Gustave Aimard
The Insurgent Chief
CHAPTER VII
THE PANIC
It is difficult to form an idea of the rapidity with which, bad news spreads – of the way in which it is disfigured in passing from mouth to mouth, constantly increasing, and finishing, in a very short time, by returning to the author of it, so surcharged with statements, and embellished with details, that he cannot recognise it.
We might almost suppose that there exist in the atmosphere electric currents, which become charged, so as to transmit to the greatest distance, with the rapidity of lightning, that bad news that the chiefs in power only confide to the ear, and under the express condition of the utmost secrecy.
Captain Don Sylvio Quiroga had not, since his return to San Miguel, communicated with any other person but Don Eusebio Moratin and Don Zeno Cabral. His soldiers had, like himself, kept perfectly silent on what had passed during their short expedition in search of the fugitives; and yet, by an inexplicable fatality, scarcely had the two generals, on leaving the Duc de Montone, reached the gates of the Plaza Mayor, than on all sides they perceived frightened people, and heard voices, saddened by fear, murmuring the dreaded name of the Pincheyras.
The news had already made much way. It was no longer 300 men who had shown themselves in the environs of the town, but a formidable Spanish army, coming from Peru – pillaging, burning, devastating everything on its route – and of which the ferocious squadron of the Pincheyras formed the advance guard. They had arrived by forced marches; and soon – the next day, perhaps – they would encamp before the town. What was to be done? what was to be resolved on? Where were the people to hide, or to fly? It was all over with San Miguel; the Spaniards, to avenge their defeats, would not leave there one stone upon another.
Those who had seen them – for, as usual, there were people who asserted that they had seen this fantastic Spanish army, which existed only in their imaginations – were certain that they had heard the enemy utter the most terrible oaths of vengeance against the unfortunate insurgents.
People, furnished with torches, coming from no one knew where, traversed the town in all directions, crying —
"To arms! To arms!"
At these cries, at these lurid flames, which cast ill-omened reflections on the walls, the citizens came in all haste from their houses; the women and children wept and lamented – in a word, the panic had become in a few minutes so general, that the two officers, who, nevertheless, knew the truth, were themselves frightened, and asked themselves if the danger was not, in fact, greater than they had supposed it.
They mounted their horses, that their assistants were holding for them at the door of the duke's house, and set out at full gallop towards the Cabildo.
Notwithstanding the advanced hour – it was beyond midnight – the Cabildo, at the moment when the governor and the Montonero entered it, was invaded by the crowd, and offered a spectacle of disorder and of fear, not less animated and not less noisy than that which they had just seen in crossing the Plaza Mayor.
The two officers were received with cries of joy and protestations of devotion that fear alone could inspire in the greater part of the people present.
The governor had considerable difficulty in re-establishing a little order, and in making himself heard by these people, rendered almost insensible by terror.
But it was in vain that he tried to reassure them in relating simply what had passed; they did not wish to believe him, and he did not succeed in convincing anyone that the danger which they so much feared did not exist.
The tocsin sounded from all the churches; barricades were constructed at the corners of all the streets, which were constantly traversed by armed patrols of the citizens, whilst others bivouacked on the place.
The town at this time offered the aspect of a vast camp. It was useless to try and resist the torrent – the governor understood that. Despairing to re-establish security by ordinary methods, he pretended to give way to the views of the persons who surrounded him, and tried to organise the panic in giving orders for the defence of the city, and in dispatching aides-de-camp in all directions.
Don Zeno, after having exchanged a few words in a low voice with the governor, instead of going up into the Cabildo, had started off rapidly, followed by Captain Quiroga.
But his absence was not long. Soon a gallop of horses was heard, and Don Zeno reappeared at the head of his Montonero, which immediately installed its bivouac on the Plaza Mayor.
The sight of the partisans, in whose courage the inhabitants of San Miguel had full confidence, began by degrees to reassure the population.
So much the more as the Montoneros, after having attached their horses to the pickets, and placed their sentinels, mingled with the crowd, and began gently – talking with one and the other, at first pretending to enter into the prevailing ideas – to re-establish the facts so strangely disfigured, by relating the affair just as it really was.
The influence of these recitals, carried from one to the other, and continually recommenced by the soldiers, was soon felt in the crowd; the reaction soon manifested itself, and the less cowardly felt their courage returning a little.
However, at last it was found that the danger, though less than it was supposed, nevertheless existed, and that the nearness of the royalist Montoneros could not but be very disquieting for the common safety. General Moratin skilfully took advantage of the excitement of the population, by taking the most efficacious measures he could think of to resist an attack till reinforcements arrived, in case the enemy might suddenly try and take the town by surprise – which was not without precedent in the history of the Buenos Airean revolution.
Devoted officers superintended the construction of the barricades; on the terraced roofs of the houses stones were carried to crush the assailants; depôts of arms and munitions were established in various places; and barriers were closed and defended by numerous soldiers.
Meanwhile, Don Zeno Cabral, at the head of forty resolute Montoneros, had set out on a journey of discovery, starting off madly into the open country.
All the deputies were assembled in the Cabildo, in the Hall of Assembly, and were declared en permanence.
The governor, wishing by his presence to assure the population, had mounted horse, and, followed by a numerous staff, had traversed the town in all directions, encouraging some, reprimanding others, and exciting the inhabitants to do their duty, and to fight the enemy bravely, if he dared to show himself.
The whole night passed thus. At sunrise, calmness was somewhat re-established, although everyone preserved his arms, and remained at his post.
Don Zeno Cabral, who had left more than four hours to reconnoitre, had not returned. Don Eusebio did not know what to think of this long absence, which began seriously to disquiet him.
Several aides-de-camp, dispatched by him to seek for the Montoneros, had returned without bringing news either of him or his detachment.
In the meanwhile, an officer entered, leant towards the ear of the governor, and murmured some words which he alone heard.
Don Eusebio started and turned rather pale, but immediately recovering himself:
"Captain," said he, to the officer, "sound the order to saddle, and let all the squadron of Don Zeno Cabral mount horse. We will go and make a reconnaissance out of the town, in order to reassure the population by proving that danger no longer exists."
The order was immediately executed; the Montonero left the town at a trot.
General Don Eusebio Moratin, mounted on a magnificent black horse, and dressed in a uniform covered with gold embroidery, rode at its head.
The crowd, scattered through all the streets, saluted the partisans as they passed with hearty exclamations.
The Montonero appeared rather to execute a military promenade, than to be setting out to make a reconnaissance.
When the troop was in the open country, and some rising ground had hidden it from the gaze of the inhabitants, the general had a halt sounded, stationed the sentinels, and ordered the officers to come to him on a hillock, on the summit of which he had stopped, at about a hundred paces in advance of the squadron.
The latter immediately obeyed with an impatience mingled with curiosity; for, although no one had informed them, they vaguely suspected that this sudden sortie from the town concealed some motive graver than that of a promenade.
When all the officers had arrived, and had dismounted, they ranged themselves in a circle round the general. The latter began:
"Caballeros," said he to them, firmly, "the time for dissimulation has passed; it is my duty frankly to explain to you the situation, especially as I have great need of your assistance."
"Speak, general," answered the officers; "we are ready to obey you as if you were really our chief, whatever may be the order you may give us in the interest of the country."
"I thank you, Caballeros, and I count upon your promise. Here is what has happened: your chief, Don Zeno Cabral, deceived by a traitor, a spy, or an imbecile – we do not yet know which – has been, with a few men who accompanied him, surprised by a party of royal scouts. Everything leads to the belief that this party belongs to the formidable band of the Pincheyras. Don Zeno, after prodigies of valour, has been constrained to surrender, to prevent bloodshed. Happily, one of his companions has succeeded in escaping almost by a miracle. It is he who has informed us of what has happened We can therefore depend on the news."
The officers, at these words, uttered exclamations of rage.
"The enemies are near," continued the general, commanding silence by a gesture. "Not knowing of the flight of one of their prisoners, and feeling perfectly sure that their bold coup de main is still unknown to us, they have only withdrawn gently, and almost without order. The opportunity is, therefore, favourable to take our revenge, and to deliver our chief and your friends. Will you?"
"Yes, yes!" cried the officers, brandishing their arms. "At them! At them!"
"Very well," answered the general; "before an hour we shall have overtaken them; we shall attack them unawares, and then each will do his duty. Remember that the men that attack us are bandits, with neither good faith nor law, placed by their crimes under the ban of society. At them, then, and no quarter!"
The officers responded by cries and oaths of vengeance, placed themselves at the head of their respective platoons, and the squadron set out at a gallop, almost hidden by the cloud of dust that they raised on their passage.
What General Moratin had announced to the officers of the squadron was true, or, at least – somewhat misinformed by the fugitive – he thought it so; but affairs had not transpired exactly as had been stated.
Don Zeno Cabral left, as we have said, about two o'clock in the morning, at the head of a rather weak detachment, with the intention of making a reconnaissance in the environs of the town. After having scoured the country for two or three hours, without discovering anything suspicious, and without noticing any trace of the passage of an armed troop, he wished, before reentering the town, to explore the borders of the river, which – escarped by reason of the numerous masses of rock which lined it, and, moreover, covered with thick clusters of trees and shrubbery – might conceal an ambuscade of marauders. He had therefore made a turn, and, advancing with the greatest caution, in order not to be surprised, had commenced his exploration.
For a long time the Montoneros marched thus, beating the thickets and the underwood with the point of their lances, without discovering anything; and their chief, convinced that the enemy – if by chance he had ventured so near the town – had judged it prudent not to remain there any longer, gave the order to retreat; when all of a sudden, at the moment when it was least expected, a hundred men rose on all sides from the midst of the thicket, surrounded his troop, and vigorously attacked it.
Although surprised and harassed by an enemy of whose number they were ignorant, but whom they supposed, with reason to be much superior to themselves, the Montoneros were not the men to lay down their arms at the first blow, without trying to sell their life dearly, especially with such a man to command them.
There was, at first, terrible disorder – a terrible collision, hand-to-hand – in the midst of which Don Zeno Cabral was unhorsed, and thrown to the ground.
For a time his companions thought him dead.
It was then that one of them slipped unperceived into the midst of the trees and rocks, and galloped hard to San Miguel to carry the news of the defeat of the Montoneros.
They were, however, far from being conquered. Don Zeno Cabral had almost immediately risen, and had reappeared at the head of his men, who, discouraged for a time by his fall, had, on seeing him again on horseback, regained their confidence.
However, the assailants were too numerous – the place of ambuscade too well chosen – for the Montoneros to have the hope – not of conquering them, they had no thought of that – but of escaping from the scrape into which they had fallen.
Don Zeno Cabral perceived at a glance the difficulties of the ground on which it was necessary to fight, and where it was impossible for the men to manoeuvre their horses.
All his efforts were then directed to enlarge the field of battle. The Montoneros, grouped firmly around him, boldly charged the enemy several times without succeeding in breaking through them; the position was well attacked and well defended; they fought Montoneros against Montoneros, bandits against bandits.
The chief of the patriots knew with what enemies he had to contend: their red ponchos – a uniform adopted by the Pincheyras – had caused them to be recognised as soon as daylight had come.
For during the desperate combat that the two troops had been waging, the sun had risen.
Unhappily the light of day, in revealing the small number of the patriots, rendered their defeat more probable.
The Pincheyras, furious at having been so long held in check by so feeble a detachment, redoubled their efforts to completely defeat them.
But the latter were not discouraged; led a last time to the charge by their intrepid chief, they rushed with fury on their enemies, who vainly tried to bar their passage.
The Montoneros had succeeded in overturning the human barrier raised before them, and had gained the plain.
But at the price of what sacrifices!
Twenty of their men were lying lifeless on the rocks, – the survivors to the number of about fifteen at the most, were, for the most part, wounded and weighed down by the fatigue of the unequal combat they had so long to sustain.
All was not finished however; for the patriots to find themselves in open country was not to be saved. However, they did not deceive themselves as to their fate, but, knowing that they had no quarter to expect from their ferocious enemies, they preferred to be killed rather than to fall alive into the hands of their enemies, and be condemned to suffer horrible tortures.
Nevertheless, though still very bad, their situation was decidedly ameliorated, by reason that they now had space around them, and that their safety would depend on the swiftness of their horses.
The Pincheyras, to surprise their enemies, had been obliged to dismount, and to hide their horses some paces from them.
When the Montoneros had succeeded in opening a passage, the Pincheyras precipitated themselves immediately towards the spot where they had left their horses, in order to pursue them.
There was then compulsorily a pause, by which Don Zeno Cabral and his companions profited, to increase the distance which separated them from their enemies.
The chief of the Pincheyras, a man of tall figure, with energetic and marked features, and a harsh and cruel expression – still young, and who, during the combat, had performed prodigies of valour, and had furiously pressed Don Zeno Cabral himself, whom he had at the commencement of the action overthrown from his horse – soon appeared almost lying on his horse, furiously brandishing his lance, and exciting with loud cries the twenty horsemen by whom he was followed.
The other Pincheyras were not long in overtaking him, emerging successively from the midst of the rocks and the clusters of trees.
Then the pursuit began – rapid, disordered, desperate – on all sides.
The Montoneros, to give less chance to their enemies, had dispersed over a large space. They stretched themselves over their horses, hanging on one side by the stirrup, and holding the bridle with one hand, to avoid the bolas and the lagos, that their enemies, while rapidly galloping, flourished round their heads.
This manhunt, thanks to the skill of these practised horsemen, presented a most stirring spectacle, full of strange incidents.
The Pincheyras, however, notwithstanding the efforts of the Montoneros – owing to the fresh horses they rode – approached them rapidly. A few minutes more and they would arrive within reach of those whom they pursued, when, on a sudden, the earth resounded under the rapid gallop of a considerable troop of horsemen, and a thick cloud of dust appeared on the horizon.
This cloud soon separated, and General Don Eusebio Moratin, followed by the whole squadron of Don Zeno Cabral, charged furiously upon the royalists.
The latter, surprised in their turn, when they already thought themselves conquerors, uttered cries of rage, and immediately turning their bridles, they endeavoured to escape in all directions, closely pressed by the Montoneros, who, on recognising their chief, had redoubled their ardour. Don Zeno, burning to draw a brilliant vengeance from what he considered an affront, affectionately grasped the hand of the general; and, although overcome by fatigue, and wounded in two or three places, put himself at the head of his squadron, and dashed with it upon the Pincheyras.
Speedily the bolas and the lagos flew on all sides, and the horsemen, hurled from their saddles, rolled on the ground with cries of rage and anguish.
The strife was short, but terrible. Surrounded by the squadron, the Pincheyras, despite a desperate resistance, were defeated, and were obliged to surrender.
Scarcely twenty-five survived; the others, strangled by the lagos, wounded by the lances, or their skulls broken by the terrible bolas, lay stretched upon the field.
One man only had escaped, by what miracle it was impossible to say.
It was the chief of the Pincheyras.
Hemmed in by the Montoneros, trapped like a wild beast, he had penetrated into a thick cluster of mastic trees, and trees of Peru, whither the patriots had almost immediately followed him.
The Pincheyra had coolly faced his pursuers; with the last shot from his carbine he had killed one of those who most closely pressed him, and then, with a laugh of disdain, he had buried himself in the midst of a thicket, where he had suddenly disappeared.
Vainly the Montoneros, exasperated by the desperate resistance of this man, and the last death he had caused, started after him to capture him. For more than an hour they searched the ground foot by foot, inch by inch; separated the branches in the wood, and struck the ground with their lances; they could not succeed in discovering any traces of their bold adversary. He had become invisible. All search was vain – they could not find him again, and the Montoneros felt compelled to give up the pursuit.
The general had the order to depart sounded, though much against his liking. It annoyed him much not to be able to bring that man to San Miguel – so much the more as one of the prisoners had avowed that he whom they sought was no less than Don Santiago Pincheyra himself.
The reputation of Don Santiago was too well established for the general not to be vexed at not having succeeded in capturing him.
However, he was obliged to return to the town. The prisoners were tied to the tails of the horses, and the squadron set out at a gallop for San Miguel.
"Señor general," said Don Zeno Cabral to the governor, taking his hand with emotion, "you have saved my life – more than that, you have saved my honour. Whatever happens, I am yours, at whatever time – I give you my word."
"Thank you, Don Zeno," replied the general, a slight smile answering to the warm grasp of the hand; "I accept your word, and will remember it in case of need."
"In everything, and for everything, depend on me."
An hour later the squadron re-entered San Miguel, received by the joyful cries of the inhabitants, at the sight of the unhappy Pincheyras led prisoners at the tails of the horses.
The passage of the Montoneros through the streets of the town was a complete triumph.
