Harper's New Monthly Magazine. No. XVI.—September, 1851—Vol. III. Various
proposed, but he will not consent. He fears the confiscation of his property, which is considerable. I would not care for that, though my own fortune, as you know, would be small enough to support us. But the old man will go on no terms, and she will not leave him."
The old man's fears in regard to the confiscation were not without good foundation. There was a party in Mexico, while we occupied the city, that had advocated "annexation" – that is, the annexing of the whole country to the United States. This party consisted chiefly of pure Spaniards, "ricos" of the republic, who wanted a government of stability and order. In the houses of these many of our officers visited, receiving those elegant hospitalities that were in general denied us by Mexicans of a more patriotic stamp. Our friends were termed "Ayankeeados," and were hated by the populace. But they were "marked" in still higher quarters. Several members of the government, then sitting at Queretaro – among others a noted minister – had written to their agents in the city to note down all those who, by word or act, might show kindness to the American army. Even those ladies who should present themselves at the theatre were to be among the number of the proscribed.
In addition to the Ayankeeados were many families – perhaps not otherwise predisposed to favor us – who by accident had admitted us within their circle – such accident as that which had opened the house and heart of Rafaela to my friend L – . These, too, were under "compromisa" with the rabble. My comrade's case was undoubtedly what he had termed it – a dilemma.
"You are not disposed to give her up, then?" said I, smiling at my anxious friend, as I put the interrogation.
"I know you are only jesting, Henry. You know me too well for that. No! Rather than give her up, I will stay and risk every thing – even life."
"Come, major," said I, "there will be no need for you to risk any thing, if you will only follow my advice. It is simply this – come home with your regiment; stay a month or two at New Orleans, until the excitement consequent upon our evacuation cools down. Shave off your mustache, put on plain clothes; come back and marry Rafaela."
"It is terrible to think of parting with her. Oh! – "
"That may all be; I doubt it not; but what else can you do?"
"Nothing – nothing. You are right. It is certainly the best – the only plan. I will follow it," and L – left me.
I saw no more of him for three days, when the brigade to which he belonged entered the city on its road homeward. He had detailed his plans to Rafaela, and bade her for a time farewell.
The other three divisions had already marched. Ours was to form the rear-guard, and that night was to be our last in the city of Mexico. I had retired to bed at an early hour, to prepare for our march on the morrow. I was about falling asleep when a loud knock sounded at my door. I rose and opened it. It was L – . I started as the light showed me his face – it was ghastly. His lips were white, his teeth set, and dark rings appeared around his eyes. The eyes themselves glared in their sockets, lit up by some terrible emotion.
"Come!" cried he, in a hoarse and tremulous voice. "Come with me, Henry, I need you."
"What is it, my dear L – ? A quarrel? A duel?"
"No! No! nothing of the sort. Come! come! come! I will show you a sight that will make a wolf of you. Haste! For God's sake, haste!"
I hurried on my clothes.
"Bring your arms!" cried L – , "you may require them."
I buckled on my sword and pistol-belt, and followed hastily into the street. We ran down the Calle Correo toward the Alameda. It was the road to the Convent of San Francisco, where our regiment had quartered for the night. As yet I knew not for what I was going. Could the enemy have attacked us? No – all was quiet. The people were in their beds. What could it be? L – had not, and would not explain; but to my inquiries, continually cried, "Haste – come on!" We reached the convent, and, hastily passing the guard, made for the quarters occupied by my friend. As we entered the room – a large one – I saw five or six females, with about a dozen men, soldiers and officers. All were excited by some unusual occurrence. The females were Mexicans, and their heads were muffled in their rebosos. Some were weeping aloud, others talking in strains of lamentation. Among them I distinguished the face of my friend's betrothed.
"Dearest Rafaela!" cried L – , throwing his arms around her – "it is my friend. Here, Henry, look here! look at this!"
As he spoke, he raised the reboso, and gently drew back her long black hair. I saw blood upon her cheek and shoulders! I looked more closely. It flowed from her ears.
"Her ears! O God! they have been cut off!"
"Ay, ay," cried L – , hoarsely; and dropping the dark tresses, again threw his arms around the girl, and kissed away the tears that were rolling down her cheeks – while uttering expressions of endearment and consolation.
I turned to the other females; they were all similarly mutilated; some of them even worse, for their foreheads, where the U.S. had been freshly burned upon them, were red and swollen. Excepting Rafaela, they were all of the "poblana" class – the laundresses – the mistresses of the soldiers.
The surgeon was in attendance, and in a short time all was done that could be done for wounds like these.
"Come!" cried L – , addressing those around him, "we are wasting time, and that is precious; it is near midnight. The horses will be ready by this, and the rest will be waiting; come, Henry, you will go? You will stand by us?"
"I will, but what do you intend?"
"Do not ask us, my friend, you will see presently."
"Think, my dear L – ," said I in a whisper, "do not act rashly."
"Rashly! there is no rashness about me – you know that. A cowardly act, like this, can not be revenged too soon. Revenge! what am I talking of! It is not revenge, but justice. The men who could perpetrate this fiendish deed are not fit to live on the earth, and, by heavens! not one of them shall live by the morning. Ha, dastards! they thought we were gone; they will find their mistake. Mine be the responsibility – mine the revenge. Come, friends! Come!" And so saying, L – led the way, holding his betrothed by the hand. We all followed out of the room, and into the street.
On reaching the Alameda a group of dark objects was seen among the trees. They were horses and horsemen; there were about thirty of the latter, and enough of the former to mount the party who were with L – . I saw from their size that the horses were of our own troops, with dragoon saddles. In the hurry L – had not thought of saddles for our female companions, but the oversight was of no consequence. Their habitual mode of riding was à la Duchess de Berri, and in this way they mounted. Before summoning me, L – had organized his band – they were picked men. In the dim light I could see dragoon and infantry uniforms, men in plain clothes, followers of the army, gamblers, teamsters, Texans, desperadoes, ready for just such an adventure. Here and there I could distinguish the long-tailed frock – the undress of the officer. The band in all mustered more than forty men.
We rode quietly through the streets, and, issuing from the gate of Nino Perdido, took the road for San Angel. As we proceeded onward, I gathered a more minute account of what had transpired at the village. As soon as our division had evacuated, a mob of thirty or forty ruffians had proceeded to the houses of those whom they termed "Ayankeeados," and glutted their cowardly vengeance on their unfortunate victims. Some of these had been actually killed in attempting to resist; others had escaped to the Pedregal which runs close to the village; while a few – Rafaela among the number – after submitting to a terrible atrocity, had fled to the city for protection.
On hearing the details of these horrid scenes, I no longer felt a repugnance in accompanying my friend. I felt as he did, that men capable of such deeds were "not fit to live," and we were proceeding to execute a sentence that was just though illegal. It was not our intention to punish all; we could not have accomplished this, had we so willed it. By the testimony of the girls, there were five or six who had been the promoters and ringleaders of the whole business. These were well known to one or other of the victims, as in most instances it had been some old grudge for which they had been singled out as objects of this cowardly vengeance. In Rafaela's case