1838 Before six weeks were out, I was at sea again, on my way to Mexico. My orders to sail reached me at Luneville, where my brother Nemours had taken refuge, with a cavalry command, from the desperate endeavours of the grand-parents to get him married, and whither I had followed him with the same object. Thanks to my brothers, my memory is crowded with recollections of Luneville and the camp there, beginning with that of an unlucky captain who ruined his career by stopping his squadron at galloping drill, before the prostrate form of General Comte de M—commanding the division, stretched on the broad of his back by a lively charger with the ringing word of command—"Obstacle!" During my short visit I lived with my brother in the Chateau, where one general whiled away his sleepless hours by playing the French horn, much to the enjoyment of everybody else! Our evenings were spent at the theatre, where there was a ballet A corps de ballet at Luneville! The wily manager had got out of the difficulty by composing a choregraphic scenario called Les Sabotiers, in which the only sign of skill asked of the lady performers was to swing the sabots on their feet in cadenced time. A great noise they made, which did not, however, prevent the Mayor of Luneville from falling asleep regularly every evening in the municipal box, where he sat enthroned perched on a curule chair as high as that of Thomas Diafoirus. He even fell off it, during a performance at which I was present, and so noisily that the shock interrupted the evolutions of the ballet; and all the officers of the garrison who filled the stalls, rose with an anxiety which may have been somewhat affected, and would not be reassured until Mr. Mayor had been fished up out of the depths of his box, and replaced upon his perch. I recollect, too, an ascent of the Donon, one of the peaks of the Vosges, with a charming family of the name of Chevandier, and in the loveliest weather What a view there was! All Lorraine, all Alsace, with the spires of Strasbourg—that beautiful country which my forefathers of the old monarchy had made so truly French. Alas! Alas! I went back to my duty. I sailed from Brest on the 1st of September, under the orders of Admiral Baudin, a man who had a whole career of valiant deeds behind him. One-armed, tall in stature and energetic in countenance, he straightway inspired respect, and one soon learnt to recognize him as a commander as intelligent as he was resolute, and even impassioned. His flag was hoisted on the frigate Nereide. I followed, with a small corvette of which I had been given command, and which I had hastily commissioned. Except for the torpedo-boats, and such small flotilla craft, I do not believe the whole of our present navy contains such a small vessel as she was She was armed with four thirty-pounders, and sixteen carronades, mere children's toys, and her crew amounted to 100 men. But how pretty she was, careening over, level with the water, with her huge spars sloping backwards; and how charmingly she was named—La Creole! She was my first command, and I was twenty! We were bound on an expedition which might give us a chance of fighting, and I hoped in my turn to follow the example of my elder brothers, who had so well upheld the honour of our race at Antwerp and in Africa. My emotion on leaving France under such circumstances will be readily understood. My old aide de-camp Hernoux, and Bruat, escorted me outside the entrance to the port, and returned in the pilot's boat. The last link with the soil of the mother-country was broken, Forward then, my boy! In a few days we were before Cadiz, that lovely Andalusian city. An African sun had come to heighten its beauty, and it looked like some exquisite carving in the whitest marble, rising fairylike out of a sapphire sea. My landing in the evening was just as full of charm. I hurried to the Alameda, the public promenade, where the silence was unbroken, save by the plash of the waves breaking at the foot of the ramparts, or the whisper of the breeze amongst the palm-trees. I caught sight of mysterious couples sitting in the shadows of the alamos, black dresses and mantillas blending with the men's "capas," and from these formless groups a stifled murmur rose, with the noise of fans, like the beating wings of an imprisoned bird. I wandered through the streets and the Plazo Santo Antonio. I saw delightful balconies and glistening eyes that shone behind the lattices; exquisite forms glided over the white flags on which the moonlight fell. I saw, in fine, a city, a whole population, instinct with the breath of love, and I caught the complaint myself. I dreamt of scaling balconies, and of kisses and tender words, jealous rivals draped in black cloaks, and knife-thrusts at street corners under the lamps, and all the struggle and danger and triumph without which life is not life at all. There happened to be a bull-fight, during our short stay in this port, at the Puerto de Santa Maria—one of those bull-fights celebrated in that famous song that every Spaniard hums even nowadays, "Los Toros del Puerto." I took good care not to miss it, and I will take still better care not to describe it, although the chief "espada" was Chiclanero, the handsomest of all those handsome fellows, and the one who was said to have roused the most violently passionate fondness in the fair sex. Fifty years ago there were no railroads in Andalusia, nor carriages either. Majos and Majas (Goya's Majos and Majas still existed in those days) arrived on horseback from all quarters under the burning September sun, and no words of mine can give any idea of the motley crowd in the most brilliant costumes, the perfect orgie of colour presented by the neighbourhood of the plaza, on which, as a finishing touch to the quaintness of the scene, a squadron of yellow dragoons did duty as police! From Cadiz we sailed in company with the frigates La Gloire and La Medee and two steam corvettes which we had found there, and reached Cape Saint Antonio, the most westerly point of Cuba, after a thirty-six days' passage. Once there, the admiral took all the water and provisions out of the Gloire and the Creole, and sent us to revictual at Havana, while he went on his way to Mexico and Vera Cruz. With my habitual extreme indifference to politics (having, in fact, always hated them), I have forgotten to say WHY we were going to Mexico. It was the eternal old story. Demands timidly made and then spurned, insufficient force for action merely increasing the insolence of our opponents, and then the necessity for sending a large and expensive expedition to finish up with. A score of war-vessels, including four frigates and two bomb-vessels, were soon to be collected before Vera Cruz, with a certain number of troops to be landed, and to deal authoritatively with the Mexican Government. Meanwhile we were to go, Captain Laine and I, to Havana, to lay in provisions, take everything we could to the squadron on board, and also, so the admiral had told me confidentially, I was to endeavour personally to get together all the plans and information possible concerning the towns on the Mexican coast and the fort of Saint Juan d'Ulloa, which had all once been Spanish. Nothing could have suited me better than this run to Havana, where we anchored four days later, and of which place I had carried away such pleasant memories seven months before. And as soon as I had paid and returned my official visits, I hurried to the Tacon Theatre, where, in a stage box that I knew right well, I beheld the charming woman who had begun my education as a smoker so prettily during my first visit. We got the worst of news from Mexico. While Admiral Baudin was hurrying thither by forced marches, as it were, the ships that had got there before us had well-nigh raised the blockade. The frigate Herminie had started for France, which she never was to reach. She was wrecked at the Bermudas. The Iphigenie, which Captain de Parseval still commanded had been obliged to depart too, with nothing but a remnant of her crew, the yellow fever, which was then raging, having made terrible ravages on board. I heard of the death of many a good friend. Captain de Parseval had only one officer left (Kerjegu, who in later days was my colleague in the National Assembly) and one cadet, to help him to get his frigate away. There had been a tempest too, which had done a great deal of damage to our cruisers. I saw two come in, the Eclipse, Commander Jame de Bellecroix, and the Laurier, Captain Duquesne, which had been dismasted in the gale, and which had rigged up temporary spars, by means of which they had contrived to crawl into port. All the sails of the Laurier had been carried away, and she was quite helpless in the storm, so her captain, Duquesne, and his second officer, Mazeres, lashed themselves on deck, after having sent the crew below. The violence of the wind laid the ship so completely over on her beam ends that Lieutenant Mazeres, who was carried overboard by a wave, caught hold of the maintop and managed to get back on deck. A moment later the two masts of the brig were broken by the fury of the sea, and thus she regained her balance and was saved. Leaving all these cripples to patch themselves up as best they could, Captain Laine set sail with his frigate and gave me orders to follow. We reached Sacrificios, the nearest anchorage to Vera Cruz, after a rapid passage. Here we learnt that the captain of the Medee, M. Leray, had been sent on a mission to Mexico. Then the admiral himself went off to Xalapa, to confer with the Mexican ministers. Meanwhile the blockade went on, enlivened by privations of every kind, short rations of water, yellow fever, and so forth. Our water was brought from Havana; it came in barrels, and was frequently black and nauseous when it came out of them. Yellow fever stalked abroad. I lingered one night, fishing over the side of the ship, until eleven o'clock, with a strong, healthy, first-class cadet, who had been under me in the watch on board the Didon. A foreboding of some sort seemed to weigh on his mind. I tried to cheer him up, but all in vain. By six o'clock next morning the terrible "vomito" had carried him off. Poor Gouin! I was very fond of him. We buried him on the Sacrificios islet, that gloomy cemetery which later on the Zouaves christened the "Jardin d'Acclimatation." But little happened to vary the monotony of those weeks of waiting. I had gone in my boat one day to take soundings in shore, along the coast stretching from Vera Cruz to Anton Lizardo, when I saw a squadron of Mexican Lancers in their great white hats, looking like a squadron of picadors from a bull-ring, come galloping over the sand-hills. It was more than likely these gentry might fire their carbines at us, and we had no arms to reply with. So I bethought me of an expedient, which turned out quite successful. Instead of retiring as fast as we could row, I ordered my crew to lie motionless on their oars, while with the help of two men I made as though I were carefully preparing, loading, and laying a heavy gun, which was nothing more than a large-sized telescope with which I happened to be provided. The effect was electric. We saw the Mexican squadron make off full tear in every direction, to the delight of my crew. One night we had another adventure. The admiral sent me, with Messrs. Desfosses and Doret, and two engineer officers, Commandant Mangin-Lecreux and Captain Chauchard, to make rather an odd sort of reconnaissance. To understand its nature, my readers must know that the fort of Saint Juan d'Ulloa is set on a great reef, separated from Vera Cruz by a narrow arm of the sea. On the edge of the reef looking towards the town, the walls of the fort, into which huge iron rings for mooring big ships are built, go perpendicularly down into the sea. On the opposite side the glacis runs into a sort of large lake formed by two arms of the reef, level with the surface of the sea. The admiral wanted to know whether the bed of this lake was level, whether it was fordable, and whether, in case of necessity, the glacis and the walls of the fort could be reached from it, after they had been gutted by the big guns. We started, then, one fine night, reached the belt of reef far away from the fort, landed, and walking through the water, which was half way up to our thighs at the start, we bent our course towards the fort, taking soundings before us, as we went, with long sticks. We found much the same depth everywhere, and a sandy bed covered with short seaweed. The sea had doubtless cast all the sand by degrees over the coral reef, and the currents had levelled it. After a long and tiring march through the water, during which we had to stop and take breath every now and again, whispering to each other, like Raffet's engraving of a similar reconnaissance, "Smoking is forbidden, but you can sit down if you like," we had got quite close to the glacis when we heard a shout of "Alerta!" from the sentries. Commandant Mangin, who was determined to touch the glacis with his hand, was a few steps ahead of us. Suddenly a noise arose within the fort, and in the twinkling of an eye we saw about fifty soldiers appear on the crest of the glacis, with their musket barrels glancing. They rushed down at full speed and sprang into the water after us. We of course made off as fast as ever we could. For some minutes it was a downright trial of speed, and Commandant Mangin was all but caught. But though hostilities were imminent, they had not yet actually begun. So the soldiers did not fire, and they soon tired of pursuing us. We got back without any difficulty, except that great fishes, whose every movement was visible in the phosphorescent water, would rush between our legs. Sharks, perhaps! There were numbers of them in those parts. The admiral had learnt what he wanted to know. A few days more and the ball opened. The admiral brought the three frigates, Nereide, Gloire, and Iphigenie (this last came back from Havana with her crew completed by that of Duquesne's brig), and the two bomb-vessels, broadside on, and attacked the fort. I had asked leave to share in the fun, and, to my great grief, he had refused it. He considered my ship too small and insignificant. "I can't possibly take you. I have put the frigate Medee aside too, for I don't consider her guns heavy enough." He sent me to watch the firing of the bomb-vessels, and rectify it if necessary. Before the firing began an incident occurred in which I was directly concerned. As the attack appeared imminent, the ships anchored or moored close to the fort hastened away, and they all passed close to the point where I was posted. At that moment the admiral signalled to me, "Ship in sight looks suspicious; stop her" Ambiguous as our signalling code is, this order seemed evidently to point to seizing one or several of the vessels just leaving the port. Of these there were four, to wit, a Belgian ship, chartered by the admiral to take off the French subjects resident at Vera Cruz if they should be threatened. It could not be that one. Then there was an American vessel, a quasi warship, flying a pennant and armed, what is called a revenue schooner. Thirdly, the British steam-packet Express, also armed and flying a pennant, commanded by a lieutenant in the British Navy, and borne on the Navy List as a ship of war. It could be neither of these two, to my thinking. There only remained a Hamburg vessel, which I ordered to go and anchor under the guns of the corvette Naiade. But at this instant a lieutenant in one of the Nereide's boats came to me and shouted, "The admiral desires you will take the Mexican pilots off all ships going out of port." "Off the English packet too?" I inquired. "The admiral gave no details, he said all pilots." Though it seemed a serious matter to me, considering the touchiness of the English, to take a man off one of their warships, I had no course but to act. The Express had passed astern of me, and I had exchanged friendly greetings with her captain, Lieutenant Cooke, with whom I was acquainted. She was far away already. I hoisted the British flag, and backed my action with a shot across her bow. She brought to, waited for the boat and officer I sent, and the following conversation ensued:— My Officer.—"My orders are to ask you for your pilot." Lieutenant Cooke.—"I want him to get to Sacrificios." My Officer.—"It isn't a mere request I make you." Lieutenant Cooke.—"If I don't give him up, shall you take him by force?" My Officer.—"We trust you will give him up with a good grace, and that we need have no recourse to violence." Lieutenant Cooke.—"That's very well, sir," and the conversation closed with a shake of the hand, once the British commander had cleared himself of responsibility. So the pilot entered my boat, whence the admiral instantly had him fetched. The American revenue schooner gave hers up without making any difficulty, only declaring the admiral responsible for any accident that might happen to the ship for want of a pilot. I have related this incident of the pilot of the Express in detail because it gave rise to a heated discussion in the British Parliament, during which I was personally taken to task and made responsible for a "violation of international law." But the admiral gives the signal to open fire, and the cannonade begins. In one moment I am wrapped in smoke. I not only cannot see to watch the firing, I cannot even see where I am going. The lead gives very little depth, and I see the mud disturbed by my keel rising on the surface of the water. I cannot stay where I am, so I crowd on sail and get out of the smoke. I repeat my petition for leave to take part in the fight to the admiral by signal. His heart is touched, and he answered by the welcome word "Yes," and then I go down the line of frigates, all hotly engaged, especially the Iphigenie. Every minute or two I saw splinters of wood flying into the air, cut out by the shot striking her. She had a hundred and eight in her hull, without counting her spars. There were eight in her foremasts alone. It was a perfect miracle everything did not come by the board. That gallant old fellow Parseval kept walking up and down the poop, rubbing his hands whenever a shot struck near him. It was really a fine sight. We waved our hands to each other, and I went and took up my position at the end of the line of frigates. There I stayed, going to and fro under sail, amid a little racket of my own making. There were hard times within the fort. There had been several explosions already, and it occurred to me to load al my guns with shell and turn them on a sort of tower, called in fortification a cavalier, whence the fire was particularly lively. I had very good gunners, but from my place as commanding officer I could not see where the shots took effect for the smoke. My second officer who was forward, could judge better than me. At the first shot he shouted to me "Good! in the cavalier." The second, "In the cavalier." The third, "In the cavalier." The fourth—nothing was to be seen. A huge cloud of smoke white above, black below, rose from the fort, slowly to a great height above it. When it cleared a little, driven by the wind, there was no cavalier at all. The whole thing had blown up. My crew shouted with delight, and the captain of one of the guns performed a brilliant hornpipe. Was it my shells? Or did the bombs from the bombship do the job? Not one of my brave fellows on the Creole have the shadow of a doubt. Every man has a right to his own opinion. The fire slackened, and I went to take the admiral's orders. The fort surrendered during the night. The garrison, two thousand strong, evacuated the place, and a convention was concluded with the general in command at Vera Cruz for the abstention of both sides from further hostilities. We then occupied the fort, and the admiral gave me orders to moor the Creole under its walls, and together with Comte de Gourdon, commanding the Cuirassier, to put prize crews on board the vessels of the Mexican Navy lying there. With the exception of one pretty corvette, the Iguana, which has been incorporated with our own navy, these prizes were not worth much. The unlucky fort was in a terrible condition. Shot and shell and explosions had destroyed everything. A horrible smell rose from the numerous corpses buried everywhere under the rubbish. Wherever battle had not done its work the most revolting filth reigned supreme, and all this under an equatorial sun and in the midst of the yellow fever. The crew of the Creole was at once set to sanitary work, in company with the detachment of engineer sappers attached to the expedition. We dug out the corpses and towed them out to sea, and several very meritorious instances of self-sacrifice occurred which were duly and publicly recognised by the admiral. My aide-de-camp, M. Desfosses, had drawn up a little code of signals, by means of coloured shirts, with the house of our consul at Vera Cruz, in case of any emergency. Within five days of the taking of the fort we learnt by these signals that the French subjects within the town were in great danger. We immediately sent all our boats to the mole, which was thronged by a distracted crowd of men, women, and children, all of whom we received and transferred to the fort. At the same time our consul informed us that Santa Anna, who had been appointed generalissimo, had just arrived with troops, that he had declared the convention null and void, &c., &c., and that we must be prepared for anything. The admiral, who was some way off, with the squadron, at the Green Island anchorage, was at once warned. Luckily it was fine. If it had not been, no communication with him would have been practicable The admiral himself came that very night, and took up his quarters on board the Creole. In his usual resolute way, he had at once decided to forestall the enemy's action, and, taking advantage of its surprise, to execute such a coup de main with the feeble means at his disposal, as would make it impossible for the city and forts of Vera Cruz to harm us for some time to come at all events. Our night was therefore spent in preparation. The boats of the squadron came in one after the other without any mishap, bringing all the men who could be landed. Counting the three companies of artillery holding the fort, these amounted to about eleven hundred men. We set out between four and five o'clock in the morning in a thick fog. A portion of the troops disembarked, commanded by Captain Parseval, were to scale the small fort on the left of the town with ladders, and then go round the ramparts, spiking the guns, and destroying everything they came across. Another body, under Captain Laine, was to do the same thing on the right-hand side. And a third column in the centre was to land on the mole, blow up the sea gate, and march on General de Santa Anna's headquarters to try and seize his person. My own company, numbering about sixty men, formed the advance guard of this last column, the bulk of which consisted of the three companies of artillery. We started then, with our oars muffled to deaden the noise. We could hardly find our way in the twilight, and had to strain our eyes to see the mole through the mist. The great gate of the city was closed, no sentry outside it. Everything was asleep. We landed in dead silence, and the column formed up. The sappers ran on ahead, laid the powder bag, and masked it, then a sergeant of sappers lighted the match and shrank back behind a projecting bit of wall. Bang! The mask of the petard just grazed our heads, and one side of the gate lay on the ground. At the same moment firing began in the direction of Parseval's column. "Forward! God save the King!" We caught sight of the guard at the gate bolting off, and then lost it in the fog. There wasn't a cat in the streets. The noise of the musketry fire had driven in anybody who might have been out. Led by a guide we passed at a swinging pace down a street which brought us to the Mexico gate. Here the fog lifted a little. A few shots and bayonet thrusts got rid of the guard at the gate. Just at this moment a barouche galloped up from within the town. It was drawn by six mules with picturesque-looking postilions, in broad-brimmed hats. It was the barouche which had brought Santa Anna, trying to get into the open country. We shot down two or three of the mules, but the carriage was empty. We then received a heavy discharge of musketry from about a hundred and fifty soldiers who forthwith disappeared down a side street. They were the headquarters guard. Off we tore after them, and were just in time to see the last of them go into a big house which my guide informed me was the headquarters of the military governor. A huge court with galleries running round it, and above them on the first floor more arcades, adorned with flowers in pots and climbing plants, met our gaze when we entered. A sharp fire poured from the first floor the instant we appeared in the courtyard. Hesitation would be fatal. We must get upstairs and bring those folk to their senses. A narrow stairway was the only road. Well, every man must own to some weakness! When I saw that staircase, up which I should have to go first, and receive the first volley alone when I got to the top, I wavered for a moment, and waving my sword, I shouted, "Volunteers to the front!" My quartermaster, a Parisian, rushed to the staircase, and the sight brought me back to a sense of my duty. I rushed after him. We raced against each other, and I had the satisfaction of getting to the top a good first, followed indeed by my whole company. There was nothing so very terrible about it after all. At first we found ourselves in a sort of vestibule; an ill-directed fire, which wounded two of our officers only, pouring on us through the doors and windows. Then each of us set to work on his own account. A second boatswain, of the name of Jadot, and I threw ourselves against a door and broke it in with our shoulders. When it gave, I was shot forward by my men pushing on behind me, and hurled into a room full of smoke and Mexican soldiers. One of them, in a white uniform and red epaulettes (I see his straight Indian hair and wicked eye yet), was aiming at me with the barrel of his musket close to my face. I had just time to say to myself, "I'm done for." But no, there was no shot, the gun fell on my feet, and I saw my gentleman roll under a sofa carrying the sword with which Penaud, my lieutenant, had run him through as quick as lightning, stuck between his ribs. |