Ellis hoped the guns would get to Morelos. He headed for Natchitoches to look into the prospects of an invasion of Texas from the Neutral Ground between the Sabine and Arroyo Hondo. He found a number of dispirited Tejano refugees living a hand-to-mouth existence around Natchitoches and in the Neutral Ground, where their only occupation was smuggling. When he suggested another expedition to Texas, they shrugged. “The royalists killed my father and brothers,” one said. “I barely escaped. None of us wants to go through that again.” Feeling frustrated, Ellis returned to New Orleans.
Early in September, Humbert returned to New Orleans, bringing Juan Pablo Anaya, a follower of General Rosains, who was a Morelos partisan. He also brought Padre José Antonio Pedrazo, who represented Rayón. Rosains and Rayón were both fighting for Mexican independence, but they were bitter rivals. Anaya claimed to be Mexico’s minister to the United States, which infuriated Pedrazo.
He angrily went to Spanish consul Diego Morphy and revealed Alvarez de Toledo’s plan to attack Tampico while Gutiérrez led an expedition into Texas. Morphy protested to the
government.
Because of the Lafittes’ widespread smuggling activities, in mid-September, U.S. gunboats and troops captured their fleet and many of their men, while the rest went into hiding. Rumors of a British invasion of the gulf area brought General Andrew Jackson to New Orleans on December 1, although his Kentucky and Tennessee riflemen remained at Baton Rouge, guarding the Mississippi. When a British fleet entered Lake Borgne on December 13, it was clear that their target was New Orleans. Jackson proclaimed martial law and ordered his troops from Baton Rouge to New Orleans.
Jackson found no fortifications worthy of the name, and the militiamen were without flints for their rifles. Aware of Jackson’s need for flints and arms, the Lafittes, who had a secret warehouse well-stocked with military supplies, offered them along with their services and those of their men. Jackson, who a short time earlier had denounced them as “hellish banditti,” gladly accepted the offer. He issued a proclamation of amnesty and ordered the prisoners released.
On December 23 Jackson made a night attack that slowed the British advance. Then he withdrew to a dry canal below New Orleans that ran from the east bank of the Mississippi to a cypress swamp. He set his men to converting the canal into breastworks. Ellis, whose father had known Jackson in Tennessee, offered to serve as an artilleryman. He and some of the Lafittes’ gunners were assigned to one of the twenty-four-pounder cannon.
On January 1, 1815, the British attacked but, in a furious battle, were outgunned and withdrew to wait for reinforcements. Ellis and the others waited, sure they would return. On the morning of January 8, they heard bugles in the distance, and soon the British appeared again, more than five thousand strong against Jackson’s four thousand five hundred. They headed for the breastworks, marching steadily in tight, compact columns. They’re making it easy for us, Ellis thought.
He and the Lafitte gunners worked their cannon, showering the British with grapeshot, tearing gaping holes in the ranks. In the face of deadly rifle and artillery fire, the British withdrew to regroup. They immediately attacked again, with the same result. In half an hour the battle was over. Leaving seven hundred dead on the field, including their commander, Sir Edward Packenham, and two other generals, the British retreated. American losses were eight killed and thirteen wounded. No one on either side had known that two weeks earlier, peace had been made at Ghent.
As soon as the British sailed away, Ellis turned again to securing military aid for Morelos. The New Orleans Associates, a group of businessmen, among them the Lafittes, were willing to ship arms to Mexico, but only for a substantial profit. On February 8, Ellis sailed on their ship Aguila with all the arms he could obtain. He carried dispatches from Alvarez de Toledo to Morelos and the congress, asking for letters of marque to issue to privateers and for money to support an expedition to take Tampico. Alvarez de Toledo also urged that a port be kept open on the gulf coast and recommended sending a minister to negotiate a treaty with the United States.
The Aguila anchored at Boquilla de Piedras, where Guadalupe Victoria was in command. Ellis distributed arms to many of his men, then set out with a small party to deliver the rest to Morelos at Puruarán, six hundred miles away. They traveled cautiously, but saw no enemy patrols. They found Morelos with several hundred men.
“What news from the United States?” he asked, after warmly embracing Ellis.
Ellis delivered the dispatches and told him about the journey through enemy territory. “The U.S. and Britain have been at war,” he explained. “Americans wish you well, but they haven’t been in a position to help.”
“What a pity!” Morelos exclaimed, disappointed. He read the letters from Alvarez de Toledo. “We will send a minister as he suggests, and all the money we have.” He named Manuel de Herrera as minister to the United States. “Take him with you when you return, Elias,” he said. “Also, take my son and put him in a Catholic school, for he can get no schooling here. And send us all the arms you can.”
Ellis, with thirteen thousand pesos from the congress, and Herrera with fifteen thousand for his mission to Washington, took Morelos’ son, the thirteen-year-old Juan N. Almonte, and rode to Tehuacán, where Mier y Terán still held out.
“It’s good to see you, my friend,” he said, giving Ellis an abrazo. “We’re grateful for your help, even though ours may be a losing cause.”
Ellis looked at Mier’s weathered face and the determined set of his jaw, amazed at how much he’d matured after a few years of war. Mier was, Morelos had told him, one of the most able patriot commanders. Even though he was discouraged about the patriots’ prospects, Ellis knew that any royalist force that attacked him would meet its match.
With his two companions, Ellis rode on to Boquilla de Piedras, where they waited for weeks, anxiously watching for a sail to appear. Knowing that Morelos was counting on him, Ellis chafed at the delay, feeling helpless. He had nearly given up hope when Alvarez de Toledo arrived on the Petit Milan with a cargo of muskets the New Orleans Associates had sent. Their agent demanded immediate payment, but finally agreed to wait until they reached New Orleans. As soon as the arms were unloaded, Ellis, Herrera, and Almonte went on board, and the Petit Milan sailed.
For a month the ship tossed in stormy weather, giving Ellis a queasy stomach and making him eager to be ashore. When they finally reached New Orleans, a member of the Associates boarded, demanding immediate payment for the arms. Herrera reluctantly paid him, for he was left without funds for the trip to Washington, and in a melancholy mood.
After placing Almonte in a school, Ellis and Herrera met with the Associates to arrange for another shipment of arms in late November. The Petit Milan sailed again in January 1816, with Ellis and another shipment of arms on board. At Boquilla de Piedras, he met Guadalupe Victoria, whose solemn expression alarmed him, for it was clear that something was amiss.
“Bad news, Elias,” Guadalupe Victoria said. “Morelos was escorting the congress to Tehuacán, when one of the many royalist columns crossed their trail and attacked.” Ellis caught his breath, dreading to hear what he feared was coming. “Morelos was trying to hold them off so the congress could escape,” Guadalupe Victoria continued, “when he was captured by one of his former lieutenants. He should have abandoned the congress and escaped himself, for he was the only one they wanted. Once they had him, they didn’t even follow the congress, and it went on to Tehuacán. They were a quarrelsome group and interfered with everything. They caused so much trouble that Mier finally ordered them to disperse. In the meantime, the royalists shot Morelos.”
Ellis felt weak and sick at heart. The game little priest had been the symbol of the revolution, its pillar of strength. Now he was no more. If I hadn’t failed him, Ellis thought bitterly, he might still be alive. He half-heartedly took the arms to Mier, for now even that seemed futile.
Mier’s face was drawn with worry. “The end is in sight, I fear,” he confessed. “So many of our men have gone over to the enemy, we no longer have reason to hope.” Although he tried not to believe that, Ellis knew it was true.
“When you return,” Mier continued, “I want you to take Magdalena Falfán de los Godos with you.” Ellis frowned and started to protest, but Mier held up his hand. “Hers is a fine family,” he said, “but they have lost everything in the revolution. An uncle has an hacienda near Jalapa. If there’s any way you can get her there, he’ll look after her. If you can’t, take her to New Orleans.” Before Ellis could say anything, Mier stepped into the adjoining room, then returned with Magdalena and introduced her.
Ellis, who had been almost resentful that Mier was saddling him with one more unwanted responsibility, immediately brightened when he saw her. Magdalena was fair-skinned, with large, sparkling dark eyes, a beautiful oval face framed by black hair, and a well-proportioned figure. She offered a dainty hand to Ellis, who accepted it gingerly, and squeezed it as gently as if it had been made of glass. He held his breath, thrilled by her touch.
“You two get acquainted,” Mier said, then lef
t them. They sat, while Magdalena shyly looked at the floor. Ellis waited for her to speak, for he could think of nothing sensible to say and was afraid he’d babble like an idiot if he opened his mouth.
“I have heard much good about you, señor,” she said in a low, musical voice that made Ellis tingle with delight. “General Mier says that you are a loyal friend of the revolution. I am pleased and proud to make your acquaintance.” She shyly looked him in the face, then modestly lowered her eyes again.
Ellis smiled broadly, glowing in the praise of one so lovely. “Tell me about your family,” he said, eager to hear her voice again.
“My father favored those who would make our country independent. He was open and frank about it, which was a mistake, but he couldn’t be any other way. Troops came and arrested him and my mother and confiscated his property. They ignored me, but left me without means to support myself. I don’t even know if my parents are still alive,” she said, her voice quavering a little, her eyes filling with tears.
Ellis was beside himself with desire to comfort and reassure her, but he knew there was nothing he could truthfully say that would be encouraging. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I hope....”
She quickly regained her composure, and her expression became determined. “We will be independent one day,” she said firmly. “I’m sure of it. Hidalgo, Morelos, and all those other brave men did not give their lives in vain. If I were a man, I’d do the same thing.” Seeing her expression and hearing her voice, Ellis knew that what she said was true.
He changed the subject. “Do you know how I happen to be here?” he asked. She shook her head. He told her about Nolan, the years in Chihuahua, and his imprisonment in Acapulco. She was enchanted with the story of his white lizard.
“He must still miss you,” she said.
“Not as much as I miss him. In those days he was my only friend.”
“How sad!” she exclaimed.
They spent a week walking around Tehuacán, admiring the city and talking. By the time they set out for Boquilla de Piedras, Ellis was madly in love, and the way Magdalena smiled at him gave him hope it wasn’t one-sided. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as they rode side by side. When she looked at him, he felt weak all over, but he got up his courage.
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