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THE ROAD TO GLORY
On the decks above were three hundred desperate and
well-armed natives. (Page 144)
THE ROAD TO
GLORY
BY
E. ALEXANDER POWELL
ILLUSTRATED
CHARLES SCRIBNER S SONS
NEW YORK::::::::::::::::::::::i9is
COPYRIGHT, IQIS, BY
Published September, 1915
TO MY SON
EDWARD ALEXANDER POWELL, III
FOREWORD
THE great painting it is called "Vers la
Gloire," if I remember rightly reaches from
floor to ceiling of the Pantheon in Paris. Across
the huge canvas, in a whirlwind of dust and
color, sweeps an avalanche of horsemen cuiras
siers, dragoons, lancers, guides, hussars, chasseurs
with lances levelled, blades swung high, banners
streaming France s unsung heroes in mad pursuit
of Glory.
That picture brings home to the youth of
France the fact that the nation owes as great a
debt of gratitude to men whose very names have
been forgotten as to those whom it has rewarded
with titles and decorations; it teaches that a
man can be a hero without having his name cut
deep in brass or stone; that time and time again
history has been made by men whom the his
torians have overlooked or disregarded.
This is even more true of our own country, for
three-fourths of the territory of the United States
was won for us by men whose names are without
significance to most Americans. Nolan, Bean,
Gutierrez, Magee, Kemper, Perry, Toledo, Hum
bert, Lallemand, De Aury, Mina, Long these
vii
Foreword
names doubtless convey nothing to you, yet it
was the persistent and daring assaults made by
these men upon the Spanish boundaries which
undermined the power of Spain upon this conti
nent and paved the way for Austin, Milam,
Travis, Bowie, Crockett, Ward, and Houston to
effect the liberation of Texas. On the other side
of the Gulf of Mexico the Kempers, McGregor,
Hubbard, and Mathews harassed the Spaniards
in the Floridas until Andrew Jackson, in an unof
ficial and almost unrecorded war, forced Spain
to cede those rich provinces to the United States.
In a desperate battle with savages on the banks
of an obscure creek in Indiana, William Henry
Harrison broke the power of Tecumseh s Indian
confederation, set forward the hands of progress
in the West a quarter of a century, and, inciden
tally, changed the map of Europe. A Missouri
militia officer, Alexander Doniphan, without a
war-chest, without supports, and without com
munications, invaded a hostile nation at the head
of a thousand volunteers, repeatedly routed forces
many times the strength of his own, conquered,
subdued, and pacified a territory larger than
France and Italy put together; and, after a march
equivalent to a fourth of the circumference of the
globe, returned to the United States, bringing with
viii
Foreword
him battle-flags and cannon captured on fields
whose names his country people had never so
much as heard before. A missionary named
Marcus Whitman, by the most daring and dra
matic ride in history, during which he crossed
the continent on horseback in the depths of
winter, facing death almost every mile from cold,
starvation, or Indians, prevented the Pacific
Northwest from passing under the rule of Eng
land. Matthew Perry, without firing a shot or
shedding a drop of blood, opened Japan to com
merce, Christianity, and civilization, and made
American influence predominant in the Pacific,
though, a decade later, David McDougal was
compelled to teach the yellow men respect for
our citizens and our flag at the mouths of his
belching guns.
Certain of these men have been accused of
being adventurers, as they unquestionably were
but what, pray, were Hawkins and Raleigh
and Drake ? Others have been condemned as
being filibusters, an accusation which in some
cases was doubtless deserved but were Jason
and his Argonauts anything but filibusters who
raided Colchis to loot it of the golden fleece ?
Adventurers and filibusters though some of them
may have been, they were brave men (there can
ix
Foreword
be no disputing that) and makers of history.
But it was their fortune or misfortune to have
been romantic and picturesque and to have gone
ahead without the formality of obtaining the
government s commission or permission, which,
in the eyes of the sedate and prosaic historians,
has completely damned them. But, as we have
not hesitated to benefit from the lands they won
for us, it is but doing them the barest justice to
listen to their stories. And I think you will agree
with me that in their stories there is remarkably
little of which we need to feel ashamed and much
of which we have reason to be proud.
Devious and dangerous were the roads which
these men followed amid the swamps of Flor
ida, across the sun-baked Texan prairies, down
the burning deserts of Chihuahua, over the snow
bound ridges of the Rockies, into the miasmic
jungles of Tabasco, along the pirate-haunted coasts
of Malaysia, across the Indian country, through
the mined and shot-swept straits of Shimonoseki;
but, no matter what perils bordered them, or into
what far corner of the earth they led, at the
end Glory beckoned and called.
E. ALEXANDER POWELL.
SANTA BARBARA,
California.
CONTENTS
PAGE
FOREWORD vii
I. ADVENTURERS ALL i
II. WHEN WE SMASHED THE PROPHET S
POWER 55
III. THE WAR THAT WASN T A WAR . . 87
IV. THE FIGHT AT QUALLA BATTOO . . . 131
V. UNDER THE FLAG OF THE LONE STAR 161
VI. THE PREACHER WHO RODE FOR AN
EMPIRE 195
VII. THE MARCH OF THE ONE THOUSAND . 235
VIII. WHEN WE FOUGHT THE JAPANESE . . 277
ILLUSTRATIONS
On the decks above were three hundred desperate and
well-armed natives Frontispiece
FACING PAGE
The Indians, panic-stricken at the sight of the on
coming troopers, broke and ran 84
Bowie, propped on his pillows, shot two soldiers and
plunged his terrible knife into the throat of another . 178
In another moment the gun was pouring death into the
ranks of its late owners . 260
ADVENTURERS ALL
ADVENTURERS ALL
THIS story properly begins in an emperor s
bathtub. The bathtub was in the Palace
of the Tuileries, and, immersed to the chin in
its cologne-scented water, was Napoleon. The
nineteenth century was but a three-year-old; the
month was April, and the trees in the Tuileries
Garden were just bursting into bud; and the
First Consul he made himself Emperor a few
weeks later was taking his Sunday-morning bath.
There was a scratch at the door scratching hav
ing been substituted for knocking in the palace
after the Egyptian campaign and the Mame
luke body-guard ushered into the bathroom Na
poleon s brothers Joseph and Lucien. How the
conversation began between this remarkable trio
of Corsicans is of small consequence. It is enough
to know that Napoleon dumfounded his brothers
by the blunt announcement that he had deter
mined to sell the great colony of Louisiana all
that remained to France of her North American
empire to the United States. He made this
astounding announcement, as Joseph wrote after-
3
The Road to Glory
ward, "with as little ceremony as our dear father
would have shown in selling a vineyard." In
censed at Napoleon s cool assumption that the
great overseas possession was his to dispose of as
he saw fit, Joseph, his hot Corsican blood getting
the better of his discretion, leaned over the tub
and shook his clinched fist in the face of his au
gust brother.
"What you propose is unconstitutional!" he
cried. "If you attempt to carry it out I swear
that I will be the first to oppose you !"
White with passion at this unaccustomed oppo
sition, Napoleon raised himself until half his body
was out of the opaque and frothy water.
"You will have no chance to oppose me!" he
screamed, beside himself with anger. "I con
ceived this scheme, I negotiated it, and I shall
execute it. I will accept the responsibility for
what I do. Bah ! I scorn your opposition !" And
he dropped back into the bath so suddenly that
the resultant splash drenched the future King of
Spain from head to foot. This extraordinary
scene, which, ludicrous though it was, was to
vitally affect the future of the United States,
was brought to a sudden termination by the
valet, who had been waiting with the bath tow
els, shocked at the spectacle of a future Emperor
4
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and a future King quarrelling in a bathroom over
the disposition of an empire, falling on the floor in
a faint.
Though this narrative concerns itself, from be
ginning to end, with adventurers if Bonaparte
himself was not the very prince of adventurers,
then I do not know the meaning of the word it
is necessary, for its proper understanding, to here
interject a paragraph or two of contemporaneous
history. In 1800 Napoleon, whose fertile brain
was planning the re-establishment in America of
that French colonial empire which a generation
before had been destroyed by England, persuaded
the King of Spain, by the bribe of a petty Italian
principality, to cede Louisiana to the French.
But in the next three years things turned out so
contrary to his expectations that he was reluc
tantly compelled to abandon his scheme for co
lonial expansion and prepare for eventualities
nearer home. The army he had sent to Haiti,
and which he had intended to throw into Louisi
ana, had wasted away from disease and in battle
with the blacks under the skilful leadership of
L Ouverture until but a pitiful skeleton remained.
Meanwhile the attitude of England and Austria
was steadily growing more hostile, and it did not
need a telescope to see the war-clouds which her-
5
The Road to Glory
aided another great European struggle piling up
on France s political horizon. Realizing that in
the life-and-death struggle which was approach
ing he could not be hampered with the defense
of a distant colony, Napoleon decided that, if he
was unable to hold Louisiana, he would at least
put it out of the reach of his arch-enemy, Eng
land, by selling it to the United States. It was
a master-stroke of diplomacy. Moreover, he
needed money needed it badly, too for France,
impoverished by the years of warfare from which
she had just emerged, was ill prepared to embark
on another struggle.
There were in Paris at this time two Ameri
cans, Robert R. Livingston and James Monroe,
who had been commissioned by President Jeffer
son to negotiate with the French Government for
the purchase of the city of New Orleans and a
small strip of territory adjacent to it, so that the
settlers in Kentucky and Tennessee might have a
free port on the gulf. After months spent in dip
lomatic intercourse, during which Talleyrand, the
French foreign minister, could be induced neither
to accept nor reject their proposals, the commis
sioners were about ready to abandon the business
in despair. I doubt, therefore, if there were two
more astonished men in all Europe than the
6
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two Americans when Talleyrand abruptly asked
them whether the United States would buy the
whole of Louisiana and what price it would be will
ing to pay. It was as though a man had gone to
buy a cow and the owner had suddenly offered
him his whole farm. Though astounded and em
barrassed, for they had been authorized to spend
but two million dollars in the contemplated pur
chase, the Americans had the courage to shoulder
the responsibility of making so tremendous a
transaction, for there was no time to communi
cate with Washington and no one realized better
than they did that Louisiana must be purchased
at once if it was to be had at all. England and
France were, as they knew, on the very brink of
war, and they also knew that the first thing Eng
land would do when war was declared would be to
seize Louisiana, in which case it would be lost to
the United States forever. This necessity for
prompt action permitted of but little haggling
over terms, and on May 22, 1803, Napoleon signed
the treaty which transferred the million square
miles comprised in the colony of Louisiana to the
United States for fifteen million dollars. Nor
was the sale effected an instant too soon, for on
that very day England declared war.
Now, in purchasing Louisiana, Jefferson, though
7
The Road to Glory
he got the greatest bargain in history, found that
the French had thrown in a boundary dispute to
give good measure. The treaty did not specify
the limits of the colony.
"What are the boundaries of Louisiana ?" Liv
ingston asked Talleyrand when the treaty was
being prepared.
"I don t know," was the answer. "You must
take it as we received it from Spain."
"But what did you receive?" persisted the
American.
"I don t know," repeated the minister. "You
are getting a noble bargain, monsieur, and you
will doubtless make the best of it."
As a matter of fact, Talleyrand was telling the
literal truth (which must have been a novel ex
perience for him) : he did not know. The bound
aries of Louisiana had never been definitely es
tablished. It seems, indeed, to have come under
the application of
"The good old rule . . . the simple plan,
That they shall take who have the power,
And they shall keep who can."
Hence, though American territory and Spanish
marched side by side for twenty-five hundred
miles, it was found impossible to agree on a
8
Adventurers All
definite line of demarcation, the United States
claiming that its new purchase extended as far
westward as the Sabine River, while Spain em
phatically asserted that the Mississippi formed the
dividing line. Along about 1806, however, a work
ing arrangement was agreed upon, whereby Ameri
can troops were not to move west of the Red
River, while Spanish soldiers were not to go east
of the Sabine. For the next fifteen years this
arrangement remained in force, the strip of ter
ritory between these two rivers, which was known
as the neutral ground, quickly becoming a recog
nized place of refuge for fugitives from justice,
bandits, desperadoes, adventurers, and bad men.
To it, as though drawn by a magnet, flocked the
adventure-hungry from every corner of the three
Americas.
The vast territory beyond the Sabine, then
known as New Spain and a few years later, when
it had achieved its independence, as Mexico, was
ruled from the distant City of Mexico in true
Spanish style. Military rule held full sway; civil
law was unknown. Foreigners without passports
were imprisoned; trading across the Sabine was
prohibited; the Spanish officials were suspicious
of every one. Because this trade was forbid
den was the very thing that made it so attrac-
9
The Road to Glory
tive to the merchants of the frontier, while the
grassy plains and fertile lowlands beyond the Sa-
bine beckoned alluringly to the stock-raiser and
the settler. And though there was just enough
danger to attract them there was not enough
strength to awe them. Jeering at governmental
restrictions, Spanish and American alike, the
frontiersmen began to pour across the Sabine into
Texas in an ever-increasing stream. "Gone to
Texas" was scrawled on the door of many a de
serted cabin in Alabama, Tennessee, and Ken
tucky. "Go to Texas" became a slang phrase
heard everywhere. On the western river steam
boats the officers quarters on the hurricane-deck
were called "the texas" because of their remote
ness. When a boy wanted to coerce his family
he threatened to run away to Texas. It was felt
to be beyond the natural limits of the world, and
the glamour which hovered over this mysterious
and forbidden land lured to its conquest the most
picturesque and hardy breed of men that ever
foreran the columns of civilization. A contempt
for the Spanish, a passion for adventure were the
attitude of the people of our frontier as they
strained impatiently against the Spanish bound
aries. The American Government had nothing
to do with winning Texas for the American people.
10
Adventurers All
The American frontiersmen won Texas for them
selves, unaided either by statesmen or by soldiers.
Though these men wrote with their swords
some of the most thrilling chapters in our history,
their very existence has been ignored by most
of our historians. Though they performed deeds
of valor of which any people would have reason
to be proud, it was in an unofficial, shirt-sleeve
sort of warfare, which the National Government
neither authorized nor approved. Though they
laid the foundations for adding an enormous terri
tory to our national domain, no monuments or
memorials have been erected to them; even their
names hold no significance for their countrymen
of the present generation. In short, they were fili
busters, and that, in the eyes of those smug folk
who believe that nothing can be meritorious that
is done without the sanction of congresses and
parliaments, completely damned them. They
were American dreamers. Had they lived in the
days of Cortes and Pizarro and Balboa, of Haw
kins and Raleigh and Drake, history would have
dealt more kindly with them.
The free-lance leaders, who, during the first
quarter of the nineteenth century made the
neutral ground a synonym for hair-raising adven
ture and desperate daring, were truly remarkable
ii
The Road to Glory
men. Five of them had held commissions in the
army of the United States; one of them had
commanded the French army sent to Ireland;
another was a peer of France and had led a divi
sion at Waterloo; others had won rank and dis
tinction under Napoleon, Bolivar, and Jackson.
But because they wore strange uniforms and
fought under unfamiliar flags, and because, in
some cases at least, they were actuated by mo
tives more personal than patriotic, the historians
have assumed that we do not want to know about
them, or that it will be better for us not to know
about them. They take it for granted that it is
better for Americans to think that our territorial
expansion was accomplished by men with govern
ment credentials in their pockets, and when these
unofficial conquerors are mentioned they turn
away their heads as though ashamed. But I be
lieve that our people would prefer to know the
truth about these men, and I believe that when
they have heard it they will agree with me that
in their amazing exploits there is much of which
we have cause to be proud and surprisingly little
of which we have need to feel ashamed.
The first of these adventurous spirits who for
more than twenty years kept the Spanish and
Mexican authorities in a fume of apprehension, was
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a young Kentuckian named Philip Nolan. He
was the first American explorer of Texas and the
first man to publish a description of that region
in the English language. He spent his boyhood
in Frankfort, Kentucky, and as a young man
turned up in New Orleans, then under Spanish
rule, having been, apparently, a person of con
siderable importance in the little city. Having
heard rumors that immense droves of mustangs
roamed the plains of Texas and seeing for him
self that the Spanish troopers in Louisiana were
badly in need of horses, he told the Spanish gov
ernor that if he would agree to purchase the
animals from him at a fixed price per head and
would give him a permit for the purpose, he would
organize an expedition to capture wild horses in
Texas and bring them back to New Orleans.
The governor, who liked the young Kentuckian,
promptly signed the contract, gave the permit,
and Nolan, with a handful of companions, crossed
the Sabine into Texas, corralled his horses, brought
them to New Orleans, and was paid for them. It
was a profitable transaction for every one con
cerned. It was so successful that another year
Nolan did it again. On the proceeds he went to
Natchez, married the beauty of the town, and
built a home. But along toward the close of
13
The Road to Glory
1800 the governor wanted remounts again, for the
Spanish cavalrymen seemed incapable of taking
even ordinary care of their horses. So Nolan, who
was, I fancy, already growing a trifle weary of the
tameness of domestic life, enlisted the services
of a score of frontiersmen as adventure-loving as
himself, kissed his bride of a year good-by, and,
after showing his passports to the American border
patrol and satisfying them that his venture had
the approval of the Spanish authorities, once more
crossed the Sabine into Texas. For a proper un
derstanding of what occurred it is necessary to
explain that, though Louisiana was under the juris
diction of the Spanish Foreign Office (for this was
before the province had been ceded to France),
Texas was under the control of the Spanish Co
lonial Office. Between these two branches of the
government the bitterest jealousy existed, and a
passport issued by one was as likely as not to be
disregarded by the other. In fact, the colonial
officials were only too glad of an opportunity to
humiliate and embarrass those connected with the
Foreign Office. But Nolan and his men, ignorant
of this departmental jealousy and conscious that
they were engaged in a perfectly innocent enter
prise, went ahead with their business of capturing
and breaking horses. Crossing the Trinity, they
Adventurers All
found themselves on the edge of an immense rolling
prairie which, as they advanced, became more and
more arid and forbidding. There were no trees,
not even underbrush, and the only fuel they could
find was the dried dung of the buffalo. These ani
mals, though once numerous, had disappeared,
and for nine days the little company had to sub
sist on the flesh of mustangs. They eventually
reached the banks of the Brazos, however, where
they found plenty of elk and deer, some buffalo,
and "wild horses by thousands." Establishing a
camp upon the present site of Waco, they built a
stockade and captured and corralled three hun
dred head of horses. While lounging about the
camp-fire one night, telling the stories and sing
ing the songs of the frontier and thinking, no
doubt, of the folks at home, a force of one hundred
and fifty Spaniards, commanded by Don Nimesio
Salcedo, commandant-general of the northeastern
provinces, creeping up under cover of the darkness,
succeeded in surrounding the unsuspecting Ameri
cans, who, warned of the proximity of strangers
by the restlessness of their horses, retreated into
a square enclosure of logs which they had built
as a protection against an attack by Indians. At
daybreak the Spaniards opened fire, and Nolan
fell with a bullet through his brain. The com-
15
The Road to Glory
mand of the expedition then devolved upon Ellis
P. Bean, a boy of seventeen, who, from the scanty
shelter of the log pen, continued a resistance that
was hopeless from the first. Every one of the
Americans was a dead shot and at fifty paces
could hit a dollar held between a man s fingers,
but they were vastly outnumbered, they were un-
provisioned for a siege, and, as a final discourage
ment, the Spaniards now brought up a swivel-gun
and opened on them with grape. Bean urged his
men to follow him in an attempt to capture this
field-piece. "It s nothing more than death, boys,"
he told them, "and if we stay here we shall be
killed anyway." But his men were falling dead
about him as he spoke, and the eleven left alive
decided that their only chance, and that was
slim enough, Heaven knows, lay in an immediate
retreat. Filling their powder-horns and bullet
pouches and loading the balance of their ammuni
tion on the back of a negro slave named Caesar,
they started off across the prairie on their hopeless
march, the Spaniards hanging to the flanks of the
little party as wolves hang to the flank of a dying
steer. All that day they plodded eastward under
the broiling sun, bringing down with their unerring
rifles those Spaniards who were incautious enough
to venture within range. But at last they were
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forced, by lack of food and water, to accept the
offer of the Spanish commander to permit them to
return to the United States unharmed if they would
surrender and promise not to enter Texas again.
No sooner had they given up their arms, however,
than the Spaniards, afraid no longer, put their
prisoners in irons and marched them off to San
Antonio, where they were kept in prison for three
months; then to San Luis Potosi, where they were
confined for sixteen months more, eventually being
forwarded, still in arms, to Chihuahua, where, in
January, 1804, they were tried by a Spanish court,
were defended by a Spanish lawyer, were acquitted,
and the judge ordered their release. But Salcedo,
who had become the governor of the province,
determined that the hated gringos should not thus
easily escape, countermanded the findings of the
court, and forwarded the papers in the case to
the King of Spain. The King, by a decree issued
in February, 1807, after these innocent Americans
had already been captives for nearly seven years,
ordered that one out of every five of them should
be hung, and the rest put at hard labor for ten
years. But when the decree reached Chihuahua
there were only nine prisoners left, two of them
having died from the hardships to which they
had been subjected. Under the circumstances
17
The Road to Glory
the judge, who was evidently a man of some
compassion, construed the decree as meaning that
only one of the remaining nine should be put to
death.
On the morning of the 9th of November, 1807,
a party of Spanish officials proceeded to the bar
racks where the Americans were confined and an
officer read the King s barbarous decree. A drum
was brought, a tumbler and dice were set upon
it, and around it, blindfolded, knelt the nine par
ticipants in this lottery of death. Some day, no
doubt, when time has accorded these men the
justice of perspective, Texas will commission a
famous artist to paint the scene: the turquoise
sky, the yellow sand, the sun glare on the white
washed adobe of the barrack walls, the little,
brown-skinned soldiers in their slovenly uniforms
of soiled white linen, the Spanish officers, gor
geous in scarlet and gold lace, awed in spite of
themselves by the solemnity of the occasion, and,
kneeling in a circle about the drum, in their
frayed and tattered buckskin, the prison pallor
on their faces, the nine Americans cool, com
posed, and unafraid.
Ephraim Blackburn, a Virginian and the
oldest of the prisoners, took the fatal
glass and with a hand which did not trem-
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ble though I imagine that he whispered
a little prayer threw 3 and 1 4
Lucian Garcia threw 3 and 4 7
Joseph Reed threw 6 and 5 n
David Fero threw 5 and 3 8
Solomon Cooley threw 6 and 5 II
Jonah Walters threw 6 and i 7
Charles Ring threw 4 and 3 7
William Dawlin threw 4 and 2 6
Ellis Bean threw 4 and i 5
Whereupon they took poor Ephraim Blackburn
out and hanged him.
After Blackburn s execution three of the re
maining prisoners were set at liberty, but Bean,
with four of his companions, all heavily ironed,
were started off under guard for Mexico City.
Any one who questions the assertion that fact is
stranger than fiction will change his mind after
hearing of Bean s subsequent adventures. They
read like the wildest and most improbable of dime
novels. When the prisoners reached Salamanca
a young and strikingly beautiful woman, evidently
attracted by Bean s youth and magnificent phy
sique, managed to approach him unobserved and
asked him in a whisper if he did not wish to es
cape. (As if, after his years of captivity and
hardship, he could have wished otherwise !)
The Road to Glory
Then she disappeared as silently and mysteriously
as she had come. The next day the senora, who,
as it proved, was the girl wife of a rich old hus
band, by bribing the guard, contrived to see Bean
again. She told him quite frankly that her hus
band, whom she had been forced to marry against
her will, was absent at his silver mines, and sug
gested that, if Bean would promise not to desert
her, she would find means to effect his escape
and that they could then fly together to the
United States. It shows the manner of man this
American adventurer was that, on the plea that
he could not desert his companions in misfortune,
he declined her offer. The next day, as the pris
oners once again took up their weary march to
the southward, the senora slipped into Bean s
hand a small package. When an opportunity
came for him to open it he found that it con
tained a letter from his fair admirer, a gold ring,
and a considerable sum of money.
Instead of being released upon their arrival at
the city of Mexico, as they had been led to ex
pect, the Americans were marched to Acapulco,
on the Pacific, then a port of great importance
because of its trade with the Philippines. Here
Bean was placed in solitary confinement, the only
human beings he saw for many months being the
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jailer who brought him his scanty daily allow
ance of food and the sentry who paced up and
down outside his cell. Had it not been for a
white lizard which he found in his dungeon and
which, with incredible patience, he succeeded in
taming, he would have gone mad from the intol
erable solitude. Learning from the sentinel that
one of his companions had been taken ill and had
been transferred to the hospital, Bean, who was
a resourceful fellow, prepared his pulse by strik
ing his elbows on the floor and then sent for the
prison doctor. Though he was sent to the hos
pital, as he had anticipated, not only were his
irons not removed but his legs were placed in
stocks, and, on the theory that eating is not good
for a sick man, his allowance of food was greatly
reduced, his meat for a day consisting of the head
of a chicken. When Bean remonstrated with the
priest over the insufficient nourishment he was
receiving, the padre told him that if he wasn t
satisfied with what he was getting he could go to
the devil. Whereupon, his anger overpowering
his judgment, Bean hurled his plate at the friar s
shaven head and laid it open. For this he was
punished by having his head put in the stocks,
in an immovable position, for fifteen days. When
he recovered from the real fever which this bar-
21
The Road to Glory
barous punishment brought on, he was only too
glad to go back to the solitude of his cell and his
friend the lizard.
While being taken back to prison, Bean, who
had succeeded in concealing on his person the
money which the senora in Salamanca had given
him, suggested to his guards that they stop at a
tavern and have something to drink. A Span
iard never refuses a drink, and they accepted.
So skilfully did he ply them with liquor that one
of them fell into a drunken stupor while the other
became so befuddled that Bean found no diffi
culty in enticing him into the garden at the back
of the tavern on the plea that he wished to show
him a certain flower. As the man was bending
over to examine the plant to which Bean had
called his attention, the American leaped upon
his back and choked him into unconsciousness.
Heavily manacled though he was, Bean succeeded
in clambering over the high wall and escaped to
the woods outside the city, where he filed off his
irons with the steel he used for striking fire. Con
cealing himself until nightfall, he slipped into the
town again, where he found an English sailor
who, upon hearing his pitiful story, smuggled him
aboard his vessel and concealed him in a water-
cask. But, just as the anchor was being hoisted
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and he believed himself free at last, a party of
Spanish soldiers boarded the vessel and hauled
him out of his hiding-place he had been betrayed
by the Portuguese cook. For this attempt at es
cape he was sentenced to eighteen months more
of solitary confinement.
One day, happening to overhear an officer
speaking of having some rock blasted, Bean sent
word to him that he was an expert at that busi
ness, whereupon he was taken out and put to
work. Before he had been in the quarry a week
he succeeded in once more making his escape.
Travelling by night and hiding by day, he beat his
way up the coast, only to be retaken some weeks
later. When he was brought before the governor
of Acapulco that official went into a paroxysm
of rage at sight of the American whose iron will
he had been unable to break either by imprison
ment or torture. Bean, who had reached such a
stage of desperation that he didn t care what
happened to him, looking the governor squarely
in the eye, told him, in terms which seared and
burned, exactly what he thought of him and de
fied him to do his worst. That official, at his
wits end to know how to subdue the unruly
American, gave orders that he was to be chained
to a gigantic mulatto, the most dangerous crimi-
23
The Road to Glory
nal in the prison, the latter being promised a year s
reduction in his sentence if he would take care of
his yokemate, whom he was authorized to pun
ish as frequently as he saw fit. But the punish
ing was the other way around, for Bean pommelled
the big negro so terribly that the latter sent word
to the governor that he would rather have his
sentence increased than to be longer chained to
the mad Americano. By this time Bean had
every one in the castle, from the governor to the
lowest warder, completely terrorized, for they
recognized that he was desperate and would stop
at nothing. He was, in fact, such a hard case
that the governor of Acapulco wrote to the vice
roy that he could do nothing with him and begged
to be relieved of his dangerous prisoner. The
latter, in reply, sent an order for his removal to
the Spanish penal settlement in the Philippines.
But while awaiting a vessel the revolt led by
Morelos, the Mexican patriot, broke out, and
a rebel army advanced on Acapulco. The pris
ons of New Spain had been emptied to obtain re
cruits to fill the Spanish ranks, and Bean was
the only prisoner left in the citadel. The Spanish
authorities, desperately in need of men, offered
him his liberty if he would help to defend the
town. Bean agreed, his irons were knocked off,
24
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he was given a gun, and became a soldier. But
he felt that he owed no loyalty to his Spanish
captors; so, when an opportunity presented itself
a few weeks later, he went over to Morelos, tak
ing with him a number of the garrison. A born
soldier, hard as nails, amazingly resourceful and
brave to the point of rashness, he quickly won
the confidence and friendship of the patriot leader,
who commissioned him a colonel in the Repub
lican army. When Morelos left Acapulco to con
tinue his campaign in the south, he turned the
command of the besieging forces over to the ex-
convict, who, a few weeks later, carried the city
by storm. It must have been a proud moment
for the American adventurer, not yet thirty years
of age, when he stood in the plaza of the captured
city and received the sword of the governor who
had treated him with such fiendish cruelty.*
* In 1814 Bean was sent by General Morelos, then president of
the revolutionary party in Mexico, on a mission to the United States
to procure aid for the patriot cause. At the port of Nautla he found
a vessel belonging to Lafitte, which conveyed him to the headquarters
of the pirate chief, at Barataria. Upon informing Lafitte of his
mission, the buccaneer had him conveyed to New Orleans, where
Bean found an old acquaintance in General Andrew Jackson, upon
whose invitation he took command of one of the batteries on the
8th of January and fought by the side of Lafitte in that battle.
Colonel Bean eventually rose to high rank under the Mexican re
public, married a Mexican heiress, and died on her hacienda near
Jalapa in 1846.
25
The Road to Glory
When the story of the treatment of Nolan and
his companions trickled back to the settlements
and was repeated from village to village and from
house to house, every repetition served to fan the
flame of hatred of everything Spanish, which grew
fiercer and fiercer in the Southwest as the years
rolled by. From the horror and indignation
aroused along the frontier by the treatment of
these men, whom the undiscerning historians have
unjustly described as filibusters, sprang that move
ment which ended, a quarter of a century later,
in freeing Texas forever from the cruelties of
Latin rule. Thus it came about that Nolan and
his companions did not suffer in vain.
Though during the years immediately follow
ing Nolan s ill-fated expedition all Mexico was
aflame with the revolt lighted by the patriot priest
Hidalgo, things were fairly quiet along the bor
der. But this was not to last. After the cap
ture and execution of the militant priest one of
his followers, Bernardo Gutierrez de Lara, after
a thrilling flight across Texas, found refuge in
Natchez, where he made the acquaintance of
Lieutenant Augustus Magee, a brilliant young of
ficer of the American garrison. Gutierrez painted
pictures with words as an artist does with the
brush, and so inspiring were the scenes his ready
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tongue depicted that they fired the young lieuten
ant with an ambition to aid in freeing Mexico
from Spanish rule. Magee was of a daring and
romantic disposition and accepted without ques
tion the stories told him by Gutierrez. His plan
seems to have been to conquer Texas to the Rio
Grande and, after building up a republican state,
to apply for admission to the Union. Resigning
his commission, he threw himself heart and soul
into the business of recruiting an expedition from
the adventurers who made New Orleans now
become an American city their headquarters
and from the freebooters of the neutral ground.
A call to these men to join the "Republican Army
of the North" and receive forty dollars a month
and a square league of land in Texas was eagerly
responded to, and by June, 1812, Gutierrez and
Magee had recruited half a thousand daredevils
who, for the sake of adventure, were willing to
follow their leaders anywhere. Most of them
were "two-gun men," which means that they
went into action with a pistol in each hand and
a knife between the teeth, and they didn t know
the name of fear. In order to secure the co
operation of the Mexican population of Texas,
Gutierrez was named commander-in-chief of the
expedition, though the real leader was Magee,
27
The Road to Glory
who held the position of chief of staff, an Amer
ican frontiersman named Reuben Kemper being
commissioned major.
In the beginning everything was as easy as
falling down-stairs. The time chosen for the ven
ture was peculiarly propitious, for the Spaniards
had their hands full with the civil war in Mexico,
which they supposed they had ended with the
capture and execution of Hidalgo, but which had
broken out again under the leadership of another
priest, named Morelos. As a result of the demor
alization which existed, the Americans were al
most unopposed in their advance. Nacogdoches
fell before them, and so did the fort at Spanish
Bluff, and by November, 1812, they had raised
the republican standard over La Bahia, or, as it
is known to-day, Goliad. Three days later Gov
ernor Salcedo the same who had attacked No
lan s party a dozen years before marched against
the town with fourteen hundred men. Though
the Americans were outnumbered more than two
to one, they did not wait for the Spaniards to
attack but sallied out and drove them back in
confusion. Whereupon the Spaniards sat down
without the town and prepared to conduct a
siege, and the Americans sat down within and
prepared to resist it. It ended in a peculiar fash-
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ion. During a three days armistice Salcedo in
vited Magee to dine with him in the Spanish
camp, and the American commander accepted.
What arguments or inducements the astute Span
iard brought to bear on the young American can
only be conjectured, but, at any rate, Magee
agreed to surrender the town on condition that
all of his men should be sent back to the United
States in safety. To this condition Salcedo as
sented. Returning to the town, Magee had his
men paraded, told them what he had done, and
asked all who approved of his action to shoulder
arms. For some moments after he had finished
they stared at him in mingled amazement, in
credulity, and suspicion. It was unbelievable,
unthinkable, preposterous, that he, the idol of
the army, the hero of a dozen engagements, a
product of the great officer factory at West Point,
should even contemplate, much less advocate,
surrender. Not only did they not shoulder arms,
but most of them, to emphasize their disapproval,
brought their rifle butts crashing to the ground.
For a few moments Magee stood with sunken
head and downcast eyes; then he slowly turned
and entered his tent. An hour or so later a mes
senger under a flag of truce brought a curt note
from Salcedo reminding Magee of their agree-
29
The Road to Glory
ment and demanding to know why he had not
surrendered the town as he had promised. The
message was opened by Gutierrez, who ordered
that no answer should be sent, whereupon Sal-
cedo threw his entire force against the town in
an attempt to carry it by storm. But the Amer
icans, though sick at heart at the action of their
young commander, were far from being demor
alized, as the oncoming Spaniards quickly found,
for as they reached the outer line of intrench-
ments the Americans met them with a blast of
lead which wiped out their leading companies
and sent the balance scampering San Antonio-
ward. Throughout the action Magee remained
hidden in his tent. When an orderly went to
summon him the next morning he found the
young West Pointer stretched upon the floor, with
a pistol in his hand and the back blown out of
his head.
Though Gutierrez still retained the nominal
rank of general, the actual command of "the
Army of the North" now devolved upon Major
Reuben Kemper, a gigantic Virginian who, de
spite the fact that he was the son of a Baptist
preacher, was celebrated from one end of the fron
tier to the other for his "eloquent profanity. "
Kemper was a man well fitted to wield authority
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on such an expedition. He had a neck like a
bull, a chest like a barrel, a voice like a bass
drum, and it was said that even the mates on the
Mississippi River boats listened with admiration
and envy to his swearing. Nor was he a novice
at the business of fighting Spaniards, for a dozen
years before he and his two brothers had been
concerned in a desperate attempt to free Florida
from Spanish rule; in 1808 he had been one of
a party of Americans who had attempted to cap
ture Baton Rouge, had been taken prisoner, sen
tenced to death, and saved by the intervention of
an American officer on the very morning set for
his execution; and the following year, undeterred
by the narrowness of his escape, he had made a
similar attempt, with similar unsuccess, to capture
Mobile. The cruelties he had seen perpetrated
by the Spaniards had so worked on his mind that
he had vowed to devote the rest of his life to
ridding North America of Spanish rule.
Such, then, was the picturesque figure who as
sumed command of "the Army of the North,"
now consisting of eight hundred Americans, one
hundred and eighty Mexicans, and three hundred
and twenty-five Indians, and led it against the
Spaniards, twenty-five hundred strong and with
several pieces of artillery, who were encamped
31
The Road to Glory
at Resales, near San Antonio. As soon as his
scouts reported the proximity of the Spaniards,
who were ambushed in the dense chaparral which
lined the road along which the Americans were
advancing, Kemper threw his force into battle
formation, ordering his men to advance to within
thirty paces of the Spanish line, fire three rounds,
load the fourth time, and charge. The movement
was performed in as perfect order as though the
Americans had been on a parade-ground and no
enemy within a hundred miles. Demoralized by
the machine-like precision of the Americans ad
vance and the deadliness of the volleys poured
into them, the Spaniards broke and ran, Kemper s
Indian allies remorselessly pursuing the panic-
stricken fugitives until nightfall put an end to
the slaughter. In this great Texan battle, for
any mention of which you will search most of the
histories in vain, nearly a thousand Spaniards
were killed and wounded. The Indians saw to
it that there were few prisoners.
The next day the victorious Americans reached
San Antonio and sent in a messenger, under a
flag of truce, demanding the unconditional sur
render of the town and garrison. Governor Sal-
cedo sent back word that he would give his deci
sion in the morning. " Present yourself and your
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staff in our camp at once," Kemper replied, "or
I shall storm the town." (And when a town was
carried by storm it was understood that no pris
oners would be taken.) When Salcedo entered
the American lines he was met by Captain Tay
lor, to whom he offered his sword, but that officer
declined to accept it and sent him to Colonel
Kemper. On offering it to the big frontiersman,
it was again refused, and he was told to take it
to General Gutierrez, who was the ranking officer
of the expedition. By this time the patience of
the haughty Spaniard was exhausted, and, plung
ing the weapon into the ground, he turned his
back on Gutierrez. A few hours later the Ameri
cans entered San Antonio in triumph, released
the prisoners in the local jails, and, from all I
can gather, took pretty much everything of value
on which they could lay their hands. When
Kemper asked his Indian allies what share of the
loot they wanted, they replied that they would
be quite satisfied with two dollars worth of ver
milion.
After the capture of San Antonio, General Gu
tierrez, who, though he had been content to let
the Americans do the fighting, now that he was
among his own people swelled up like a turkey
gobbler, announced that he had decided to send
33
The Road to Glory
the Spanish officers who had been captured to
New Orleans, where they would be held as hos
tages until the war was over. To this suggestion
the Americans readily agreed, and that evening
the governor and his staff, with the other officers
who had surrendered, started for the coast under
the guard of a company of Mexicans. When a
mile and a half below the town, on the east bank
of the San Antonio River, the captives were
halted, stripped, and tied, and their throats cut
from ear to ear, some of the Mexicans even whet
ting their knives upon the soles of their shoes in
the presence of their victims. When Kemper
learned of this butchery of defenseless prisoners
he strode up to Gutierrez and, catching him by
the throat, held him at arm s length and shook
him as a terrier does a rat, meanwhile ripping
out a stream of invectives that would have seared
a thinner-skinned man as effectually as a brand
ing-iron. Then, refusing to longer serve under so
barbarous a leader, Kemper resigned his commis
sion and, followed by most of the other American
officers of standing, set out for New Orleans.
Of the American officers who remained Cap
tain Perry was the highest in rank and the most
able, and to him was given the direction of the
expedition, Gutierrez, for reasons of policy, still
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retaining nominal command. With the departure
of Kemper came a relaxation in the iron disci
pline which he had maintained and the troops,
drunk with victory and believing that the cam
paign was all over but the shouting, broke loose
in every form of dissipation. While in this state
of unpreparedness, they were surprised by a force
of three thousand Spaniards under General Eli-
sondo. Instead of marching directly upon San
Antonio and capturing it, as he could have done
in view of the demoralization which prevailed,
Elisondo made the mistake of intrenching him
self in the graveyard half a mile without the
town. But in the face of the enemy the disci
pline for which the Americans were celebrated re
turned, for first, last, and all the time they were
fighters. At ten o clock on the evening of June
4 the Americans, marching in file, moved silently
out of the town. In the most profound silence
they approached the Spanish lines until they
could hear the voices of the pickets; then they
lay down, their arms beside them, and waited for
the coming of the dawn. Colonel Perry chose the
moment when the Spaniards were assembled at
daybreak for matins to launch his attack. Even
then no orders were spoken, the signals being
passed down the line by each man nudging his
35
The Road to Glory
neighbor. So admirably executed were Perry s
orders that the Americans, moving forward with
the stealth and silence of panthers, had reached
the outer line of the enemy s intrenchments, had
bayonetted the Spanish sentries, and had actu
ally hauled down the Spanish flag and replaced it
with the Republican tricolor before their presence
was discovered. Though taken completely by
surprise, the Spaniards rallied and drove the
Americans from the works, but the latter reformed
and hurled themselves forward in a smashing
charge which drove the Spaniards from the field,
leaving upward of a thousand dead, wounded,
and prisoners behind them. The American loss
in killed and wounded was something under a
hundred.
Returning in triumph to San Antonio, the
Americans, whose position was now so firmly es
tablished that they had no further use for Gen
eral Gutierrez, unceremoniously dismissed him,
this action, doubtless, being taken at the instance
of Colonel Perry and his fellow officers, who feared
further treachery and dishonor if the Mexican
were permitted to remain in command. His place
was taken by Don Jose Alvarez Toledo, a distin
guished Cuban who had formerly been a member
of the Spanish Cortes in Mexico but had been
36
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banished on account of his republican sympathies.
A few weeks after General Toledo assumed com
mand a Spanish force, four thousand strong, under
General Arredondo, appeared before San Antonio.
Toledo at once marched out to meet them. His
force consisted of eight hundred and fifty Americans
under Colonel Perry and about twice that number
of Mexicans; so it will be seen that the Spaniards
greatly outnumbered the Republicans. Throw
ing forward a line of skirmishers for the purpose
of engaging the enemy, General Arredondo am
bushed the major portion of his force behind
earthworks masked by the dense chaparral.
The Americans, confident of victory, dashed for
ward with their customary elan y whereupon the
Spanish line, in obedience to Arredondo s orders,
sullenly fell back. So cleverly did the Spaniards
feign retreat that it was not until the Americans
were well within the trap that had been set for
them that Toledo recognized his peril. Then he
frantically ordered his buglers to sound the recall.
One column that composed of Mexicans obeyed
the order promptly, but the other, consisting of
Americans, shouting, "No, we never retreat !"
swept forward to their deaths. Had the order
to retreat never been given, the Americans, not
withstanding the disparity of numbers, would
37
The Road to Glory
have been victorious, but, deprived of all support
and raked by the enemy s cannon and musketry,
even the prodigies of valor they performed were
unavailing to alter the result. So desperately did
those American adventurers fight, however, that,
as some one has remarked, "they made Spanish
the language of hell." When their rifles were
empty they used their pistols, and when their
pistols were empty they used their terrible long
hunting-knives, ripping and stabbing and slash
ing with those vicious weapons until they went
down before sheer weight of numbers. Some of
them, grasping their empty rifles by the barrel,
swung them round their heads like flails, beating
down the Spaniards who opposed them until they
were surrounded by heaps of men with cracked
and shattered skulls. Others, when their weapons
broke, sprang at their enemies with their naked
hands and tore out their throats as hounds tear
out the throat of a deer. Such was the battle of
the Medina, fought on August 18, 1813. Of the
eight hundred and fifty Americans who went into
action only ninety-three came out alive. If the
battle itself was a bloody one, its aftermath was
even more so, the Spanish cavalry pursuing and
butchering without mercy all the fugitives they
could overtake. At Spanish Bluff, on the Trin-
38
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ity, the Spaniards took eighty prisoners. March
ing them into a clump of timber, they dug a long,
deep trench and, setting the prisoners on its edge,
shot them in groups of ten. It was a bloody,
bloody business. That our histories contain al
most no mention of the Gachupin War, as this
campaign was known, is doubtless due to the fact
that during the same period there was a war in
the United States and also one in Mexico, and the
public mind was thus drawn away from the events
which were taking place in Texas. Indeed, had
it not been for the war between the United States
and Great Britain, which drew into its vortex the
adventurous spirits of the Southwest, Texas would
have achieved her independence a dozen years
earlier than she did.
Toledo and Perry, with all that was left of the
"Army of the North, " escaped, after suffering
fearful hardships, to the United States, where they
promptly began to recruit men for another ven
ture into the beckoning land beyond the Sabine.
Though the head of the patriot priest Hidalgo
had been displayed by the Spanish authorities
on the walls of the citadel of Guanajuato as "a
warning to Mexicans who choose to revolt against
Spanish rule," as the placard attached to the
grisly trophy read, the grim object-lesson had not
39
The Road to Glory
deterred another priest, Jose Maria Morelos, from
taking up the struggle for Mexican independence
where Hidalgo had laid it down. In order to
co-operate with this new champion of liberty,
Toledo, at the head of a few hundred Americans,
sailed from New Orleans, landed on the Mexican
coast near Vera Cruz, and pushed up-country as
far as El Puente del Rey, near Jalapa, where he
intrenched himself and sat down to await the ar
rival of reinforcements from New Orleans under
General Jean Joseph Humbert.
Humbert, a Frenchman from the province of
Lorraine, was a graduate of the greatest school
for fighters the world has ever known: the armies
of Napoleon. In 1789, when the French Revolu
tion deluged France with blood, he was a mer
chant in Rouvray. Closing his shop, he ex
changed his yardstick for a sabre and went to
Paris to take a hand in the overthrow of the
monarchy, for he was a red-hot republican. His
gallantry in action won him a major-general s
commission, and four years later the Directory
promoted him to the rank of lieutenant-general
and gave him command of the expedition sent to
Ireland, where he was forced to surrender to
Lord Cornwallis. Napoleon, who knew a soldier
as far as he could see one, made Humbert a gen-
40
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eral of division and second in command of the
ill-fated army sent to Haiti. But Humbert s
republican convictions did not jibe with the im
perialistic ambitions of Napoleon, and the former
suddenly decided that a life of exile in America
was preferable to life in a French prison. For a
time he supported himself by teaching in New
Orleans, but it was like harnessing a war-horse
to a plough; so, when the Mexican junta sought
his aid in 1814, the veteran fighter raised an ex
peditionary force of nearly a thousand men, sailed
across the Gulf, landed on the shores of Mexico,
and marched up to join Toledo at El Puente del
Rey. The revolutionary leader Morelos, who was
hard pressed by the Spaniards, set out to join
Toledo and Humbert, but on the way was taken
prisoner and died with his back to a stone wall
and his face to a firing-party. The same force
which ended the career of Morelos continued to
El Puente del Rey and attempted to cut off the
retreat of Toledo and Humbert, but the old sol
dier of Napoleon succeeded in cutting his way
through them and in 1817, dejected and discour
aged, landed once more at New Orleans, where
he spent the rest of his days teaching in a French
college, and his nights, no doubt, dreaming of his
exploits under the Napoleonic eagles.
The Road to Glory
The same year Humbert returned to New
Orleans another soldier of the empire, General
Baron Charles Francois Antoine Lallemand, fol
lowed by a hundred and fifty veterans who had
seen service under the little corporal, set out from
the same city for that graveyard of ambitions,
Mexico. Baron Lallemand was one of the great
soldiers of the empire and, had Napoleon been vic
torious at Waterloo, would have been rewarded
with the baton of a marshal of France. Enter
ing the army when a youngster of eighteen, he
followed the French eagles into every capital of
Europe, fighting his way up the ladder of promo
tion, round by round, until, upon the Emperor s
return from Elba, he was given the epaulets of
a lieutenant-general and created a peer of France.
He commanded the artillery of the Imperial
Guard at Waterloo and after that disaster was
sent by the Emperor to Captain Maitland, of
the British navy, to negotiate for his surrender.
With tears streaming down his cheeks, Lallemand
begged that he might be permitted to accompany
his imperial master into exile. This being denied
him, he refused to take service under the Bour
bons and, coming to America, attempted to found
a colony of French political refugees in Alabama,
at a place which, in memory of happier days, he
42
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named Marengo. The experiment proved a fail
ure, however; so in 1817 he led his colonists into
Texas and attempted to establish what he termed
a Champ d Asile on the banks of the Trinity
River. But the Spanish authorities, obsessed with
the idea that every foreigner who appeared in
Texas was plotting against them, despatched a
force against Lallemand and his colonists and
drove them out. The next few years General Lal
lemand spent in New Orleans devising schemes for
effecting the escape of his beloved Emperor from
St. Helena, but Napoleon s death, in 1821, brought
his carefully laid plan for a rescue to naught. In
1830, upon the Bourbons being ejected from
France for good and all, Lallemand, to whom
the Emperor had left a legacy of a hundred thou
sand francs, returned to Paris. His civil and
military honors were restored by Louis Philippe,
and the man who a few years before had been
pointed out on the streets of New Orleans as a
filibuster and an adventurer died a general of
division, commander of the Legion of Honor,
military governor of Corsica, and a peer of
France.
The next man to strike a blow for Texas was
Don Luis de Aury. De Aury was a native of New
Granada, as the present Republic of Colombia was
43
The Road to Glory
then called, and had played a brilliant part in the
struggle for freedom of Spain s South American
colonies. He entered the navy of the young re
public as a lieutenant in 1813. Three years later
he was appointed commandant-general of the
naval forces of New Granada, stationed at Car
tagena. At the memorable siege of that city, to
his generosity and intrepidity hundreds of men,
women, and children owed their lives, for when
the Spanish commander, Morillo, threatened to
butcher every person found alive within the city
walls De Aury loaded the non-combatants aboard
his three small vessels, broke through the Spanish
squadron of thirty-five ships and landed his pas
sengers in safety. For this heroic exploit he was
rewarded with the rank of commodore, given the
command of the united fleets of New Granada,
La Plata, Venezuela, and Mexico, and ordered to
sweep Spanish commerce from the Gulf. Learn
ing of the splendid harbor afforded by the Bay of
Galveston, on the coast of Texas, he determined to
occupy it and use it as a base of operations against
the Spanish. Accompanied by Don Jose Herrera,
the agent of the Mexican revolutionists in the
United States, De Aury landed on Galveston Is
land in September, 1816. A meeting was held, a
government organized, the Republican flag raised,
44
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Galveston was declared a part of the Mexican
Republic, and De Aury was chosen civil and mili
tary governor of Texas and Galveston Island.
Here he was shortly joined by two other ad
venturers: our old friend, Colonel Perry, who had
escaped to the United States after the disaster of
the Medina, and Francisco Xavier Mina, a sol
dier of fortune from Navarre. Mina s parents,
who were peasant farmers, had destined him for
the law, but when Napoleon invaded Spain, young
Mina threw away his law books, raised a band of
guerillas, and harassed the invaders until his name
became a terror to the French. He was captured
in 1812 and, after several years in a French prison,
went to England, where he made the acquaintance
of a number of Mexican political exiles, who in
duced him to take a hand in freeing their native
country. In September, 1816, Mina s expedition,
consisting of two hundred infantry and a battery
of artillery, sailed from Baltimore for Galveston,
where he found De Aury with some four hundred
well-drilled men and Colonel Perry with a hun
dred more. In March, 1817, the three com
manders sailed for the mouth of the Rio San-
tander, fifty miles up the Mexican coast from
Tampico, and disembarked their forces at the
river bar. The town of Soto la Marina, sixty
45
The Road to Glory
miles from the river s mouth, fell without opposi
tion, and with its fall the leaders parted company.
De Aury returned to Galveston, but, finding the
pirate Lafitte in possession, sailed away in search
of pastures new. Mina, ambitious for further
conquests, marched into the interior, capturing
Valle de Mais, Peotillos, Real de Rinos, and Vena-
dito in rapid succession. At Venadito, however,
his streak of good fortune ended as suddenly as
it had begun, for while his men were scattered in
search of plunder a Spanish force recaptured the
town and made Mina a prisoner. So relieved was
the Spanish Government at receiving word of his
capture and execution that it ordered the church-
bells to be rung in every town in Mexico and made
the viceroy a count.
When Colonel Perry learned of Mina s plan for
marching into the interior with the small force at
his disposal, he flatly refused to have anything to
do with so harebrained a business and, with fifty
of his men, started up the coast in an attempt
to make his way back to the United States. As
the disastrous retreat began in May, when water
was scarce and the heat in the swampy lowlands
was almost unbearable, they suffered terribly. Just
as the little band of adventurers reached the bor
ders of Texas and were congratulating themselves
Adventurers All
on having all but won to safety, a party of two
hundred Spanish cavalry suddenly appeared.
Perry, throwing his men into line of battle, re
ceived the onslaught of the lancers with a volley
which checked them in mid-career and would
doubtless have ended the contest then and there
had not the garrison of the near-by town sallied
out and taken the Americans in the rear. Clothed
in rags, scorched by the sun, parched from thirst,
half starved, surrounded by an overwhelming
foe, gallantly did these desperate men sustain
their reputation for valor. Again and again the
lancers swept down upon them, again and again
the garrison attacked them in the rear, but al
ways from the thinning line of heroes spat a storm
of lead so deadly that the Spaniards could not
stand before it. Blackened with smoke and pow
der, fainting from hunger and exhaustion, bleed
ing from innumerable wounds, the adventurers
fought like men who welcomed death. The sun
had disappeared; the shadows of night were
gathering thick upon the plain; but still a hand
ful of powder-grimed, blood-streaked men, stand
ing back to back, amid a ring of dead and dying,
held off the enemy. As the darkness deepened,
a single gallant figure still waved a defiant sword:
it was Perry, who, true to the filibusters motto
47
The Road to Glory
that "Americans never surrender," fell by his
own hand.
Probably the most remarkable of this long list
of adventurers was the Jean Lafitte whom De
Aury found in possession of Galveston. A French
man by birth and an American by adoption,
he and his brother Pierre had, during the
early years of the century, established on Bara-
taria Island, near the mouth of the Mississippi,
what was virtually a pirate kingdom, where they
drove a thriving trade with the planters along
the upper river and the merchants of New Or
leans in smuggled slaves and merchandise. Al
though both the State and federal authorities had
made repeated attempts to dislodge them, the
Lafittes were at the height of their prosperity
when the second war with England began. When
the British armada destined for the conquest of
Louisiana arrived off the Mississippi, late in 1814,
an officer was sent to Jean Lafitte offering him
fifty thousand dollars and a captain s commission
in the royal navy if he would co-operate with the
British in the capture of New Orleans. Though
Governor Claiborne, of Louisiana, had set a price
on his head, Lafitte, who was, it seemed, a pa
triot first and a pirate afterward, hastened up the
river to New Orleans, warned the governor of the
48
Adventurers All
approach of the British fleet, and offered his ser
vices and those of his men to Andrew Jackson for
the defense of the city. His offer was accepted
in the spirit in which it was made, and Lafitte
and his red-shirted buccaneers played no small
part in winning the famous victory. They were
mentioned in despatches by Jackson, thanked for
their services by the President and pardoned, and
settled down for a time to a lawful and humdrum
existence. But for such men a life of ease and
safety held no attractions; so, about the time that
De Aury s squadron sailed for Soto la Marina,
Lafitte, with half-a-dozen vessels, dropped casu
ally into the harbor of Galveston and, as the
place suited him, coolly took possession.
By the close of 1817 the followers of Lafitte on
Galveston Island had increased to upward of a
thousand men. They were of all nations and all
languages fugitives from justice and fugitives
from oppression. Those of them who had wives
brought them to the settlement at Galveston, and
those who had no wives brought their mistresses,
so that the society of the place, whatever may be
said of its morals, began to assume an air of per
manency. On the site of the hut occupied by
the late governor, De Aury, Lafitte erected a pre
tentious house and built a fort; other buildings
49
The Road to Glory
sprang up, among them a "Yankee" boarding-
house, and, to complete the establishment, a small
arsenal and dockyard were constructed. To lend
an air of respectability to his enterprise, Lafitte
obtained privateering commissions from several
of the revolted colonies of Spain, and for several
years his cruisers, first under one flag and then
under another, conducted operations in the Gulf
which smacked considerably more of piracy than
of privateering. In 1819 Lafitte was taken into
the service of the Republican party in Mexico,
Galveston was officially made a port of entry, and
he was appointed governor of the island.
By the terms of the treaty whereby Spain, in
1819, sold Florida to the United States, the lat
ter agreed to accept the Sabine as its western
boundary and make no further claims to Texas.
Though this treaty aroused the most profound
indignation throughout the Southwest, nowhere
did it rise so high as in the town of Natchez.
From Natchez had gone out each of the expedi
tions which, since the days of Philip Nolan, had
hammered against the Spanish barriers. To it
had returned every leader who had escaped death
on the battle-field or before a firing-party. In it,
as a great river town enjoying a vast trade with
the interior, was gathered the most reckless, law-
5
Adventurers All
less, enterprising population flatboatmen, steam-
boatmen, frontiersmen to be found in all the
Southwest. So, when Doctor James Long, an
army surgeon who had served under Jackson at
New Orleans, called for recruits to make one more
attempt to free Texas, he did not call in vain.
Early in June Long set out from Natchez with
only seventy-five men, but no sooner had he
crossed the Sabine and entered Texas than the
survivors of former expeditions hastened to join
him, so that when Nacogdoches was reached he
had behind him upward of three hundred men:
veterans who had seen service under Nolan and
Magee, and Kemper, and Gutierrez, and Toledo,
and Humbert, and Perry, and Mina, and De Aury.
At Nacogdoches Long established a provisional
government, a supreme council was elected, and
Texas was proclaimed a free and independent
republic. Realizing, however, that he could not
hope to hold the territory thus easily occupied
for any length of time unaided, Long despatched
a commission to Galveston to ask the co-opera
tion of Lafitte. Though the pirate chieftain re
ceived the commissioners with marked courtesy
and entertained them at the " Red House," as his
residence was called, with the lavish hospitality
for which he was noted, he told them bluntly
The Road to Glory
that, though Doctor Long had his best wishes for
success, the fate of Nolan and Perry and Mina
and a host of others ought to convince him how
hopeless it was to wage war against Spain with
so insignificant a force. Upon receiving this an
swer, Doctor Long, believing that a personal ap
plication to the buccaneer might meet with bet
ter success, himself set out for Galveston. As
luck would have it, he reached there on the same
day that the American warship Enterprise dropped
anchor in the harbor and its commander, Lieu
tenant Kearney, informed Lafitte that he had im
perative orders from Washington to break up the
establishment at Galveston. There was nothing
left for Lafitte but to obey, and a few days later
the rising tide carried outside Galveston bar the
Pride and the other vessels comprising the fleet
of the last of the buccaneers, who abandoned the
shores of Texas forever.*
Doctor Long, thoroughly discouraged, returned
to Nacogdoches to find a Spanish army close at
hand and his own forces completely demoralized.
Surrounded and outnumbered, resistance was use
less and he surrendered. Though Spanish do-
* A full account of the life and exploits of Jean Lafitte will be
found under "The Pirate Who Turned Patriot," in Mr. Powell s
"Gentlemen Rovers."
52
Adventurers All
minion in Mexico was now at an end, Doctor
Long and a number of his companions were sent
to the capital, where for several months he was
held a prisoner, the vigorous representations of
the American minister finally resulting in his re
lease. The Mexicans had no more intention than
the Spaniards, however, of permitting Texas to
achieve independence, which, doubtless, accounts
for the fact that Doctor Long, who was known
as a champion of Texan liberty, was assassinated
by a soldier in the streets of the capital a few
days after his release from prison. But he and
the long line of adventurers who preceded him
did not fight and die in vain, for they paved the
way for the Austins and Sam Houston, the final
liberators of Texas, who, a few years later, crossed
the Sabine and completed the work that Nolan,
Magee, Kemper, Gutierrez, Toledo, Humbert,
Perry, Mina, De Aury, and Long had begun.
As for Lafitte, the most picturesque adventurer
of them all, he sailed away from Galveston and,
following the example of that long line of buc
caneers of whom he was the last, spent his latter
years in harrying the commerce of the Dons upon
the Spanish main. Along the palm-fringed Gulf
coast his memory still survives, and at night the
superstitious sailors sometimes claim to see the
53
The Road to Glory
ghostly spars of his rakish craft and to hear,
borne by the night breeze, the rumble of his dis
tant cannonading.
"The palmetto leaves are whispering, while the gentle
trade-winds blow,
And the soothing Southern zephyrs are sighing soft
and low,
As a silvery moonlight glistens, and the droning
fireflies glow,
Comes a voice from out the cypress,
Lights out! Lafitte! Heave ho! "
54
WHEN WE SMASHED THE PROPHET S
POWER
WHEN WE SMASHED THE PROPHET S
POWER
IT is a curious and interesting fact that, just as
in the year 1754 a collision between French
and English scouting parties on the banks of the
Youghiogheny River, deep in the American wil
derness, began a war that changed the map of
Europe, so in 1811 a battle on the banks of the
Wabash between Americans and Indians started
an avalanche which ended by crushing Napoleon.
The nineteenth century was still in its swad
dling-clothes at the time this story opens; the war
of the Revolution had been over barely a quarter
of a century, and a second war with England was
shortly to begin. Though the borders of the
United States nominally extended to the Rockies,
the banks of the Mississippi really marked the
outermost picket-line of civilization. Beyond that
lay a vast and virgin wilderness, inconceivably
rich in minerals, game, and timber, but still in
the power of more or less hostile tribes of Indians.
Up to 1800 the whole of that region lying beyond
the Ohio, including the present States of Indiana,
57
The Road to Glory
Illinois, Wisconsin, Michigan, Iowa, and Missouri,
was officially designated as the Northwest Terri
tory, but in that year the northern half of this
region was organized as the Indian Territory, or,
as it came to be known in time, the Territory of
Indiana.
The governor of this great province was a
young man named William Henry Harrison.
This youth he was only twenty-seven at the
time of his appointment was invested with one
of the most extraordinary commissions ever is
sued by our government. In addition to being the
governor of a Territory whose area was greater
than that of the German Empire, he was com-
mander-in-chief of the Territorial militia, Indian
agent, land commissioner, and sole lawgiver.
He had the power to adopt from the statutes
upon the books of any of the States any and
every law which he deemed applicable to the
needs of the Territory. He appointed all the
judges and other civil officials and all military
officers below the rank of general. He possessed
and exercised the authority to divide the Terri
tory into counties and townships. He held the
prerogative of pardon. His decision as to the
validity of existing land grants, many of which
were technically worthless, was final, and his sig-
58
The Prophet s Power
nature upon a title was a remedy for all defects.
As the representative of the United States in its
relations with the Indians, he held the power
to negotiate treaties and to make treaty pay
ments.
Governor Harrison was admittedly the highest
authority on the northwestern Indians. He kept
his fingers constantly on the pulse of Indian senti
ment and opinion and often said that he could
forecast by the conduct of his Indians, as a mari
ner forecasts the weather by the aid of a barom
eter, the chances of war and peace for the United
States so far as they were controlled by the cabi
net in London. The remark, though curious, was
not surprising. Uneasiness would naturally be
greatest in regions where the greatest irritation
existed and which were under the least control.
Such a danger spot was the Territory of Indiana.
It occupied a remote and perilous position, for
northward and westward the Indian country
stretched to the Great Lakes and the Mississippi,
unbroken save by the military posts at Fort
Wayne and Fort Dearborn (now Chicago) and a
considerable settlement of whites in the vicinity
of Detroit. Some five thousand Indian warriors
held this vast region and were abundantly able
to expel every white man from Indiana if their
59
The Road to Glory
organization had been as strong as their numbers.
And the whites were no less eager to expel the
Indians.
No acid ever ate more resistlessly into a vege
table substance than the white man acted on the
Indian. As the line of American settlements ap
proached the nearest Indian tribes shrunk and
withered away. The most serious of the evils
which attended the contact of the two hostile
races was the introduction by the whites of whiskey
among the Indians. "I can tell at once," wrote
Harrison about this time, "upon looking at an
Indian whom I may chance to meet, whether he
belongs to a neighboring or a more distant tribe.
The latter is generally well-clothed, healthy, and
vigorous; the former half-naked, filthy, and en
feebled by intoxication." Another cause of In
dian resentment was that the white man, though
not permitted to settle beyond the Indian border,
could not be prevented from trespassing far and
wide on Indian territory in quest of game. This
practice of hunting on Indian lands in direct vio
lation of law and of existing treaties had, indeed,
grown into a monstrous abuse and did more than
anything else, perhaps, to fan the flame of In
dian hostility toward the whites. Every autumn
great numbers of Kentucky settlers used to cross
60
The Prophet s Power
the Ohio River into the Indian country to hunt
deer, bear, and buffalo for their skins, which they
had no more right to take than they had to cross
the Alleghanies and shoot the cows and sheep
belonging to the Pennsylvania farmers. As a re
sult of this systematic slaughter of the game,
many parts of the Northwest Territory became
worthless to the Indians as hunting-grounds, and
the tribes that owned them were forced either to
sell them to the government for supplies or for
an annuity or to remove elsewhere. /The In
dians had still another cause for complaint. Ac
cording to the terms of the treaties, if an Indian
killed a white man the tribe was bound to sur
render the murderer for trial in an American
court; while, if a white man killed an Indian, the
murderer was also to be tried by a white jury.
The Indians surrendered their murderers, and the
white juries at Vincennes unhesitatingly hung
them; but, though Harrison reported innumerable
cases of wanton and atrocious murders of Indians
by white men, no white man was ever convicted
by a territorial jury for these crimes. So far as
the white man was concerned, it was a case of
"Heads I win, tails you lose." The opinion that
prevailed along the frontier was expressed in the
frequent assertion that "the only good Indian is
61
The Road to Glory
a dead one," and in the face of such public opin
ion there was no chance of the Indian getting a
square deal.
As a result of these outrages and injustices, the
thoughts of the Indians turned longingly toward
the days when this region was held by France.
Had Napoleon carried out his Louisiana scheme
of 1802, there is no possible doubt that he would
have received the active support of every Indian
tribe from the Gulf to the Great Lakes; his
orders would have been obeyed from Tallahassee
to Detroit. When affairs in Europe compelled him
to abandon his contemplated American campaign,
the Indians turned to the British for sympathy
and assistance and the British were only too
glad to extend them a friendly hand. From
Maiden, opposite Detroit, the British traders
loaded the American Indians witrTgifts and weap
ons; the governor-general of Canada intrigued
with the more powerful chieftains and assured
himself of their support in the war which was ap
proaching; British emissaries circulated among the
tribes, and by specious arguments inflamed their
hostility toward Americans. Indeed, it is no ex
aggeration to say that, had our people and our
government treated the Indians with the most
elementary justice and honesty, they would have
62
The Prophet s Power
had their support in the War of 1812, the whole
course of that disastrous war would probably have
been changed, and the Canadian boundary would,
in all likelihood, have been pushed far to the
northward. By their persistent ill treatment of
the Indians the Americans received what they
had every reason to expect and what they fully
deserved.
During the first decade of the nineteenth cen
tury there was really no perfect peace with any
of the Indian tribes west of the Ohio, and Harri
son s abilities as a soldier and a diplomatist were
taxed to the utmost to prevent the skirmish-line,
as the chain of settlements and trading-posts
which marked our westernmost frontier might well
be called, from being turned into a battle-ground.
Harrison s most formidable opponent in his task
of civilizing the West was the Shawnee chief
tain Tecumseh, perhaps the most remarkable of
American Indians. Though not a chieftain by
birth, Tecumseh had risen by the strength of his
personality and his powers as an orator to a po
sition of altogether extraordinary influence and
power among his people. So great was his repu
tation for bravery in battle and wisdom in coun
cil that by 1809 he had attained the unique dis
tinction of being, to all intents and purposes, the
63
The Road to Glory
political leader of all the Indians between the
Ohio and the Mississippi.
With the vision of a prophet, Tecumseh saw that
if this immense territory was once opened to set
tlement by whites the game upon which the In
dians had to depend for sustenance must soon be
exterminated and that in a few years his people
would have to move to strange and distant hunt
ing-grounds. Taking this as his text, he preached
a gospel of armed resistance to the white man s
encroachments at every tribal council-fire from
the land of the Chippewas to the country of the
Creeks. And he had good reasons for his warn
ings, for the Indians were being stripped of their
lands in shameless fashion. In fact, the Indian
agents were deliberately ordered to tempt the
tribal chiefs into debt in order to oblige them to
sell the tribal lands, which did not belong to
them, but to their tribes. The callousness of the
government s Indian policy was frankly expressed
by President Jefferson in a letter to Harrison in
1803:
"To promote this disposition to exchange lands
which they have to spare and we want for neces
saries which we have to spare and they want we
shall push our trading houses and be glad to see
the good and influential individuals among them
The Prophet s Power
in debt; because we observe that when these
debts get beyond what the individuals can pay
they become willing to lop them off by a cession
of lands."
The tone of cynicism, inhumanity, and greed
which characterizes that letter makes it sound
more like the utterance of a usurious money
lender than an official communication to a Terri
torial governor from the President of the United
States. It is hard to believe that it was penned
by the same hand which wrote the Declaration of
Independence.
Jefferson s Indian policy was continued by his
successor, for in 1809 Governor Harrison, acting
under instructions from President Madison, con
cluded a treaty with the chiefs of the Delaware,
Pottawatomie, Miami, Eel River, Wea, and Kick-
apoo tribes, whereby, in consideration of eight
thousand two hundred dollars paid down and an
nuities amounting to two thousand three hundred
and fifty more, he obtained the cession of three
million acres of land. Think of it, my friends !
Perhaps the most fertile land in all the world
sold at the rate of three acres for a cent! It was
like stealing candy from a child. Do you won
der that Tecumseh declared the treaty void, de
nounced as traitors to their race the chiefs who
65
The Road to Glory
made it, and asserted that it was not in the
power of individual tribes to deed away the com
mon domain ? This was the basis of Tecumseh s
scheme for a general federation of all the Indians,
which, had it not been smashed in its early stages,
would have drenched our frontiers with blood and
would have set back the civilization of the West
a quarter of a century.
Throughout his campaign of proselytism Te-
cumseh was ably seconded by one of his triplet
brothers, Elkswatana, known among the Indians
as "the prophet." The latter, profiting by the
credulity and superstition of the red men, ob
tained a great reputation as a medicine-man and
seer by means of his charms, incantations, and
pretended visions of the Great Spirit, thus mak
ing himself a most valuable ally of Tecumseh in
the great conspiracy which the latter was secretly
hatching. Meanwhile the relations between the
Americans and their neighbors across the Ca
nadian border had become strained almost to the
breaking point, the situation being aggravated by
the fact that the British were secretly encourag
ing Tecumseh in spreading his propaganda of re
sistance to the United States and were covertly
supplying the Indians with arms and ammuni
tion for the purpose. The winter of 1809-10,
66
The Prophet s Power
therefore, was marked by Indian outrages along
the whole length of the frontier. And there were
other agencies, more remote but none the less ef
fective, at work creating discontent among the
Indians. It seems a far cry from the prairies to
the Tuileries, from an Indian warrior to a French
Emperor, but when Napoleon s decree of what
was virtually a universal blockade imposed ter
rible hardships on American shipping as well as
on the British commerce at which it was aimed,
even the savage of the wilderness was affected.
It clogged and almost closed the chief markets for
his furs, and prices dropped so low that Indian
hunters were hardly able to purchase the pow
der and shot with which to kill their game. At
the beginning of 1810, therefore, the Indians were
ripe for any enterprise that promised them relief
and independence.
In the spring of 1808 Tecumseh, the prophet,
and their followers had established themselves on
the banks of the Wabash, near the mouth of the
Tippecanoe River, about seven miles to the north
of the present site of Lafayette, Indiana. Stra
tegically, the situation was admirably chosen, for
Vincennes, where Harrison had his headquarters,
lay one hundred and fifty miles below and could
be reached in four and twenty hours by canoe
The Road to Glory
down the Wabash; Fort Dearborn was a hun
dred miles to the northwest; Fort Wayne the
same distance to the northeast; and, barring a
short portage, the Indians could paddle their
canoes to Detroit in one direction or to any
part of the Ohio or the Mississippi in the other.
Thus they were within striking distance of the
chief military posts on the frontier and within
easy reach of their British friends at Maiden.
On this spot the Indians, in obedience to a com
mand which the prophet professed to have re
ceived in a dream from the Great Spirit, built a
sort of model village, where they assiduously tilled
the soil and shunned the fire-water of the whites.
For a year or more after the establishment of
Prophet s Town, as the place was called, things
went quietly enough, but when it became known
that Harrison had obtained the cession of the
three million acres in the valley of the Wabash
already referred to, the smouldering resentment
of Tecumseh and his followers was fanned into
flame, the Indians refusing to receive the "an
nuity salt" sent them in accordance with the
terms of the treaty and threatened to kill the
boatmen who brought it, whom they called
"American dogs."
Early in the following summer Harrison sent
68
The Prophet s Power
word to Tecumseh that he would like to see him,
and on August 12, 1810, the Indian chief with
four hundred armed warriors arrived at the gov
ernor s headquarters at Vincennes. The meeting
between the white man who stood for civiliza
tion and the red man who stood for savagery
took place in a field outside the stockaded town.
The youthful governor, short of stature, lean of
body, and stern of face, sat in a chair under a
spreading tree, surrounded by a group of his
officials: army officers, Territorial judges, scouts,
interpreters, and agents. Opposite him, ranged
in a semicircle on the ground, were Tecumseh,
his brother, the prophet, and a score or more of
chiefs, while back of them, row after row of
blanketed forms and grim, bepainted faces, sat
his four hundred fighting men. Tecumseh had
been warned that his braves must come to the
conference unarmed, and to all appearances they
were weaponless, but no one knew better than
Harrison that concealed beneath the folds of each
warrior s blanket was a tomahawk and a scalp-
ing-knife. Nor, aware as he was of the danger
of Indian treachery, had he neglected to take
precautions, for the garrison of the town was
under arms, the muzzles of field-guns peered
through apertures in the log stockade, and a few
69
The Road to Glory
paces away from the council, ready to open fire
at the first sign of danger, were a score of sol
diers with loaded rifles.
In reply to Harrison s formal greeting, Tecum-
seh rose to his feet, presenting a most striking
and impressive figure as he stood, drawn to his
full height, with folded arms and granite features,
the sunlight playing on his copper-colored skin,
on his belt and moccasins of beaded buckskin,
and on the single eagle s feather which slanted
in his hair. The address of the famous warrior
statesman consisted of a recital of the wrongs
which the Indian had suffered at the hands of
the white man. It was a story of chicanery and
spoliation and oppression which Tecumseh told,
and those who listened to it, white men and red
alike, knew that it was very largely true. He
told how the Indians, the real owners of the land,
had been steadily driven westward and ever west
ward, first beyond the Alleghanies, and then be
yond the Ohio, and now beyond the Missouri.
He told how the white men had attempted to
create dissension among the Indians to prevent
their uniting, how they had bribed the stronger
tribes and coerced the weaker, how again and
again they had tried to goad the Indians into
committing some overt act that they might use
70
The Prophet s Power
it as an excuse for seizing more of their land.
He told how the whites, jeering at the sacredness
of treaty obligations, systematically debauched
the Indians by selling them whiskey; how they
trespassed on the Indians lands and slaughtered
the game on which the Indians depended for sup
port; of how, when the Indians protested, they
were often slaughtered, too; and of how the
white men s courts, instead of condemning the
criminal, usually ended by congratulating him.
He declared that things had come to a pass
where the Indians must fight or perish, that the
Indians were one people and that the lands be
longing to them as a race could not be disposed
of by individual tribes, that an Indian confed
eracy had been formed which both could and
would fight every step of the white man s fur
ther advance. As Tecumseh continued, his pro
nunciation became more guttural, his terms
harsher, his gestures more excited, his argument
changed into a warlike harangue. He played
upon the Indian portion of his audience as a
maestro plays upon a violin, until, their passions
mastering their discretion, they sprang to their
feet with a whoop, brandishing their tomahawks
and knives. In the flutter of an eyelash every
thing was in confusion. The waiting soldiers
The Road to Glory
dashed forward like sprinters, cocking their rifles
as they ran. The officers jerked loose their
swords, and the frontiersmen snatched up their
long-barrelled weapons. But Harrison was quick
est of all, for, drawing and cocking a pistol with
a single motion, he thrust its muzzle squarely
into Tecumseh s face. "Call off your men," he
thundered, "or you re a dead Indian!" Tecum-
seh, realizing that he had overplayed his part
and appreciating that this was an occasion when
discretion was of more avail than valor, motioned
to his warriors, and they silently and sullenly
withdrew.
But it was no part of Tecumseh s plan or of
the British who were behind him to bring on a
war at this time, when their preparations were
as yet incomplete; so the following morning
Tecumseh, who had little to learn about the game
of diplomacy, called on Harrison, expressed with
apparent sincerity his regret for the violence into
which his young men had been led by his words,
and asked to have the council resumed. Harri
son well knew the great ability and influence of
Tecumseh and was anxious to conciliate him, for,
truth to tell, the Americans were no more pre
pared for war at this time than were the In
dians. When asked whether he intended to per-
72
The Prophet s Power
sist in his opposition to the cessions of territory
in the valley of the Wabash, Tecumseh firmly
asserted his intention to adhere to the old bound
ary, though he made it clear that, if the governor
would prevail upon the President to give up the
lands in question and would agree never to make
another treaty without the consent of all the
tribes, he would pledge himself to be a faithful
ally of the United States. Otherwise he would
be obliged to enter into an alliance with the
English. Harrison told him that the American
Government would never agree to his suggestions.
"Well," rejoined Tecumseh, as though he had
expected the answer he received, "as the Great
Chief is to decide the matter, I hope the Great
Spirit will put sense enough into his head to in
duce him to direct you to give up the land. True,
he is so far off that he will not be injured by the
war. It is you and I who will have to fight it
out while he sits in his town and drinks his wine."
It only needed this open declaration of his
hostile intentions by Tecumseh to convince Har
rison that the time had come to strike, and strike
hard. If the peril of the great Indian league of
which Tecumseh had boasted was to be averted,
it must be done before that confederation became
too strongly organized to shatter. There was no
73
The Road to Glory
time to be lost. Harrison promptly issued a call
for volunteers to take part in a campaign against
the Indians, at the same time despatching a mes
senger to Washington requesting the loan of a
regiment of regulars to stiffen the raw levies who
would compose the major part of the expedition.
News of Harrison s call for men spread over the
frontier States as though disseminated by wire
less, and soon the volunteers came pouring in:
frontiersmen from Kentucky and Tennessee in fur
caps and hunting-shirts of buckskin; woodsmen
from the forests of Michigan and Wisconsin,
long-barrelled rifles on their shoulders and pow
der-horns slung from their necks; militiamen
from Indiana and Illinois, and grizzled Indian-
fighters from the towns along the river and the
backwoods settlements, who volunteered as much
from love of fighting as from hatred of the
Indians. Then, one day, almost before Harri
son realized that they had started, a column
of dusty, footsore soldiery came tramping into
Vincennes with the unmistakable swing of vet
erans. It was the 4th Regiment of United States
Infantry, commanded by Colonel John Parker
Boyd, who, upon receiving orders from Wash
ington to hurry to Harrison s assistance, had put
his men on flatboats at Pittsburg, where the
74
The Prophet s Power
regiment was stationed, floated them down to
the falls of the Ohio, and marched them over
land to Harrison s headquarters at Vincennes, ac
complishing the four-hundred-mile journey in a
time which made that veteran frontiersman open
his eyes with astonishment when he heard it.
Boyd * was one of the most picturesque figures
which our country has ever produced. Born in
Newburyport in 1764, the last British soldier had
left our shores before he was old enough to real
ize the ambition of his life by obtaining a com
mission in the American army. But his was not
the disposition which could content itself with
the tedium of garrison life in time of peace; so, be
fore he had passed his four-and-twentieth birth
day he had handed in his papers and taken pas
sage for India. The closing years of the eight
eenth century saw fighting going on from one
end of Hindustan to the other. The British were
fighting the French, and the Hindus were fighting
the Mohammedans, so that men with military
training found there a profitable market for their
services and their swords.
After serving for a time as cavalry instructor
* A detailed account of the amazing exploits of Colonel Boyd will
be found in "For Rent: An Army on Elephants," in Mr. Powell s
"Gentlemen Rovers."
75
The Road to Glory
in the armies of the Peishwa, as the ruler of the
Mahratta tribes was called, Boyd obtained a
commission as colonel in the service of the Nizam
of Hyderabad, distinguished himself in a series
of whirlwind raids which he led into the terri
tory of the Sultan of Mysore during the cam
paign which ended with the death of that tyrant
in a last desperate stand at the gates of his capi
tal of Seringapatam, and was rewarded by the
Nizam giving him the command of a brigade of
ten thousand turbaned troopers. Having by this
time accumulated a modest fortune as a result
of the lavish pay he had received from his princely
employers, he resigned from the Nizam s service
and organized an army of his own. The horses,
elephants, and guns were his personal property,
and he rented his army to those native princes
who stood in need of its services and were able
to pay for them, very much as a garage rents an
automobile.
Foreseeing the eventual conquest of India by
the British and realizing that it would mean the
end of independent soldiering in that country, he
sold his army, elephants and all, to an Italian
soldier of fortune and turned his face toward his
native land once more. At that time soldiering
was neither a very popular nor a very profitable
76
The Prophet s Power
profession in the United States, so that Boyd,
whose reputation as a daring leader and a rigid
disciplinarian had preceded him, had no difficulty
in again obtaining a commission under his own
flag and in the service of his own country, being
offered by the government and promptly accept
ing the colonelcy of the 4th Regiment of foot.
An October evening in 1811, then, saw him riding
into Vincennes at the head of his travel-weary
regulars, in response to Governor Harrison s re
quest for reinforcements.
The news brought in by the scouts that war-
dances were going on in the Indian villages and
that the threatened storm was about to break
served to hasten Harrison s preparations. The
small, but exceedingly businesslike, expedition
which marched out of Vincennes on the ist day
of November under the leadership of Governor
Harrison, with Colonel Boyd in direct command
of the troops, consisted of the nine companies of
regulars which Boyd had brought from Pitts-
burg, six companies of infantry of the Indiana
militia, two companies of Indiana dragoons, two
companies of Kentucky mounted rifles, a com
pany of Indiana mounted rifles, and a company
of scouts about eleven hundred men in all.
Their uniforms would have looked strange and
77
The Road to Glory
outlandish indeed to one accustomed to the ser
viceable, dust-colored garb of the present-day sol
dier, for the infantry wore high felt hats of the
"stovepipe" pattern, adorned with red-white-and-
blue cockades, tight-waisted, long-tailed coats of
blue cloth with brass buttons, and pantaloons as
nearly skin-tight as the tailor could make them.
The dragoons were gorgeous in white buckskin
breeches, high, varnished boots, "shell" jackets
which reached barely to the hips, and brass hel
mets with streaming plumes of horsehair. Be
cause the mounted riflemen who were under the
command of Captain Spencer wore gray uniforms
lavishly trimmed with yellow, they bore the nick
name among the troops of "Spencer s Yellow-
Jackets." The only men of the force, indeed,
who were suitably clad for Indian warfare were
the scouts, who wore the hunting-shirts, leggings,
and moccasins of soft-tanned buckskin, which
were the orthodox dress of the frontier.
Commanded by men of such wide experience in
savage warfare as Harrison and Boyd, it is need
less to say that every precaution was taken against
surprise, the column moving in a formation which
prepared it for instant battle. The cavalry
formed advance and rear guards, and small de
tachments rode on either flank; the infantry
78
The Prophet s Power
marched in two columns, one on either side of
the trail, with the baggage wagons, pack-animals,
and beeves between them, while the scouts,
thrown far out into the forest, formed a moving
cordon of skirmishers. After crossing the Ver
milion River the troops found themselves upon
an immense prairie, which stretched away, level
as a floor, as far as the eye could see as far as
the Illinois at Chicago, the guides asserted. It
filled the soldiers, who came from a rugged and
heavily forested country, with the greatest as
tonishment, for few of them had ever seen so
vast an expanse of level ground before. Shortly
afterward, however, they left the prairie and
marched through open woods, over ground gashed
and furrowed by deep ravines. Here the great
est precautions had to be observed, for clouds of
Indian scouts hung upon the flanks of the col
umn, and the broken nature of the country fitted
it admirably for ambushes.
Late in the afternoon of November 6, 1811, in
a cold and drizzling rain, Harrison gave orders to
bivouac for the night on a piece of high but
swamp-surrounded ground on the banks of the
Tippecanoe River, near its junction with the
Wabash, and barely five miles from the Proph
et s Town. It was a triangular-shaped knoll,
79
The Road to Glory
dotted with oaks, one side of which dropped
down in a sharp declivity to a little stream
edged with willows and heavy underbrush, while
the other two sides sloped down more gradually
to a marshy prairie. The camp was arranged in
the form of an irregular parallelogram, with the
regulars who were the only seasoned troops in the
expedition forming the front and rear, the flanks
being composed of mounted riflemen supported
by militia, while two troops of dragoons were
held in reserve. In the centre of this armed
enclosure were parked the pack-animals and the
baggage-train. Though late in the night the
moon rose from behind a bank of clouds; the
night was very dark, with occasional flurries of
rain. The troops lay on the rain-soaked ground
with rifles loaded and bayonets fixed, but they
slept but little, I fancy, for they had brought
no tents, few of them were provided with blan
kets, and top-hats and tail-coats are not exactly
adapted to camping in the forest in November.
From his experience in previous campaigns,
Harrison had learned that, while in the vicinity
of any considerable body of Indians, it was the
part of precaution to arouse his men quietly an
hour or so before daybreak, for it was a charac
teristic of the Indians to deliver their attacks
80
The Prophet s Power
shortly before the dawn, which is the hour when
tired men sleep the soundest. Meanwhile, in the
Indian camp preparations were being stealthily
made for the surprise and extermination of the
white invaders. Tecumseh was not present, be
ing absent on one of his proselyting tours among
the southern tribes, but the prophet brought out
the sacred torch and the magic beans, which his
followers had only to touch, so he assured them,
to become invulnerable to the enemy s bullets.
This ceremony was followed by a series of incan
tations, war songs and dances, until the Indians,
now wrought up to a frenzy, were ready for any
deed of madness. Slipping like horrid phantoms
through the waist-high prairie grass in the black
ness of the night, they crept nearer and nearer
to the sleeping camp, intending to surround the
position, stab the sentries, rush the camp, and
slaughter every man in it whom they could not
take alive for the torture stake.
In pursuance of his custom of early rising,
Harrison was just pulling on his boots before the
embers of a dying camp-fire, at four o clock in the
morning, preparatory to rousing his men, when
the silence of the forest was suddenly broken by
the crack of a sentry s rifle. The echoes had not
time to die away before, from three sides of the
81
The Road to Glory
camp, rose the shrill, hair-raising war-whoop of
the Indians. As familiar with the lay of the land
as a housewife is with the arrangements of her
kitchen, they had effected their plan of surround
ing the camp, confident of taking the suddenly
awakened soldiers so completely by surprise that
they would be unable to offer an effectual re
sistance. Not a warrior of them but did not
look forward to returning to the Prophet s
Town with a string of dripping scalp-locks at
his waist.
The Indians, quite unlike their usual custom
of keeping to cover, fought as white men fight,
for, made reckless by the prophet s assurances
that his spells had made them invulnerable and
that bullets could not harm them, they advanced
at a run across the open. At sight of the on
coming wave of bedaubed and befeathered fig
ures the raw levies from Indiana and Kentucky
visibly wavered and threatened to give way, but
Boyd s regulars, though taken by surprise, showed
the result of their training by standing like a
stone wall against the onset of the whooping red
skins. The engagement quickly became general.
The chorus of cheers and yells and groans and
war-whoops was punctuated by the continuous
crackle of the frontiersmen s rifles and the crash-
82
The Prophet s Power
ing volleys of the infantry. Harrison, a conspicu
ous figure on a white horse and wearing a white
blanket coat, rode up and down the lines, en
couraging here, cautioning there, as cool and as
quiet-voiced as though back on the parade-ground
at Vincennes.
The pressure was greatest at the angle of the
camp where the first attack was made, the troops
stationed at this point having the greatest diffi
culty in holding their position. Seeing this,
Major Joseph H. Daviess, a brilliant but hot
headed young Kentuckian who had achieved
fame by his relentless attacks on Aaron Burr,
twice asked permission to charge with his dra
goons, and twice the governor sent back the an
swer: "Tell Major Daviess to be patient; he
shall have his chance before the battle is over."
When Daviess for a third time urged his impor
tunate request, Harrison answered the messenger
sharply: "Tell Major Daviess he has twice heard
my opinion; he may now use his own discretion."
Discretion, however, was evidently not included
in the Kentuckian s make-up, for no sooner had
he received Harrison s message than, with barely
a score of dismounted troopers, he charged the
Indian line. So foolhardy a performance could
only be expected to end in disaster. Daviess fell,
83
The Road to Glory
mortally wounded, and his men, such of them as
were not dead, turned and fled for their lives.
The prophet, who had been chanting appeals
to the Great Spirit from the top of a rock within
view of his warriors but safely out of range of
the American rifles (he evidently had some
doubts as to the efficacy of his charms), realized
that, as a result of the unforeseen obstinacy
of the Americans resistance, victory was fast
slipping from his grasp and that his only hope
of success lay in an overwhelming charge.
Roused to renewed fanaticism by his fervid ex
hortations, the Indians once again swept for
ward, whooping like madmen. But the Ameri
cans were ready for them, and as the yelling
redskins came within range they met them with
a volley of buckshot which left them wavering,
undecided whether to come on or to retreat. Har
rison, whose plan was to maintain his lines un
broken until daylight and then make a general
advance, and who had been constantly riding
from point to point within the camp to keep the
assailed positions reinforced, realized that the
crucial moment had arrived. Now was his chance
to drive home the deciding blow. Boyd, recog
nizing as quickly as Harrison the opportunity
thus presented, ordered a bugler to sound the
84
The Indians, panic-stricken at the sight of the oncoming
troopers, broke and ran.
The Prophet s Power
charge, and his infantry roared down upon the
Indian line in a human avalanche tipped with
steel. At the same moment he ordered up the
two squadrons of dragoons which he had been
holding in reserve. "Right into line !" he roared,
in the voice which had resounded over so many
fields in far-off Hindustan. "Trot! Gallop!
Charge! Hip, hip, here we go!" It was this
charge, delivered with the smashing suddenness
with which a boxer gets in a solar-plexus blow,
which did the business. The Indians, panic-
stricken at the sight of the oncoming troopers in
their brass helmets and streaming plumes of
horsehair, broke and ran. Tippecanoe was won,
though at a cost to the Americans of nearly two
hundred killed and wounded, including two lieu
tenant-colonels, two majors, five captains, and
several lieutenants. The discredited prophet,
now become an object of hatred and derision
among his own people, fled for his life while the
victorious Americans burned his town behind him.
Tecumseh, returning from the south to be greeted
by the news of the disaster to his plans resulting
from his brother s folly, threw in his lot with the
British, commanded England s Indian allies in
the War of 1812, and died two years later at the
battle of the Thames, when his old adversary,
The Road to Glory
Harrison, once again led the Americans to vic
tory. For his share in the Tippecanoe triumph,
Boyd received a brigadier-general s commission.
Harrison was started on the road which was to
end at the White House. The peril of the great
Indian confederation was ended forever, and the
civilization of the West was advanced a quarter
of a century.
86
THE WAR THAT WASN T A WAR
THE WAR THAT WASN T A WAR
I WONDER how many of the white-clad,
white-shod folk who lounge their winters
away on the golf-links at St. Augustine or in
wheeled chairs propelled by Ethiopians along the
fragrant pathways of Palm Beach ever specu
late as to how it happens that the flags which
fly over the Ponce de Leon and the Royal Poin-
ciana are made of red, white, and blue bunting
instead, say, of red and yellow. Not many of
them, I expect, for professional joy hunters have
no time to spare for history. I wonder how
many of those people who complacently regard
themselves as well-read and well-informed could
tell you offhand, if you asked them, how Florida
became American or give you even the barest
outline of the conception and execution of that
daring and cynical scheme whereby it was added to
the Union. I wonder how many professors of his
tory in our schools and colleges are aware that
Florida was once a republic for but a brief time,
it is true with a flag and a president and an
army of its own. I wonder how many of our
military and naval officers know that we fought
89
The Road to Glory
Spanish soldiers and stormed Spanish forts and
captured Spanish towns and hauled down Span
ish colors (all quite unofficially, of course) four
score years before Schley and Sampson sunk the
Spanish fleet ofF Santiago. And, finally, I wonder
how many people have ever so much as heard of
the Emperor McGillivray, who held his barbaric
court at Tallahassee and was a general in the
armies of England, Spain, and the United States
at the same time; of Sir Gregor MacGregor, the
Scottish soldier of fortune who attempted to es
tablish a kingdom at Fernandina and died King
of the Mosquito Coast; or any of those other
strange and romantic figures De Aury, Hubbard,
Peire, Humbert who followed him. It is a dash
ing story but a bloody one, and those who have
no stomach for intrigue and treachery and massa
cre and ambushes and storming parties and fili
bustering expeditions had better turn elsewhere
for their reading.
Some one has aptly remarked that the history
of Florida is but a bowl of blood, and that, were
a man to cast into it some chemical that would
separate the solid ingredients from the mere water,
he would find that the precipitate at the bottom
consisted of little save death and disappointment.
Certainly the Spaniards were rewarded by little
90
The War That Wasn t a War
more, for after they had ruled it for two hundred
and fifty years the net results of their labor were
the beggarly settlements at Pensacola and St.
Augustine. In 1763 England ceded Havana to
Spain in exchange for Florida, and for a brief
time that harassed country was on speaking terms
with peace and prosperity, for the English estab
lished settlements and built roads and started
schools, as is the quaint Anglo-Saxon way. But
with the loss of her American colonies, in 1783,
England suddenly concluded that it was not
worth her while to retain this now isolated prov
ince; so she ceded it back to Spain, and the set
tlers found that their work had gone for noth
ing. A Spanish lethargy promptly settled upon
the land; grass sprang up in the main streets of
the towns; the noon-hour was expanded into a
siesta which lasted from twelve to four; the in
digo plantations started by the English colonists
were neglected and ran out; the injustice, cruelty,
and oppression which everywhere characterized
Spanish rule entered upon a return engagement;
and Florida became a savage and lawless border
land, where Indians, runaway slaves, filibusters,
frontiersmen, and fugitives from justice fought
each other and united only in jeering at the
feeble rule of Spain.
The Road to Glory
At this time the colony was divided into two
provinces, known as East and West Florida.
The former province was virtually identical with
the present State, extending from the Perdido
River (now the boundary-line between the States
of Florida and Alabama) eastward to the Atlantic
Ocean, including the great peninsula lying south
of Georgia and stretching across almost six de
grees of latitude. On its Atlantic seaboard were
the towns of Fernandina and St. Augustine, and
on the Gulf coast the ports of Pensacola and
St. Marks. The province of West Florida ex
tended from the Perdido westward, according to
the Spanish claims, to the Mississippi and in
cluded the river town of Baton Rouge and the
Gulf port of Mobile. It will be seen, therefore,
that Spain was in possession of all that great
semicircle of Gulf coast stretching from Key West
to New Orleans.
In 1803, Napoleon, hard-pressed for funds with
which to continue his European campaigns, sold
the colony of Louisiana to the United States as
unconcernedly as though he were disposing of a
suburban building lot. This proceeding was typ
ical of the utter indifference with which the sov
ereigns of the Old World were accustomed to
transfer their colonies in the New. The colo-
92
The War That Wasn t a War
nists, however much they may have loved their
sovereign, their country, or her institutions, were
bought, sold, or given away, without their con
sent and often without their knowledge. This
enormous addition to the national domain made it
not only desirable but imperative that the United
States acquire ports upon the Gulf of Mexico, so
that the settlers in Tennessee, Mississippi, Ala
bama, and western Georgia might have an outlet
for their products. The gentlemen in frock coats
and high black stocks who were at the tiller of
our ship of state determined, therefore, that the
Floridas must become American peacefully if
possible, forcibly if there was no other way.
Now, it must be borne in mind that at this
time Spain had no diplomatic intercourse with
the United States, the gigantic policy of Napoleon
having, for the time being, erased her from the
list of nations. Thus overwhelmed at home, her
possessions in America were either in a state of
open revolt or in so defenseless a condition that
they were ready to drop like ripe plums into the
hands of any nation which shook the tree. It
will thus be seen that the gentlemen in Washing
ton quite evidently knew what they were about
when they chose a time when Mother Spain was
confined to her bed, as the result of the beating
93
The Road to Glory
up she had received from Napoleon, to elope with
her daughter Florida.
Once set in motion, the machinery of conquest
proceeded to pare off slices of Florida with the
neatness and despatch of a meat-cutting machine.
The plans of the American Government worked
out as smoothly as a church wedding which has
been rehearsed beforehand. The carefully laid
scheme first manifested itself in October, 1810,
when a revolution broke out in that portion of
West Florida bordering upon the Mississippi. In
that region there was a family of American set
tlers named Kemper who had suffered many in
justices under Spanish rule. Two of these men,
Samuel and Reuben (the same Reuben Kemper,
by the way, whose exploits in Mexico are de
scribed in "Adventurers All"), determined to get
rid of their hated rulers, incited the neighboring
settlers to rise in armed revolt. Assembling at St.
Francisville, they marched through the night, ar
rived before Baton Rouge at dawn, took it by
surprise, and after a skirmish in which the Span
ish governor was killed drove out the garrison
and occupied the town. In order to throw a
cloak of legality over their acts, the revolution
ists organized a convention, issued a declaration
of independence modelled on Jefferson s immor-
94
The War That Wasn t a War
tal document, elected Fulwar Skipwith, formerly
American diplomatic agent in France, president
of the new republic, and hoisted over the cap
tured town a flag with a single star the same
emblem under which the Texans were to win
their independence thirty odd years later. This
done, the infant republic asked the United States
to recognize it as an independent nation. But
President Monroe, instead of extending recogni
tion, asserting that the revolted province had
been ceded by Spain to France along with Louisi
ana in 1800, and therefore, being part and parcel
of Louisiana, belonged to the United States any
way, declared the Territory of West Florida, as
far east as the Pearl River, an American possession.
Shortly after the capture of Baton Rouge
Colonel Kemper, acting under orders from the
revolutionary government, led another expedition
against Mobile. Made overconfident by their easy
triumph at Baton Rouge, the filibusters encamped
a few miles above Mobile and spent the night in a
grand carousal in celebration of their anticipated
victory on the morrow. But the Spanish gov
ernor, learning from a spy of the Americans be
fuddled condition, sallied out at the head of three
hundred men, took the revolutionists by surprise,
and completely routed them. A major and nine
95
The Road to Glory
men who were taken prisoners were transported
to Havana, where they paid for their affront to
the majesty of Spain by spending five years in
Morro Castle. A few weeks later a strong force
of American regulars arrived off Mobile and
coolly sat down within sight of the Spanish for
tifications. They explained their presence to the
Spanish governor by saying that they had been
sent by the American Government to protect
him and his men from further attacks by the
insurgents. The gentlemen who were shaping
the policies of the nation in Washington certainly
must have had a sense of humor. Though the
Spanish flag still flew over Mobile, the United
States was now, to all intents and purposes, in
complete possession of West Florida. In the
spring of 1812, when the American Government
finally determined on a war with England, the
strategic importance of Mobile became apparent
and President Monroe, deciding that the time
had come to end the farce, despatched an expe
dition under General Wilkinson to oust the Span
ish garrison and formally occupy the city. The
United States was now in full possession of one of
the Gulf ports she had so long been coveting, and
the machinery of conquest was still in working
order.
96
The War That Wasn t a War
Meanwhile the American Government, having
heard rumors that the British were about to as
sume control of East Florida under the provisions
of a secret arrangement with Spain, asked permis
sion of the Spanish authorities to occupy that prov
ince with troops that it might not be used by the
British as a base of operations. (The occupation
was to be purely temporary; oh, yes indeed, the
American troops would be withdrawn as soon as
the war-clouds which were piling up along the
political horizon lifted a little.) It is scarcely to
be wondered at, however, that Spain curtly re
fused the request, whereupon Congress, in secret
session, passed an act authorizing the seizure of
East Florida. But it would have smacked too
much of highway robbery or of burglary, which
ever you choose to call it, for the United States
to have sent a military expedition into the prov
ince and taken it by force of arms. That would
have been just a little too coarse and crude and
might, moreover, have called forth a European
protest. But surely no blame could be attached
to the United States because the settlers in south
ern Georgia, exasperated, they said, by the law
less conditions which prevailed in the adjacent
Spanish province, suddenly determined to follow
the example of their neighbors in West Florida
97
The Road to Glory
and organize a republican form of government
in East Florida as a preliminary to applying
for admission to the Union. It was a strange co
incidence, was it not, that the instigator of the
revolution, General George Mathews, a former
governor of Georgia, had been appointed a com
missioner, under the secret act of Congress, to se
cure the province ? Amelia Island, lying just off
the Florida coast and a little below the bound
ary of Georgia, provided an admirable base of
operations. The fine harbor of its capital, Fer-
nandina, was just becoming of considerable com
mercial importance and in Spanish hands might
prove a serious menace to the United States in
the approaching war with England. Hence the
acquisition of this island and harbor was regarded
by the American authorities as a military neces
sity. Early in 1812, therefore, a force of some
two hundred Georgian frontiersmen under Gen
eral Mathews moved down upon Fernandina and
sent a flag of truce, demanding the surrender of
the town and island. As a flotilla of American
gunboats, by a streak of the greatest good luck,
happened into the harbor at this psychological
moment, and a force of American regulars, by
another singular coincidence, appeared upon the
scene and placed themselves under Mathews s
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The War That Wasn t a War
orders, there was nothing left for the Spanish
commandant but to haul down his flag. Where
upon General Mathews, assuming the attitude of
a protector, took possession of the place in the
name of the United States. With the precedent
of Baton Rouge to guide him, Mathews natu
rally supposed that the secret and ambiguously
worded instructions under which he had gone to
Fernandina meant that he was to take possession
of East Florida, and he was strengthened in this
supposition by the condition of affairs that he
found there. St. Mary s River was filled with
British vessels engaged in smuggling British mer
chandise into the United States in defiance of the
Embargo Act, while Amelia Island was a notori
ous rendezvous for smugglers, upon whom the
Spanish authorities looked with marked toler
ance, if, indeed, they did not lend them actual
assistance. As soon as the Americans took
possession a custom-house was established, the
smuggling promptly ceased, and over the fort
was raised a flag bearing the inscription: "Fox
populi lex salutis" Though the uneducated
frontiersmen were a trifle hazy as to the motto s
meaning, it sounded well and lent a certain air
of dignity to the proceedings. The next move of
the insurgents, now become eight hundred strong
99
The Road to Glory
by reinforcements from Georgia, was to besiege the
Spanish governor in St. Augustine, for Mathews,
confident that Congress would pass a bill sanc
tioning his seizure of the province, ran things
with a high hand. As a matter of fact, such a
bill was passed by the House in secret session,
but was rejected by the Senate, whereupon Pres
ident Madison disavowed the act of Mathews and
ordered him to evacuate the territory he had seized
probably because it was deemed unwise to pro
voke hostilities with another power at the very
moment we had declared war on England. But
the conquest of Florida was not abandoned
merely postponed.
A century ago the region south of the Ten
nessee River was popularly known as "the Creek
country." Because it lay directly athwart the
best water communications between the settle
ments in Tennessee and the outside world, and
because its lands were among the most fertile in
the South, the eyes of the American pioneers were
turned covetously upon it. Now, no one realized
better than the Creeks themselves that if they
were to hold their lands they must fight for them.
Their decision to resist American encroachments
was strengthened by the appearance among them
of the great northern chieftain, Tecumseh. In
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The War That Wasn t a
October, 1811, this remarkable man, in pursuance
of his scheme for uniting the red men from the
Great Lakes to the Gulf in an Indian confeder
acy for the purpose of resisting the white man s
further progress westward, suddenly appeared at
a Creek council held on the upper Tallapoosa.
Perhaps the most brilliant orator the Indian race
has ever produced and gifted with extraordinary
personal magnetism, he held his audience spell
bound as, standing in the circle of light thrown
by the council-fire, ringed about by row on row
of blanketed and feathered warriors, he outlined
his scheme for a union of all the Indians of the
West in a confederation powerful enough to bid
defiance to the white man. Standing like a bronze
statue, the firelight playing on his haughty fea
tures, his copper skin, and the single eagle feather
slanting in his hair, he held aloft his war-club;
then, finger by finger, he slowly relaxed his grasp
until it crashed to the ground. By that signifi
cant pantomime, so powerful in its appeal to the
primitive intellects of his hearers, he drove home
with telling effect the weakness which comes from
disunion. Though a few weeks later, on the banks
of the Tippecanoe River, William Henry Harri
son broke Tecumseh s power forever and drove
him from American soil, he had aroused in the
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the Road to Glory
Creeks a determination to retain their lands or
to go down upon them fighting.
Meanwhile British agents had been secretly at
work among the discontented Creeks, whooping
them on to a campaign of extermination against
the American settlers and supplying them with
arms and ammunition in return for the promise
of their assistance in the war which every one
realized was now at hand. On the i8th of June,
1812, Congress declared war on England, and a
week later every Creek fighting man was daub
ing the war-paint on his copper skin. Though
the danger of a war with the Creeks was perfectly
understood in Washington, the military authori
ties were too busy pushing forward their prepara
tions for an invasion of Canada to spare much
thought for the settlers dwelling along our un
protected southern frontier. But the Indians,
under the leadership of the half-breed war-chief
Weatherford, had nothing to divert their atten
tion from the business in hand.
A pioneer farmer named Samuel Mimms had
built a stockade for the protection of his cattle
on Lake Tensaw, twenty miles or so north of
Mobile, and here the settlers of the surrounding
region had taken refuge, Governor Claiborne, of
Louisiana, hurrying a small force of militia under
1 02
The War That Wasn t a War
Major Beasley to protect them. In August, 1813,
the place, popularly known as Fort Mimms, shel
tered within its log stockade five hundred and
fifty-three persons: soldiers and settlers, men,
women, and children. Although Governor Clai-
borne had himself visited the post during the pre
ceding month and had urged on its commander
the necessity for the most unrelaxing vigilance,
Beasley and his men evidently came to look upon
the affair as a false alarm as the summer days
slipped by without bringing any signs of hostile
Indians. So cocksure did they become, indeed,
that even after a friendly Indian had brought
word that the Creeks were preparing to attack
the place they continued to leave the gates of
the stockade unguarded during the day. They
paid a fearful price for their negligence, however.
At noon on the 3Oth of August, when the occu
pants of the fort were at their dinner, a thousand
fiends in paint and feathers slipped like shadows
from the gloom of the encircling forest, sped on
noiseless, moccasined feet across the strip of cul
tivated ground without the walls, and, before the
demoralized garrison realized what had happened,
were pouring through the unguarded entrance in
a howling, shrieking wave like demons pouring
through the gates of hell. Though taken com-
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The Road to Glory
pletely by surprise and outnumbered five to one,
the garrison put up a most desperate and gal
lant resistance. The scene was dreadful beyond
imagination. It was hand-to-hand fighting in
its bloodiest form: bayonets against war-clubs,
muskets against tomahawks, pistols against knives.
Increasing the horror of the situation a hundred
fold were the women and children, for there was
no question as to their fate if the Indians were
victorious. Beasley fell at the first attack and
every officer died at the gateway in a vain at
tempt to stem the Indian rush. A young lieu
tenant, badly wounded, was carried by two
women to a blockhouse, but when he was a
little revived insisted on being taken back that
he might die with his comrades on the fighting
line. Though hopeless from the first, the defense
was prolonged for hours; for after the men of the
garrison had fallen, the women and children shut
themselves up in one of the blockhouses, where
they held off the yelling savages with the cour
age of despair. Finally, however, the Indians,
by means of burning arrows, succeeded in set
ting the building on fire, and after that it was
no longer a battle but a butchery. Of the five
hundred and fifty-three people within the fort,
only twelve escaped. It was a dearly bought vic-
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The War That Wasn t a War
tory for the Indians, however, for piled around
the gateway were four hundred of their best
fighting men.
From one end of the border to the other rose
the cry for vengeance. Nor was it long in com
ing. The legislature of Tennessee voted to raise
men and money to wipe out the Creeks, and called
for volunteers. Jumping at this chance to even
up old scores with the Indians, the frontiersmen,
their long squirrel rifles on their shoulders and
clad in their serviceable buckskin dress, came
pouring in to offer their services in the campaign
of retribution. The command of the expedition
was given to a brigadier-general of Tennessee
militia who up to that time had scarcely been
heard of outside the borders of his own State.
He was a tall, emaciated figure of a man, with a
clean-shaven, sallow face, a jaw like a bear-trap,
a great beak of a nose, eyes as penetrating as
gimlets and as cold as a winter s morning, and a
shock of unkempt sandy hair just beginning to
gray under his forty-seven years. He was not
at all the sort of man that a stranger would slap
on the back and address by his first name at
least he would not do it a second time. His
garments were as severe and businesslike as the
man himself: a much-worn leather cap, a short,
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The Road to Glory
Spanish cloak of frayed blue cloth, and great un
polished boots whose tops swayed uneasily about
his bony knees. He carried his arm in a sling
as the result of a pistol wound received during
a brawl in a Nashville tavern. Everything con
sidered, this man who had been chosen to strike
terror to the Creeks was a strange and striking
figure. You may have heard of him his name
was Andrew Jackson.
This was the extraordinary man who, early in
the autumn of 1813, took the field at the head
of three thousand volunteers as rough and ready
as himself. A vast amount of nonsense has been
written about pioneer troops. Though some of
the most brilliant and daring campaigns in which
Americans have borne a part were carried through
by soldiers recruited on the frontier and though
the marching and fighting qualities of these men
have been surpassed by no troops on earth, they
were, on the other hand, nearly always insubor
dinate, contemptuous of discipline, impudent to
their officers, quickly homesick, and very depen
dent for success on enthusiasm for their leaders.
Jackson was the best man that could possibly
have been chosen to command such troops as
these, for he had been born and brought up on
the frontier, he understood the men with whom
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The War That Wasn t a War
he was dealing, and managed them with energy,
firmness, and tact. He rarely had any difficulty
in filling his ranks, for he permitted no obstacles
to deter him from reaching and crushing an
enemy; hence the men who followed him in his
campaigns always had stories to relate and were
looked upon as heroes in the settlements. To be
pointed out as "one of Andy Jackson s men"
came to be looked upon as as great an honor as
the scarlet ribbon of the Legion of Honor is in
France.
Jackson s plan of campaign provided for the
construction of a military road, fifty miles in
length, from the Tennessee to the Coosa, whence,
after building a fortified base of supplies, he
planned to make a quick dash southward, spread
ing death and destruction as he went, until he
dictated peace on the Hickory Ground. The
Hickory Ground, which lay at the junction of
the Alabama and the Coosa, near the present
site of Montgomery, was the headquarters of
the Creek confederacy and a place of refuge, the
Indian medicine-men having asserted that no
white could set foot upon its sacred soil and live.
Jackson, as I have already remarked, permitted
no obstacles to deter him. So, when his engineers
reported that it was not feasible to build a road
107
The Road to Glory
through the unmapped wilderness, he took the
matter out of their hands and built the road him
self. And when the contractors assured him that
it was out of the question to transport supplies
for three thousand men to the Coosa within the
time he had specified, he commandeered horses
and wagons and did that, too. When one of his
regiments attempted to settle a dispute over the
term of enlistment by turning about and march
ing home, Jackson, his left arm still disabled and
in a sling, snatched a musket from a soldier with
his right hand and, using the neck of his horse
for a rest, covered with his weapon the column of
sullen, scowling mutineers. With eyes flashing
and frame quivering with passion, he single-handed
held the disaffected regiment at bay, shouting
shrilly, with a volley of oaths, that he would let
daylight into the first man who stirred. Colonels
Reid and Coffee, learning of the mutiny, came
galloping up from the rear and took their stand
by the side of their commander, while some loyal
companies formed up across the road with weapons
levelled, seeing which the mutineers changed their
minds as to the wisdom of going home and sul
lenly marched on.
He first met the Creeks on the 3d of Novem
ber at Talluschatches now Jacksonville, Ala.
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The War That Wasn t a War
and promptly attacked them with a thousand
mounted men. No quarter was asked and none
was given, and when the battle was over not
an Indian brave was left alive. Six days later,
at Talladega, he swooped down upon a war party
of a thousand Creeks who had surrounded a band
of friendly Indians and sent a third of them to
the happy hunting-grounds. At the same time
General John Floyd invaded the Creek country
from Georgia at the head of a punitive expedi
tion, while from the west also came an avenging
column under Governor Claiborne, of Louisiana.
The latter discovered a town of refuge, called
Econochaca, on the Alabama. It was built on
holy ground, the Indian prophets said, and, as
a result of the spells they had cast over it, it was
safe from paleface invasion. The Americans ar
rived not an instant too soon, for, guided by the
throbbing of the war-drums, they burst into the
village to find the Indians, their ringed and
streaked bodies more fiendish still in the glare
of a great fire, whooping and capering about a
row of stakes to which were bound white cap
tives of both sexes, ready to be burned. When
Claiborne s men finished their work, the "holy
ground" was carpeted with Indian dead, and the
medicine-men who had boasted that it was im-
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The Road to Glory
mune from invasion were themselves scalped and
staring corpses.
Nothing more graphically illustrates the sav
agery and determination with which the American
frontiersmen prosecuted their campaign against
the Indians than the story of Sam Dale s canoe
fight. Dale, who was a veritable Hercules of a
man, while scouting with some companions in
advance of Jackson s army, saw floating down the
Alabama a war canoe containing eleven Creeks.
Ambushing themselves amid the bushes on the
bank, the Americans poured in a volley as the
canoe swept by and five of the Indians fell dead.
Then Dale pushed off in a small boat with three
men to finish up the business. Ordering one of
his companions to hold the boats together, the
big frontiersman went at the Indians with his
bayonet like a field-hand with his pitchfork load
ing hay. Throwing caution to the winds in his
lust of battle, he advanced upon the Indians
single-handed, and before he had time to realize
his peril and retreat the current had swept the
canoes apart, leaving him in the larger one con
fronting the six remaining Creeks. Two of them
were shot by his companions in the other boat,
three more he accounted for himself, the only one
left alive being a famous Indian wrestler named
Tar-cha-cha.
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The War That Wasn t a War
"Big Sam !" the Indian shouted, "I am a man !
. . . I am coming! . . . Come on!" Clubbing
his rifle, he rushed forward, dealing Dale a blow
which broke his shoulder and nearly sent him
into the river, but before he could get in another
the frontiersman drove his bayonet home and
ended the fight.
The early months of 1814 were a time of the
most intense anxiety to Jackson, for, the terms of
enlistment of his volunteers expiring, they in
sisted on returning to their homes, until at one
brief period he found himself in the heart of the
Indian country with less than a hundred men.
Physical suffering as well as anxiety marked this
period of the campaign privation, exhaustion,
irritation, and the drain of a slowly healing wound
producing serious effects on a system which was
habitually on the verge of collapse. It was, in
deed, only his cast-iron will that sustained him,
for during one period of anxiety he slept but
three hours in four nights. But with the coming
of spring the feet of the young men became rest
less for the forest trails again, and by the middle
of March, his ranks filled once more, he was
ready to deliver his final blow. The Creeks had
by this time abandoned their campaign of ag
gression and, falling back to their stronghold of
in
The Road to Glory
Tohopeka, on the Tallapoosa, known to the whites
as the Horseshoe Bend, they prepared to make
their last stand.
On the morning of March 27, 1814, Jackson s
skirmishers came within sight of the Indian en
campment. On a peninsula formed by a horse
shoe-like bend of the river, a thousand warriors
with three hundred of their women and children
were encamped. They comprised the very flower
of the Creek nation, or rather, all that was left
of it. The neck of the peninsula was only four
hundred yards wide, and across it the Creeks,
profiting by the lessons they had received from
their Spanish and British allies, had built a zig
zag wall of logs, eight feet high and pierced by a
double row of loopholes. The angles formed by
the zigzags enabled the defenders to sweep with
a deadly cross-fire the ground over which an at
tacking column must advance, while trees had
been felled at intervals in such fashion that their
interlaced branches provided admirable cover for
sharpshooters. All in all, it was a tough nut that
Jackson found himself called upon to crack. But
cracking that particular kind of nuts was a spe
cialty of Jackson s. His artillery consisted of two
small brass field-pieces, not much larger than those
employed on yachts for saluting purposes. Send-
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The War That Wasn t a War
ing Colonel Coffee across the river with his cavalry
to cut off the escape of the Indians in that direc
tion, Jackson planted his miniature field-guns on a
little hill only eighty yards from the Creek forti
fications. Either the guns must have been very
weak or the fortifications very strong, for after a
two-hours bombardment no appreciable damage
had been done. Then Jackson, who was always
for getting to hand-grips with an enemy, told his
men to go in and do the job with the bayonet.
Whereupon the Tennesseeans, who had been as
fidgety and impatient as hounds in leash, swept
forward with a whoop. As regardless of the wither
ing fire poured into them as if it had been hail
stones instead of bullets, they hacked their way
through the abatis of branches and clambered over
the wall, shooting, bayonetting, clubbing with a fe
rocity which matched that of the Indians. And,
imitating the customs of the savages they had
been fighting for so long, many of the frontiers
men paused to scalp the Indians that they killed.
For the Creeks it was a hopeless struggle from
the first, but they were not of a breed that, find
ing themselves beaten, whined for mercy. Re
treating to such protection as the place afforded,
they fought and kept on fighting even after a flag
of truce had been sent them with an offer to ac-
"3
The Road to Glory
cept their surrender. By three o clock the battle
of the Horseshoe Bend had become a part of the
history of the frontier. So completely had Jack
son done his work that only twenty Indians es
caped. Eight hundred copper-colored corpses lay
upon the blood-soaked ground beside the Talla-
poosa; the rest were prisoners. It is a signifi
cant fact that there were no wounded among the
Indians. The Americans had nearly two hun
dred killed and wounded, among the latter be
ing Jackson himself and a youngster named Sam
Houston, who, in after years, was to win fame
fighting a no less savage foe on the banks of the
Rio Grande.
The battle of the Horseshoe Bend broke the
Creek power of resistance for good and all. Since
the commencement of hostilities they had lost in
battle nearly three-fourths of all their fighting
men. The rest, not much more than a thou
sand in all, fled to their cousins, the Seminoles,
in Florida, where they promptly began hatching
plans for vengeance. On the ist of August,
Jackson sent word to such of the chieftains as
had not fled into Spanish territory to meet him
on the Hickory Ground. Here he received their
submission and here he imposed on them his
terms of peace. His demands were so rigorous
114
The War That Wasn t a War
as to bring a gasp of astonishment even from the
Americans, for he insisted on the cession of an
L-shaped tract of land which included more than
half the territory of the Creeks, thus forming a
barrier between them and the Choctaws and
Chickasaws on the west and the Spaniards in
Florida.
Jackson now turned his face toward Nashville.
He had ridden out of there an unpopular and
almost unknown officer of militia. He returned
to find himself a military hero, the stories of
whose exploits were retailed in every settler s
cabin from one end of the frontier to the other.
In recognition of his services, the President com
missioned him a major-general in the regular
army and gave him command of the Department
of the South, with headquarters at Mobile. Our
second war with England had now been dragging
its tedious course along for nearly two years,
marked by British successes on land and Ameri
can victories on the sea. The air was filled with
rumors of a great British armada which was on
its way to attack New Orleans, and these solidi
fied into fact when word reached Jackson that a
portion of the British fleet had anchored in the
harbor of Pensacola and proposed, in defiance of
Spanish neutrality, to use that port as a base of
"5
The Road to Glory
operations against the United States. Pensacola
was in Florida, and Florida was still owned by
Spain, and Spain was professedly a neutral; but
if the British could violate that neutrality, ar
gued Jackson, why, so could the Americans. With
out waiting for authority from Washington (and
it was well that he did not, for the city had
been burned by the British and the government
had fled), Jackson crossed the Mobile River and
invaded Spanish territory at the head of three
thousand veterans. On November 6 he was at
the walls of Pensacola. A messenger was sent
to the Spanish governor under a flag of truce
with a peremptory demand from Jackson that
the fortress be turned over to the United States
until such time as the Spanish were strong enough
to maintain the neutrality of the port. The gov
ernor, emboldened by the fact that seven British
war-ships were lying in the harbor, showed his de
fiance by firing upon the flag of truce. But he
didn t know the type of man that he was defy
ing. Jackson was no more awed by the might of
England or the majesty of Spain or the sacred-
ness of neutral territory than he had been by the
Indians "holy ground." Instantly he ordered
forward his storming parties. So sudden was his
attack that the British ships had no time to
116
The War That Wasn t a War
up anchor and bring their guns to bear for the
protection of the town. The Spanish soldiery
fought well, however, and a sharp battle ensued
in the streets, the batteries opening on the ad
vancing Americans with solid shot and grape
while a heavy fire of musketry was poured into
them from houses and gardens. But the Span
iards were driven back everywhere by the fierce
ness of the American assault, whereupon the gov
ernor, seeing that further resistance was useless,
sent a messenger to the American commander to
inquire what terms he would grant him. "Noth
ing but unconditional surrender," answered Jack
son, and the haughty Spaniard had no alternative
but to accept his terms. Slowly the flag of
Spain, which had flaunted defiantly above the
fort, sank down the staff and in its stead rose a
flag of stripes and stars. The machinery of con
quest, with Andrew Jackson at the crank, had
pared off another slice of Florida.
Jackson s capture of the fortifications having
made the harbor untenable, the British blew up
the Spanish forts at the Barrancas, which com
manded the harbor entrance, and departed,
whereupon Jackson evacuated the town. His
work in Pensacola was finished. Eight weeks
later (January 8, 1815) he won his immortal vic-
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The Road to Glory
tory at New Orleans, with his untrained frontiers
men and scanty resources meeting and annihilat
ing the British regiments that had conquered
Napoleon. At a single bound he leaped from
the status of a backwoods soldier to one of the
great leaders of his time.
But the victory at New Orleans and the
treaty of peace with England did not mean the
end of fighting for Jackson. There were still
several odd jobs to be done. During the war a
British colonel named Nicholls had been sent on
a secret mission to Florida in an attempt to in
cite the Seminoles, the fugitive Creeks, and the
runaway negroes who infested the northern part
of the province to harass the borders of the United
States. While in Florida he built a fort on the
Appalachicola River, not far above its mouth and
well within Spanish territory, and collected there
a large store of arms and ammunition. When the
war ended and Colonel Nicholls was recalled, he
turned the fort over to the Seminoles in the hope
that it would prove a thorn in the side of the
United States. From the Seminoles the place
passed into the hands of the negro refugees and
quickly became a source of anxiety to the Ameri
can military authorities on our southern border.
But, though it was garrisoned by escaped slaves
118
The War That Wasn t a War
and was a constant menace to the peace of the
frontier, the Americans were powerless accord
ing to international law, at least because it was
built on Spanish soil. But when the matter was
referred to Jackson he showed how much he cared
for international law by writing to General Gaines
that the "Negro Fort," as it was called, "ought
to be blown up, regardless of the ground on which
it stands." That was all the hint that Gaines
needed, and in July, 1816, he ordered an expedi
tion under Colonel Duncan Clinch to ascend the
river and destroy the fort. As the flotilla ap
proached, a boat s crew which had been sent for
ward to reconnoitre was fired upon, whereupon
the gunboats were warped up-stream until they
were within range. The bombardment was of
short duration, for scarcely had the gunboats
opened fire before a red-hot shot struck the mag
azine of the fort, where eight hundred barrels
of gunpowder were stored. In the explosion that
followed, the fort vanished from the earth, and for
some moments it fairly rained negroes or parts
of them. Of the three hundred and thirty-four
inmates of the fort, two hundred and seventy
were blown to kingdom come, and of the sixty-
four left alive, all but three were so terribly in
jured that they died which was just as well,
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The Road to Glory
perhaps, in view of what happened to two out
of the three survivors. These, an Indian chief
and Gar^on, the negro commander, were handed
over to some friendly Seminoles to be put to death
in the ingenious Indian fashion in retaliation for
the death by torture of one of the American
sailors, who had been taken prisoner a few days
before. From all accounts, the Seminoles per
formed their task well but slowly.
The destruction of the Negro Fort, though un
important in itself, served to stir up the uneasi
ness and discontent which prevailed along the
Florida border and which was shared in by
Creeks, Seminoles, Spaniards, and Americans.
By March, 1817, several thousand whites had
settled on the rich lands that Jackson had taken
from the Creeks, and the friction which quickly
developed between the new owners and the old
ones, now fugitives in Florida, resulted in a series
of defiances and depredations. While relations
with the Indians were thus strained almost to
the breaking point there again sprang up the his
toric irritation against Spain, whom the Ameri
can settlers accused, rightly or wrongly, of in
citing the Indians against them. Meanwhile
President Monroe was negotiating for the pur
chase of Florida, for he fully realized that there
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The War That Wasn t a War
could be no permanent peace along the border as
long as that province remained in Spanish hands.
Doubtful of his success, however, he took care to
see that an army under Jackson was stationed
within striking distance, for there is no doubt
that the government, now that the war with Eng
land was over, was determined to take Florida by
force if it could not be obtained by purchase.
Nor could anything give Jackson keener satisfac
tion than the prospect of once more getting his
hands on the rich prize which he had joyfully
held for a brief moment in 1814. Indeed, he
frankly expressed his attitude when he wrote to
President Monroe: "Let it be signified to me,
through any channel, that the possession of the
Floridas would be desirable to the United States,
and in sixty days it will be accomplished." In
other words, if the government wished to seize
the province but lacked the courage to take the
responsibility, Jackson was ready to do the job
himself.
But suddenly a new element was injected into
the already complicated situation. The series of
revolts against Spanish rule in South America had
attracted thither European adventurers, free
lances, and soldiers of fortune of many nationali
ties, and these, when the revolutionary business
121
The Road to Glory
grew dull in other places, turned their eyes to
ward Florida. It had a fertile soil, marvellous
vegetation, a healthful climate, a notoriously weak
government, and, everything considered, seemed
to have been made to order for the filibusters.
The first to make the attempt to "free" Florida
was a Scottish nobleman, Sir Gregor MacGregor.
No more picturesque character ever swaggered
across the pages of our history. He was a pro
totype of Kipling s "The Man Who Would Be
King." Resigning his commission in the British
army, he went to Caracas in 1811 and offered his
services to the Venezuelans in their struggle for
independence. He became adjutant-general to
Miranda and, upon the capture of that ill-fated
leader, repeatedly distinguished himself in the re
newed struggle under Bolivar. He led a hand
ful of Venezuelans from Ocumare to Barce
lona in one of the most brilliant and skilfully
conducted retreats in history and, upon Venezuela
achieving her independence, was publicly thanked
for his services by President Bolivar, commis
sioned a general of division, and decorated with
the Order of Libertadores. But an ineradicable
love of adventure ran in his veins; so, when peace
settled for a time on war-torn Venezuela Mac
Gregor looked elsewhere for excitement. Florida
122
The War That Wasn t a War
was still under the obnoxious rule of Spain, and
Florida, he decided, needed to be freed. Early
in 1817, therefore, he fitted out an expedition in
Baltimore and descended upon Fernandina, which,
as I have previously remarked, is built on the
twenty-two-mile-long Amelia Island, off Florida s
upper right-hand corner. MacGregor declared
that as soon as he achieved the independence of
the province he intended to hand it over to the
United States, which was certainly thoughtful
and considerate, seeing how much the United
States wanted it; but nobody seems to have be
lieved him. His intentions were of small conse
quence, however, for a few months after he had
seized the island and raised the green-cross flag,
along came another adventurer, an Englishman
named Hubbard, and drove him off. Disap
pointed in his Floridan ambitions, MacGregor re-
entered the service of Venezuela, and in 1819,
organizing an expedition in Jamaica, he eluded
the vigilance of the British authorities and made
a most daring descent upon Puerto Bello, which he
captured after a desperate assault, though sub
sequently he was surprised by an overwhelming
force of Spaniards and was forced to flee. In 1821
he quitted the service of Venezuela then become
a part of the Colombian Republic and settled
123
The Road to Glory
among the Poyais Indians, a warlike tribe on the
Mosquito Coast of Nicaragua, where he obtained
a grant of a tract of fertile land and, making him
self ruler of the region, assumed the title of "his
Highness the MacGregor, Cacique of Poyais." He
organized a government, established an army, en
couraged commerce and agriculture, built roads
and schools, cultivated plantations, and for nearly
twenty years ruled in middle America as an in
dependent and enlightened sovereign. But mis
fortune finally overtook him; Great Britain de
clared a protectorate over his little kingdom, which
was not abrogated until 1905, and its late ruler
retired to Caracas, where the Venezuelan Govern
ment granted him a pension and restored him to
his rank of general of division, and where he died,
generally respected, in the early forties.
Shortly after Hubbard had ejected MacGregor
from Amelia Island, along came one of the latter s
friends and companions in arms, Commodore Louis
de Aury, who, as I have related in "Adventurers
All," had himself been ousted from Galveston Island
by Lafitte, and kicked out Hubbard. De Aury s
plan was to make Florida a free and independent
republic, such as her sister provinces in South
America had become. But it was not to be. The
government at Washington, which had other plans
124
The War That Wasn t a War
for Florida, now decided it was time to interfere,
for it seemed probable that Florida might soon be
sold to the United States, provided the spirit of
revolution and independence which was rapidly
stripping Spain of her colonial possessions left her
Florida to sell. Nothing was further from the in
tention of the United States, therefore, than to
let these South American adventurers get a foot
hold in the province she had so long had a cov
etous eye upon; so, in the autumn of 1817, General
Gaines was ordered to march on Fernandina and
eject De Aury, while a fleet under Commodore
Henley went down the coast for the same pur
pose. Henley reached there first and successfully
accomplished the ejection, and the green-cross flag
of the filibusters came down for good and all.
About this time Indian depredations had re
commenced along the Florida frontier, and in
November, 1817, General Gaines despatched a
detachment of troops to an Indian village called
Fowltown, the headquarters of the hostile Semi-
noles and Creeks. The troops approached the
town at dawn and were fired upon, the village
was taken and burned, and the United States had
another Indian war upon its hands. Jackson was
immediately ordered to take command of the
operations. He jumped at the chance, for was
"S
The Road to Glory
this not the very opportunity for which he had
been longing and praying ? The Indians caused
him no concern, mind you; it was the Spaniards
and Florida that he was after. Disregarding
his instructions to raise his command from the
militia of the border States, he recruited a volun
teer force from the Tennesseeans who had served
under him at the Horseshoe Bend and New Or
leans and whom he could count on to follow him
anywhere, and with these veterans at his back
straightway crossed the Florida border. On the
site of the Negro Fort he built and garrisoned an
other, which he called Fort Gadsden all this in
Spanish territory, mind you, though the United
States was (officially, at least) at peace with
Spain. Easily dispersing the few Seminoles who
ventured to dispute his progress, he pushed south
ward to St. Marks (the port of Tallahassee), where
a war party of Indians, he heard, had taken refuge.
The fact that his information was incorrect and
that there were no Indians in the town did not
disconcert him in the least: he took the place,
hauled down the Spanish colors, replaced them
with the stars and stripes, and left an American
garrison in occupation. Not only this, but he
captured two Englishmen who had taken refuge
in the town. One was a well-known trader named
126
The War That Wasn t a War
Alexander Arbuthnot, who had had commercial
dealings of one sort and another with the Indians;
the other was a young officer of marines named
Ambrister, a nephew of the governor of the Ba
hamas, who had been suspended from duty for a
year for engaging in a duel and who had joined
the Florida Indians out of a boyish love for ad
venture. Though captured on Spanish soil, Jack
son ordered both men tried by court martial for
inciting the Indians to rebellion. Both were sen
tenced to death. Ambrister died before a firing
party; Arbuthnot was hung from the yard-arm of
one of his own ships. Needlessly drastic and un
questionably illegal as these executions were, they
brought home to those who were plotting against
the United States that Spanish territory could
not protect them.
From St. Marks Jackson struck across coun
try to Suwanee, which was the headquarters of
the notorious Billy Bowlegs; but in the skirmish
that ensued that chieftain and his followers
escaped, though, by means of a ruse unworthy
of a civilized commander, he captured two
of the most celebrated of the Seminole chief
tains, Francis and Himollimico. Seeing a vessel
enter the harbor, the two chieftains, who had
just returned from a visit to England, rowed out
127
The Road to Glory
and asked to be afforded protection. They were
courteously received, laid aside their weapons,
and went below to have a drink with the com
mander, when they were seized, bound, and, upon
protesting at this breach of hospitality, were in
formed that they were prisoners on an American
gunboat which Jackson had despatched to patrol
the coast in the hope of intercepting fugitives.
The next day the two prisoners, by orders of
Jackson, were summarily hung. By such ruth
less methods as these did the grim backwoods
man, who well deserved the title of "Old Hickory,"
which his soldiers bestowed upon him, impress on
Indians and Spaniards alike the fact that those
who opposed him need expect no mercy. He
had reached Fort Gadsden on his return march
when a protest against this unwarranted invasion
of Spanish territory was sent him by the governor
of Pensacola, the same place, you will remember,
which he had captured three years before. Jack
son, who always carried a chip on his shoulder
and lived in hopes that some one would dare to
knock it off, turned back on the instant, occu
pied Pensacola for the second time, captured the
governor and his troops, deported them to Ha
vana with a warning never to return, and left an
American garrison in occupation. He regretted
128
The War That Wasn t a War
afterward, as he wrote to a friend, that he had
not carried the place by storm and hanged the
governor out of hand.
In five months Jackson had broken the Indian
power, established peace along the border, and to
all intents and purposes added Florida to the
Union. Though the Spanish minister at Wash
ington (for after the fall of Napoleon Spain re
sumed the foreign relations he had so rudely
interrupted) vigorously protested against this inva
sion of the territory of his sovereign, he neverthe
less hastened whether it was intended or not
that his movements should be thus accelerated
to negotiate a treaty ceding Florida to the United
States in consideration of our paying the claims
held by American citizens against Spain to the
amount of five million dollars. Though the his
torians dismiss the subject with the bald asser
tion that Florida was acquired by purchase
which, no doubt, is technically correct I think
you will agree with me that "conquest" is a more
appropriate word and that its conqueror was the
backwoods soldier Andrew Jackson. No wonder
that the land he gave us yields so many oranges
after having been fertilized with so much blood.
No wonder that it has restored so many sick men
after having swallowed up so many well ones.
129
THE FIGHT AT QUALLA BATTOO
THE FIGHT AT QUALLA BATTOO
IT was so hot that the little group of sailors
under the forward awnings lay stretched upon
the deck, panting like hunted rabbits, while rivers
of perspiration coursed down their naked chests
and backs. The unshaded portions of the deck
were as hot to the touch as the top of a stove;
bubbles of pitch had formed along the seams be
tween the planks, and turpentine was exuding, like
beads of sweat, from the spars. Though occasional
puffs of land-wind stirred the folds of the Ameri
can flag which drooped listlessly from the taffrail
sufficiently to disclose the legend Friendship, of
Salem in raised and gilded letters on the stern,
they brought about as much relief to the exhausted
men as a blast from an open furnace door. Even
the naked Malays who were at work under the
direction of a profane and sweating first mate,
transferring innumerable sacks of pepper from a
small boat to the vessel s hold, showed the effects
of the suffocating atmosphere by performing their
task with more than ordinary listlessness and
indolence.
The Road to Glory
Half a mile away the nipa-thatched huts of
Qualla Battoo, built amid a thicket of palms on
the sandy shores of a cove where a mountain tor
rent debouched into the sea, seemed to flicker like
a scene on a moving-picture screen in the shifting
waves of heat. Immediately at the back of the
town rose the green wall of the Sumatran jungle,
which bordered the yellow beach in both direc
tions as far as the eye could reach. Behind this
impenetrable screen of vegetation, over which the
miasma hung in wreathlike clouds, rose the purple
peaks of the Bukit Barisan Range, of which Mount
Berapi, twelve thousand feet high, is the grim and
forbidding overlord. Upon this shore a mighty
surf pounds unceasingly. Forming far to seaward,
the tremendous rollers come booming in with the
speed of an express train, gradually gathering
volume as they near the shore until they tower
to a height of twenty feet or more, when, striking
the beach, they break upon the sands with a roar
which on still nights can be heard up-country for
many miles. So dangerous is the surf along this
coast that when trading vessels drop anchor off
its towns to pick up cargoes of pepper, copra, or
coffee, they invariably send their boats ashore in
charge of natives, who are as familiar with this
threatening, thunderous barrier of foam as is a
The Fight at Qualla Battoo
housewife with the cupboards in her kitchen.
But even the Malays, marvellously skilful boat
men as they are, can effect a landing only at those
places where the mountain streams, of which there
are a great number along the western coast of
Sumatra, have melted comparatively smooth chan
nels through the angry surf to the open sea. The
pepper, which is one of the island s chief articles
of export, is grown on the high table-lands in the
interior and is brought down to the trading sta
tions on the coast by means of bamboo rafts, their
navigation through the cataracts and rapids which
obstruct these mountain streams being a perilous
and hair-raising performance.
Thus it came about that while the New Eng
land merchantman rocked lazily in the Indian
Ocean swells on this scorching afternoon in Feb
ruary, 1831, her master, Mr. Endicott, her second
mate, John Barry, and four of her crew, were at
the trading station, a short distance up the river
from Qualla Battoo, superintending the weighing
of the pepper and making sure that it was prop
erly stowed away in the boats where the water
could not reach it, for, as Captain Endicott had
learned from many and painful experiences, the
Malays are not to be trusted in such things. Now,
Captain Endicott had not traded along the coasts
The Road to Glory
of Malaysia for a dozen years without learning
certain lessons by heart, and one of them was that
the lithe and sinewy brown men with whom he
was doing business were no less cruel and treach
erous than the surf that edged their shores. Hence
his suspicions instantly became aroused when he
noticed that the first boat, after being loaded at
the trading station and starting for the river mouth
instead of making straight for the Friendship, as
it should have done, stopped on its way through
the town and took aboard more men. Conclud
ing, however, that the Malay crew required addi
tional oarsmen in order to negotiate the unusually
heavy surf, his suspicions were allayed and he
turned again to the business of weighing out pep
per for the second boat-load, though he took the
precaution, nevertheless, of detailing two of his
men to keep their eyes on the boat and to in
stantly report anything which seemed out of the
ordinary.
Instead of taking on more oarsmen, as Captain
Endicott had supposed, the boat s crew had ex
changed places with double their number of armed
warriors, who, concealing their weapons, sent the
boat smashing through the wall of surf and then
pulled leisurely out toward the unsuspecting mer
chantman. Though the first mate, who was in
136
The Fight at Qualla Battoo
charge of the loading, remarked that the boat had
an unusually large crew, he drew the same con
clusions as the captain and permitted it to come
alongside. No sooner was it made fast to the
Friendship s side, however, than the Malays, con
cealing their krises in their scanty clothing, began
to scramble over the bulwarks, until a score or
more of them were gathered on the vessel s decks.
The mate, ever fearful of treachery, ordered them
back into their boat, but the Malays, pretending
not to understand him, scattered over the ship,
staring at the rigging and equipment with the
open-mouthed curiosity of children. So well did
they play their parts, indeed, that the mate de
cided that his suspicions were unfounded and
turned again to the work of checking up the bags
of pepper as they came over the side. When the
Malays had satisfied themselves as to the strength
and whereabouts of the crew, whom they out
numbered three to one, they unostentatiously took
the positions their leader assigned to them. Then,
choosing a moment when the mate was leaning
over the side giving orders to the men in the boat,
one of their number, moving across the deck on
naked feet with the stealth and silence of a cat,
drew back his arm and with a vicious downward
sweep buried his razor-edged kris between the
The Road to Glory
American s brawny shoulders. Though mortally
wounded, the mate uttered a scream of warn
ing, whereupon five of the sailors who had been
lounging under the forward awning, snatching
up belaying-pins and capstan-bars, ran to his
assistance. But the Malays were too many for
them and too well armed, and after a brief but
desperate struggle two other Americans lay dead
upon the blood-stained deck, while the other three,
less fortunate, were prisoners with a fate too hor
rible for words in store for them. The four re
maining seamen, who had been below, aroused by
the noise of the struggle, had rushed on deck in
time to witness the fate of their comrades. Real
izing the utter helplessness of their position and
appreciating that only butchery or torture awaited
them if they remained, they burst through the
ring of natives who surrounded them and dived
into the sea. They quickly discovered, however,
that the shore held no greater safety than the
ship, for whenever they were lifted on the crest
of a wave they could see that the beach was lined
with armed warriors, whooping and brandishing
their spears. Seeing that to land was but to in
vite death in one of its most unpleasant forms,
the four swimmers held a brief consultation and
then, abruptly changing their course, struck out
138
The Fight at Qualla Battoo
for a rocky promontory several miles away, which
offered them at least temporary safety, as the
Malays could not readily reach them.
In the meantime, the two seamen who had
been detailed by Captain Endicott to keep watch
of the boat, observing the confusion on the Friend
ship s decks and seeing the sailors jumping over
board, summoned their commander, who quickly
surmised what had happened. Endicott realized
that there was not an instant to lose. Ordering
his second mate and the four seamen into the
boat which was then being loaded, they pulled
madly for the mouth of the river. Nor were they
a second too soon, for, as they swung into that
reach of the river which is bordered on either
bank by the huts of the town, the Qualla Bat-
tooans ran out and attempted to intercept them.
But the Americans, spurred on by the knowledge
that death awaited them if they were captured,
bent to their oars, and, amid a rain of bullets,
spears, and arrows, the boat swept through the
town as a racing shell sweeps down the Hudson
at Poughkeepsie. Though they succeeded by
something akin to a miracle in reaching the
mouth of the river unharmed, it now looked as
though they would perish in the mountain-high
surf, for they were ignorant of the channel and
The Road to Glory
had none of the Malay skill for handling a boat
in heavy breakers. But at this crucial moment
they saw a man s head bobbing in the water along
side, a familiar voice hailed them in English, and
a moment later a friendly Malay named Po Adam,
the rajah of a neighboring tribe which was on
none too friendly terms with the Qualla Battooans,
drew himself into the boat.
"What on earth are you doing here, Adam?"
exclaimed Endicott, when he recognized his caller
from the sea. "Are you coming with us ?"
"Yes, cap n," said the Malay; "if they kill you
they must kill me first." Po Adam, it seemed,
had come to Qualla Battoo in his armed coasting
schooner, had witnessed the capture of the Ameri
can vessel, and, fearing that the attack might be
extended to him because of his known friendship
for foreigners, he had swum to the American boat.
With him for a pilot they managed, with extreme
difficulty, to negotiate the breakers, though no
sooner was this danger behind them than another
one appeared in front, for the Malays, foiled in
their attempt to intercept the Americans as they
passed down the river, had put off in several war
canoes, which could easily overtake them on the
sea. The Americans were defenseless, for in their
haste to embark they had left their weapons be-
140
The Fight at Qualla Battoo
hind them. Po Adam, however, had managed to
cling to his scimitar during his swim, and this he
brandished so ferociously and uttered such appall
ing threats of what his tribesmen would do to
the Qualla Battooans if he were molested that
they sheered off without attacking.
Realizing that it was foolhardiness to attempt
to retake the Friendship with half a dozen men,
Captain Endicott, after touching at the promon
tory to pick up the four sailors who had jumped
overboard, regretfully laid his course for Muckie,
Po Adam s capital, twenty miles down the coast.
As he departed there rang in his ears the exul
tant shouts of the Malays who were looting his
beloved vessel. Turning, he shook his fist in the
direction of Qualla Battoo. "I ll come back
again, my fine fellows," he muttered, "and when
I do you ll wish to Heaven that you d never
touched Americans."
Reaching Muckie late that night, the refugees
were overjoyed to find in the harbor three Amer
ican merchantmen. No sooner had Endicott told
his story to their commanders than they resolved
to attempt the recapture of the Friendship, for
they recognized the fact that, once the natives
found that they could attack with impunity a
vessel flying the stars and stripes, no American
141
The Road to Glory
would be safe upon those coasts. This, remember,
was in the days when we had no Asiatic squadron
and when Americans doing business in that re
mote quarter of the globe had, in large measure,
to settle such scores for themselves. There have,
indeed, been hundreds of occasions on these far-
distant seaboards, which the historians have either
forgotten, or of which they have never known,
when American merchant sailors engaged in as
desperate actions and fought with as reckless
courage against overwhelming odds as did ever
the men who wore the navy blue. This was one of
those occasions. In those days, when the fewness
of prowling gunboats offered the pirates of Ma
laysia many opportunities to ply their trade, all
merchantmen venturing into those waters went
armed, and their crews were as carefully trained
in cutlass drill and the handling of guns as they
were in boat drill and in handling the sails.
Therefore, notwithstanding the fact that their
combined crews numbered barely half a hundred
men, the three American ships which the next
morning bore down on Qualla Battoo were not
to be despised.
To the message sent by the American captains
to the rajah of Qualla Battoo demanding the
immediate surrender of the Friendship, he re-
142
The Fight at Qualla Battoo
turned the insolent reply: "Why don t you come
and take her if you can?" As soon as this
message was received, the American vessels ran
in to the shore as close as they dared and, bring
ing every gun to bear, opened fire upon the town,
the forts at Qualla Battoo, which mounted sev
eral heavy guns, replying without effect. Though
the bombardment destroyed a number of native
huts, the American commanders quickly recog
nized that it was doing no serious harm and de
cided to get the business over with by making a
boat attack on the Friendship and retaking her at
the point of the cutlass. Three boats were accord
ingly lowered and, loaded with sailors armed
to the teeth and eager to avenge their country
men, steered toward the Friendship, whose bul
warks were black with Malays. As the boats
drew within range the Malays, who were armed
with muskets of an antiquated pattern, greeted
them with a heavy fire; several of the crews
dropped forward, wounded, and for a moment the
progress of the boats was checked. "Give way,
men ! Give way all !" bellowed the officers, and,
thus steadied, the sailors bent again to their oars.
As they swung alongside the Friendship the sailors
at the bow and stern of each boat held it in place
with boat-hooks, while the crews, pistols in their
143
The Road to Glory
belts and cutlasses between their teeth, swarmed
up the side in obedience to the order: "Boarders
up and away!" They may have been amateurs
at the business, these merchant seamen, but they
did the job as though they were seasoned man-of-
war s men with "U. S." stamped in gilt upon their
hatbands. There have been few more gallant or
daring actions in the history of the sea, for the
boarders numbered less than twoscore men all
told, and awaiting them on the decks above were
three hundred desperate and well-armed natives.
Though bullets and arrows and javelins were
rained down upon them, the Americans went
up the side with the agility of monkeys; though
the Malays slashed at them with scimitars and
krises and lunged at them with spears, the
seamen, their New England fighting blood now
thoroughly aroused, would not be denied. Scram
bling over the bulwarks, they fairly hewed their
way into the mass of brown men, hacking, stab
bing, shooting, cursing, cheering a line of grim-
faced fighters sweeping forward as remorselessly
as death. Before the ferocity of their attack the
Malays, courageous though they were, became
panic-stricken, broke, and ran, until, within five
minutes after the Americans had set foot upon the
Friendship s decks, such of the enemy as were not
144
The Fight at Qualla Battoo
dead or wounded had leaped overboard and were
swimming for the shore. Upon examining the
vessel, .Captain Endicott found that she had been
rifled of everything that was portable, including
twelve thousand dollars in coin. Even the copper
bolts had been taken from her timbers and every
thing that could not be taken away had been
wantonly destroyed. So great was the havoc that
had been wrought that it was impossible to
continue the voyage; so, after effecting tem
porary repairs at Muckie, Captain Endicott and
the survivors of his crew sailed for home and,
with %he exception of one of them, out of this
story.
If the rajah of Qualla Battoo had been ac
quainted with the manner of man who at this
time occupied the White House, he would prob
ably have thought twice before he molested an
American vessel. With far less provocation than
that given by the Malays, Andrew Jackson had
virtually exterminated the powerful nation of the
Creeks; defying the power of Spain, he had in
vaded the Floridas, captured Spanish forts, seized
Spanish towns, and executed Spanish subjects.
In fact, he was the very last man who could be
affronted with impunity by any sovereign much
less by the ruler of an insignificant state in Ma-
The Road to Glory
laysia. When the news of the attack on the
Friendship and the murder of her American sailors
reached Washington, the 44-gun frigate Potomac,
Captain John Downes, lay in New York harbor
waiting to convey Martin Van Buren, the newly
appointed minister to the court of St. James,
to England. But Jackson, who always wanted
quick action, ordered Captain Downes to sail
immediately for Sumatran waters and teach the
Malays that, merely because they happened to
dwell at the antipodes, they could not escape
American retribution.
On the 6th of February, 1832 a year to a day
after the treacherous attack on the Friendship
the Potomac appeared ofFQualla Battoo. As Cap
tain Downes had planned to give the Qualla Bat-
tooans as much of a surprise as they had given
Captain Endicott, he ordered the guns run in,
the ports closed, the topmasts housed, and the
Danish colors displayed, so that to the untrained
native eye the big frigate would have the appear
ance of an unsuspecting merchantman. Even the
officers and men who were sent in a whale-boat to
take soundings and to choose a place for a land
ing were dressed in the nondescript garments of
merchant sailors, so that the hundreds of Malays
who lined the shore did not hesitate to threaten
146
The Fight at Qualla Battoo
them with their weapons. John Barry, the second
mate of the Friendship, had come with the expe
dition as a guide and from the whale-boat he had
indicated to the officers the mouth of the river,
where a landing could be effected with compara
tive ease. Everything being in readiness, Captain
Downes issued orders that the landing would take
place at midnight. The fact was impressed upon
every one that if the Qualla Battooans were to be
taken by surprise, the strictest silence must be
observed. At the hour appointed, the men as
sembled at the head of the gangway on the side
away from the town and, at the whispered order,
noiselessly took their places in the waiting boats.
Through a fragrance-laden darkness, under a pur
ple-velvet sky, the line of boats pulled silently for
the shore, the occasional creak of an oar-lock or the
clank of a cutlass being drowned by the thunder
of the surf. As the keels grated on the beach, the
men jumped out and formed into divisions in the
darkness, the boats, with enough men to handle
them, being directed to remain outside the line of
breakers until they were needed. No time was
lost in forming the column, which was composed
of a company of marines, a division of seamen, a
division of musketeers and pikemen, and another
division of seamen, the rear being brought up by
i47
The Road to Glory
a gun crew dragging a six-pounder which the
sailors had dubbed the "Betsy Baker."
The Qualla Battooans, who were far from being
on good terms with the neighboring tribes, had
encircled their town with a chain of forts consist
ing of high stockades of sharpened teakwood logs
loopholed for musketry. In the centre of each of
these stockaded enclosures stood a platform raised
on stilts to a height of fifteen or twenty feet,
from which swivel-guns could sweep an attacking
force and to which the defenders could retreat for
a last desperate stand in case an enemy should
succeed in taking the stockade. Barry, who was
well acquainted with the defenses of the town,
had drawn a map indicating the position of the
various forts, so, as soon as the debarkation was
completed, the divisions marched off to take up
their positions in front of the forts which they
had been designated to capture. To Lieutenant
Huff, commanding the division of musketeers and
pikemen, had been assigned the taking of the
fort on the northern edge of the town, which was
garrisoned by a strong force of Malays under
Rajah Maley Mohammed, one of the most power
ful chieftains on the west coast of Sumatra. As
the Americans stealthily approached in the hope
of taking the garrison by surprise, their presence
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The Fight at Qualla Battoo
was discovered by a sentry and an instant later
flame spurted from every loophole in the stock
ade as the defenders opened fire. The Yankee
sailors paused only long enough to pour in a
single volley and then, their bugles screaming the
charge, raced for the stockade gate. It was built
of solid teak and defied the efforts of the sailors
to batter it down with their axes; whereupon a
marine dashed forward with a bag of powder, a
fuse was hastily attached and lighted, and when
the smoke of the ensuing explosion cleared away
the gates had disappeared. Through the breach
thus made, the Americans poured and an instant
later were at hand-grips with the enemy. For
twenty minutes the struggle within the stockade
was a bloody one, for the Malays fought with
the courage of desperation, asking no quarter and
giving none. But their numbers were unavailing
against the discipline and determination of the
Americans, who, by a series of rushes, drove the
enemy before them until they finally retreated to
the shelter of their high platform, drawing the
ladders up after them. Now the struggle entered
upon its most desperate phase, for the defenders,
anticipating no mercy, prepared to sell their lives
at the highest possible price. From the bamboo
poles of which the huts were built the dexterous
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The Road to Glory
sailors quickly improvised ladders and, rushing
forward under cover of a heavy rifle fire, planted
them against the platform on all four sides. Then,
while the riflemen picked ofF every defender who
ventured to expose himself, the sailors swarmed
up the ladders, firing their pistols pointblank
into the savage faces which glared down upon
them from the platform s edge. It was a peril
ous feat, this assault by ladders on a platform
held by a desperate and dangerous foe, but its very
daring made it successful, and almost before the
Malays realized what had happened the Ameri
cans had gained the platform and were at their
throats. It was all over save the shouting. Those
of the warriors who were not despatched by the
sailors leaped from the platform only to be shot
by the Americans below. It was a bloody busi
ness. The rajah fought with the ferocity of a
Sumatran tiger, even after he was dying from a
dozen wounds, slashing with his scimitar at every
American who came within reach, until a bayo
net thrust from a marine sent him to the Moslem
paradise. As he fell, a young and beautiful woman,
who, from her dress, was evidently one of his wives,
sprang forward and, snatching up the scimitar
which had dropped from his nerveless fingers, at
tacked the Americans like a wildcat, laying open
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The Fight at Qualla Battoo
one man s head and slicing off the thumb of
another. The sailors, loath to fight a woman
particularly one so young and lovely fell back in
momentary confusion, but as they attempted to
surround her, she weakened from loss of blood
caused by a stray bullet, the scimitar fell from her
hand, and she fell forward dead across the body
of her husband.
While this struggle was in progress, Lieutenants
Edson and Tenett, in command of the marines,
had surprised the fort in the middle of the town,
battered in the gates, and, after a brisk engage
ment, had routed the garrison. The first division
of seamen, under Lieutenant Pinkham, had been
ordered to take the fort in the rear of the town,
but it was so cleverly concealed in the jungle that
Mr. Barry was unable to locate it in the darkness,
whereupon Pinkham joined Lieutenant Shubrick s
command in an assault upon the most formidable
fort of all, which occupied an exceptionally strong
position on the bank of the river. Here the reigning
rajah of Qualla Battoo had collected several hun
dred of his best fighting men, who announced that
they would die rather than surrender. And they
kept their word. By this time daybreak was at
hand, and as soon as the Americans came within
range the Malays opened on them with their swivel-
The Road to Glory
guns, which were mounted on the high platform
in the centre of the stockade. Taking such shel
ter as they could find, the Americans opened a
brisk rifle fire, but the walls were of teak, which
turned a bullet as effectually as armor-plate, and
it soon became evident that if the place was to
be taken, some other means of attack must be
adopted. Leaving sufficient men in front of the
fort to keep the Malays fully engaged, Lieuten
ant Shubrick with the fusileers and the "Betsy
Baker" made a detour, and, unobserved by the
defenders, succeeded in reaching the river bank
at the rear of the fort. But here the Americans
met with a surprise, for, lying in the river, a few
rods off the fort, were three large and heavily
armed proas filled with warriors awaiting a favor
able opportunity to take a hand in the battle.
But this was just such an opportunity as the gun
crew had been hoping and praying for. Swinging
their little field-piece into position, they trained it
on the crowded deck of the nearest of the pirate
craft, and the first intimation the Malays had
that the Americans were in their vicinity was
when they were swept by a storm of grape which
turned their decks into a shambles. So deadly
was the fire of the American gunners that, though
the Malays succeeded in getting up sail on one
The Fight at Qualla Battoo
of the proas and running her out of the river, the
crews of the other two boats were compelled to
jump overboard and swim to the opposite bank.
Before they could escape into the bush, however,
they were intercepted by a force of warriors under
our old friend, Po Adam, who, having seen the
approach of the Potomac and shrewdly suspecting
that she was a war-ship, had hastily collected his
righting men and, slipping up the coast, had hov
ered in the jungle at the outskirts of the town,
awaiting an opportunity to assist the Americans
and, incidentally, to even up a few scores of his
own.
The proas thus disposed of, Lieutenant Shubrick
ordered his bugler to sound the "charge," which
was the signal agreed upon with the other portion
of his force, whereupon they were to storm the
citadel from the front while he attacked it from
the rear. As the bugle sang its piercing signal,
the gunners sent a solid shot from the "Betsy
Baker" crashing into the gates of the fort, and
at the same instant the whole line raced forward
at the double. Though the gates were splintered,
they were not down, but half a dozen brawny
bluejackets sprang at them with their axes, and
before their thunderous blows they went crashing
in. But as the head of the storming column burst
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The Road to Glory
through the passageway thus opened they were
met with a blast of lead which halted them as
abruptly as though they had run against a gran
ite wall. A sailor spun about on his heels and
collapsed, an inert heap, with a bullet through his
brain; another clapped his hand to his breast
and gazed stupidly at the ever-widening splotch
of crimson on his tunic; all down the column could
be heard the never-to-be-forgotten sound of bul
lets against flesh and the groans or imprecations
of wounded men. "Come on, men ! Come on !"
screamed the officers. "Get at the beggars ! Give
em the bayonet ! Get it over with ! All to
gether, now here we go !" and, themselves setting
the example, they plunged through the opening,
cutlass in hand. For a few moments the battle
was as desperate as any ever waged by American
arms. The cutlasses of the sailors fell like flails,
and when they rose again their burnished blades
were crimson. The marines swung their bayo
nets like field-hands loading hay, and at every
thrust a Malay shrieked and crumpled. Mean
while the little squad of artillerymen had dragged
their gun to an eminence which commanded the
interior of the stockade and from this place of
vantage were sweeping bloody lanes through the
crowded mass of brown men. But the Malays
The Fight at Qualla Battoo
were no cowards. They knew how to fight and
how to die. As fast as one man went down an
other sprang to take his place. The noise was
deafening: the bang bang bang of muskets, the
crack of pistols, the rasp of steel on steel, the
deep-throated hurrahs of the sailors, the savage
yells of the Malays, the groans and curses of
the wounded, the gasps of the dying, the labored
breathing of struggling men, the whole terrifying
pandemonium punctuated at thirty-second inter
vals by the hoarse bark of the brass field-gun.
Magnificently as the Malays fought, they could
not stand against the cohesion and impetus of the
American assault, which pushed them back and
carried them off their feet as a Varsity football
team does a team of scrubs. After a quarter of
an hour of fighting the survivors of the garrison
retreated to their platform in the air, leaving the
space within the stockade carpeted with their
dead and wounded. Even then the Malays never
dreamed of surrendering, but constantly called
down to the Americans in broken English to
"Come and take us." To add to the confusion, if
such a thing were possible, the portion of the
stockade captured by Lieutenants Huff and Edson
had, in pursuance of orders, been set on fire. So
rapidly did the flames spread among the sun-dried,
The Road to Glory
straw-thatched huts, however, that for a few min
utes it looked as though Lieutenant Shubrick s
party would be cut off. The men handling the
"Betsy Baker" having run out of ammunition, a
messenger was hastily despatched to the boats for
more and returned on a run with several bags of
bullets. One of these was stuffed into the muzzle
and the little gun was trained on the Malays who
occupied every foot of the aerial retreat. When
the smoke cleared away it was seen that the bag
of bullets, fired at such close range, had created
awful havoc among the defenders, for dead and
dying men were scattered everywhere. Instantly
Shubrick appreciated that now was his time to
act, before the Malays had an opportunity to re
cover from their confusion. "Now s our chance,
boys!" he shouted. "Let s get up on top there
and clean out the nest of niggers." At the words,
his bluejackets rushed forward with a cheer.
Nothing could stop them. Some ascended hastily
constructed ladders; others swarmed up the poles
which supported the platform as they were ac
customed to swarm up the masts at sea, wriggling
over the edge of the platform, emptying their pis
tols into the snarling countenances above them,
and, once on their feet, going at the Malays with
cold steel. The battle in the air was short and
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The Fight at Qualla Battoo
savage. In five minutes not an unwounded Ma
lay remained within the citadel, and, amid a hur
ricane of cheers, the star-spangled banner was
broken out from the staff where so lately had
flaunted the standard of the rajah the first time
that our flag was ever raised over a fortification
on Asiatic soil.
By this time, the Qualla Battooans were so
thoroughly demoralized that the capture of the
two remaining forts was effected with compara
tively little difficulty. The companies composing
the expedition now fell in upon the beach, and the
roll was called to ascertain the casualties and to
learn if any men had been left in the jungle. It
was found that the Americans had had only two
killed and eleven wounded an amazingly small
loss in view of the desperate character of the fight
ing. The Malays, on the other hand, though
fighting from behind fortifications, lost upward
of four hundred men.
The next day, learning that the Malays were
still defiant and that a large force of warriors was
gathering at the back of the town, Captain Downes
weighed anchor and, standing as close inshore as
the water permitted, opened fire with his heavy
guns, completing the destruction of the forts, set
ting fire to the town, and killing a considerable
The Road to Glory
number of warriors. For more than an hour the
bombardment continued, the American gunners
choosing their marks, laying their guns, and plac
ing their shots with the same coolness and accu
racy which, years later, was to distinguish their
successors at Santiago and Vera Cruz. The
Qualla Battooans were even more terrified by
the thunder of the Potomac s broadsides than by
the havoc that they wrought, for they had never
heard big guns or seen a war-ship in action before.
Soon white flags began to appear at various spots
along the beach, and when, in acknowledgment
of the signal, the bombardment ceased, a proa
set out through the surf toward the frigate. As
it came alongside it was found to contain emis
saries from the surviving rajahs who had come
to beg for peace. The awed and humbled chief
tains passed between double ranks of bluejackets
and marines to the quarter-deck, where they were
received by Captain Downes, who was in full uni
form and surrounded by a glittering staff. Noth
ing was left undone to impress the Malays with
the might and majesty of the nation they had
offended or their own insignificance, they being
compelled to approach the American commander
on their knees, bowing their heads to the deck at
every yard. But they had had their lesson;
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The Fight at Qualla Battoo
their insolence and haughtiness had disappeared;
all they wanted was peace peace at any price.
The next morning the crew of the Potomac were
gladdened by the cheery notes of the bo sn s whis
tle piping: "All hands up anchor for home." Her
mission had been accomplished. As the splendid
black-hulled vessel stood out to sea under a cloud
of snowy canvas, the grim muzzles of her four
and forty guns peering menacingly from her open
ports, the chastened and humbled survivors of
Qualla Battoo stood on the beach before their
ruined town and watched her go. At the mouths
of her belching guns they had learned the lesson
that the arm of the great republic is very long,
and that if need be it will reach half the world
around to punish and avenge.
UNDER THE FLAG OF THE LONE STAR
UNDER THE FLAG OF THE LONE STAR
HAD you stood on the banks of the Brazos
in December of the year in which the
nineteenth century became old enough to vote
and looked northeastward across the plains of
central Texas, your attention would doubtless
have been attracted by a rolling cloud of dust.
From out its yellow haze would have crept in
time a straggling line of canvas-covered wagons.
Iron-hard, bearded men, their faces tanned to the
color of a much-used saddle, strode beside the
wheels, their long-lashed blacksnakes cracking
spasmodically, like pistol-shots, between the horns
of the plodding oxen. Weary-faced women in
sunbonnets and calico, with broods of barelegged,
frowzy-headed youngsters huddled about them,
peered curiously from beneath the arching
wagon-tops. A thin fringe of scouts astride of
wiry ponies, long-barrelled rifles resting on the
pommels of their saddles, rode on either flank of
the slowly moving column. Other groups of
alert and keen-eyed horsemen led the way and
brought up the rear. Though these dusty mi
grants numbered less than half a thousand in all,
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The Road to Glory
though their garments were uniform only in their
stern practicality and their shabby picturesque-
ness, though their only weapons were hunting
rifles and the only music to which they marched
was the rattle of harness and the creak of axle-
trees, they formed, nevertheless, an army of in
vasion, bent on the conquest not of a people,
however, but of a wilderness.
Who that saw that dusty column trailing across
the Texan plains would have dreamed that these
gaunt and shabby men and women were destined
to conquer and civilize and add to our national
domain a territory larger than the German Em
pire, with Switzerland, Holland, and Belgium
thrown in ? Yet that trek of the pioneers, "south
westerly by the lone star," was the curtain-raiser
for that most thrilling of historic dramas, or
rather, melodramas: the taking of Texas.
To understand the significance of that chain of
startling and picturesque events which began with
the stand of the settlers on the Guadalupe and
culminated in the victory on the San Jacinto
without at least a rudimentary knowledge of the
conditions which led up to it is as impossible as
it would be to master trigonometry without a
knowledge of arithmetic. But do not worry for
fear that you will be bored by the recital; the
164
Under the Flag of the Lone Star
story is punctuated much too frequently with
rifle-shots and pistol-shots for you to yawn or
become sleepy-eyed.
The American colonization of Texas then
known as the province of New Estremadura
began while Spain still numbered Mexico among
her colonial possessions. When Iturbide ended
Spanish rule in Mexico, in 1821, and thereby made
himself Emperor of the third largest nation in
the world (China and Russia alone being of
greater area), he promptly confirmed the land
grants which had been made by the Spanish au
thorities to the American settlers in Texas, both
he and his immediate successors being only too
glad to further the development of the wild and
almost unknown region above the Rio Grande by
these hardy, thrifty, industrious folk from the
north. Under this official encouragement an
ever-growing, ever-widening stream of American
emigration went rolling Texasward. The forests
echoed to the axe strokes of woodsmen from Ken
tucky; the desert was furrowed by the plough
shares of Ohio farmers; villages sprang up along
the rivers; the rolling prairies were dotted with
patches of ripening grain. Texas quickly became
the magnet which drew thousands of the needy,
the desperate, and the adventurous. Men of
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The Road to Glory
broken fortunes, men of roving habits, adven
turers, land speculators, disappointed politicians,
unsuccessful lawyers, men who had left their
country for their country s good, as well as mul
titudes of sturdy, thrifty, hard-working folk de
sirous of finding homes for their increasing fami
lies poured into the land of promise afoot and
on horseback, by boat and wagon-train, until, by
1823, there were probably not far from twenty
thousand of these American outlanders estab
lished between the Sabine and the Pecos.
Meanwhile the government of Mexico was be
ginning the quick-change act with which it has
alternately amused and exasperated and angered
the world to this day. The short-lived empire of
Iturbide lasted but a year, the Emperor meeting
his end with his back to a stone wall and his face
to a firing-party. Victoria proclaimed Mexico a
republic and himself its President. Pedraza suc
ceeded him in 1828. Then Guerrero overthrew
Pedraza, and Bustamente overthrew Guerrero,
and Santa Anna overthrew Bustamente and made
himself dictator, ruling the war-racked country
with an iron hand. Now, a dictator, if he is to
hold his job, much less enjoy any peace of mind,
must rule a people who, either through fear or
ignorance, are willing to forget about their con-
166
Under the Flag of the Lone Star
stitutional rights and obligingly refrain from ask
ing questions. But the American settlers in Texas,
as each of the Mexican usurpers discovered in his
turn and to his very great annoyance, were not
built according to these specifications. They were
not ignorant, and they were not in the least afraid,
and when the privileges they had enjoyed were
revoked or curtailed they resented it emphatically.
Alarmed by the rapid increase in the number of
American settlers, disturbed by their independence
and self-reliance, and realizing that they were
daily becoming a greater menace to the dictatorial
and dishonest methods of government which pre
vailed, the Mexican dictators determined to crush
them before it was too late. In pursuance of this
policy they inaugurated a systematic campaign
of persecution. Sixty-odd years later the Boers
adopted the same attitude toward the British set
tlers in the Transvaal that the Mexicans did to
ward the American settlers in Texas, and the same
thing happened in both cases.
For three years after Mexico achieved its in
dependence Texas was a separate State of the
republic, with a government of its own. But in
1824, in pursuance of this anti-American policy,
it was deprived of the privilege of self-government
and added to the State of Coahuila. Shortly after
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The Road to Glory
this a law was passed forbidding the further settle
ment of Americans in Texas and prohibiting Amer
icans from even trading in that region. And, to
still further harass and humiliate the Texans, a
number of penal settlements, composed of the most
desperate criminals in the Mexican prisons, were
established in Texas. Heretofore the Texans,
in recognition of their services in transforming
Texas from a savage wilderness into a civilized
and prosperous province, had enjoyed immu
nity from taxes, but now custom-houses were
established and the settlers were charged pro
hibitive duties even on the necessities of life.
When they protested against so flagrant an in
justice the Mexican Government answered them
by blockading their ports. Heavy garrisons were
now quartered in the principal towns, the civil
authorities were defied, and the settlers were sub
jected to the tyranny of unrestrained military
rule. Still the Texans did not offer armed resis
tance. Their tight-drawn patience snapped, how
ever, when, in 1834, Santa Anna, determined to
crush for good and all the sturdy independence
which animated them, ordered his brother-in-law,
General Cos, to enter Texas with a force of fif
teen hundred men and disarm the Americans,
leaving only one rifle to every five hundred in-
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Under the Flag of the Lone Star
habitants. That order was all that was needed
to fan the smouldering embers of Texan resent
ment into the fierce flame of armed revolt. Were
they to be deprived of those trusty rifles which
they had brought with them on their long pil
grimage from the north, which were their only
resource for game, their only defense against In
dians, their only means of resistance to oppres
sion ? Those were the questions that the settlers
asked themselves, and they answered them at
Gonzales, on the banks of the Guadalupe.
At Gonzales was a small brass field-piece which
had been given to the settlers as a protection from
the Indians. A detachment of Mexican cavalry,
some eightscore strong, was ordered to go to the
town, capture the cannon, and disarm the inhabi
tants. News of their coming preceded them,
however, and when the troopers reached the banks
of the river opposite the town they found that all
the boats had been taken to the other side, while
the cannon which they had come to capture was
drawn up in full view with a placard hanging
from it. The placard bore the ominous invita
tion: "Come and take it." The Mexican com
mander, spurring his horse to the edge of the
river, insolently called upon the inhabitants to give
up their arms. It was the same demand, made
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The Road to Glory
for the same purpose, which an officer in a scar
let coat had made of another group of Americans,
threescore years before, on the village green at
Lexington. It was the same demand ! And the
same answer was given: "Come and take our
weapons if you can !" Though the Mexican of
ficer had a force which outnumbered the settlers
almost ten to one, he prudently decided to wait,
for even in those days the fame of the Texan rifle
men had spread across the land.
Meanwhile horsemen had carried the news of
the raid on Gonzales to the outlying ranches and
soon the settlers came pouring in until by night
fall they very nearly equalled the soldiery in num
ber. Knowing the moral effect of getting in the
first blow, they slipped across the river in the
dark and charged the Mexican camp with an im
petuosity and fierceness which drove the troopers
back in panic-stricken retreat. As the Texans
were going into action a parson who accompanied
them shouted: "Remember, men, that we re fight
ing for our liberty ! Our wives, our children, our
homes, our country are at stake ! The strong arm
of Jehovah will lead us on to victory and to glory !
Come on, men ! Come on !"
The news of this victory, though insignificant in
itself, was as kindling thrown on the fires of in-
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Under the Flag of the Lone Star
surrection. The settlers in Texas rose as one. In
October, 1835, in a pitched battle near the Mis
sion of the Immaculate Conception, outside of
San Antonio, ninety-four Texan farmers, fresh
from the plough, whipped four times that num
ber of Mexicans. In December, after a five days
siege, the Alamo, in San Antonio, was carried by
storm, General Cos and fourteen hundred Mexican
regulars, with twenty-one pieces of artillery, sur
rendering to less than four hundred Texans. By
Christmas of 1835 Texas was left without an
armed enemy within her borders.
When word was brought to Santa Anna that
the garrison of the Alamo had surrendered, he
behaved like a madman. With clinched fists and
uplifted arms he swore by all the saints in the
calendar and all the devils in hell that he would
never unbuckle his sword-belt until Texas was
once again a wilderness and every gringo settler
was a fugitive, a prisoner, or a corpse. As it was
at San Antonio that the Mexicans had suffered
their most humiliating defeat, so it was San An
tonio that the dictator chose as the place where
he would wash out that defeat in blood, and on
the 22d of February, 1836, he appeared before
the city at the head of six thousand troops the
flower of the Mexican army. After their capture
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The Road to Glory
of San Antonio the Texans, most of whom were
farmers, had returned to their homes and their
crops, Colonel W. Barrett Travis being left to
hold the town with only one hundred and forty-
five men. With him were Davy Crockett, the
stories of whose exploits on the frontier were al
ready familiar in every American household, Bon-
ham, the celebrated scout and Indian fighter, and
James Bowie, who, in a duel on the Natchez River
bar, had made famous the terrible long-bladed
knife which his brother Rezin had made from a
blacksmith s file. A few days later thirty-seven
brave hearts from Goliad succeeded in breaking
through the lines of the besiegers, bringing the
total strength of the garrison up to one hundred
and eighty-three. Surrounding them was an
army of six thousand !
The story of the last stand in the Alamo has
been told so often that I hesitate to repeat it
here. Yet it is a tale of which Americans can
never tire any more than they can tire of the
story of Jones and the Bonhomme Richard, or
of Perry at Lake Erie. The Texans, too few in
numbers to dream of defending the town, with
drew into the Alamo, an enormously thick-walled
building, half fortress and half church, which de
rived its name from being built in a clump of
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Under the Flag of the Lone Star
alamos or cottonwood trees. For eleven days the
Mexicans pounded the building with artillery and
raked it with rifle fire; for eleven days the Texans
held them back in that historic resistance whose
details are so generally and so uncertainly known.
Day after day the defenders strained their eyes
across the prairie in search of the help that never
came. Day after day the blood-red flag that
signified "No quarter" floated above the Mexi
can lines, while from the walls of the Alamo
flaunted defiantly the flag with a single star.
At sunset on the 4th of March the Mexican
bombardment abruptly ceased, but no one knew
better than Travis that it was but the lull which
preceded the breaking of the storm. Drawing
up his men in the great chapel, Travis drew a
line across the earthen floor with his sword.
"Men," he said, "it s all up with us. A few
more hours and we shall probably all be dead.
There s no use hoping for help, for no force that
our friends could send us could cut its way through
the Mexican lines. So there s nothing left for it
but to stay here and go down fighting. When
the greasers storm the walls kill them as they
come and keep on killing them until none of us
are left. But I leave it to every man to decide
for himself. Those who wish to go out and sur-
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The Road to Glory
render may do so and I shall not reproach them.
As for me, I shall stay here and die for Texas.
Those who wish to stay with me will step across
this line."
There was not so much as a flicker of hesita
tion. The defenders moved across the line as
one. Even the wounded staggered over with the
others, and those who were too badly wounded
to walk dragged themselves across on hands and
knees. Bowie, who was ill with fever, lay on his
cot, too weak to move. " Boys," he called feebly,
"boys, I don t believe I can get over alone . . .
won t some of you help me?" So they carried
him across the line, bed and all. It was a pic
ture to stir the imagination, to send the thrills of
patriotism chasing up and down one s spine: the
gloomy chapel with its adobe walls and raftered
ceiling; the line of stern-faced, powder-grimed men
in their tattered frontier dress, crimsoned band
ages knotted about the heads of many of them;
the fever-racked but indomitable Bowie stretched
upon his cot; the young commander for Travis
was but twenty-seven striding up and down, in
his hand a naked sword, in his eyes the fire of
patriotism.
On the morning of the 6th of March, before
the sun had risen, Santa Anna launched his grand
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Under the Flag of the Lone Star
assault. Their bugles sounding the ominous notes
of the deguello, which signified that no quarter
would be given, the Mexican infantry, provided
with scaling-ladders, swept forward at the double.
Behind them rode the cavalry, with orders to
sabre any man who flinched. As the Mexican
columns came within range the Texans met them
with a blast of lead which shrivelled and scattered
them as the breath of winter shrivels and scatters
the autumn leaves. The men behind the walls
of the Alamo were master marksmen who had
taken their degree in shooting from the stern col
lege of the frontier, and they proved their mar
vellous proficiency that day. Crockett and Bon-
ham aimed and fired as fast as rifles could be
loaded and passed up to them, and at every spurt
of flame a little, brown-faced man would drop with
a crimson patch on the breast of his tunic or a
round blue hole in his forehead. Any troops on
earth would have recoiled in the face of that
deadly fire, and Santa Anna s were no exception.
But the cavalry rode into them and at the point
of their sabres forced them again to the attack.
Again the shattered regiments advanced and at
tempted to place their ladders against the walls,
but once more the sheer ferocity of the Texan de
fense sent them reeling back, bleeding and gasp-
The Road to Glory
ing. But there was a limit even to the powers
of resistance of the Texans. The powder in their
horns ran low; their arms grew weak from slay
ing. So, when the wave of brown-skinned soldiery
rolled forward once again over its carpet of corpses,
it topped and overflowed the desperately defended
walls. The Texans, whose ammunition was vir
tually exhausted, were beaten back by sheer
weight of numbers, but they rallied in the patio
and, under the sky of Texas, made their final
stand. What happened afterward is, and always
must be, a matter of speculation. No one knows
the story of the end. Even the number of vic
tims is a matter of dispute to-day. Some say
there were a hundred and eighty-three defenders,
some say a hundred and eighty-six. Some assert
that one woman escaped; some say two; others
say none. Some declared that a negro servant
got away; others declare with equal positiveness
that he did not. Some state that half a dozen
Americans stood at bay with their backs to the
wall, Crockett among them. That the Mexican
general, Castrillon, offered them their lives if they
would surrender, and that, when they took him
at his word, he ordered them shot down like
dogs. (Since then a Mexican s word has never
been good for anything in Texas.) All we do
Under the Flag of the Lone Star
know with any certainty of what went on within
those blood-bespattered walls is that every Ameri
can died fighting. Travis, revolver in one hand
and sword in the other, went down amid a ring
of men that he had slain. Bowie, propped on his
pillows, shot two soldiers who attempted to bayo
net him as he lay all but helpless and plunged
his terrible knife into the throat of another before
they could finish him. Crockett, so the Mexicans
related afterward, fought to the last with his
broken rifle, and was killed against the wall, but
to get at him the Mexicans had to scramble over
a heap of their own dead. No one will ever know
how many of the enemy each of these raging,
fighting, cornered men sent down the long and
gloomy road before he followed them. The pave
ment of the patio was scarlet. The dead lay piled
in heaps. Not an American remained alive.
Death and Santa Anna held the place. As the
inscription on the monument which was raised in
later years to the defenders reads: "Thermopylae
had her messenger of defeat; the Alamo had none."
But before they died, the ninescore men who laid
down their lives for Texas sent sixteen hundred
Mexicans to their last accounting.
By order of Santa Anna, the bodies of the
Texans were collected in a huge pile and burned,
177
The Road to Glory
while the Mexican dead sixteen hundred of
them, please remember were buried in the local
cemetery. As Bowie s body was brought out,
General Cos remarked: "He was too brave a man
to be burned like a dog but never mind, throw
him in." As the Sabbath sun sank slowly into
the west the smoke of the funeral pyre rose against
the blood-red sky like a column draped in mourn
ing. It marked something more than the end of
a band of heroes; it marked the end of Mexican
dominion above the Rio Grande.
While Santa Anna was besieging the Alamo,
General Urrea invaded eastern Texas for the pur
pose of capturing San Patricio, Refugio, and Go-
liad and thus stamping out the last embers of in
surrection. It was not a campaign; it was a
butchery. The little garrison of San Patricio was
taken by surprise and every man put to death.
At Refugio, however, a force of little more than
a hundred men under Colonel Ward repulsed the
Mexicans, whose loss in killed and wounded was
double the entire number of the defenders. A
few days later, however, Ward and his men,
while falling back, were surrounded and taken
prisoners. When Urrea s column appeared before
Goliad, Colonel Fannin, whose force was out
numbered six to one, ordered a retreat, feeling
Bowie, propped on his pillows, shot two soldiers and plunged
his terrible knife into the throat of another.
Under the Flag of the Lone Star
confident that the Mexicans, for whose fighting
abilities the Texans had the utmost contempt,
would not dare to follow them. But the Texans
made the fatal mistake of underrating their ad
versaries, for, before they had fallen back a dozen
miles, they found themselves hemmed in by two
thousand Mexicans. Escape was out of the ques
tion, so Fannin formed his three hundred men in
hollow square and prepared to put up one of
those fight-till-the-last-man-falls resistances for
which the Texans had become famous. Being
cut off from water, however, and with a third of
his men wounded, he realized that his chances of
success were represented by a minus sign; so,
when the Mexican commander, who had been
heavily reinforced, offered to parole both officers
and men and return them to the United States
if they would surrender, Fannin accepted the offer
and ordered his men to stack their arms. The
terms of the surrender were written in both Eng
lish and Spanish, and were signed by the ranking
officers of both forces with every formality.
The Texan prisoners were marched back under
guard to Goliad, the town they had so recently
evacuated, and were confined in the old fort,
where they were joined a few days later by Colo
nel Ward s command, who, as you will remem-
179
The Road to Glory
her, had also been captured. On the night of
the 26th of March a despatch rider rode into
Urrea s camp bearing a message from Santa Anna.
It contained an order for the murder of all the
prisoners. The next day was Palm Sunday. At
dawn the Texans were awakened and ordered
to form ranks in the courtyard. They were then
divided into four parties and marched off in dif
ferent directions under heavy guard. They had
not proceeded a mile across the prairies before
they were halted and their captors deliberately
poured volley after volley into them until not a
Texan was left standing. Then the cavalry rode
over the corpse-strewn ground, hacking with their
sabres at the dead. Upward of four hundred
Texans were slaughtered at Goliad. The de
fenders of the Alamo died fighting with weapons
in their hands, but these men were unarmed and
defenseless prisoners, butchered in cold blood in
one of the most atrocious massacres of history.
With the extermination of the Texan garrisons,
Santa Anna complacently assured himself that his
work in the north was finished and prepared to
return to the capital, where he was badly needed.
It is never safe, you see, for a dictator to leave
the chair of state for long, else he is likely to re
turn and find a rival sitting in it. Now, however,
1 80
Under the Flag of the Lone Star
Santa Anna felt that the Texan uprising was, to
make use of a slangy but expressive phrase, all
over but the shouting. But the Texans, as stout
old John Paul Jones would have put it, had only
just begun to fight. Learning that a force of
Texan volunteers was mobilizing upon the San
Jacinto, the "Napoleon of the West," as Santa
Anna modestly described himself, decided to de
lay his departure long enough to invade the
country north of Galveston and put the finishing
touches to the subjugation of Texas by means of
a final carnival of blood and fire. Theoretically,
everything favored the dictator. He had money;
he had ample supplies of arms and ammunition;
he had a force of trained and seasoned veterans
far outnumbering any with which the Texans
could oppose him. It was to be a veritable pic
nic of a campaign, a sort of butchers holiday. In
making his plans, however, Santa Anna failed to
take a certain gentleman into consideration. The
name of that gentleman was Sam Houston.
The chronicles of our frontier record the name
of no more picturesque and striking figure than
Houston. The fertile brain of George A. Henty
could not have made to order a more satisfactory
or wholly improbable hero. Though his exploits
are a part of history, they read like the wildest
181
The Road to Glory
fiction. That is why, perhaps, the dry-as-dust
historians make so little mention of him. The
incidents in his life would provide a moving-pic
ture company with material for a year. Born in
the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, his father,
who had been an officer in the Revolution, an
swered to the last roll-call when young Sam had
barely entered his teens. The support of a large
and growing family thus falling upon the ener
getic shoulders of Mrs. Houston, she packed her
household goods in a prairie-schooner and moved
with her children to Tennessee, then upon the
very edge of civilization. Here Sam, who had
learned his "three RV in such poor schools as
the Virginia of those early days afforded, attended
a local academy for a time. Translations of the
classics having fallen into his hands, his imagina
tion was captured by the exploits of the heroes
of antiquity, and he asked permission of the prin
cipal to study Latin, which, for some unexplain-
able reason, was curtly refused him. Whereupon
he walked out of the academy, declaring that he
would never repeat another lesson.
His family, who had scant sympathy with his
romantic fancies, procured him a job as clerk in
a crossroads store. Within a fortnight he was
missing. After some months of anxiety his rela-
182
Under the Flag of the Lone Star
tives learned that he was living among the Cher
okee Indians across the Tennessee. When one of
his brothers attempted to induce him to return
home, young Sam answered that he preferred
measuring deer tracks to measuring tape, and
that, if he was not permitted to study Latin in
the academy, he could at least dig it out for him
self in the freedom of the woods. Houston dwelt
for several years with his Cherokee friends, even
tually being adopted as a son by the chieftain
Oolooteka. Upon the outbreak of our second
war with Great Britain he enlisted in the Ameri
can army. Though his friends remonstrated with
him for entering the army as a private soldier,
his mother was made of different stuff. As he
was leaving for the front she took down his father s
rifle and, with tear-dimmed eyes, handed it to her
son. "Here, my boy," she said bravely, though
her voice quavered, "take this rifle and never
disgrace it. Remember that I would rather that
all my sons should lie in honorable graves than
that one of them should turn his back to save
his life. Go, and God be with you, but never
forget that, while my door is always open to brave
men, it is always shut to cowards."
Houston quickly climbed the ladder of promo
tion, obtaining a commission within a year after
183
The Road to Glory
he had enlisted as a private. He first showed the
stern stuff of which he was made when taking
part in General Jackson s campaign against the
Creek Indians. His thigh pierced by an arrow
during the storming of the Indian breastworks at
Tohopeka, Houston asked a fellow officer to draw
it out. But it was sunk so deeply in the flesh
that the attempt to extract it brought on an
alarming flow of blood, whereupon the officer re
fused to proceed, fearing that Houston would
bleed to death. Thereupon the fiery youngster
drew his sword. "Draw it out or I ll run you
through!" he said. Out the arrow came. Gen
eral Jackson, who had witnessed the incident and
had noted the seriousness of the young officer s
wound, ordered him to the rear, but Houston,
mindful of his mother s parting injunction, dis
regarded the order and plunged again into the
thick of the battle. It was a breach of discipline,
however, to which Andrew Jackson shut his eyes.
Opportunity once more knocked loudly at young
Houston s door when the Creeks made their final
stand at Horseshoe Bend. After the main body
of the Indians had been destroyed, a party of war
riors barricaded themselves in a log cabin built
over a ravine in such a situation that the guns
could not be brought to bear. The place must
184
Under the Flag of the Lone Star
be taken by storm, and Jackson called for volun
teers. Houston was the only man who responded.
Snatching a rifle from a soldier, he shouted, "Come
on, men! Follow me!" and dashed toward the
cabin. But no one had the courage to follow him
into the ravine of death. Running in zigzags, to
disconcert the Indian marksmen, he actually
reached the cabin before he fell with a shattered
arm and two rifle-bullets through his shoulder.
It was just the sort of deed to win the heart of
the grim old hero of New Orleans, who until his
death remained one of Houston s staunchest
friends and admirers.
Seeing but scant prospects of promotion in the
piping times of peace which now ensued, Houston
resigned from the army, took up the study of law,
and was admitted to the bar within a year from
the time he opened his first law book. He prac
tised for a few years with marked success, gave
up the law for the more exciting field of politics,
was elected to Congress when only thirty, and
four years later became Governor of Tennes
see. As the result of an unhappy marriage, and
deeply wounded by the outrageous and baseless
accusations made by his political opponents, he
resigned the governorship and went into volun
tary exile. In his trouble he turned his face to-
The Road to Glory
ward the wigwam of his adopted father, Ooloo-
teka, who had become the head chief of his tribe
and had moved from the banks of the Tennessee
to the falls of the Arkansas. Though eleven
eventful years had passed, the old chiefs affec
tion for his white son had not diminished, and
the exile found a warm welcome awaiting him in
the wigwams and beside the council-fires of his
adopted people. Learning of the frauds by which
the Indian agents were enriching themselves at
the expense of the nation s wards, Houston, who
had adopted Indian dress, went to Washington
and laid the facts before Secretary Calhoun, who,
instead of thanking him, rebuked him for presum
ing to appear before him in the dress of an In
dian. Thereupon Houston turned his back on
the secretary, and went straight to his old-time
friend, President Jackson, who promptly saw to
it that the guilty officials were punished. When
the story of Calhoun s criticism of Houston s cos
tume was repeated to the President, that rough
old soldier remarked dryly: "I m glad there is
one man of my acquaintance who was made by
the Almighty and not by the tailor."
After three years of forest life among the In
dians Houston decided to emigrate to Texas and
become a ranchman, setting out with a few com-
186
Under the Flag of the Lone Star
panions in December, 1832, for San Antonio.
The romantic story of Houston s self-imposed exile
had resulted in making him a national figure, and
the news that he had come to Texas spread among
the settlers like fire in dry grass. Before reaching
Nacogdoches he learned that he had been unani
mously elected a member of the convention which
had been called to meet at Austin in the spring
of 1833 to draft a constitution for Texas. From
that time onward his story is that of his adopted
country. When the rupture with Mexico came,
in 1835, as a result of the attempt to disarm the
settlers at Gonzales, Houston was chosen com
mander of the volunteer forces to be raised in
eastern Texas, and after the battle at the Mission
of the Immaculate Conception he was appointed
commander-in-chief of the Texan army.
When Santa Anna, flushed by his bloody suc
cesses at the Alamo and Goliad, started to invade
central Texas, in the spring of 1836, Houston, who
had been able to raise a force of barely five hun
dred untrained and ill-armed men, sullenly re
treated before the advance of the dictator. On
the 1 8th of April, however, his plan of campaign
was suddenly reversed by the capture of two
Mexicans, from whom he learned what he had not
positively known before: that Santa Anna him-
187
The Road to Glory
self was with the advance column and that he
was temporarily cut off from the other divisions
of his army. The chance for which Houston was
waiting had come, and he seized it before it could
get away. If Texas was to be free, if the Lone
Star flag and not the flag with the emblem of
the serpent and the buzzard was to wave over the
region above the Rio Grande, it was now or never.
There were no half-way measures with Sam Hous
ton; he determined to stake everything upon a
single throw. If he won, Texas would be free; if
he lost he and his men could only go down fight
ing, as their fellows had gone before them. Push
ing on to a point near the mouth of the San Ja-
cinto, where it empties into the Bay of Galveston,
he carefully selected the spot for his last stand,
mounted the two brass cannon known as "the
Twin Sisters," which had been presented to the
Texans by Northern sympathizers, and sat down
to wait for the coming of "the Napoleon of the
West." On the morning of the 2Oth of April his
pickets fell back before the Mexican advance,
and the two great antagonists, Houston and Santa
Anna, at last found themselves face to face. The
dictator had with him fifteen hundred men;
Houston had less than half that number but the
Texans boasted that "two to one was always fair."
1 88
Under the Flag of the Lone Star
At daybreak on the 2ist Houston sent for his
chief of scouts, the famous Deaf Smith,* and or
dered him to choose a companion, take axes, and
secretly destroy the bridge across the San Jacinto.
As the bridge was the only means of retreat for
miles around, this drastic step meant utter de
struction to the conquered. Talk about Cortes
burning his boats behind him ! He showed not a
whit more courage than did Houston when he
destroyed the bridge across the San Jacinto. At
3 o clock in the afternoon he quietly paraded his
little army behind the low range of hills which
screened them from the enemy, who were still
drowsing in their customary siesta. At this psy
chological moment Deaf Smith, following to the
letter the instructions Houston had given him,
tore up on a reeking horse, waving his axe above
his head, and shouted: "Vince s Bridge is down!
We ve got to fight or drown!" That was the
word for which Houston had been waiting. In
stantly he ordered his whole line to advance.
The only music of the Texans was a fife and a
* Erastus Smith, known as Deaf Smith because he was hard of
hearing, first came to Texas in 1817 with one of the filibustering
forces that were constantly arriving in that province. He was a
man of remarkable gravity and few words, seldom answering except
in monosyllables. His coolness in danger made his services as a spy
invaluable to the Texans.
189
The Road to Glory
drum, the musicians playing them into action to
the rollicking tune of "Come to the Bower."
And it was no bower of roses, either. As they
swept into view, rifles at the trail and moving at
the double, the Mexicans, though startled at the
unexpectedness of the attack, met them with a
raking fire of musketry. But the sight of the
brown-faced men, and of the red-white-and-green
banner which flaunted above them, infuriated the
Texans to the point of frenzy. Losing all sem
blance of formation, they raced forward as fast
as they could put foot to ground.
In front of them rode the herculean Houston,
a striking figure on his white horse. "Come on,
boys!" he thundered. "Get at em! Get at
em! Texans, Texans, follow me!" And follow
him they did, surging forward with the irresisti
bility of a tidal wave. "Remember the Alamo !"
they roared. " Remember Goliad ! Remember
Travis ! Remember Jim Bowie ! Remember
Davy Crockett ! Kill the damned greasers ! Cut
their hearts out! Kill em! Kill em! Kill
em!"
In the face of the maddened onslaught the
Mexican line crumbled like a hillside before the
stream from a hydraulic nozzle. Before the de
moralized Mexicans had time to realize what
190
Under the Flag of the Lone Star
had happened the Texans were in their midst.
Many of them were "two-gun men," who fought
with a revolver in each hand and at every shot
a Mexican fell. Others avenged the murdered
Bowie with the wicked knife which bore his name,
slashing and ripping and stabbing with the long,
savage blades until they looked like poleaxe men
in an abattoir. In vain the terrified Mexicans
threw down their arms and fell upon their knees,
pattering out prayers in Spanish and calling in
their broken English: "Me no Alamo! Me no
Goliad!" Within five minutes after the Texans
had come to hand-grips with their foe the battle
had turned into a slaughter. Houston was shot
through the ankle and his horse was dying, but
man and horse struggled on. Deaf Smith drove
his horse into the thick of the fight and, as it fell
dead beneath him, he turned his long-barrelled
rifle into a war-club and literally smashed his
way through the Mexican line, leaving a trail of
men with broken skulls behind him. An old
frontiersman named Curtis went into action car
rying two guns. "The greasers killed my son
and my son-in-law at the Alamo," he shouted,
"and I m going to get two of em before I die,
and if I get old Santa Anna I ll cut a razor-strop
from his back. "
191
The Road to Glory
The commander of one of the Mexican regi
ments attempted to stem the tide of defeat by
charging the Texan line at its weakest point with
five hundred men. Houston, instantly appreci
ating the peril, dashed in front of his men. " Come
on, my brave fellows !" he shouted, "your general
leads you!" They met the charging Mexicans
half-way, stopped them with a withering volley,
and then finished the business with the knife.
Only thirty-two of the five hundred Mexicans
were left alive to surrender. Everywhere sounded
the grunt of blows sent home, the scream of
wounded men, the choking sobs of the dying, the
crack-crack-crack of rifle and revolver, the grating
rasp of steel on steel, the harsh, shrill orders of
the officers, the trample of many feet, and, above
all, the deep-throated, menacing cry of the aveng
ing Texans : " Remember the Alamo ! Remember
Goliad ! Kill the greasers ! Kill em ! Kill em !
Kill em!"
In fifteen minutes the battle of the San Jacinto
was over, and all that was left of Santa Anna s
army of invasion was a panic-stricken mob of
fugitives flying blindly across the prairie. Hard
on their heels galloped the Texan cavalry, cutting
down the stragglers with theV sabres and herd
ing the bulk of the flying army toward the river
192
Under the Flag of the Lone Star
as cow-punchers herd cattle into a corral. And
the bridge was gone ! Before the Mexicans rolled
the deep and turbid San Jacinto; coming up be
hind them were the blood-crazed Texans. It was
death on either hand. Some of them spurred
their horses into the river, only to be picked off
with rifle-bullets as they tried to swim across.
Others threw down their weapons and waited
stolidly for the fatal stroke or shot. It was a
bloody business. Modern history records few, if
any, more sweeping victories. Of Santa Anna s
army of something over fifteen hundred men six
hundred and thirty were killed, two hundred and
eight wounded, and seven hundred and thirty
taken prisoners.
The finishing touch was put to Houston s tri
umph on the following morning when a scouting
party, scouring the prairie in search of fugitives,
discovered a man in the uniform of a common
soldier attempting to escape on hands and knees
through the high grass. He was captured and
marched nine miles to the Texan camp, plodding
on foot in the dust in front of his mounted cap
tors. When he lagged one of them would prick
him with his lance point until he broke into a
run. As the Texans rode into camp with their
panting and exhausted captive, the Mexican pris-
The Road to Glory
oners excitedly exclaimed: "El Presidente! El
President* i" It was Santa Anna, dictator of
Mexico a prisoner in the hands of the men whom
he had boasted that he would make fugitives,
prisoners, or corpses. Lying under the tree where
he had spent the night, the wounded Houston re
ceived the surrender of "the Napoleon of the
West." The war of independence was over.
Texas was a republic in fact as well as in name,
and the hero of the San Jacinto became its presi
dent. The defenders of the Alamo and Goliad
were avenged. From the Sabine to the Rio
Grande the lone-star flag flew free.
194
THE PREACHER WHO RODE FOR AN
EMPIRE
THE PREACHER WHO RODE FOR AN
EMPIRE
THIS is the forgotten story of the greatest
ride. The history of the nation has been
punctuated with other great rides, it is true.
Paul Revere rode thirty miles to rouse the Mid
dlesex minutemen and save from capture the guns
and powder stored at Concord; Sheridan rode
the twenty miles from Winchester to Cedar Creek
and by his thunderous "Turn, boys, turn we re
going back!" saved the battle and the names of
them both are immortalized in verse that is more
enduring than iron. Whitman, the missionary,
rode four thousand miles and saved us an em
pire, and his name is not known at all.
Though there were other actors in the great
drama which culminated in the grim old preach
er s memorable ride suave, frock-coated diplo
mats and furtive secret agents and sun-bronzed,
leather-shirted frontiersmen and bearded factors
of the fur trade the story rightfully begins and
ends with Indians. There were four of them, all
chieftains, and the beaded patterns on their gar-
197
The Road to Glory
ments of fringed buckskin and the fashion in
which they wore the feathers in their hair told
the plainsmen as plainly as though they had
been labelled that they were listened to with re
spect in the councils of the Flathead tribe, whose
tepees were pitched in the far nor west. They
rode their lean and wiry ponies up the dusty,
unpaved thoroughfare in St. Louis known as
Broadway one afternoon in the late autumn of
1832. Though the St. Louis of three quarters of
a century ago was but an outpost on civilization s
firing-line and its six thousand inhabitants were
accustomed to seeing the strange, wild figures of
the plains, the sudden appearance of these In
dian braves, who came riding out of nowhere,
clad in all the barbaric panoply of their rank,
caused a distinct flutter of curiosity.
The news of their arrival being reported to
General Clarke, the military commandant, he
promptly assumed the ciceronage of the bewil
dered but impassive red men. Having, as it
chanced, been an Indian commissioner in his ear
lier years, he knew the tribe well and could speak
with them in their own guttural tongue. Beyond
vouchsafing the information that they came from
the upper reaches of the Columbia, from the
country known as Oregon, and that they had
198
The Preacher Who Rode
spent the entire summer and fall upon their jour
ney, the Indians, with characteristic reticence,
gave no explanation of the purpose of their visit.
After some days had passed, however, they con
fided to General Clarke that rumors had filtered
through to their tribe of the white man s " Book
of Life," and that they had been sent to seek it.
To a seasoned old frontiersman like the general,
this was a novel proposition to come from a
tribe of remote and untamed Indians. He treated
the tribal commissioners, nevertheless, with the ut
most hospitality, taking them to dances and such
other entertainments as the limited resources of
the St. Louis of those days permitted, and, being
himself a devout Catholic, to his own church.
Thus passed the winter, during which two of the
chiefs died, as a result, no doubt, of the indoor
life and the unaccustomed richness of the food.
When the tawny prairies became polka-dotted
with bunch-grass in the spring, the two survi
vors made preparations for their departure, but,
before they left, General Clarke, who had taken
a great liking to these dignified and intelligent
red men, insisted on giving them a farewell ban
quet. After the dinner the elder of the chiefs
was called upon for a speech. You must picture
him as standing with folded arms, tall, straight
199
The Road to Glory
and of commanding presence, at the head of the
long table, a most dramatic and impressive fig
ure in his garments of quill-embroidered buck
skin, with an eagle feather slanting in his hair.
He spoke with the guttural but sonorous elo
quence of his people, and after each period Gen
eral Clarke translated what he had said to the
attentive audience of army officers, government
officials, priests, merchants, and traders who lined
the table.
"I have come to you, my brothers," he began,
"over the trail of many moons from out of the
setting sun. You were the friends of my fathers,
who have all gone the long way. I have come
with an eye partly open for my people, who sit
in darkness. I go back with both eyes closed.
How can I go back blind, to my blind people ?
I made my way to you with strong arms through
many enemies and strange lands that I might
carry much back to them. I go back with both
arms broken and empty. Two fathers came with
us; they were the braves of many winters and
wars. We leave them asleep here by your great
water and wigwams. They were tired in many
moons, and their moccasins wore out.
"My people sent me to get the white man s
Book of Life. You took me to where you allow
200
The Preacher Who Rode
your women to dance as we do not ours, and the
Book was not there. You took me to where they
worship the Great Spirit with candles, and the
Book was not there. You showed me images of
the good spirits and pictures of the good land
beyond, but the Book was not among them to
tell us the way. I am going back the long and
sad trail to my people in the dark land. You
make my feet heavy with gifts, and my mocca
sins will grow old in carrying them; yet the Book
is not among them. When I tell my poor, blind
people, after one more snow, in the big council
that I did not bring the Book, no word will be
spoken by our old men or by our young braves.
One by one they will rise up and go out in silence.
My people will die in darkness, and they will go
on a long path to other hunting-grounds. No
white man will go with them and no white man s
Book to make the way plain. I have no more
words."
Just as the rude eloquence of the appeal touched
the hearts of the frontier dwellers who sat about
the table in St. Louis, so, when it was translated
and published in the Eastern papers, it touched
the hearts and fired the imaginations of the na
tion. In a ringing editorial The Christian Advo
cate asked: "Who will respond to go beyond the
201
The Road to Glory
Rocky Mountains and carry the Book of Heaven ?"
And this was the cue for the missionary whose
name was Marcus Whitman to set foot upon the
boards of history.
His preparation for a frontiersman s life began
early for young Whitman. Born in Connecticut
when the eighteenth century had all but run its
course, he was still in his swaddling-clothes when
his parents, falling victims to the prevalent fever
for "going west," piled their lares and penates
into an ox-cart and trekked overland to the fertile
lake region of central New York, Mrs. Whitman
making the four-hundred-mile journey on foot,
with her year-old babe in her arms. Building a
cabin with the tree trunks cleared from the site,
they began the usual pioneer s struggle for exis
tence. His father dying before he had reached
his teens, young Marcus was sent to live with
his grandfather in Plamfield, Mass., where he re
mained ten years, learning his "three R s" in
such schools as the place afforded, his education
later being taken in hand by the local parson.
His youth was passed in the usual life of the
country boy; to drive home the cows and milk
them, to chop the wood and carry the water and
do the other household chores, and, later on, to
plough and plant the fields a training which was
202
The Preacher Who Rode
to prove invaluable to him in after years, on the
shores of another ocean. I expect that the strong,
sturdy boy of ceaseless activity and indomitable
will the Plainfield folk called him mischievous
and stubborn who was fonder of hunting and
fishing than of algebra and Greek, must have
caused his old grandfather a good deal of worry;
though, from all I can learn, he seems to have
been a straightforward and likable youngster.
Very early he set his heart on entering the min
istry; but, owing to the dissuasions of his rela
tives and friends, who knew how pitifully meagre
was a clergyman s living in those days, he reluc
tantly abandoned the idea and took up instead
the study of medicine. After practising in Can
ada for several years, he returned to central New
York, where, with but little help, he chopped a
farm out of the wilderness, cleared it, and culti
vated it, built a grist-mill and a sawmill, and at
the same time acted as physician for a district
fifty miles in radius. He was in the heyday of
life, prosperous, and engaged to the prettiest girl
in all the countryside, when, reading in the local
paper the appeal made by the Indian chieftains
in far-away St. Louis, the old crusading fervor
that had first turned his thoughts toward the
ministry, flamed up clear and strong within him,
203
The Road to Glory
and, putting comfort, prosperity, everything be
hind him, he applied to the American Board for
appointment as a missionary to Oregon. Such
a request from a man so peculiarly qualified for
a wilderness career as Whitman could not well
be disregarded, and in due time he received an
appointment to go to the banks of the Columbia,
investigate, return, and report. The wish of his
life had been granted: he had become a skirmisher
in the army of the church.
Accompanied by a fellow missionary, Whitman
penetrated into the Western wilderness as far as
the Wind River Mountains, near the present Yel
lowstone Park. After familiarizing themselves
through talks with traders, trappers, and Indians
with the conditions which prevailed in the valley
of the Columbia, Whitman and his companion
returned to Boston, and upon the strength of
their report the American Board decided to lose
no time in occupying the field. Ordered to es
tablish a station on the Columbia, in the vicinity
of Fort Walla Walla, then a post of the Hudson s
Bay Company, Whitman turned the long and
arduous trip across the continent into a wedding
journey. The conveyances used and the round
about route taken by the bridal couple strikingly
emphasize the primitive internal communica-
204
The Preacher Who Rode
tions of the period. They drove in a sleigh from
Elmira, N. Y., to Hollidaysburg, a hamlet on the
Pennsylvania Canal, at the foot of the Allegha-
nies, the canal-boats, which were built in sections,
being taken over the mountains on a railway.
Travelling by the canal and its communicating
waterways to the Ohio, they journeyed by steam
boat down the Ohio to its junction with the Mis
sissippi, up the Mississippi to St. Louis, and
thence up the Missouri to Council Bluffs, where
they bought a wagon (bear that wagon in mind,
if you please, for you shall hear of it later on),
and outfitted for the journey across the plains.
Accompanied by another missionary couple, Doc
tor and Mrs. Spalding, they turned the noses of
their mules northwestward and a week or so later
caught up with an expedition sent out by the
American Fur Company to its settlement of As
toria, at the mouth of the Columbia. Following
the North Fork of the Platte, they crossed the
Wind River Mountains within sight of the land
mark which came in time to be known as Fre
mont s Peak, though these two young women
crossed the Great Divide six years before Fremont,
"the pathfinder," ever set eyes upon it. Few
women of our race have ever made so perilous
or difficult a journey. Before it was half com-
205
The Road to Glory
pleted, the party, owing to a miscalculation, ran
out of h flour and for weeks on end were forced
to live on jerked buffalo meat and tea. Crossing
the Snake River at a point where it was upward
of a mile in width, the wagon was capsized by
the velocity of the current, and, the mules, on
which the women had been put for safety, be
coming entangled in the harness, their riders
escaped drowning by what the missionaries de
voutly ascribed to a miracle and the rough-
spoken frontiersmen to "damned good luck."
Another river they crossed by means of a dried
elkskin with two ropes attached, on which they
lay flat and perfectly motionless while two In
dian women, holding the ropes in their teeth,
swam the stream, drawing this unstable ferry
behind them.
At Fort Hall, near the present site of Poca-
tello, Ida., they came upon the southernmost of
that chain of trading-posts with which the Hud
son s Bay Company sought to guard the enormous
territory which, without so much as a "by-your-
leave," it had taken for its own. Here Captain
Grant, the company s factor, made a determined
effort to induce Whitman to abandon the wagon
that he had brought with him across the conti
nent in the face of almost insuperable obstacles.
206
The Preacher Who Rode
But the obstinacy that had caused the folks in
Plainfield to shake their heads when the name
of young Marcus Whitman was mentioned stood
him in good stead, for the more persistent the
Englishman became in his objections the more
adamantine grew the American in his determi
nation to cling at all costs to his wagon, for no
one F knew better than Whitman that this had
proved the most successful of the methods pur
sued by the great British fur monopoly to dis
courage the colonization of the territory wherein
it conducted its operations. The officials of the
Hudson s Bay Company well knew that the colo
nization of the valley of the Columbia by Ameri
cans meant not only the end of their enormously
profitable monopoly but/tne end of British domi
nation in that region. Though they did not have
it in their power to forcibly prevent Americans
from entering the country, they argued that there
could be no colonization on a large scale unless
the settlers had wagons in which to transport their
seeds and farming implements. Hence the com
pany adopted the policy of stationing its agents
along the main routes of travel with instructions
to stop at nothing short of force to detain the
wagons. And until Marcus Whitman came this
policy had accomplished the desired result, the
207
The Road to Glory
specious arguments of Captain Grant having
proved so successful, indeed, that the stockade at
Fort Hall was filled with abandoned wagons and
farming implements which would have been of
inestimable value to the settlers who had been
persuaded or bullied into leaving them behind.
But Whitman was made of different stuff, and
the English official might as well have tried to
argue the Snake River out of its course as to
argue this hard-headed Yankee into giving up his
wagon. Though it twice capsized and was all
but lost in the swollen streams, though once it
fell over a precipice and more than once went
rolling down a mountainside, though for miles on
end it was held on the narrow, winding mountain
trails by means of drag-ropes, and though it be
came so dilapidated in time that it finished its
journey on two wheels instead of four, the ram
shackle old vehicle, thanks to Whitman s bull
dog grit and determination, was hauled over the
mountains and was the first vehicle to enter the
forbidden land. I have laid stress upon this inci
dent of the wagon, because, as things turned out,
it proved a vital factor in the winning of Oregon.
"For want of a nail the shoe was lost," runs the
ancient doggerel; "for want of a .shoe the horse
was lost; for want of a horse the rider was lost;
208
The Preacher Wlio Rode
for want of a rider the kingdom was lost." And,
had it not* been for this decrepit old wagon of
Whitman s, a quarter of a r^illion square miles of
the most fertile land between the oceans would
have been lost to the Unioji.
Seven months after helping his bride into the
sleigh at Elmira, Whitman drove his gaunt mule-
team into the gate of the stockade at Fort Walla
Walla. To-day one can make that same journey
in a little more than four days and sit in a green
plush chair all the way. The news of Whitman s
coming had preceded him, and an enormous con
course of Indians, arrayed in all their barbaric
finery, was assembled to greet the man who had
journeyed so many moons to bring them the
white man s Book of Heaven. Picture that quar
tet of missionaries skirmishers of the church,
pickets of progress, advance-guards of civilization
as they stood on the banks of the Columbia
one September morning in 1836 and consulted as
to how to begin the work they had been sent to
do. It was all new. There were no precedents
to guide them. How would you begin, my friends,
were you suddenly set down in the middle of a
wilderness, four thousand miles from home, with
instructions to. Christianize and civilize the sav
ages who inhabited it ?
209
The Road to Glory
Whitman, in whom diplomacy lost an adept
when he became a missionary, appreciated that
the first thing for him to do, if he was to be suc
cessful in his mission, was to win the confidence
of the ruling powers of Oregon the Hudson s Bay
Company officials at Fort Vancouver. This ne
cessitated another journey of three hundred miles,
but it could be made in canoes with Indian pad-
dlers. Doctor McLoughlin, the stern old Scotch
man who was chief factor of the Hudson s Bay
Company and whose word was law throughout
a region larger than all the States east of the
Mississippi put together, had to be able, from
the very nature of his business, to read the char
acters of men as students read a book; and he
was evidently pleased with what he read in the
face of the American missionary, for he gave both
permission and assistance in establishing a mis
sion station at Waiilatpui, twenty-five miles from
Walla Walla.
Whitman s first move in his campaign for the
civilization of the Indians was to induce them
to build permanent homes and to plough and sow.
This the Hudson s Bay officials had always dis
couraged. They did not want their savage allies
to be transformed into tillers of the soil; they
wanted them to remain nomads and hunters,
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The Preacher Who Rode
ready to move hundreds of miles in quest of
furs. The only parallel in modern times to the
greed, selfishness, and cruelty which characterized
the administration of the Hudson s Bay Com
pany was the rule of the Portuguese in Mozam
bique and Angola and of King Leopold in the
Congo.
At this time Oregon was a sort of no man s
land, to which neither England nor the United
States had laid definite claim, though the former,
realizing the immensity of its natural resources
and the enormous strategic value that would ac
crue from its possession, had long cast covetous
eyes upon it. The Americans of that period, on
the contrary, knew little about Oregon and cared
less, regarding the proposals for its acquisition
with the same distrust with which the Americans
of to-day regard any suggestion for extending
our boundaries below the Rio Grande. Daniel
Webster had said on the floor of the United
States Senate: "What do we want with this
vast, worthless area, this region of savages and
wild beasts, of shifting sands and whirlwinds of
dust, of cactus and prairie-dogs ? To what use
could we ever hope to put these great deserts or
these endless mountain ranges, impenetrable and
covered to their base with eternal snow ? What
211
The Road to Glory
can we ever hope to do with the western coast, a
coast of three thousand miles, rock-bound, cheer
less, and uninviting, and not a harbor on it ? Mr.
President, I will never vote one cent from the
public treasury to place the Pacific coast one inch
nearer to Boston."
The name Oregon, it must be borne in mind,
had a very much broader significance then than
now, for the territory generally considered to be
referred to by the term comprised the whole of
the present States of Oregon, Washington, and
Idaho, and a portion of Montana.
Notwithstanding the systematic efforts of the
Hudson s Bay Company to keep them out, a con
siderable number of Americans perhaps two or
three hundred in all had settled in the country
watered by the Columbia, but they were greatly
outnumbered by the Canadians and British, who
held the balance of power. The American set
tlers believed that, under the terms of the treaty
of 1819, whichever nation settled and organized
the territory that nation would hold it. Though
this was not directly affirmed in the terms of
that treaty, it was the common sentiment of the
statesmen of the period, Webster, then Secretary
of State, having said, in the course of a letter to
the British minister at Washington: "The owner-
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The Preacher Who Rode
ship of the whole country (Oregon) will likely
follow the greater settlement and larger amount
of population." The missionaries, recognizing the
incalculable value of the country which the Amer
ican Government was deliberately throwing away,
did everything in their power to encourage immi
gration. Their glowing accounts of the fertility
of the soil, the balmy climate, the wealth of tim
ber, the incalculable water-power, the wealth in
minerals had each year induced a limited num
ber of daring souls to make the perilous and costly
journey across the plains. In the autumn of 1842
a much larger party than any that had hitherto
attempted the journey one hundred and twenty
in all reached Waiilatpui. Among them was a
highly educated and unusually well-informed
man General Amos Lovejoy. He was thor
oughly posted in national affairs, and it was in
the course of a conversation with him that Doc
tor Whitman first learned that the Webster-Ash-
burton treaty would probably be ratified before
the adjournment of Congress in the following
March. It was generally believed that this treaty
related to the entire boundary between the United
States and England s North American possessions,
the popular supposition being that it provided for
the cession of the Oregon region to Great Britain
213
The Road to Glory
in return for fishing rights off the coast of New
foundland.
Doctor Whitman instantly saw that, as a re
sult of the incredible ignorance and short-sighted
ness of the statesmen or rather, the politicians
who paraded as statesmen at Washington, four
great States were quietly slipping away from us
without a protest. There was but one thing to
do in such a crisis. He must set out for Wash
ington. Though four thousand miles of Indian-
haunted wilderness lay between -him and the white
city on the Potomac, he did not hesitate. Though
winter was at hand, and the passes would be deep
in snow and the plains destitute of pasturage, he
did not falter. Though there was a rule of the
American Board that no missionary could leave
his post without obtaining permission from head
quarters in Boston, Whitman shouldered all the
responsibility. "I did not expatriate myself when
I became a missionary," was his reply to some
objection. "Even if the Board dismisses me, I
will do what I can to save Oregon to the nation.
My life is of but little worth if I can keep this
country for the American people." *
* It is a regrettable fact that this, one of the finest episodes in our
national history, from being a subject of honest controversy has
degenerated into an embittered and rancorous quarrel, some of Doctor
Whitman s detractors, not content with questioning the motives
214
The Preacher Who Rode
Whitman s friends in Oregon felt that he was
starting on a ride into the valley of the shadow
of death. They knew from their own experiences
the terrible hardships of such a journey even in
summer, when there was grass to feed the horses
and men could live with comfort in the open air.
It was resolved that he must not make the jour
ney alone, and a call was made for a volunteer to
accompany him. General Amos Lovejoy stepped
forward and said quietly: "I will go with Doctor
Whitman." The doctor planned to start in five
days, but, while dining with the Hudson s Bay of
ficials at Fort Walla Walla, an express messenger
of the company arrived from Fort Colville, three
hundred and fifty miles up the Columbia, and
electrified his audience by announcing that a party
of one hundred and forty British and Canadian
colonists were on the road to Oregon. A young
English clergyman, carried away with enthusiasm,
sprang to his feet, waved his napkin above his
head and shouted: "We ve got the country the
which animated him in his historic ride, having gone so far as to
cast doubts on the fact of the ride itself and even to assail the char
acter of the great missionary. Full substantiation of the episode as
I have told it may be found, however, in Barrows s "Oregon, the
Struggle for Possession," Johnson s "History of Oregon," Dye s
"McLoughlin and Old Oregon," and Nixon s "How Marcus Whit
man Saved Oregon," an array of authorities which seem to me
sufficient.
215
The Road to Glory
Yankees are too late! Hurrah for Oregon!"
Whitman, appreciating that things had now
reached a pass where even hours were precious,
quietly excused himself, hurried back to the mis
sion at Waiilatpui, and made preparations for an
immediate departure. The strictest secrecy was
enjoined upon all the Americans whom Whitman
had taken into his confidence, for had a rumor of
his intentions reached British ears at this junc
ture it might have ruined everything. So it was
given out that he was returning to Boston to ad
vise the American Board against the contem
plated removal of its missions in Oregon an ex
planation which was true as far as it went.
On the morning of October 3, 1842, Whitman,
saying good-by to his wife and home, climbed
into his saddle and with General Lovejoy, their
half-breed guide, and three pack-mules set out
on the ride that was to win us an empire. The
little group of American missionaries and settlers
whom he left behind gave him a rousing cheer as
he rode off and then stood in silence with choking
throats and misted eyes until the heroic doctor
and his companions were swallowed by the forest.
With horses fresh, they reached Fort Hall in
eleven days, where the English factor, Captain
Grant the same man who, six years before, had
216
The Preacher Who Rode
attempted to prevent Whitman from taking his
wagon into Oregon doubtless guessing at their
mission, did his best to detain them. Learning
at Fort Hall that the northern tribes were on the
war-path, Whitman and his companions struck
southward in the direction of Great Salt Lake,
planning to work from there eastward, via Fort
Uintah and Fort Uncompahgre, to Santa Fe, and
thence by the Santa Fe trail to St. Louis, which
was on the borders of civilization. The journey
from Fort Hall to Fort Uintah was one long
nightmare, the temperature falling at times to
forty degrees below zero and the snow being so
deep in places that the horses could scarcely
struggle through. While crossing the mountains
on their way to Taos they were caught in a
blinding snow-storm, in which, with badly frozen
limbs, they wandered aimlessly for hours. Fi
nally, upon the guide admitting that he was lost
and could go no farther, they sought refuge in a
deep ravine. Whitman dismounted and, kneel
ing in the snow, prayed for guidance. Can t you
picture the scene: the lonely, rock-walled gorge;
the shivering animals standing dejectedly, heads
to the ground and reins trailing; the general,
muffled to the eyes in furs; the impassive, blank
eted half-breed; in the centre, upon his knees, the
217
The Road to Glory
indomitable missionary, praying to the God of
storms; and the snowflakes falling swiftly, silently,
upon everything ? As though in answer to the
doctor s prayers and who shall say that it was
not the lead-mule, which had been left to him
self, suddenly started plunging through the snow
drifts as though on an urgent errand. Where
upon the guide called out: "This old mule ll find
the way back to camp if he kin live long nough
to git there." And he did.
The next morning the guide said flatly that he
would go no farther.
"I know this country," he declared, "an* I
know when things is possible an when they ain t.
It ain t possible to git through, an it s plumb
throwin your lives away to try it. I m finished."
This was a solar-plexus blow for Whitman, for
he was already ten days behind his schedule.
But, though staggered, he was far from being
beaten. Telling Lovejoy to remain in camp and
recuperate the animals which he did by feeding
them on brush and the inner bark of willows,
for there was no other fodder Whitman turned
back to Fort Uncompahgre, where he succeeded
in obtaining a stouter-hearted guide. In a week
he had rejoined Lovejoy. The storm had ceased,
and with rested animals they made good progress
218
The Preacher Who Rode
over the mountains to the pyramid pueblo of
Taos, the home of Kit Carson. Tarrying there
but a few hours, worn and weary though they
were, they pressed on to the banks of the Red
River, a stream which is dangerous even in sum
mer, only to find a fringe of solid ice upon each
shore, with a rushing torrent, two hundred feet
wide, between. For some minutes the guide
studied it in silence. "It is too dangerous to
cross," he said at last decisively.
"Dangerous or not, we must cross it, and at
once," answered Whitman. Cutting a stout wil
low pole, eight feet or so in length, he put it on
his shoulder and remounted.
"Now, boys," he ordered, "shove me off."
Following the doctor s directions, Lovejoy and
the guide urged the trembling beast onto the
slippery ice and then gave him a sudden shove
which sent him, much against his will, into the
freezing water. Both horse and rider remained
for a moment out of sight, then rose to the sur
face well toward the middle of the stream, the
horse swimming desperately. As they reached
the opposite bank the doctor s ingenuity in pro
viding himself with the pole quickly became ap
parent, for with it he broke the fringe of ice and
thus enabled his exhausted horse to gain a foot-
219
The Road to Glory
ing and scramble ashore. Wood was plentiful,
and he soon had a roaring fire. In a wild coun
try, when the lead-animal has gone ahead the
others will always follow, so the general and the
guide had no great difficulty in inducing their
horses and pack-mules to make the passage of the
river, rejoining Whitman upon the opposite bank.
Despite the fact that they found plenty of
wood along the route that they had taken, which
was fully a thousand miles longer than the north
ern course would have been, all the party were
severely frozen, Whitman suffering excruciating
pain from his frozen ears, hands, and feet. The
many delays had not only caused the loss of
precious time, but they had completely exhausted
their provisions. A dog had accompanied the
party, and they ate him. A mule came next, and
that kept them until they reached Santa Fe,
where there was plenty. Santa Fe that oldest
city of European occupation on the continent
welcomed and fed them. From there over the
famous Santa Fe trail to Bent s Fort, a fortified
settlement on the Arkansas, was a long journey
but, compared with what they had already gone
through, an easy one. A long day s ride north
eastward from this lonely outpost of American
civilization, and they found across their path a
220
The Preacher Who Rode
tributary of the Arkansas. On the opposite shore
was wood in plenty. On their side there was
none, and the river was frozen over with smooth,
clear ice, scarce strong enough to hold a man.
They must have wood or they would perish from
the cold; so Whitman, taking the axe, lay flat
upon the ice and snaked himself across, cut a
sufficient supply of fuel and returned the way he
went, pushing it before him. While he was cut
ting it, however, an unfortunate incident occurred:
the axe-helve was splintered. This made no par
ticular difference at the moment, for the doc
tor wound the break in the handle with a thong
of buckskin. But as they were in camp that
night a famished wolf, attracted by the smell of
the fresh buckskin, carried off axe and all, and
they could find no trace of it. Had it happened
a few hundred miles back it would have meant
the failure of the expedition, if not the death of
Whitman and his companions. On such appar
ently insignificant trifles do the fate of nations
sometimes hang.
Crossing the plains of what are now the States
of Oklahoma and Kansas, great packs of gaunt,
gray timber-wolves surrounded their tent each
night and were kept at bay only at the price of
unceasing vigilance, one member of the party al-
221
The Road to Glory
ways remaining on guard with a loaded rifle.
The moment a wolf was shot its famished com
panions would pounce upon it and tear it to
pieces. From Bent s Fort to St. Louis was,
strangely enough, one of the most dangerous por
tions of the journey, for, while heretofore the chief
dangers had come from cold, starvation, and sav
age beasts, here they were in hourly danger from
still more savage men, for in those days the Santa
Fe trail was frequented by bandits, horse-thieves,
renegade Indians, fugitives from justice, and the
other desperate characters who haunted the out
skirts of civilization and preyed upon the unpro
tected traveller. Notwithstanding these dangers,
of which he had been repeatedly warned at Santa
Fe and Bent s Fort, the doctor, leaving Lovejoy
and the guide to follow him with the pack-animals,
pushed on through this perilous region alone, but
lost his way and spent two precious days in find
ing it again a punishment, he said for having
travelled on the Sabbath.
The only occasion throughout all his astound
ing journey when this man of iron threatened to
collapse was when, upon reaching St. Louis, in
February, 1843, he learned, in answer to his eager
inquiries, that the Ashburton treaty had been
signed on August 9, long before he left Oregon,
222
The Preacher Who Rode
and that it had been ratified by the Senate on
November 10, while he was floundering in the
mountain snows near Fort Uncompahgre. For a
moment the missionary s mahogany-tanned face
went white and his legs threatened to give way
beneath him. Could it be that this was the end
of his dream of national expansion ? Was it pos
sible that his heroic ride had been made for
naught ? But summoning up his courage he man
aged to ask: "Is the question of the Oregon
boundary still open ?" When he learned that the
treaty had only settled the question of a few
square miles in Maine, and that the matter of
the northwest boundary was still pending, the
revulsion was so great that he reeled and nearly
fell. God be praised ! There was still time for
him to get to Washington ! The river was frozen
and he had to depend upon the stage, and an
overland journey from St. Louis to Washington
in midwinter was no light matter. But to Whit
man with muscles like steel springs, a thousand
miles by stage-coach over atrocious roads was not
an obstacle worthy of discussion.
He arrived at Washington on the 3d of March
just five months from the Columbia to the Po
tomac in the same rough garments he had worn
upon his ride, for he had neither time nor oppor-
223
The Road to Glory
tunity to get others. Soiled and greasy buck
skin breeches, sheepskin chaparejos, fleece side
out, boot-moccasins of elkskin, a cap of raccoon
fur with the tail hanging down behind, frontier
fashion, and a buffalo greatcoat with a hood for
stormy weather, composed a costume that did not
show one inch of woven fabric. His face, storm-
tanned to the color of a much-smoked meerschaum,
carried all the iron-gray whiskers that five months
absence from a razor could put upon it. I doubt,
indeed, if the shop-windows of the national capi
tal have ever reflected a more picturesque or strik
ing figure. But he had no time to take note of
the sensation created in the streets of Washing
ton by his appearance. Would he be granted
an audience with the President? Would he be
believed? Would his mission prove success
ful ? Those were the questions that tormented
him.
Those were days when the chief executive of
the nation was hedged by less formality than he
is in these busier times, and President Tyler
promptly received him. Some day, perhaps, the
people of one of those great States which he
saved to the Union will commission a famous ar
tist to paint a picture of that historic meeting:
the President, his keen, attentive face framed by
224
The Preacher Who Rode
the flaring collar and high black stock of the
period, sitting low in his great armchair; the
great Secretary of State, his mane brushed back
from his tremendous forehead, seated beside him;
and, standing before them, the preacher-pioneer,
bearded to the eyes, with frozen limbs, in his
worn and torn garments of fur and leather, plead
ing for Oregon. The burden of his argument was
that the treaty of 1819 must be immediately
abrogated and that the authority of the United
States be extended over the valley of the Co
lumbia. He painted in glowing words the limit
less resources, the enormous wealth in minerals
and timber and water-power of this land beyond
the Rockies; he told his hearers, spellbound now
by the interest and vividness of the narrative, of
the incredible fertility of the virgin soil, in which
anything would grow; of the vastness of the
forests; of the countless leagues of navigable
rivers; of the healthful and delightful climate;
of the splendid harbors along the coast; and last,
but by no means least, of those hardy pioneers
who had gone forth to settle this rich new region
at peril of their lives and who, through him, were
pleading to be placed under the shadow of their
own flag.
But Daniel Webster still clung obstinately to
225
The Road to Glory
his belief that Oregon was a wilderness not worth
the having.
"It is impossible to build a wagon road over
the mountains," he asserted positively. "My
friend Sir George Simpson, the British minister,
has told me so."
"There is a wagon road over the mountains, Mr.
Secretary," retorted Whitman, "for I have made it."
It was the rattletrap old prairie-schooner that
the missionary had dragged into Oregon on two
wheels in the face of British opposition that
clinched and copper-riveted the business. It
knocked all the argument out of the famous Sec
retary, who, for almost the first time in his life,
found himself at a loss for an answer. Here was
a man of a type quite different from any that
Webster had encountered in all his political ex
perience. He had no axe to grind; he asked for
nothing; he wanted no money, or office, or lands,
or anything except that which would add to the
glory of the flag, the prosperity of the people,
the wealth of the nation. It was a powerful ap
peal to the heart of President Tyler.
"What you have told us has interested me
deeply, Doctor Whitman," said the President at
length. "Now tell me exactly what it is that
you wish me to do."
226
The Preacher Who Rode
"If it is true, Mr. President," replied Whit
man, "that, as Secretary Webster himself has
said, the ownership of Oregon is very likely to fol
low the greater settlement and the larger amount
of population/ then all I ask is that you won t
barter away Oregon or permit of British inter
ference until I can organize a company of settlers
and lead them across the plains to colonize the
country. And this I will try to do at once."
"Your credentials as a missionary vouch for
your character, Doctor Whitman," replied the
President. "Your extraordinary ride and your
frostbitten limbs vouch for your patriotism. The
request you make is a reasonable one. I am glad
to grant it."
"That is all I ask," said Whitman, rising.
The object that had started him on his four-
thousand-mile journey having been attained,
Whitman wasted no time in resting. His work
was still unfinished. It was up to him to get his
settlers into Oregon, for the increasing arrogance
of the Hudson s Bay Company confirmed him in
his belief that the sole hope of saving the valley
of the Columbia lay in a prompt and overwhelm
ing American immigration. He had, indeed, ar
rived at Washington in the very nick of time, for,
if prior to his arrival the British Government
227
The Road to Glory
had renewed its offer of compromising by taking
as the international boundary the forty-ninth
parallel to the Columbia and thence down that
river to the Pacific thus giving the greater part
of the present State of Washington to England
there is but little doubt that the offer would
have been accepted. But the promise made by
President Tyler to Whitman committed him
against taking any action.
Though Whitman was treated with respect and
admiration by the President of the United States,
the greeting he received when he reported himself
at the headquarters of the American Board in
Boston was far from being a cordial one.
"What are you doing here, away from your
post without permission?" curtly inquired the
secretary of the Board, eying his shaggy visitor
with evident disapproval.
"I came on business to Washington," answered
Whitman, looking the secretary squarely in the
eye. "There was imminent danger of Oregon
passing into the possession of England, and I felt
it my duty to do what I could to prevent it."
"Obtaining new territories for the nation is no
part of our business," was the ungracious answer.
"You would have done better not to have med
dled in political affairs. Here, take some money
228
The Preacher Who Rode
and get some decent clothes, and then we ll dis
cuss this scheme of yours of piloting emigrants
over the mountains."
Meanwhile General Lovejoy had been busy
upon the frontier spreading the news that early
in the spring Doctor Whitman and himself would
guide a body of settlers across the Rockies to
Oregon. The news spread up and down the bor
der like fire in dry grass. The start was to be
made from Weston, not far from where Kansas
City now stands, and soon the emigrants came
pouring in men who had fought the Indians and
the wilderness all the way from the Great Lakes
to the Gulf; men who had followed Boone and
Bowie and Carson and Davy Crockett; a hardy,
sturdy, tenacious breed who were quite ready to
fight, if need be, to hold this northwestern land
where they had determined to build their homes.
The grass was late, that spring of 1843, and the
expedition did not get under way until the last
week in June. At Fort Hall they met with the
customary discouragements and threats from
Captain Grant, but Whitman, like a modern
Moses, urged them forward. On pushed the
winding train of white-topped wagons, crossing
the sun-baked prairies, climbing the Rockies,
fording the intervening rivers, creeping along the
229
The Road to Glory
edge of perilous precipices, until at last they stood
upon the summit of the westernmost range, with
the promised land lying spread below them.
Whitman, the man to whom it was all due, reined
in his horse and watched the procession of wagons,
bearing upward of a thousand men, women, and
children, make its slow progress down the moun
tains. He must have been very happy, for he
had added the great, rich empire which the term
Oregon implied to the Union.*
For four years more Doctor Whitman continued
his work of caring for the souls and the bodies of
red men and white alike at the mission station of
Waiilatpui. On August 6, 1846, as a direct result
of his great ride, was signed the treaty whereby
England surrendered her claims to Oregon. In
those days news travelled slowly along the frontier,
and it was the following spring before the British
outposts along the Columbia learned that the Brit
ish minister at Washington had been beaten by
the diplomacy of a Yankee missionary and that
the great, despotic company which for well-nigh
* Years afterward, Daniel Webster remarked to a friend: "It is
safe to assert that our country owes it to Doctor Whitman and his
associate missionaries that all the territory west of the Rocky Moun
tains and north of the Columbia is not now owned by England and
held by the Hudson s Bay Company." Dye s "McLoughlin and Old
Oregon."
230
The Preacher Who Rode
two centuries had been in undisputed control of
this region, and which had come to regard it as
inalienably its own, would have to move on.
From that moment Marcus Whitman was a
doomed man, for it was a long-standing boast of
the company that no man defied it and lived.
The end came with dramatic suddenness.
Early in the afternoon of November 20, 1847,
Doctor Whitman was sitting in the mission sta
tion prescribing medicine, as was his custom, for
those of his Indians who were ailing, when a
blanketed warrior stole up behind him on silent
moccasins and buried a hatchet in his brain.
Then hell broke loose. Whooping fiends in paint
and feathers appeared as from the pit. Mrs.
Whitman was butchered as she knelt by her dying
husband, their scalps being torn from their heads
before they had ceased to breathe. Fourteen
other missionaries were murdered by the red-
skinned monsters and forty women and children
were carried into a captivity that was worse than
death. And this by the Indians who, just fifteen
years before, had pleaded to have sent them the
white man s Book of Heaven ! Though no con
clusive proof has ever been produced that they
were whooped on to their atrocious deed by emis
saries of the great monopoly which had been
231
The Road to Glory
forced out of Oregon as a result of Whitman s
ride, there is but little doubt. Whitman had
snatched an empire from its greedy fingers, and
he had to pay the price.
Within sight of the mission station, where for
more than a decade they had worked together,
and from which he had started on his historic
ride, the martyr and his courageous wife lie buried.
You can see the grave for yourself should your
travels take you Walla Walla way. You will
need to have it pointed out to you, however, for
you would never notice it otherwise: a modest
headstone surrounded by a picket fence. Though
Marcus Whitman added to the national domain
a territory larger and possessing greater natural
resources than the German Empire, though but
for him Portland and Tacoma and Seattle and
Spokane would be British instead of American,
no memorial of him can be found in their parks
or public buildings. Instead of honoring the man
who discovered the streams and forests from which
they are growing rich, who won for them the very
lands on which they dwell, unworthy discussions
and acrimonious debates as to the motives which
animated him are the only tributes which have
been paid him by the people for whom he did so
much. But he sleeps peacefully on beside the
232
The Preacher Who Rode
*
mighty river, oblivious to the pettiness and in
gratitude of it all. When history grants Marcus
Whitman the tardy justice of perspective, over
that lonely grave a monument worthy of a na
tion builder shall rise.
233
THE MARCH OF THE ONE THOUSAND
THE MARCH OF THE ONE THOUSAND
TWENTY-TWO centuries or thereabouts ago
a Greek soldier of fortune named Xenophon
found himself in a most trying and perilous sit
uation. Lured by avarice, adventure, and ambi
tion, he had accepted a commission in a legion of
Hellenic mercenaries, ten thousand strong, who
had been engaged by Cyrus to assist him in oust
ing his brother from the throne of Persia. But
at Cunaxa Cyrus had met his death and his forces
complete disaster, the Greek legionaries being left
to make their way back to Europe as best they
might. Under Xenophon s daring and resource
ful leadership they set out on that historic retreat
across the plains of Asia Minor which their leader
was to make immortal with his pen, eventually
reaching Constantinople, after an absence of fif
teen months and a total journey of about three
thousand five hundred miles, with little save their
weapons and their lives. Xenophon s story of the
March of the Ten Thousand as told in his "Anab
asis," is the most famous military narrative ever
written; it is used as a text-book in colleges and
237
The Road to Glory
schools, and is familiar wherever the history of
Greece is read.
Yet how many of those who know the "Anab
asis" by heart are aware that Xenophon s ex
ploit has been surpassed on our own continent,
in our own times, and by our own countrymen ?
Where is the text-book which contains so much
as a reference to the march of the One Thousand ?
How many of the students who can glibly rattle
off the details of Xenophon s march across the
Mesopotamian plains have ever even heard of
Doniphan s march across the plains of Mexico ?
During that march, which occupied twelve
months, a force of American volunteers, barely a
thousand strong, traversed upward of six thousand
miles of territory, most of which was unknown and
bitterly hostile, and returned to the United States
bringing with them seventeen pieces of artillery
and a hundred battle-flags taken on fields whose
names their countrymen had never so much as
heard before. Because it is the most remarkable
campaign in all our history, and because it is too
glorious an episode to be lost in the mists of ob
livion, I will, with your permission, tell its story.
Early in May, 1846, Mexico, angered by the
annexation of Texas, declared war against the
United States. Hostilities began a few days later,
238
The March of the One Thousand
when the Army of Occupation under General
Zachary Taylor, whom this campaign was to
make President, crossed the Rio Grande at Mata-
moros and defeated the Mexicans in quick suc
cession at Palo Alto and Resaca de la Palma.
The original plan of campaign was for the Army
of Occupation to penetrate directly into the heart
of Mexico via Monterey; the Army of the Centre,
under General Wool, to operate against Chihua
hua, the metropolis of the north, two hundred and
twenty-five miles below the Rio Grande; while
an expeditionary force under Colonel Stephen
Watts Kearny, known as the Army of the West,
was ordered to march on Santa Fe for the con
quest of New Mexico. Subsequently this plan
was changed: General Scott captured Vera Cruz
and used it as a base for his advance on the capi
tal; General Wool, instead of descending on Chi
huahua, effected a juncture with General Taylor
at Saltillo; and Colonel Kearny, after the taking
of New Mexico, divided his force into three sepa
rate commands. The first he led in person across
the continent to the conquest of California; the
second, under Colonel Sterling Price, was left to
garrison Santa Fe and hold New Mexico; the
third, consisting of a thousand Missouri volun
teers under Colonel Alexander Doniphan, was or-
239
The Road to Glory
dered to make a descent upon the state of Chihua
hua and join General Wool s division at Chihuahua
City. The march of this regiment of raw recruits
from Fort Leavenworth to Santa Fe, El Paso,
Chihuahua, Saltillo, and Matamoros is known as
Doniphan s Expedition.
When, echoing Mexico s declaration of war,
came President Polk s call for fifty thousand vol
unteers, Governor Edwards, of Missouri, turned
to Colonel Doniphan for assistance in raising the
quota of that State. He could not have chosen
better, for Alexander Doniphan combined prac
tical military experience and remarkable execu
tive ability with the most extraordinary personal
magnetism. Though a citizen of Missouri, Doni
phan was a native of Kentucky, his father, who was
a comrade of Daniel Boone, having pushed west
ward with that great adventurer to "the dark
and bloody ground," where, in 1808, Alexander
was born. Left fatherless at the age of six, he was
sent to live with his elder brother at Augusta,
Ky., where he received the best education that
the frontier afforded. Graduating from the Meth
odist college in Augusta when nineteen, he took
up the study of law and in 1833 moved to Liberty,
Mo., where his pronounced abilities quickly
brought him reputation and a large and profitable
240
The March of the One Thousand
clientele. A born organizer, he took a prominent
part in building up the State militia, commanding
a brigade of the expeditionary force which was
despatched in 1838 to quell the insurrectionary
movement among the Mormons at Far West. A
polished and convincing orator, he met with in
stant success when he set out through upper
Missouri to raise recruits for service in Mexico.
The force thus raised was designated as the 1st
Missouri Mounted Volunteers, and no finer re
giment of horse ever clattered behind the guidons.
Missouri, then on our westernmost frontier, was
peopled by hardy pioneers, and the youths who
filled the ranks of the regiment were the sons of
those pioneers and possessed all the courage and
endurance of their fathers. Though Doniphan
was a brigadier-general of militia and had seen
active service, he enlisted as a private in the
regiment which he had raised, but when the elec
tion for officers came to be held he was chosen
colonel by acclamation. If ever a man looked the
beau sabreur it was Doniphan. He was then in
his eight-and-thirtieth year and so imposing in
appearance that the mere sight of him in any
assemblage would have caused the question:
"Who is that man ?" to go round. Six feet four
in his stockings; crisp, curling hair, which, though
241
The Road to Glory
not red, was suspiciously near it; features which
would have been purest Grecian had not an aqui
line nose lent them strength and distinction; a
complexion as fair and delicate as a woman s; a
temperament that was poetic, even romantic,
without being effeminate; a sense of humor so
highly developed that he never failed to recog
nize a joke when he heard one; a personal mod
esty which was as delightful as it was unaffected;
manners so courtly and polished as to suggest an
upbringing in a palace rather than on the fron
tier; conversation that was witty, brilliant, and
wonderfully fascinating there you have Alex
ander Doniphan en silhouette, as it were. Small
wonder that President Lincoln, when Colonel
Doniphan was presented to him in after years,
remarked: "Colonel, you are the only man I ever
met whose appearance came up to my previous
expectations."
The Army of the West, of which Colonel Doni-
phan s Missourians formed a part, was ordered to
mobilize at Fort Leavenworth, where several weeks
were spent in completing the equipment, collect
ing supplies, and teaching the recruits the rudi
ments of drill. Everything being complete down
to the last horseshoe, on the morning of June 26,
1846, the expedition, comprising barely two thou-
242
The March of the One Thousand
sand men in all, headed by Colonel Kearny with
two squadrons of United States dragoons, smart
and soldierly in their flat-topped, visored caps and
their shell-jackets of blue piped with yellow, and
followed by a mile-long train of white-topped
wagons, set out across the grassy prairies on a
march which was to end in the conquest and an
nexation of a territory larger than all the United
States at that time. It would be difficult to ex
press the hopes and apprehensions of the volun
teers and of those who watched and waved to
them, when, with the bands playing "The Girl I
Left Behind Me," they moved out of Fort Leaven-
worth on that sunny summer s morning and turned
their horses heads toward the south and Mexico.
At that time the American people s knowledge of
Mexico was very meagre, for the geographies of
the day, though indicating very clearly the Great
American Desert, as it was called, stretching long
and wide and yellow between Missouri and Mex
ico, showed little beyond the barest outlines of
the vast unexplored regions to the west and south.
The people of Missouri, however, knew more than
any others, for their traders, for more than twenty
years, had laboriously traversed the dangerous
trail which led from Independence to the northern
most of the Mexican trading-posts at Santa Fe and
243
The Road to Glory
thence on to Chihuahua. Thus they knew that
the regions between the Missouri and the Great
Desert were Indian country and dangerous, and
that those beyond were Indian and Mexican
and more dangerous still. No wonder that the
volunteers felt that every mile of their advance
into this terra incognita would reveal perils, mar
vels, and surprises; no wonder that those who
were left behind prayed fervently for the safety
of the husbands and sons and lovers who had
gone into the wild as fighters go.
There was no road, not even a path, leading
from Fort Leavenworth into the Santa Fe trail,
and, as the intervening country was slashed across
by innumerable streams and canyons, bridges and
roads had to be built for the wagons. The prog
ress of the column was frequently interrupted by
precipitous bluffs whose sides, often two hundred
feet or more in height, were so steep and slippery
that it was impossible for the mules to get a foot
hold, and the heavily laden wagons, with a hun
dred sweating, panting, cursing men straining at
the drag-ropes, had to be hauled up by hand. As
the column pressed southward the heat became un
bearable. The tall, rank grass harbored swarms of
flies and mosquitoes which attacked the soldiers
until their eyes were sometimes swollen shut and
244
The March of the One Thousand
clung to the flanks of the mules and horses until
the tormented animals streamed with blood. In
places the ground became so soft and marshy that
the wagons sank to the hubs and the march was
halted while a dozen teams hauled them out
again. Numbers of the wagons broke down daily
under the terrific strain to which they were sub
jected, and, as though this was not enough, the
troubles of the teamsters were increased by the
mules, which, maddened by the attacks of insects
and made refractory by the unaccustomed condi
tions, stubbornly refused to work.
Preceding the column was a hunter train, com
manded by Thomas Forsyth, a celebrated fron
tiersman. Leaving camp about eleven in the
evening and riding through the night, the hunters
and butchers would reach the site selected for the
next camp at daybreak and would promptly get
to work killing and dressing the game which
swarmed upon the prairies, so that a supply of
fresh meat buffalo, elk, antelope, and deer was
always awaiting the troops upon their arrival at
sundown, while along the banks of the Arkansas
the men brought in quantities of wild grapes,
plums, and rice. Arriving at the towering butte,
standing solitary in the prairie, known as Pawnee
Rock, Forsyth asked his hunters to ascend it with
245
The Road to Glory
him. Even these old plainsmen, accustomed as
they were to seeing prodigious herds of game,
whistled in amazement at the spectacle upon
which they looked down, for from the base of the
rock straightaway to the horizon the prairie was
literally carpeted with buffalo. Forsyth, who was
always conservative in his expressions, estimated
that five hundred thousand buffalo were in sight,
but his hunters asserted that eight hundred thou
sand would be much nearer the number of animals
seen from the summit of Pawnee Rock that
morning.
Crossing the Arkansas, the expedition entered
upon the Great American Desert as sterile,
parched, and sandy a waste as the Sahara.
Dreary, desolate, boundless solitude reigned every
where. The heat was like a blast from an opened
furnace door. The earth was literally parched to
a crust, and this crust had broken open in great
cracks and fissures. Such patches of vegetation
as there were had been parched and shrivelled by
the pitiless sun until they were as yellow as the
sand itself. Soon even this pretense of vegeta
tion disappeared; the parched wire grass was stiff
ened by incrustations of salt; streaks of alkali
spread across the face of the desert like livid
scars; the pulverized earth looked and felt like
246
The March of the One Thousand
smouldering embers. The mules grew weak from
thirst and some of the wagons had to be aban
doned. Horses fell dead from heat and exhaus
tion, but the men thus forced to march on foot
managed to keep pace with the mounted men.
Their boots gave out, however, and for miles the
line of their march could be traced by bloody
footprints. Wind-storms drove the loose sand
of the desert against them like a sand-blast,
cutting their lips, filling their eyes and ears and
sometimes almost suffocating them. Though con
stantly tantalized by mirages of cool lakes with
restful groves reflected in them, they would fre
quently fail to find a pool of water or a patch of
grass in a long day s march and would plod for
ward with their swollen tongues hanging from
their mouths. Those who saw the smart body
of soldiery which rode out of Fort Leavenworth
would scarcely have recognized them in the strag
gling column of ragged, sun-scorched skeletons of
men, sitting their gaunt and jaded horses, which
crossed the well-named Purgatoire eight weeks
later, and saw before them the snow peaks of the
Cimarrons.
Although four thousand Mexican troops under
General Armijo had been gathered at the pass of
the Galisteo, fifteen miles north of Santa Fe, where,
247
The Road to Glory
as a result of the rugged character of the country,
they could have offered a long and desperate resist
ance and could only have been dislodged at a great
sacrifice of life, upon the approach of the American
column they retired without firing a shot and re
treated to Chihuahua. On the i8th of August,
1846, the American forces entered Santa Fe, and
four days later Colonel Kearny issued a proclama
tion annexing the whole of New Mexico to the
Union. As the red-white-and-green tricolor float
ing over the palace, which had sheltered a long line
of Spanish, Indian, and Mexican governors, dropped
slowly down the staff and in its stead was broken
out a flag of stripes and stars, from the troops
drawn up in the plaza came a hurricane of cheers,
while the field-guns belched forth a national sa
lute. As United States Senator Benton described
this remarkable accomplishment in his speech of
welcome to the returning troops: "A colonel s
command, called an army, marches eight hundred
miles beyond its base, its communications liable
to be cut by the slightest effort of the enemy
mostly through a desert the whole distance al
most totally destitute of resources, to conquer a
territory of two hundred and fifty thousand square
miles, without a military chest; the people of this
territory are declared citizens of the United States,
248
The March of the One Thousand
and the invaders are thus debarred the rights of
war to seize needful supplies; they arrive with
out food before the capital a city two hundred
and forty years old, garrisoned by regular troops."
To understand the reason for General Armijo s
evacuation of New Mexico without firing a shot
in its defense, it is necessary to here interject a
chapter of secret history. The bloodless annexa
tion of New Mexico was due, not to Colonel
Kearny, but to an American trader and frontiers
man named James Macgoffin. Macgoffin, who had
lived and done business for years in Chihuahua,
was intimately acquainted with Mexico and the
Mexicans. He was not only familiar with the
physiography of the country, but he understood
the psychology of its people and how to take ad
vantage of it. When war was declared he hap
pened to be in Washington. Going to Senator
Benton, he explained that he wished to offer his
services to the nation and outlined to the deeply
interested senator a plan he had in mind. Sen
ator Benton immediately took Macgoffin to the
White House and obtained him an interview with
the President and the Secretary of War, who, after
listening to his scheme, gladly availed themselves
of his services. Macgoffin thereupon hastened to
Independence, Mo., where he hastily outfitted a
249
The Road to Glory
wagon-train and some weeks later, in his cus
tomary role of trader, arrived at Santa Fe, reach
ing there several weeks in advance of Kearny s
column. The details of his dealings with Gen
eral Armijo, of how he worked upon his cupidity,
and of the precise inducements which he offered
him to withdraw his forces from the pass of the
Galisteo, to evacuate Santa Fe and leave all New
Mexico to be occupied by the Americans, are bur
ied in the archives of the Department of State,
and will probably never be known. But though
Armijo fled and Kearny effected a bloodless con
quest, Macgoffin s work was not yet done. There
remained the most dangerous part of his mission,
which was to do for General Wool in Chihuahua
what he had done for Colonel Kearny in Santa
Fe. That he carried his life in his hands no one
knew better than himself, for had the Mexicans
learned of his mission he would have died before
a firing-party. As a matter of fact, he did arouse
the suspicions of the authorities in Chihuahua,
but, owing to their inability to confirm them and
to his personal friendship with certain high offi
cials, instead of being executed he was sent as a
prisoner to Durango, where he was held until the
close of the war. Upon his return to Washing
ton after hostilities had ended, Congress, in se-
250
The March of the One Thousand
cret session, voted him fifty thousand dollars as
remuneration for his services, but, though Presi
dent Taylor urged the prompt payment of the
same, the War Department arbitrarily reduced
the sum to thirty thousand dollars, which was in
sufficient to cover the disbursements he had made.
Ingratitude, it will thus be seen, is not confined to
princes.
Having organized a territorial government,
brought order out of chaos, and put New Mexico s
house in thorough order, Kearny, now become a
general, set out on September 25 with only three
hundred dragoons for the conquest of California.
This march of Kearny s, with a mere handful of
troopers, across fifteen hundred miles of unknown
country and his invasion, subjugation, and occupa
tion of a bitterly hostile territory are almost with
out parallel in history. Colonel Doniphan, who
was left in command of all the forces in New Mex
ico, rapidly pushed forward his preparations for his
contemplated descent upon Chihuahua, delaying
his start only until the arrival of Colonel Price s
column to occupy the newly conquered territory.
But on October n, just as everything was in
readiness for the expedition s departure, a des
patch rider brought him orders from Kearny to
delay his movement upon Chihuahua and proceed
251
The Road to Glory
into the country of the Navajos to punish them
for the depredations they had recently committed
along the western borders of New Mexico. The
disappointment of the Missourians, when these
orders were communicated to them, can be im
agined, for they had volunteered for a war against
Mexicans, not Indians. But that did not prevent
them from doing the business they were ordered
to do and doing it well. Crossing the Cordilleras
in the depths of winter without tents and without
winter clothing, Doniphan rounded up the hostile
chiefs and forced them to sign a treaty of peace
by which they agreed to abstain from further
molestation of their neighbors, whether Indian,
Mexican, or American. A novel treaty, that,
signed on the western confines of New Mexico
between parties who had scarcely so much as
heard each other s names before, and giving peace
and protection to Mexicans who were hostile to
both. No wonder that the Navajos and the New
Mexicans, who had been at war with each other
for centuries, looked with amazement and respect
on an enemy who, disregarding all racial and
religious differences, stepped in and drew up a
treaty which brought peace to all three.
Owing to the delay caused by the expedition
against the Navajos, it was the middle of Decem-
252
The March of the One Thousand
her and bitterly cold before the column was at
last ready to start upon the conquest of Chihua
hua. The line of march was due south from
Santa Fe, along the east bank of the Rio Grande,
to El Paso del Norte. Ninety miles of it lay
through the Jornada del Muerto the "Journey
of Death." In traversing this desert the men suf
fered terribly, for the weather had now become
extremely cold, and there was neither wood for
fires nor water to drink. The soldiers, though
footsore with marching, benumbed by the piercing
winds, and weakened from lack of food, pushed
grimly forward through the night, for there were
few halts for rest, setting fire to the dry bunches
of prairie grass and the tinder-like stalks of the
soap-plant, which would blaze up like a flash of
powder and as quickly die out, leaving the men
shivering in the cold. The course of the strag
gling column could be described for miles by these
sudden glares of light which intermittently stabbed
the darkness. Toward midnight the head of the
column would halt for a little rest, but through
out the night the weary, limping companies would
continue to straggle in, the men throwing them
selves supperless upon the gravel and instantly
falling asleep from sheer exhaustion. At day
light they were awakened by the bugles and the
253
The Road to Glory
march would be resumed, with no breakfast save
hardtack, for there was no fuel upon the desert
with which to cook. Such was the three days
march of Doniphan s men across the Journey of
Death. On the 22d of December the expedition
reached the Mexican hamlet of Donanna, where the
soldiers found an abundance of cornmeal, dried
fruit, sheep, and cattle, as well as grain and fodder
for their starving horses, and, most welcome of
all, streams of running water. The army was
now within the boundaries of the state of Chi
huahua.
On Christmas Day, after a shorter march than
usual, the column encamped at the hamlet of
Brazito, twenty-five miles from El Paso, on the
Rio Grande. While the men were scattered among
the mesquite in quest of wood and water a splut
ter of musketry broke out along their front, and
the pickets came racing in with the news that a
strong force of Mexicans was advancing. The of
ficers, as cool as though back at Fort Leaven-
worth, threw their men into line for their first
battle. Colonel Doniphan and his staff had been
playing loo to determine who should have a fine
Mexican horse that had been captured by the
advance-guard that morning.
"I m afraid we ll have to stop the game long
254
The March of the One Thousand
enough to whip the greasers," Doniphan remarked,
carefully laying his cards face down upon the
ground, "but just bear in mind that I m ahead
in the score. We ll play it out after the scrap is
over." The game was never finished, however,
for during the battle the horse which formed the
stakes mysteriously disappeared.
The Mexican force, which was under the com
mand of General Ponce de Leon, was composed
of some thirteen hundred men. Five hundred of
these consisted of the Vera Cruz lancers, one of
the crack regiments of the Mexican army; the
remainder were volunteer cavalry and infantry
from El Paso and Chihuahua. When a few hun
dred yards separated the opposing forces, a lieu
tenant of lancers, magnificently mounted and car
rying a black flag a signal that no quarter would
be given spurred forward at full gallop until
within a few paces of the American line, when,
with characteristic Mexican bravado, he suddenly
jerked his horse back upon its haunches. Doni-
phan s interpreter, a lean frontiersman clad in the
broad-brimmed hat and fringed buckskin of the
plains, rode out to meet him.
"General Ponce de Leon, in command of the
Mexican forces," began the young officer arro
gantly, "presents his compliments to your com-
255
The Road to Glory
mander and demands that he appear instantly
before him."
"If your general is so all-fired anxious to see
Colonel Doniphan," was the dry answer, "let him
come over here. We won t run away from him."
"We ll come and take him, then !" shouted the
hot-headed youngster angrily; "and remember
that we shall give no quarter!"
"Come right ahead, young feller," drawled the
plainsman, as the messenger spurred back to the
Mexican lines, his sinister flag streaming behind
him. "You ll find us right here waitin fer you."
No sooner had the messenger delivered the
American s defiance than the trumpets of the
Mexican cavalry sounded and the lancers, de
ploying into line, moved forward at a trot. They
presented a beautiful picture on their sleek and
shining horses, their green tunics faced with scarlet,
their blue skin-tight pantaloons, their brass-plated,
horse-tailed schapkas, and the cloud of scarlet
pennons which fluttered from their lances. The
bugles snarled again, the five hundred lances
dropped as one from vertical to horizontal, five
hundred horses broke from a trot into a gallop,
and from five hundred throats burst a high-pitched
scream: "Fiva Mexico! Viva Mexico!"
Waiting until the line of cheering, charging
256
The March of the One Thousand
horsemen was within a hundred and fifty yards,
the officer in command of the American left called,
in the same tone he would have used on parade:
"Now, boys, let em have it!" Before the tor
rent of lead that was poured into it the Mexi
can line halted as abruptly as though it had run
into a stone wall, shivered, hesitated. Dead men
toppled to the ground, wounded men swayed
drunkenly in their saddles while great splotches
of crimson spread upon their gaudy uniforms,
riderless horses galloped madly away, and cursing
officers tore up and down, frantically trying to re
form the shattered squadrons. At this critical
juncture, when the Mexicans were debating
whether to advance or to retreat, Captain Reed,
recognizing the psychological value of the mo
ment, hurled his company of dismounted Mis-
sourians straight at the Mexican line. So furious
was the onset of the little band of troopers that
the crack cavalry of Mexico, already on the verge
of demoralization, turned and fled. Meanwhile
the Chihuahua infantry, taking advantage of the
cover afforded by the dense chaparral, had moved
forward against the American right. As the Mex
icans advanced Doniphan ordered his men down
on their faces, cautioning them to hold their fire
until he gave the word. The advancing Mexi-
257
The Road to Glory
cans, seeing men drop all along the line and sup
posing that their scattering fire had wrought
terrible execution, with a storm of vivas dashed
forward at the double. But as they emerged into
the open, barely a stone s throw from the Ameri
can line, the whole right wing rose as one man
and poured in a paralyzing volley. "Now, boys,
go in and finish em!" roared Doniphan, a gi
gantic and commanding figure on a great chestnut
horse. With the high-keyed, piercing cheer which
in later years was to be known as "the rebel
yell," the Missourians leaped forward to do his
bidding. In advance of the line raced Forsyth,
the chief of scouts, and another plainsman, firing
as they ran. And every time their rifles cracked a
Mexican would stagger and fall headlong.
Meanwhile the American centre had repulsed
the enemy with equal success, though a field-piece
which the Mexicans had brought into action at
incautiously close range continued to annoy them
with its fire.
"What the hell do you reckon that is?" in
quired one Missourian of another, as a solid shot
whined hungrily overhead.
"A cannon, I reckon," answered some one.
"Come on! Let s go and get it!" shouted
some one else, and at the suggestion a dozen men
258
The March of the One Thousand
dashed like sprinters across the bullet-swept zone
which lay between them and the field-piece. So
quickly was it done that the Mexican gunners
were bayonetted where they stood and in an
other moment the gun, turned in the opposite
direction, was pouring death into the ranks of its
late owners. In thirty minutes the battle of the
Brazito was history, and the Mexicans such of
them as were left were pouring southward in a
demoralized retreat, which did not halt until they
reached Chihuahua. Five hundred Americans
for the balance of Doniphan s column did not
reach the scene until the battle was virtually over
in a stand-up fight on unfamiliar ground, with
all the odds against them, whaled the life out of
thirteen hundred as good soldiers as Mexico could
put into the field. In killed, wounded, and pris
oners the Mexicans lost upward of two hundred
men; the American casualties consisted of eight
wounded. In such fashion did Doniphan and his
Missourians celebrate the Christmas of 1846.
The expedition remained six weeks at El Paso,
awaiting the arrival of a battery of artillery which
Doniphan had asked Colonel Price to send him
from Santa Fe; so February was well advanced
before the troops started on the final stage of their
advance upon Chihuahua. A few days after his
259
The Road to Glory
departure from El Paso Colonel Doniphan re
ceived astounding news. An American named
Rodgers, who had escaped from Chihuahua at
peril of his life, brought word that General Wool,
to whom Doniphan had been ordered to report
at Chihuahua, had abandoned his march upon
that city and that the Mexicans were mobilizing
a formidable force to defend the place. Though
Wool s change of plan was known in the United
States, Doniphan had penetrated so far into the
enemy s country that there was no way to warn
him of his danger, and the nation waited with
bated breath for news of the annihilation of his
little column. Even at this stage of the march
Doniphan could have retraced his steps and
would have been more than justified in doing so,
for it seemed little short of madness for a force
of barely a thousand men, wholly without sup
port, to invade a state which was aware of their
coming and was fully prepared to receive them.
It shows the stuff of which Doniphan and his
Missourians were made that they never once
considered turning back.
On February 12 the expedition reached the
edge of the arid, sun-baked desert, threescore miles
in width, whose pitiless expanse lies squarely
athwart the route from El Paso to Chihuahua.
260
In another moment the gun was pouring death into the
ranks of its late owners.
The March of the One Thousand
Two days later, after giving the animals an oppor
tunity to feed and rest, the never-to-be-forgotten
desert march began. Aware that not a drop of
water was to be had until the desert was crossed,
the troopers not only filled their water-bottles,
but tied their swords about their necks and filled
the empty scabbards with water. The first day
the column covered twenty miles and encamped
for the night in the heart of the desert. The fol
lowing day the loose sand became so deep that
the wagons were buried to the hubs and the teams
had to be doubled up to pull them through.
The mules were so weak from thirst, however,
that the soldiers had to put their shoulders to
the wheels before the wagons could be extricated
from the engulfing sands. Notwithstanding this
delay, twenty-four more miles were covered be
fore the soldiers, their lips cracked open, their
tongues swollen, and their throats parched and
burning, threw themselves upon the sands to
snatch a few hours rest. The next day was a
veritable purgatory, for the canteens were empty,
the horses and mules were neighing piteously for
water, and many of the men were delirious and
muttered incoherently as they staggered across
the llanos, swooning beneath waves of shifting
heat. As the day wore on their sufferings grew
261
The Road to Glory
more terrible; many of the supplies had to be
abandoned, and finally, when only ten miles from
water, the oxen were turned loose. Though only
a few miles now separated them from the Guya-
gas Springs, where there was water and grass
a-plenty, men and horses were too weak to cun-
tinue the march and fell upon the desert, little
caring whether they lived or died. Indeed, had
it not been for a providential rain-storm which
burst upon them a few hours later, quenching
their thirst and cooling their burning bodies, a
trail of bleaching skeletons would probably have
marked the end of Doniphan s expedition.
Upon reaching the lush meadows which bor
dered the little lake* near Guyagas Springs a
long sigh of relief went up from the perspiring
column, for here they could spend a few days in
rest and recuperation. But, though they had, as
by a miracle, escaped a death by thirst, they
were suddenly confronted by another and even
greater danger. A trooper carelessly knocked the
ashes from his pipe upon the ground; the sun-
dried grass instantly took fire; and before the
soldiers realized their peril, a waist-high wall of
flame, fanned by a brisk wind, was bearing down
* The efflorescent soda mcrusted on the margin of the water was
used by the soldiers as a substitute for saleratus.
262
The March of the One Thousand
upon them. All attempts to check the progress
of the fire proving useless, the animals were hast
ily harnessed and a desperate attempt was made
by the teamsters to get their wagons ahead of
the flames, but a gale was blowing in the direc
tion the column was advancing and the barrier
of fire, now spread out for many miles, was ap
proaching faster than a man could walk; so the
wagons and guns were run into the lake. That
the expedition was saved was due to the ingenu
ity of a trooper in the Missouri Horse Guards,
who had had experience with prairie fires before.
Acting upon his suggestion, the soldiers were dis
mounted and ordered to cut the grass with their
sabres over a zone thirty feet in width and then
set fire to the grass standing next to the wind,
which burned slowly until it met the advancing
conflagration. That night the men slept on the
bare and blackened earth, without forage for their
horses but with thankfulness in their hearts.
A few days after this episode the scouts in
advance of the column saw a group of horse
men riding toward them across the plain. As the
party came nearer it was seen to consist of thirty
or forty Indians led by a single white man. The
latter proved to be one of the strangest characters
ever produced by the wild life of the frontier.
263
The Road to Glory
His name was Captain James Kirker, or, as he
was called by the Mexicans, Santiago Querque,
and he was an Indian fighter by profession. By
this I do not mean that he took part in the period
ical wars between the Indians and the whites, but
that he contracted to kill Indians at so much per
head, just as hunters in certain portions of the
country make a business of tracking and killing
vermin for the bounty. For many years past
Kirker, whose fame was as wide as the plains,
had been employed by the state of Chihuahua to
exterminate the Apaches who terrorized its bor
ders, and, thinking to fight the devil with fire,
he had imported twoscore Delaware braves, noted
even among the Indians for their abilities as
trackers, to help him in hunting down the Apaches.
Shortly before the outbreak of the war the gov
ernment of Chihuahua owed Kirker thirty thou
sand dollars for the scalps of Apaches he had
slain, but when hostilities began it refused to pay
him and threatened him and his braves with
imprisonment if they persisted in their claims.
Thus it came about that Doniphan received a
considerable addition to the strength of his force,
for no sooner had Kirker received word of the
approach of the column than he and his Dela-
wares slipped out of Chihuahua between two days
264
The March of the One Thousand
and rode off to offer their services to their coun
trymen. Because of his remarkable knowledge of
the country and his acquaintance with the lan
guage and customs of the people, Kirker proved
of essential service to Doniphan as an interpreter
and forage-master, while his Delawares were in
valuable as scouts. In appearance Kirker was a
dime-novel hero come to life, for his long hair
fell upon his shoulders; his mustaches were of
a size and fierceness that would have abashed a
pirate; from neck to knees he was dressed in
gorgeously embroidered, soft-tanned buckskin;
his breeches disappeared in high-heeled boots or
namented with enormous spurs, which jangled
noisily when he walked; his high-crowned som
brero was heavy with gold braid and bullion;
thrust carelessly into his scarlet sash was a veri
table armory of knives and pistols, and the thor
oughbred he bestrode could show its heels to any
horse in northern Mexico.
On the 28th of February, when within less than
ten miles of Chihuahua, the Americans caught
their first glimpse of the army which had been
assembled to receive them. The enemy occupied
the brow of a rocky eminence, known as Sacra
mento Hill, which rises sharply from a plateau
guarded on one side by the Sacramento River and
265
The Road to Glory
on the other by a dried-up watercourse, known
as an arroyo seco. The great natural strength of
the position had been enormously increased by
an elaborate system of fieldworks consisting of
twenty-eight redoubts and intrenchments. Here,
in this apparently impregnable position, which
was the key to the capital of the state, and
hence to all northern Mexico, the Mexican army,
which, according to the muster-rolls which fell into
Doniphan s possession after the battle, consisted
of four thousand two hundred and twenty men,
was prepared to offer a desperate resistance to
the invader. To oppose this strongly intrenched
force, which comprised the very flower of the
Mexican army, Colonel Doniphan had one thou
sand and sixty-four men, of whom one hundred
and fifty were teamsters. No wonder that the
Mexicans were so confident of victory that they
had prepared great quantities of shackles and
handcuffs to be used in marching the captured
gringos to the capital in triumph.
Now, if Colonel Doniphan had acted according
to the cut-and-dried rules of the game as taught
in military schools and books on tactics and had
done what the Mexican commander expected him
to do, there is little doubt that he and his men
such of them as were not killed in battle or shot
266
The March of the One Thousand
in cold blood afterward would have gone to the
City of Mexico in the chains so thoughtfully pro
vided for them. But being a shirt-sleeve fighter,
as it were, and not in the least hampered by a
knowledge of scientific warfare, he did the very
thing that he was not expected to do. Instead
of attempting to fight his way down the high
road which led to Chihuahua, which was com
manded by the enemy s guns, and where they
could have wiped him out without leaving their
intrenchments, he formed his column into a sort
of hollow square, cavalry in front, infantry on
the flanks, and guns and wagons in the centre,
suddenly deflected it to the right, and before the
Mexicans grasped the significance of the ma
noeuvre he had thrown his force across the arroyo
secOy had gained the summit of the plateau, and
had deployed his men upon the highland in such a
position that the Mexican commander was com
pelled to hastily reconstruct his whole plan of
battle. By this single brilliant manoeuvre Don-
iphan at once nullified the advantage the Mexi
cans derived from their commanding position.
The Americans scarcely had time to get their
guns into position and form their line of battle
before a cavalry brigade, twelve hundred strong,
led by General Garcia Conde, ex-minister of war,
267
The Road to Glory
swept down from the fortified heights with a
thunder and roar to open the engagement. This
time there was no waiting, as at the Brazitos, for
the Mexicans to get within close range; the ad
vancing force was too formidable for that. In
the centre of the American position was posted
the artillery four howitzers and six field-guns
under Captain Weightman. Above the ever
loudening thunder of the approaching cavalry
could be heard that young officer s cool, clear
voice: "Form battery! Action front! Load
with grape! Fire at will!" As the wave of
galloping horses and madly cheering men surged
nearer, Weightman s gunners, getting the range
with deadly accuracy, poured in their thirty shots
a minute as methodically as though they were on
a target-range. In the face of that blast of death
the Mexican cavalry scattered like autumn leaves.
Within five minutes after their bugles had
screamed the charge, the finest brigade of cav
alry that ever followed Mexican kettle-drums,
shattered, torn, and bleeding, had turned tail and
was spurring full tilt for the shelter of the forti
fications, leaving the ground over which they had
just passed strewn with their dead and dying.
For the next fifty minutes the battle consisted of
an artillery duel at long range, throughout which
268
The March of the One Thousand
Colonel Doniphan sat on his war-horse at the
rear of the American battery, his foot thrown
carelessly across the pommel of his saddle, whit
tling a piece of wood an object-lesson in cool
ness for his men and, incidentally, a splendid
mark for the Mexican gunners.
While the guns of the opposing forces were ex
changing compliments at long range the Ameri
can officers busied themselves in forming their
men preparatory to taking the offensive. That
was Doniphan s plan of battle always to get in
the first blow. When everything was in readi
ness, Colonel Doniphan tossed away his stick,
pocketed his knife, drew his sabre, and signalled
to his bugler to sound the advance. As the
bugles shrieked their signal the whole line, horse,
foot, and guns, dashed forward at a run. It was
a daring and hazardous proceeding, a thousand
men charging across open ground and up a hill
to carry fortifications held by a force four times
the strength of their own, but its very audacity
brought success. So splendid was the discipline
which Doniphan had hammered into his force
that the infantry officers ran sideways and back
ward in front of their men as they advanced, just
as they would have done on the drill field, keep
ing them in such perfect step and order that, as
269
The Road to Glory
an English eye-witness afterward remarked, a can
non-ball could have been fired between their legs
down the line without injuring a man. Not a
shot was fired by the Americans until they reached
the first line of redoubts, behind which the Mexi
can officers were frantically endeavoring to steady
their wavering men. As the Americans surged
over the intrenchments they paused just long
enough to pour in a volley and then went in with
the bayonet. At almost the same moment Cap
tain Weightman brought his guns into action
with a rattle and crash and began pouring a tor
rent of grape into the now thoroughly demoralized
Mexicans. As the right wing stormed the breast
works an American sergeant who was well in ad
vance of the line, having emptied his rifle and
pistols and being too hard pressed to reload them,
threw away his weapons and defended himself by
hurling rocks. When the order to charge was
given, Kirker, the Indian fighter, called to an
other scout named Collins: "Say, Jim, let s see
which of us can get into that battery first." The
battery referred to was in the second redoubt,
whence it was directing a galling fire upon the
Americans over the heads of the Mexicans de
fending the first line of fortifications. Collins s
only reply was to pull down his hat, draw his
270
The March of the One Thousand
sword, bury his spurs in his horse s flanks, and
ride at the battery as a steeplechaser rides at a
water-jump, Kirker, his long hair streaming in
the wind, tearing along beside him. Is it any
wonder that the Mexicans exclaimed to each other:
"These are not men we are fighting they are
devils!"
All the companies were now pressing forward
and pouring over the intrenchments, the Mexi
cans sullenly giving way before them. Mean
while the left wing, under Major Gilpin, had scaled
the heights, swarmed over the breastworks, and
driven out the enemy, while a company under
Captain Hughes had burst into a battery defended
by trenches filled with Mexican infantry, which
they had literally cut to pieces, and had killed or
captured the artillerymen as they were endeav
oring to set off the guns. Though the Mexican
commander, General Heredia, made a desperate
attempt to rally his panic-stricken troops under
cover of repeated gallant charges by the cav
alry under Conde, the men were too far gone
with terror to pay any heed to the frantic ap
peals of their officers. With the American cav
alry clinging to its flanks and dealing it blow upon
savage blow, the retreat of the Mexican army
quickly turned into a rout, the splendid force that
271
The Road to Glory
had marched out of Chihuahua a few days before
returning to it a beaten, cowed, and bleeding
rabble. The battle of the Sacramento lasted three
hours and a half, and in that time an American
force of nine hundred and twenty-four effective
men the rest were teamsters utterly routed a
Mexican army of four thousand two hundred and
twenty men fighting from behind supposedly im
pregnable intrenchments. In killed, wounded,
and prisoners the Mexicans lost upward of nine
hundred men; the Americans had four killed and
seven wounded. The battle of the Sacramento
was in many respects the most wonderful ever
fought by American arms. For sheer audacity,
disproportionate numbers, and sweeping success
the battle of Manila Bay may be set down as its
only rival. The only land battle at all approach
ing it was that of New Orleans, but there the
Americans fought at home, on their own soil, be
hind fortifications. At Sacramento Doniphan s
men attacked a fortified position held by troops
outnumbering them more than four to one. They
were in a strange land, thousands of miles from
home. They were in rags, suffering from lack of
food. They believed that they had been aban
doned by their own government and left to their
fate. In case of defeat there was no hope of
272
The March of the One Thousand
succor, no help nothing but inevitable destruc
tion. That is why I say that the exploit of these
Missourians has never been surpassed, if, indeed,
it has ever been equalled in the annals of the
world s warfare.
There is little more to tell. The following day,
with the regimental bands playing "Hail Colum
bia" and "Yankee Doodle," Colonel Doniphan
and his men entered the city of Chihuahua in
triumph. For two months they held undisputed
possession of the metropolis of northern Mexico;
the city was cleaned and policed; law and order
were rigidly enforced and the rights of the citi
zens strictly respected. On the 28th of April,
1847, in pursuance of orders received from Gen
eral Wool, the expedition evacuated Chihuahua
and set out across an arid and desolate country
for Saltillo, covering the six hundred and seventy-
five miles in twenty-five days. After being re
viewed and publicly thanked by General Taylor,
the Missourians started on the last stage of their
wonderful march. Reaching Matamoros, at the
mouth of the Rio Grande, they took ship for
New Orleans, whose citizens went mad with en
thusiasm. Their journey by steamboat up the
Mississippi was one continuous ovation; at every
town they passed the whistles shrieked, the bells
273
The Road to Glory
rang, and the townspeople cheered themselves
hoarse at sight of the sun-browned veterans in
their faded and tattered uniforms. On July I,
after an absence of a little more than a year, to the
strains of "Auld Lang Syne" and "Home, Sweet
Home," Doniphan and his One Thousand once
again set foot on the soil of old Missouri. Going
out from the western border of their State, they
re-entered it from the east, having made a circuit
equal to a fourth of the circumference of the
globe, providing for themselves as they went,
driving before them forces many times the strength
of their own, leaving law and order and justice in
their wake, and returning with trophies taken on
battle-fields whose names few Americans had ever
heard before. It is a sad commentary on the
gratitude of republics that the government never
acknowledged, either by promotion, decoration,
or the thanks of Congress, the invaluable services
of Alexander Doniphan; there is no statue to him
in any town or city of his State; not even a men
tion of his immortal expedition can be found in
the school histories of the nation he served so
well. He lived for forty years after his great
march and lies buried under a granite shaft in
the cemetery at Liberty, Mo. Though forgotten
by his countrymen, the brown-faced folk below
274
The March of the One Thousand
the Rio Grande still tell of the days when the
great captain came riding down from the north
to invade a nation at the head of a thousand
men.
275
WHEN WE FOUGHT THE JAPANESE
WHEN WE FOUGHT THE JAPANESE
"... I met im all over the world, a-doin all kinds
of things,
Like landin isself with a Gatlin gun to talk to
them eathen kings.
For there isn t a job on the top o the earth the beggar
don t know, nor do
You can leave J im at night on a bald man s ead to
paddle is own canoe."
THERE you have a four-line epitome of the
career and character of the burly, tousle-
headed, gruff-voiced old sea-dog who is the hero
of this narrative. His name ? Matthew Cal-
braith Perry, one time commodore in the navy
of the United States and younger brother of that
other Yankee sea-fighter, Oliver Hazard Perry,
without whose picture, wrapped in the Chesa-
peake s flag and standing in a dramatic attitude
in the stern-sheets of a small boat, no school his
tory of the United States would be complete.
Though Matthew did not have to depend upon
the reflected glory of his famous brother, for he
won glory enough of his own, his extraordinary
279
The Road to Glory
exploits have never received the attention of which
they are deserving, partly, no doubt, because they
were obscured by the smoke of his brother s guns
on Lake Erie and partly because they were per
formed at a period in our national history when
the public mind was occupied with happenings
nearer home.
His father, a Yankee privateersman of the up-
boys-and-at- em school, was captured by a British
cruiser during the Revolution and sent as a pris
oner of war to Ireland, where his captivity was made
considerably more than endurable by a peaches-
and-cream beauty from the County Down. After
the war was over he returned to Ireland and gave
a typical story-book ending to the romance by
hunting up the girl who had cheered his prison
hours and making her his wife. The dashing
young skipper and his sixteen-year-old bride built
themselves a house within sight of the shipping
along the Newport wharfs, and there, when the
eighteenth century lacked but half a dozen years
of having run its course and when our flag bore
but fifteen stars, Matthew was born. How many
of the neighbors who came flocking in to admire
the lusty youngster dreamed that he would live
to command the largest fleet which, in his life
time, ever gathered under the folds of that flag
280
When We Fought the Japanese
and that his exploits on the remotest seaboards
of the world would make the wildest fiction seem
probable and tame ?
Young Perry was helping to make history at
an age when most boys are still in school, for,
as a midshipman of seventeen, he stood beside
Commodore Rodgers when he lighted the fuse of
the "Long Tom" in the forecastle battery of the
frigate President and sent a ball crashing into the
British war-ship Belvidera the first shot fired in
the War of 1812. In the same ship and under
the same commander he scoured the seas of
northern Europe in a commerce-destroying raid
which extended from the English Channel to the
Arctic, during which the daring American was
hunted by twenty British men-of-war, sailing, for
safety s sake, in pairs. As a young lieutenant in
command of the Cyane he convoyed the first party
of American negroes sent to West Africa to estab
lish, under the name of Liberia, a country of their
own. It was on this voyage that the character
of the man who, in later years, was to revolution
ize the commerce of the world first evidenced
itself. Putting into TenerifFe, in the Canaries,
for water and provisions, Perry, resplendent in
"whites" and gold lace, went ashore to pay the
Portuguese governor the customary call of cere-
281
The Road to Glory
mony. As he was taking leave of the governor
he casually remarked that the Cyane, on leaving
the harbor, would, of course, fire the usual salute.
Whereupon the Portuguese official, a pompous
royalist who had a deep-seated aversion to repub
lican institutions and went out of his way to
show his contempt for them, told the young com
mander that the shore batteries would return the
salute less one gun, for, as he impudently remarked,
Portugal considered herself superior to republics
and could not treat them as equals. Perry, white
with anger, told the governor that the nation
which he had the honor to serve was the equal
of any monarchy on earth, and that unless he
received an assurance that his salute would be
returned gun for gun, he would fire no salute at
all. That afternoon the Cyane sailed past the bat
teries, over which flew the Portuguese flag, in a
silence which unmistakably spelled contempt.
Though personally Perry was the most peaceable
of men, as the representative of the United States
in distant oceans he perpetually carried a chip on
his shoulder and defied any one to knock it off.
A cannibal king tried it once, and but of that
you shall hear a little later.
A year or so after he had landed his party of
negro colonists he visited the coast of cannibals
282
When We Fought the Japanese
and fevers again and at the mouth of the Mesu-
rado River chose the site of the future capital
of Liberia, which was named Monrovia in honor
of President Monroe, thus establishing the first
and only colony ever founded by the United
States. His next commission was to wipe out
the pirates who, shielding themselves under the
flags of the new South American republics and
assuming the thin disguise of privateersmen, were
terrorizing commerce upon the Spanish main.
Under Commodore David Porter he spent eight
months under sail upon the Gulf, and when he
at last turned his bowsprit toward the north,
he had put an end to the depredations of the
"dago robbers," as his seamen called them. It
was here, in fact, that the term "dago" as ap
plied by Americans to foreigners of the Latin
race began. The name of James, the Spaniards
patron saint, has been indiscriminately bestowed,
in its Spanish form, lago, upon provinces, islands,
towns, and rivers from one end of Spanish Amer
ica to the other, Santiago, San Diego, lago, and
Diego being such constantly recurring names that
the American sailors early fell into the custom of
calling the natives of these parts "Diegos" or
"dago men," whence the slang term so univer
sally used to-day.
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The Road to Glory
About the time that the United States was
celebrating its fiftieth birthday the government
at Washington, thinking it high time to give the
Europeans an object-lesson in the naval power of
the oversea republic, ordered a squadron of war
ships to the Mediterranean, in many of whose
ports the American flag was as unfamiliar as
China s dragon banner. The command of the ex
pedition was given to Commodore Rodgers, who
hoisted his pennant on the North Carolina, the
finest and most formidable craft that had yet
been launched from an American shipyard, and
Perry went along as executive officer to his old
chief. When the great ship, with the grim muz
zles of her one hundred and two guns peering
from her three tiers of port-holes, majestically en
tered the European harbors under her cloud of
snowy canvas, the natives were goggle-eyed with
admiration and amazement, for in those days most
Europeans thought of America when they gave
it any thought at all as a land of Indians, grizzly
bears, and buckskin-clad frontiersmen. As execu
tive officer, Perry s duties comprised pretty much
everything which needed to be done on deck.
Whether in cocked hat and gold epaulets by
day or in oilskins and sou wester at night, he
was regent of the ship and crew. The duties of
284
When We Fought the Japanese
the squadron were not confined to visits of cere
mony, either, for one of the objects for which it
had been sent was to teach the pirates who in
fested Levantine waters that it was as dangerous
to molest vessels flying the American flag as to
tamper with a stick of dynamite. During the
Greek struggle for independence, which was then
in progress, the Greek privateers had on more
than one occasion been a trifle careless in differ
entiating between the vessels of neutral nations
and those of their Turkish oppressors, and in
May, 1825, they committed a particularly bad
error of judgment by seizing a merchant ship
from Boston. In those days the administration
at Washington was as quick to resent such af
fronts as it is tardy nowadays, and no sooner had
the American squadron arrived in Levantine
waters than it sought an opportunity to teach
the Greeks a lesson. An opportunity soon pre
sented itself. Learning that a British merchant
man, the Comet, had been seized by the Greeks,
Rodgers ordered her to be recaptured and sent a
boarding party of bluejackets and marines to do
the business. Swarming up the bow-chains, the
Americans gained the deck before the pirates
realized just what was happening, though the
ship was not taken without a desperate hand-to-
285
The Road to Glory
hand struggle, in which Lieutenant Carr, singling
out the pirate chief, killed him with his own hand.
Thenceforward the Greeks, whenever they saw a
vessel flying the stars and stripes, touched their
hats, figuratively speaking. The North Carolina s
mission thus having been accomplished, in the
spring of 1827 Perry ordered the boatswain to
sound the welcome call: "All hands up anchor
for home."
So well had Perry performed his exacting duties
that when the Concord, of eighteen guns, was
completed, two years later, he was given com
mand of her and instructed to carry our envoy,
John Randolph, of Roanoke, to Russia. While
lying in the harbor of Cronstadt the Concord was
visited by Czar Nicholas I -the first Russian
sovereign to set foot on the deck-planks of an
American war-ship. He was so pleased with what
he saw that he invited Perry to a private audi
ence, during which the young American naval
officer and the Great White Czar chatted and
smoked with all the informality of old friends.
Before the interview was over the ruler of all the
Russias offered Perry an admiral s commission in
the Russian service, but the latter, recalling, no
doubt, the unfortunate experience of his great
countryman, John Paul Jones, while admiral in
286
When We Fought the Japanese
the navy of Czar Nicholas s grandmother, the
Empress Catherine, declined the flattering offer.
The Yankee sailorman s next experience with the
Lord s anointed was on the other side of Europe.
Acting under instructions to leave the visiting
cards of the United States at every port of im
portance in the Old World for nations are just
as punctilious about paying and returning calls as
society women Perry dropped anchor one fine
spring morning in the harbor of Alexandria. In
vited to dine at Ras-el-Tin Palace with Mohammed
Ali, the founder of the Khedival dynasty, the
brilliancy and efficiency of the young American
impressed the conqueror of the Sudan as much
as they had the conqueror of Poland, and when
Perry and his officers left they took with them,
as presents from the Khedive, thirteen gold-
mounted, jewel-incrusted swords, from which, by
the way, was adopted the "Mameluke grip" now
used in our navy.
When Andrew Jackson sat himself down in the
White House, in 1829, he promptly inaugurated
the same straight-from-the-shoulder-smash-bang
foreign policy which had characterized him as a
soldier and used the navy to back up his policy.
During the period from 1809 to 1812 the Nea
politan Government, first under Joseph Bona-
287
The Road to Glory
parte and then under Joachim Murat, had, under
the terms of Napoleon s universal embargo, con
fiscated numerous American ships and cargoes,
the claims filed with the State Department in
Washington aggregating upward of one million
seven hundred thousand dollars. No sooner had
Jackson taken his oath of office, therefore, than
he appointed John Nelson minister to the king
dom of Naples and ordered him to collect these
claims. And in order that the Neapolitans, who
were an evasive lot and kissed every coin good-by
before parting with it, might be convinced that
the United States meant business, Commodore
John Patterson the same who had aided Jack
son in the defense of New Orleans was given a
squadron of half a dozen war-ships and instructed
to back up the minister s demands by the menace
of his guns. The force at Patterson s disposal
consisted of three fifty-gun frigates and three
twenty-gun corvettes, which sufficed, according
to the plan evolved by the commodore, for a
naval drama in six acts. Almost at the moment
of sailing the commander of the Brandy wine was
taken ill, and our friend Perry was ordered to
replace him. (Did you ever hear of such a per
sistent run of luck ?) Now, of all the Americans
who visit Naples each year, I very much doubt
288
When We Fought the Japanese
if there is one in a hundred thousand who is
aware that an American war fleet once lay in that
lovely harbor and threatened in diplomatic lan
guage, of course to blow that charming city off"
the map if a little account which it had come to
collect was not paid then and there. When Min
ister Nelson went ashore in the Brandywine s gig,
called upon the Neapolitan minister of state, Count
Cassaro, and intimated that the United States
would appreciate an immediate settlement of its
account, which was long overdue, the wily Nea
politan almost laughed in his face. Why should
the government of Ferdinand II, notorious for its
corruption at home, pay any attention to the de
mands of an almost unknown republic five thou
sand miles away ? The very idea was laughable,
preposterous, absurd. No ! the Yankee envoy,
with but a solitary war-ship to back him up,
would not get a single soldo. Very well, said
Minister Nelson, the climate was pleasant and
the Neapolitan Government might shortly change
its mind in fact he thought that it undoubtedly
would and he would hang around. So Perry
dropped the Brandy wine s anchor under the
shadow of Capadimonte, and he and Minister Nel
son smoked and chatted contentedly enough in the
pleasant shade of the awnings. Three days later
289
The Road to Glory
another floating fortress, black guns peering from
her ports and a flag of stripes and stars trailing
from her stern, sailed majestically up the bay.
It was the frigate United States. Again Minister
Nelson called on Count Cassaro, and again his
request was refused, but this time a shade less
curtly. Nor did King Bomba, in his palace on
the hill, laugh quite so loudly. Four days slipped
away and splash went the anchor of the Concord
alongside her sisters. King Bomba began to look
anxious, and his minister was plainly worried, but
still the money remained unpaid. Two days later
the John Adams came sweeping into the harbor
under a cloud of snowy canvas and hove to so
as to bring her broadside to bear upon the city
whereupon Count Cassaro sent hurriedly for some
local bankers. When the fifth ship sailed in, the
city was agog with excitement, and the Neapoli
tans had almost reached the point of being hon
est but not quite. But the report that a sixth
ship was entering the harbor brought the desired
result, for Count Cassaro called for his carriage,
hastened to the American envoy, and asked him
whether he would prefer the money in drafts or
cash.
Though the next ten years of Perry s life were
spent on shore duty, as the result of the extraor-
290
When We Fought the Japanese
dinary work he performed during that compara
tively brief time, he came to be known as "the
educator of the navy. 55 In those ten years he
founded the Brooklyn Naval Lyceum; com
manded the Fulton, the first American war vessel
independent of wind and tide; discovered the
value of the ram as a weapon of offense and
thereby changed the tactics of sea-fights from
"broadside to broadside 55 to "prow on 55 ; revolu
tionized the naval architecture of the world; mod
ernized the lighthouse system along our coasts;
substituted the use of shells for solid shot in our
navy; and established the School of Gun Practice
at Sandy Hook. Any one of these was an achieve
ment of which a man would have good reason to
be proud. Any one of them was a service which
merited the appreciation of the nation. In 1840
he was rewarded with the rank of commodore,
and thenceforward the vessel that carried him
flew the "broad pennant. 55 Yet all of his later
illustrious services under the red, the white, and
the blue pennants added nothing to his pay, per
manent rank, or government reward, for until
the year 1862 there was no office in the American
navy carrying higher pay than that of captain.
As a result of the Webster-Ashburton treaty,
whereby England and the United States bound
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The Road to Glory
themselves to suppress the slave-trade, Perry was
given command of an eighty-gun squadron, and
in 1842 was ordered to the west coast of Africa
for the purpose of stamping out the traffic in
"black ivory" and, incidentally, to protect the
negro colony he had established in Liberia a
quarter of a century before from the aggressions
of the native rulers. Though the framers of the
treaty were unquestionably sincere in their desire
to stamp out the traffic in human beings, and
though both the British and American navies
made every effort to enforce it, these efforts were
nullified by the fact that for a number of years
the courts of England and the United States re
fused to convict a slaver unless captured with the
slaves actually on board. The absurdity and
tragedy of this ruling was emphasized by the
case of the slaver Brilliante. On one of her dashes
from the west coast of Africa to the Gulf coast
of the United States her captain found himself
becalmed and surrounded by four war-ships.
Aware that he would certainly be boarded unless
the wind quickly rose, he stretched his entire
cable chain on deck, suspended it clear of every
thing, and shackled to it his anchor, which hung
on the bow ready to drop. To this chain he
lashed the six hundred slaves he had aboard. He
292
When We Fought the Japanese
waited until he could hear the oars of the board
ing parties close at hand then he cut the anchor.
As it fell it dragged overboard the cable with its
human freight, and though the men-of-war s men
heard the shrieks of the victims and found their
fetters lying on the deck, the fact remained that
there were no slaves aboard; so, in conformity
with the rulings of the learned judges in Wash
ington and London, there was nothing left for
the boarders but to depart amid the jeers of the
slaver s captain and crew.
Upon reaching the west coast, known then,
as now, as "the white man s graveyard," the first
thing to which Perry turned his attention was the
settlement of an outstanding score with the tribes
men of Berribee, who inhabited that region which
now comprises the French Ivory Coast. A few
months prior to his visit the untutored savages
of this coast of death had enticed ashore the cap
tain and crew of the American schooner Mary
Carver and, after unspeakable tortures, had mur
dered them. For three hours Captain Carver was
subjected to torments almost incredible in the
fiendish ingenuity they displayed, finally, when
all but dead, being bound and turned over to
the women and children of the tribe, who amused
themselves by sticking thorns into his flesh until
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The Road to Glory
he was a human pincushion. Then they cooked
and ate him. It was with uneasy consciences,
therefore, that the natives saw four great black
ships, flying the same strange flag that they had
taken from the Mary Carver, drop anchor off
Berribee one red-hot November morning.
Commodore Perry sent a message to the King,
who bore the pleasing name of Crack-0, that it
would be better for his health as well as for that
of the white men trading along the coast if he
moved his capital a considerable distance inland.
The ebony monarch sent back the suggestion that
the matter be thrashed out at a palaver to be held
in the royal kraal two days later. On the morning
appointed Commodore Perry, with twelve boat
loads of sailors and marines, landed with consid
erable difficulty through the booming surf and,
escorted by fifty natives armed with rusty mus
kets of an obsolete pattern, marched through the
jungle to the palaver house. As he entered the
town it did not escape the keen eye of the Ameri
can commander that there was a noticeable ab
sence of natives to greet him; he guessed, and
rightly, that the warriors were in ambush and
that the women and children had taken to the
bush. So, before entering the palaver house, he
took the precaution of posting sentries at the
294
When We Fought the Japanese
gates of the stockade and of drawing up his men
close by with orders to break into the kraal if
they heard a disturbance. Then he strode into
the presence of King Crack-O, and two strong men
stood face to face. The African ruler was a gi
gantic negro with a face as ugly as sin and the
frame of a prize-fighter, his tremendous muscles
playing like snakes under a skin made shiny with
cocoanut oil. Flung over his massive shoulders
was the royal robe of red and yellow, and tilted
rakishly on his fuzzy skull was a dilapidated top-
hat the emblem of royalty throughout native
Africa. Behind him, leaning against the wall and
within easy reach, was his trowel-bladed spear, a
vicious weapon with a six-foot shaft which, in the
hands of a man who knew how to use it, could
be driven through a three-inch plank. Twelve
notches on its haft told their own grim story.
Taking him by and large, he was a mighty formi
dable figure, was his Majesty King Crack-O of
Berribee, though the American commodore, who
stood six feet two in his stockings and was built
in proportion, was not exactly puny himself. As
the Berribee tongue was not included in the re
markable list of languages of which Perry had
made himself master, and as King Crack-O s
knowledge of English was confined to such odds
295
The Road to Glory
and ends of profanity as he had picked up from
seamen and traders, a voluble African named
Yellow Will, who proved himself a most impu
dent and barefaced liar, did the interpreting. It
was the interpreter, in fact, who precipitated the
shindy, for his attitude quickly became so inso
lent that Perry, who was a short-tempered man
under the best of circumstances, shook his fist
under his nose and thundered that he would either
speak the truth or get a flogging. Terrified by
the violence of the explosion, the interpreter
bolted for the gate, and the sentry, who believed
in acting first and inquiring afterward, levelled
his rifle and shot him dead. Instantly the royal
enclosure was in an uproar. King Crack-O
snatched at his spear, but, quick as the big
black was, the American commodore was quicker.
Perry, who, despite his size, was as quick on his
feet as a professional boxer, hurled himself upon
Crack-O before he could get to his weapon and
caught him by the throat, while a sergeant of
marines, who had burst in at sound of the scuffle,
shot the King through the body. Though mor
tally wounded, the negro ruler fought with the
ferocity of a gorilla, again and again hurling off
the half dozen sailors who attempted to make him
prisoner, being subdued only when a marine
brought a rifle barrel down on his head and
296
When We Fought the Japanese
stretched him senseless. The forest encircling the
royal kraal was by this time vomiting armed and
yelling warriors, who opened fire with their anti
quated muskets, a compliment which the blue
jackets and marines returned with deadly effect.
Bound hand and foot, the wounded King was
taken out to the flag-ship, where he died the next
morning. Before departing, the sailors touched a
match to his mud-and-wattle capital, though not
before they had recovered the flag taken from
the ill-fated Mary Carver, and in twenty minutes
the town was a heap of smoking ashes. Moving
slowly down the coast, Perry landed punitive ex
peditions at every village of importance, drove
back the tribesmen, destroyed their crops, con
fiscated their cattle, and burned their towns.
News travels in Africa by the "underground rail
way" as though by wireless, and the effect of this
powder-and-ball policy was quickly felt along a
thousand miles of coast, the tribal chieftains hast
ening in, under flags of truce, "to talk one big
palaver, to pay plenty bullock, to no more fight
white man." Thus was concluded one of those
"little wars" which have done so much to make
the red-white-and-blue flag respected at the utter
most ends of the earth, but of which our people
seldom hear.
In 1846 came the war with Mexico and with it
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The Road to Glory
still another opportunity for Perry to add to his
reputation. Opportunity seemed, indeed, to be
forever hammering at his door and he never let
the elusive jade escape him. When Scott found
that his artillery was unable to effect a breach in
the walls of Vera Cruz, he asked Perry, who was
in charge of the naval operations in the Gulf, for
the loan of some heavy ordnance from the fleet,
saying that his soldiers would do the handling.
"Where the guns go the men go, too," responded
Perry and they did. Landing the great guns
from his war-ships, he manned them with his own
crews, pushed them up to within eight hundred
yards of the Mexican fortifications, and hammered
them to pieces with an efficiency and despatch
which amazed the army officers, who had never
taken the sailor into consideration as a fighting
factor on land. It was Perry s guns, served by
the bluejackets he had trained and aimed by of
ficers who had learned their business at the School
of Gun Practice he had founded, which opened a
gate through the walls of Vera Cruz for Scott s
triumphant advance on the Mexican capital.
Perry had long advocated the value of sailors
trained as infantry, and this campaign gave him
an opportunity to show his critics that he knew
what he was talking about. Forming the first
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When We Fought the Japanese
American naval brigade ever organized, he moved
slowly down the Gulf coast, landing and captur
ing every town he came to, until the whole lit
toral from the Rio Grande to Yucatan was in his
possession. At the taking of Tabasco now
known as San Juan Bautista the novel sight
was presented of the commander-in-chief of the
American naval forces leading the landing parties
in person. The capital of the state of Tabasco
lies in the heart of the rubber country, some
seventy miles up the Tabasco River, and only
eighteen degrees above the equator. The expedi
tion against it consisted of forty boats, convey
ing eleven hundred men. This was new work for
American sailors, for up to that time our naval
traditions consisted of squadron fights in line,
ship-to-ship duels and boarding parties. In this
case, however, a flotilla was to ascend a narrow
and tortuous river for seventy miles through a
densely wooded region, which afforded continu
ous cover for riflemen, and then to disembark
and attack heavy shore batteries defended by a
force many times the strength of their own. As
the long line of boats reached the hairpin turn in
the river known as the Devil s Bend, the dense
jungle which lined both sides of the stream sud
denly blazed with musketry and the boats were
299
The Road to Glory
swept with a rain of lead. Perry, who was stand
ing in an exposed position under the awnings of
the leading boat, his field-glasses glued to his eyes,
escaped death by the breadth of a hair. As the
spurts of flame and smoke leaped from the wall
of shrubbery he roared the order, "Fire at will !"
and the fusillade of small arms that ensued rid
dled the jungle and effectually put to flight the
Mexicans.
When within a few miles of the town it was
found that the Mexicans had placed obstructions
in the channel in such a manner that they would
have to be blown up before the boats could pass.
And for this Perry would not wait. Directing the
gunners to sweep the beach with grape, he gave
the order: "Prepare to land !" He himself took
the tiller of the leading boat. Reaching the line
of obstructions in the river, he suddenly steered
straight for the shore and, rising in his boat,
called in a voice which echoed over river and
jungle: "Three cheers, my lads, and give way
all !" Responding with three thunderous hurrahs,
the sailors bent to their oars and raced toward
the shore as the college eights race down the river
at Poughkeepsie. Perry was the first to land.
Followed by his flag-captain and his aides, he
dashed up the almost perpendicular bank in the
300
When We Fought the Japanese
face of a scattering rifle fire and unfurled his
broad pennant in sight of the whole line of boats.
Quickly the marines and sailors landed and cleared
the underbrush of snipers. Then, with a cloud of
skirmishers thrown out on either flank, a com
pany of pioneers in advance to clear the road, and
squads of bluejackets marching fan-fashion, drag
ging their field-pieces behind them, the column
moved on Tabasco with the burly commodore
tramping at its head. The thermometer for it
was in June stood at 130 degrees in the shade
and there was no shade. Man after man fainted
from heat and exhaustion. Miasma rose in clouds
from the jungle. The pitiless sun beat down from
a sky of brass. The country was so swampy that
the pioneers had to fell trees and build bridges
before the column could advance. Every few
minutes a gun would sink to the hubs in quick
sand and a whole company would have to man
the drag-ropes and haul it out. This overland
march, through a roadless and pestilential jungle,
was one of the most remarkable exploits and
certainly one of the least known of the entire
war.
The flotilla left in the river had, meanwhile,
succeeded in blowing up the obstructions and,
moving up the stream, shelled the Mexican for-
301
The Road to Glory
tifications from the rear while Perry and his
sweating men prepared to carry them by storm.
Waiting until the straggling column closed up
and the men had a few moments in which to
rest, Perry formed his command into "company
front," and signalled to his bugler. As the brazen
strains of the "charge" pealed out the line of
sweating, panting, cheering men, led by the griz
zled commodore himself, pistol in one hand and
cutlass in the other, swept at a run up the steep
main street of the city with the ships bands
playing them into action with "Yankee Doodle."
In five minutes it was all over but the shouting.
The Mexican garrison had fled, and our flag waved
in triumph over the city which gave the sauce its
name. The capture of Tabasco, whose commer
cial importance was second only to that of Vera
Cruz, was the last important naval operation of
the war. Since the fall of Vera Cruz, Perry and
his jack-tars had captured six fortress-defended
cities, had taken ninety-three pieces of artillery,
had forced neutrality on the great, rich province
of Yucatan, had established an American customs
service at each of the captured ports, and had
found time in between to build a naval hospital
on the island of Salmadina, which saved hundreds
of lives. And yet but few of our people are aware
302
When We Fought the Japanese
that Matthew Perry even took part in the war
with Mexico.
Perry s service in Russia, Egypt, Italy, Africa,
the West Indies, and Mexico was, however, but
a preparatory course for the great adventure on
which he was destined to embark, for, as a result
of the extraordinary fund of experience and in
formation he had gained on foreign seaboards, he
was selected to command the expedition which
the American Government had determined to
send to Japan in an attempt to open up that
empire to commerce and civilization. Now, you
must not lose sight of the fact that the Japan of
sixty years ago was quite a different country from
the Japan of to-day. The Japanese of 1853 were
as ultra-exclusive and as pleased with themselves
as are the members of the Newport set. They
wanted no outsiders in their country, and they
did not have the slightest desire to play in any
one else s back yard. All they asked was to be
let alone. But no nation can successfully oppose
the march of civilization. It must either welcome
progress or go under. For three centuries every
maritime power in Europe had attempted to open
up Japan, and always they had met with failure.
But about the middle of the nineteenth century
the United States decided to take a hand in the
303
The Road to Glory
game. With the conquest and settlement of Cal
ifornia; the increase of American commerce with
China; the growth of American whale-fisheries in
Eastern seas, in which ten thousand Americans
were employed; the development of steam traffic
and the consequent necessity for coaling stations,
it became increasingly evident to the frock-coated
gentlemen in Washington that the opening of the
empire of the Mikado was a necessity which could
not much longer be delayed.
Thus it came about that the morning of July 7,
1853, saw a squadron of black-hulled war-ships
the Mississippi, Susquehanna, Plymouth) and Sara
toga sailing into the Straits of Uraga and into
Japanese history. And on the bridge of the flag
ship, his telescope glued to his eye, was our old
friend, Matthew Calbraith Perry. The Straits of
Uraga, I should explain, form the entrance to the
Bay of Tokio, whose sacred waters had, up to
that time, never been desecrated by the hulls of
foreign war-ships. But Perry was never worried
about lack of precedent. At five in the after
noon his ships steamed in within musket-shot of
Uraga, and, at the shrill signal of the boatswains
pipes, their anchors went rumbling down. A mo
ment later a string of signal-flags fluttered from
the flag-ship in a message which read: "Have no
304
When We Fought the Japanese
communication with the shore, have none from
the shore." Perry, you see, had spent the three
preceding years in preparing for this expedition
by learning all that he could of the Japanese char
acter and customs, and he had not spent them
for naught. He had determined that, when it
came to being really snobbish and exclusive, he
would make the Japanese, who had theretofore
held the record for that sort of thing, look like
amateurs. And he did. For when the captain
of the port, in his ceremonial dress of hempen
cloth and lacquered hat, put off in a twelve-oared
barge to inquire the business of the strangers, a
marine sentry at the top of the flag-ship s ladder
brusquely motioned him away as though he were
of no more importance than a tramp. Then came
the vice-governor, flying the trefoil flag and with
an escort of armored spearmen, but he met with
no more consideration than the port-captain. The
American ships were about as hospitable as so
many icebergs. Indeed, it was not until he had
explained that the governor was prohibited by
law from boarding a foreign vessel that the vice-
governor was permitted to set foot on the sacred
deck planks of the flag-ship. Even then he was
not permitted to see the mighty and illustrious
excellency who was in command of the squadron;
305
The Road to Glory
no, indeed. As befitted his inferior rank, he was
received by a very stiff, very haughty, very con
descending young lieutenant who interrupted the
flowery address of the dazed official by telling
him that the Americans considered themselves
affronted by the filthy shore boats which hov
ered about them, and that if they did not depart
instantly they would be fired on. After the vice-
governor had gone to the rail and motioned the
inquisitive boats away, the lieutenant informed
him that the illustrious commander of the mighty
squadron bore an autograph letter from his Ex
cellency the President of the United States to the
Mikado, and that he proposed to steam up to
Tokio and deliver it in person. When the vice-
governor heard this he nearly fainted. For a
fleet of barbarian warships to anchor off the
sacred city, the capital of the empire, the re
sidence of the son of heaven, was impossible,
unthinkable, sacrilegious. The very thought of
it paralyzed him with fear. When he carried the
news of what the Americans proposed doing to
the governor, that official changed his mind about
the illegality of his setting foot on a foreign ship,
and the following morning, with a retinue which
looked like the chorus of a comic opera, he went
in state to the flag-ship to expostulate. But the
306
When We Fought the Japanese
commodore refused to see the governor, just as
he had refused to see his subordinate, and that
crestfallen official, his feelings sadly ruffled, was
forced to content himself with a brief conversa
tion with Commander Buchanan, who told him
that, unless arrangements were made at once for
delivering the President s letter to a direct repre
sentative of the Mikado, Commodore Perry was
unalterably determined on steaming up to Tokio
and delivering the letter to the Emperor himself.
From beginning to end of the interview, the Amer
ican officer, who, I expect, enjoyed the perform
ance hugely, resented the slightest lack of cere
mony on the governor s part and did not hesitate
to give evidence of his displeasure when that be
deviled official omitted anything which the Ameri
can thought he ought to do. At length the now
deeply impressed Japanese agreed to despatch a
messenger to Tokio for further instructions, and
to this the Americans, with feigned reluctance,
agreed, adding, however, that if an answer was
not received within three days they would move
up to the capital and learn the reason why.
The appearance of American war-ships in the
Bay of Tokio was a mighty shock to the Japa
nese. What right had a foreign nation to impose
on them a commerce which they did not want;
307
The Road to Glory
a friendship which they did not seek ? The alarm-
bells clanged throughout the empire. Messengers
on reeking horses tore through every town spread
ing the astounding news. Spears were sharpened,
and ancient armor was dragged from dusty chests.
Night and day could be heard the clangor of the
smiths forging weapons of war. Away with the
barbarians! To arms ! Jhoi! Jhoi! Buddhists
wore away their rosaries invoking Kartikiya, the
god of war, and Shinto priests fasted while they
called on the sea and the storm to destroy the
impious invaders of the Nipponese motherland.
The hidebound formality of untold centuries was
swept away in this hour of common danger, and
for the first time in Japanese history high and
low alike were invited to offer suggestions as to
what steps should be taken for the protection of
the nation and the preservation of the national
honor. It didn t take the wiseheads long, how
ever, to decide that compliance was better than
defiance; so, on the last of the three days of grace
granted by the Americans, the governor in his
gorgeous robes of office once more boarded the
Susquehanna and, with many genuflections, in
formed the officer designated to meet him that
the letter from the President would be received
a few days later, with all the pomp and ceremony
308
When We Fought the Japanese
which the Imperial Government knew how to
command, in a pavilion which would be erected
on the beach near Uraga for the purpose, by two
peers of the empire who had been designated by
the Mikado as his personal representatives.
On the morning of July 14 the squadron weighed
anchor and moved up so as to command the place
where the ceremony was to be held. Carpenters,
mat makers, tapestry hangers, and decorators sent
from the capital had been working night and day,
and under their skilful hands a great pavilion,
as though by the wave of a magician s wand,
had sprung up on the beach. When all was in
readiness the governor and his suite, their silken
costumes ablaze with gold embroidery, pulled out
to the flag-ship to escort the commodore to the
shore. As the Japanese stepped aboard, a signal
called fifteen launches and cutters from the other
ships of the squadron to the side of the Susque-
hanna. Officers, bluejackets, and marines in all
the glory of full dress piled into them, and, led
by Commander Buchanan s gig, they headed for
the shore, the oars of the American sailors rising
and falling in beautiful unison. As the proces
sion of boats drew out to its full length, the
bright flags, the gorgeous banners, the barbaric
costumes of the Japanese, the leather shakoes of
309
The Road to Glory
the marines, and the scarlet tunics of the bands
men, with the turquoise sea for a foreground and
the great white cone of Fujiyama rising up behind,
combined to form a never-to-be-forgotten picture.
When the boats were half-way to the landing
stage, a flourish of bugles sounded from the
flag-ship, the marine guard presented arms, and
Commodore Perry, resplendent in cocked hat and
gold-laced uniform, attended by side boys and fol
lowed by a glittering staff, descended the gangway
and entered his barge, while the Susquehannas
guns roared out a salute. On the shore a guard of
honor composed of American sailors and marines
was drawn up to receive him. As he set foot on
the soil of Japan the troops presented arms, the
officers saluted, the drums gave the three ruffles,
the band burst into the American anthem, and
the colors swept the ground. Nothing had been
left undone which would be likely to impress
the ceremony-loving Japanese, and the effect pro
duced was spectacular enough to have satisfied
P. T. Barnum. The land procession was formed
with the same attention to ceremonial and display.
First came a hundred marines in the picturesque
uniform of the period, marching with mechanical
precision; after them came a hundred bluejackets
with the roll of the sea in their gait, while at the
310
When We Fought the Japanese
head of the column was a marine band, ablaze
with gold and scarlet. Behind the bluejackets
walked Commodore Perry, guarded by two gi
gantic negroes veritable Jack Johnsons in phy
sique and stature preceded by two ship s boys
bearing the mahogany caskets containing Perry s
credentials and the President s letter, the deliv
ery of which was the reason for all this extraor
dinary display.
As the glittering procession entered the pavilion
the two counsellors of the empire who had been
designated by the Mikado to receive the letter
rose and stood in silence. When the governor of
Uraga, acting as master of ceremonies, intimated
that all was ready, the two boys advanced and
handed their caskets to the negroes. These, open
ing in succession the rosewood caskets and the
envelopes of scarlet cloth, displayed the presi
dential letter and its accompanying credentials-
impressive documents written on vellum, bound
in blue velvet, and fringed with seals of gold.
Upon the master of ceremonies announcing that
the imperial high commissioners were ready to
receive the letter, the negroes returned the im
posing documents to the boys, who slowly ad
vanced the length of the hall and deposited them
in a box of scarlet lacquer which had been brought
The Road to Glory
from Tokio for the purpose. Again a frozen
silence pervaded the assemblage. Then Perry,
speaking through an interpreter, paid his respects
to the immobile functionaries and announced that
he would return for an answer to the letter in
the following spring. When some of the officials
anxiously inquired if he would come with all four
ships, he sententiously replied: "With many
more."
Although he had announced that he would
not revisit Japan until the spring, when Perry
learned that the French and Russians were hast
ily preparing expeditions to be sent to Tokio for
the purpose of counteracting American influence,
he decided to advance the date of his return, en
tering the Bay of Tokio for the second time on
February 12, 1854, thus getting ahead of his Eu
ropean rivals. This time he had with him a
really imposing armada: the Susquehanna, Mis
sissippi, Powhatan, Macedonian, Southampton, Lex
ington, Vandalia, Plymouth, and Saratoga. On this
occasion he refused to stop at Uraga and, much
to the consternation of the Japanese, steamed
steadily up the bay and anchored off Yokohama,
within sight of the capital itself. The negotia
tions which ensued occupied several days, during
which Perry insisted on the same pomp and cere-
312
When We Fought the Japanese
mony, and took the same high-handed course that
characterized his former visit. Noticing that the
grounds surrounding the treaty house had been
screened in by large mats, he inquired the reason,
and upon being informed that it was done so that
the Americans might not see the country, he said
that he considered that the nation he represented
was insulted and ordered that the screens in
stantly be removed. That was the sort of atti
tude that the Japanese understood, and thereafter
they treated Perry with even more profound re
spect. The negotiations were brought to a con
clusion on the 3 ist of March, 1854, when the terms
of the treaty whereby the empire of Japan was
opened to American commerce were finally agreed
upon. Thus was recorded one of the greatest
diplomatic triumphs in our history. As Wash
ington Irving wrote to Commodore Perry: "You
have gained for yourself a lasting name and have
done it without shedding a drop of blood or in
flicting misery on a human being."
But Perry s accomplishment had a sequel, and a
bloody one. The treaty which admitted the for
eigner precipitated civil war in Japan. Although
for two hundred and fifty years the Japanese
had been at peace and their sword-blades were
rusty from lack of use, the embers of rebellion
The Road to Glory
had long been smouldering, and the act that ad
mitted the alien served to fan them into the flame
of open revolt. The trouble was that the tycoon
the viceroy, the mouthpiece of the Mikado,
the power behind the throne had become all-
powerful, while the Mikado himself, as the result
of a policy of seclusion that had been forced upon
him, had become but a puppet, a figurehead. As
the treaty with the United States had been signed
under the authority of the tycoon, the rebels
took up arms in a double-barrelled cause: to re
store the Mikado to his old-time authority and
to expel the "hairy barbarians," as the foreigners
were pleasantly called. The insurrectionists, who
represented the powerful Choshiu and Satsuma
clans, induced the Mikado to issue an edict set
ting June 25, 1863, as a date by which all for
eigners should be expelled from the empire. The
tycoon, though bound to the United States and
the European powers by the most solemn treaties,
found himself helpless. He promptly sent in his
resignation, but the Mikado, coerced by the re
bellious clansmen, refused to accept it and left
the unhappy viceroy to wriggle out of the predic
ament as best he could.
Meanwhile the leaders of the Choshiu clan
seized and proceeded to fortify and mine the
When We Fought the Japanese
Straits of Shimonoseki, the great highway of for
eign commerce forming the entrance to the inland
sea, which at that point narrows down to a
channel three miles in length and less than a
mile in width, through which the tides run like
a mill-race. On June 25, the eventful day fixed
for the expulsion of the barbarians from the sa
cred dominions of the Mikado, the American mer
chant steamer Pembroke, with a pilot furnished
by the Tokio government and with the Ameri
can flag at her peak, was on her way northward
through the channel when she was fired on by the
clansmen though, as luck would have it, was not hit.
But peace which had existed in Japan for nearly
two centuries and a half was broken. A few days
later a French despatch-boat was hit in seven
places, her boat s crew nearly all killed by a shell,
and the vessel saved from sinking only by a
lively use of the pumps. On July II a Dutch
frigate was hit thirty-one times, and nine of its
crew were killed or wounded, and a little later a
French gunboat was badly hulled as she dashed
past the batteries at full speed. It was evident
that the Japanese had acquired modern guns in
the ten years that had passed since Perry had
taught them the blessings of civilization, and it was
equally evident that they knew how to use them.
The Road to Glory
News is magnified as it travels in the East, and
by the time word of the Pembroke incident reached
Commander David McDougal, who was cruising
in Chinese waters in the sloop of war Wyoming
in pursuit of the Confederate privateer Alabama,
it had been exaggerated until he was led to be
lieve that the American vessel had been sunk
with all hands. Though possessing neither a chart
of the straits nor a map of the batteries, McDougal
ordered his ship to be coaled and provisioned at
full speed (and how the jackies worked when they
got the order!), and on July 16, under a cloudless
sky, without a breath of wind, and the sea as
smooth as a tank of oil, the Wyoming, her ports
covered with tarpaulins so as to make her look
like an unsuspecting merchantman, but with her
crew at quarters and her decks cleared for ac
tion, came booming into Shimonoseki Straits.
No sooner did she get within range of the bat
teries than the five eight-inch Dahlgren guns
presented to Japan by the United States as
a token of friendship, opened on her with a roar.
It was not exactly a convincing proof of friend
ship. The Japanese batteries, splendidly handled,
concentrated their fire on the narrowest part
of the straits, which they swept with a hail of
projectiles, while beyond, in more open water,
316
When We Fought the Japanese
three heavily armed converted merchantmen the
steamer Lance field, the bark Daniel Webster, and
the brig Lanrick, all, oddly enough, American
vessels which had been purchased by the clans
men for use against their former owners lay di
rectly athwart the channel, prepared to dispute
the Wyoming s passage, should she, by a miracle,
succeed in getting past the batteries. As the first
Japanese shell screamed angrily overhead, the tar
paulins concealing the Wyoming s guns disap
peared in a twinkling, the stars and stripes broke
out at her masthead, and her artillery cut loose.
It was a surprise party, right enough, but the sur
prise was on the Japanese.
As McDougal approached the narrows, sweep
ing them with his field-glasses, his attention was
caught by a line of stakes which, as he rightly
suspected, had been placed there by the Japanese
to gauge their fire. Accordingly, instead of tak
ing the middle of the channel, as denoted by the
line of stakes, he ordered the Japanese pilot, who
was paralyzed with terror, to run close under the
batteries. It was well that he did so, for no
sooner was the Wyoming within range than the
Japanese gunners opened a cannonade which
would have blown her out of the water had she
been in mid-channel, where they confidently ex-
The Road to Glory
pected her to be, but which, as it was, tore through
her rigging without doing serious harm. There
were six finished batteries, mounting in all thirty
guns, and the three converted merchantmen car
ried eighteen pieces, making forty-eight cannon
opposed to the Wyoming s six.
Clearing the narrows, McDougal, despite the
protestations of his pilot, who said that he would
certainly go aground, gave orders to go in be
tween the sailing vessels and take the steamer.
Just then a masked battery opened on the Wy
oming, but even in those days the fame of the
American gunners was as wide as the seas, and
they justified their reputation by placing a single
shell so accurately that its explosion tore the whole
battery to pieces. Then McDougal, signalling
for "full steam ahead," dashed straight at the
Daniel Webster, pouring in a broadside as he
swept by which left her crowded decks a shambles.
Then, opening on the Lanrick with his starboard
guns, he fought the two ships at the same time,
the action being at such close quarters that the
guns of the opponents almost touched. In this,
the first battle with modern weapons in which
they had ever engaged, the Japanese showed the
same indifference to death and the same remark
able ability as fighters and seamen which was to
When We Fought the Japanese
bring about the defeat of the Russians half a
century later. So rapidly did the crew of the
Lanrick serve their guns that they managed to
pour three broadsides into the Wyoming before
the latter sent her to the bottom. The Lanrick
thus rubbed off the slate, McDougal swept down
upon the Lanctfitld, and oblivious of the terrific
fire directed upon him by the Daniel Webster and
the shore batteries, coolly manoeuvred for a fight
ing position. But during this manoeuvre the
Wyoming went ashore while at the same moment
the heavily manned Japanese steamer bore down
with the evident intention of ramming and board
ing her while she was helpless in the mud. For a
moment it looked as though the jig was up, and it
flashed through the mind of every American
that, before going into action, McDougal had
given orders that the Wyoming was to be blown
up with every man on board rather than fall into
the hands of the enemy for those were the days
when the Japanese subjected their prisoners to
the horrors of the thumb-screws, the dripping
water, and the torture cage. But after a few
hair-raising moments, during which every Ameri
can must have held his breath and murmured a
little prayer, the powerful engines of the Wyo
ming succeeded in pulling her off the sand-bar,
The Road to Glory
whereupon, ignoring the bark of the batteries,
McDougal manoeuvred in the terribly swift cur
rent until the American gunners could see the
Lance field along the barrels of their eleven-inch
pivot-guns. Then both Dahlgrens spoke to
gether. The accuracy of the American fire was
appalling. The first two shells tore apertures as
big as barn-doors in the Japanese vessel s hull, a
third ripped through her at the water-line, passed
through the boiler, tore out her sides, and burst far
away in the town beyond. The frightful explo
sion which ensued was followed by a rain of ashes,
timbers, ironwork, and fragments of human beings,
and before the smoke had cleared the Lance-
field had sunk from sight. It was now the Daniel
Webster s turn, and in a few minutes the name
sake of the great statesman was shattered and
sinking. The three vessels thus disposed of, the
Wyoming was now free to turn her undivided at
tention to the shore batteries, her gunners plac
ing shell after shell with as unerring accuracy as
Christy Mathewson puts his balls across the plate.
Gun after gun was put out of action, battery after
battery was silenced, until the whole line of for
tifications was a heap of ruins with dismounted
cannon lying behind their wrecked embrasures
and dead and wounded Japanese strewn every-
320
When We Fought the Japanese
where. At twenty minutes past noon firing ceased.
Then, his work accomplished, McDougal turned
his ship and steamed triumphantly the length of
the straits while the hills of Japan echoed and
re-echoed the hurrahs of the American sailors.
In this extraordinary action, which lasted an
hour and ten minutes, the Wyoming was hulled
ten times, her funnel had six holes in it, two masts
were injured and her top-hamper badly damaged.
Of her crew, five were killed and seven wounded.
On the other hand, the lone American, with her
six guns, had destroyed six shore batteries mount
ing thirty improved European cannon and had
sent three ships, with eighteen pieces of ordnance,
to the bottom, killing upward of a hundred Jap
anese and wounding probably that many more.
It is no exaggeration, I believe, to assert that the
history of the American navy contains no achieve
ment of a single commander in a single ship which
surpasses that of David McDougal in the Wyo
ming at Shimonoseki. Dewey s victory at Manila
was but a repetition of the Shimonoseki action on
a larger scale.
Four days later two French war-ships went in
and hammered to pieces such fragments of the
fortifications as the Wyoming s gunners had left,
but the clansmen, reinforced by ronins, or free-
321
The Road to Glory
lances, from all parts of the empire, repaired their
losses, built new batteries, mounted heavier guns,
and succeeded for fifteen months in keeping the
straits closed to foreign commerce. Then an al
lied fleet of seventeen ships, with upward of seven
thousand men, repeated the work which the Wy
oming had done single-handed, forcing the pas
sage, destroying the forts, putting an end to the
uprising, and restoring safety to the foreigner in
Japan. The American representation in this
great international armada consisted of one small
vessel, the Ta Kiang, manned by thirty sailors
and marines under Lieutenant Frederick Pearson,
and mounting but a single gun. So gallant a
part was played by Pearson in his cockle-shell
that Queen Victoria took the extraordinary step
of decorating him with the Order of the Bath,
which Congress permitted him to wear the only
American, so far as I am aware, that has ever
been thus honored. But no other operation of
the war so impressed the Japanese and so gained
their admiration and respect as when the Wyo
ming came storming into the straits and defied and
defeated all their ships and guns. Years after
ward a noted Japanese editor wrote: "That action
did more than all else to open the eyes of Japan."
Though the European commanders were loaded
322
When We Fought the Japanese
with honors and decorations for what was, after
all, but supplementary work, the heroism dis
played by McDougal and his bluejackets received
neither reward nor recognition from their own
countrymen, for 1863 was the critical year of the
Civil War, and the thunder of the Wyoming s
guns in far-away Japan was lost in the roar of
the guns at Gettysburg. As Colonel Roosevelt
once remarked: "Had that action taken place at
any other time than during the Civil War, its
fame would have echoed all over the world/
But, though few Americans are aware that we
once fought and whipped the Japanese, I fancy
that it has not been forgotten by the Japanese
themselves.
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