University of Virginia Library

25. The Guerrilla Queen.

“Before I tell you my story, gentlemen,” said Captain
Sheldon, as a small party of us sat around the festive
board, “I will give you a toast. Fill up your glasses,
and let it be drank in silence.”

And as we all complied, the captain rose and said, with
much solemnity—

“To the memory of the brave heroes who fell at Monterey.”

An impressive silence of some moments followed, during
which we all drank and the speaker resumed his seat.

“I believed I promised you a somewhat romantic story,
in which I happened to play a rather important part,”
proceeded Captain Sheldon, as one collecting his thoughts
for a direct, straightforward narration. “Well, here you
have it, then; and I am inclined to think the facts will
interest you, even if my manner of telling them does not.

“It is needless,” pursued the captain, “to enter into
any description of the storming of Monterey, for with the
general facts you are all familiar; and it is also needless

to tell you that, as one of that glorious band of heroes
known as the Texas Rangers—or, as General Worth was
pleased to style us, the Texas Dragoons—I saw some
pretty hard fighting during that memorable siege.

“We had taken Fort Teneria, the Bishop's Palace, and
some other strong positions, and had concentrated our
forces upon the town, and were forcing our way as best we
could to the Cathedral Plaza, where the main body of the
enemy was then stationed. The conflict was terrible and
at its height, and the roar of cannon, the sharp rattle of
musketry, the thunder of ilashing artillery, the battering in
of doors, the pecking through thick walls, the loud commands
of officers, the shouts of the assailants, the groans
of the wounded, and the shrieks of terrified women and
children—all together made a most horrid din, such as I
never wish to hear again.

“The streets being barricaded, and each building turned
into a sort of fortified castle—from the flat roofs of which,
behind breastworks of sandbags, the enemy continually
poured down a most destructive fire—it became necessary
for a portion of the troops to enter these buildings, force
a passage through from one to the other, dislodge the
garrison of each, and use them as safe coverts from which
to annoy the foe in turn.

“In this hazardous occupation I had been engaged for
several hours, and had witnessed some fearful scenes—as,

in cutting our way through from one house to the other,
we had occasionally come in contact with men brave
enough to bar our passage with their lives—when suddenly,
just as I had thrown myself down on a seat, to get
my breath and a few moments rest, I heard the wild shout
that announced the successful passage of our little band
into another adjoining building. Fairly mingled with
this shout were the reports of fire-arms, the clash of steel
and the shrieks of women. There was no time for me to
be idle now; and starting up, I ran forward, with my
sword in one hand and a revolver in the other. Making
my way to the aperture which had been forced through
the two walls, I entered an apartment dim with smoke,
where all was excitement and confusion. Our party, still
victorious, were mostly grouped around two wounded
comrades; while near them lay two dead Mexicans, their
companions having fled; and in one corner several women
were huddled together, greatly terrified and shrieking for
mercy, supposing us from all they had heard to be no
better than so many savages.

“As I could speak Spanish so as to be readily understood,
I stepped forward to the frightened females, and
had just begun to utter a few words calculated to allay
their fears, when I fancied I heard a heavy, jarring sound
in an adjoining room, and a wild cry in Spanish of—

“ `Spare him! spare him! he is my father!'

“Perceiving a door, which I thought might lead to the
room in question, I sprung to it, tore it open, and, in the
center of a small apartment, at once beheld three figures—
an old man grappled with a young one—and a beautiful
female, with her arms partly thrown around the elder, as
if to draw him away and shield him, while a prayer for
mercy was issuing from her lips.

“ `Hold!' I shouted, in a tone that instantly arrested
the action of all parties. `Señor,' I quickly added in
Spanish, addressing the old gentleman, `you must at once
yield yourself a prisoner of war, or I cannot be answerable
for the consequences!'

“ `He had already done so, Señor Caballero, when this
fellow attempted to rob him, and he grappled with him to
prevent himself from being plundered,' said the female,
turning upon me a most beautiful face, and fixing upon me
a pair of most bewitching black eyes.

“ `What! have we a common highwayman and thief
among us?' cried I, turning fiercely upon the Ranger,
whose now downcast and guilty look at once convinced me
that the accusation was just.

“He began to stammer forth some excuse; but I interrupted
and ordered him out of sight, with the threat of
most severe punishment in the event of my hearing anything
more to his disgrace.

“ `Oh, thanks, noble sir! many, many thanks!' cried

the female, springing forward, seizing my hand, and
impulsively carrying it to her lips. `Oh, spare him!' she
continued, fixing her large, soft, lustrous eyes upon me, in
the most fascinating manner in the world; `spare him!
spare my father! and Heaven will bless you, and Paula
will ever remember you with gratitude!'

“ `Be assured, fair lady, he is only a prisoner of war,
and not a hair of his head shall be injured!' was my
gallant reply, as I looked steadily into the dark, soul-speaking
eyes so near to mine, and felt a strange, romantic
fascination stealing over me.

“ `Father do you hear that?' said Paula, joyfully.
`See what it is to meet with a noble officer! Pray step
into that closet there, and bring him some refreshments.'

“ `Thanks, fair lady!' said I, as the old gentleman
opened a side door and disappeared as directed. `Hard
fighting, and a long fast, are truly calculated to give a
man an appetite, and I flatter myself I shall be able to do
justice to your fare.'

“ `Oh, this siege is terrible for all parties!' said Paula;
and she continued talking on the subject for a minute or
two, when she stopped suddenly, and saying, `Pray exeuse
me till I can see what detains my father,' she hurried out
through the same door, closing it after her.

“At this moment some of the men came in from the
other room, when I informed them what had occurred, and

that shortly we were to have something to break our long
fast. But when some five minutes had passed away,
without the re-appearance of either Paula or her father, we
all began to grow impatient; and going to the door, I
opened it, and discovered it was only a ruse of the girl to
effect her own and her father's escape—for the door merely
opened into a vestibule, which led into a garden—the
house itself being built rather after the English than the
Spanish style.

“Well, the escape was a trivial thing in itself, and, after
a few playful comments from my comrades, the subject was
dropped and the incident forgotten, we having enough
before us of a more serious nature to occupy our minds.

“I pass over the siege—for that is a matter of history.
The American army, as the world knows, was victorious;
and after three or four days hard fighting on both sides,
the Mexicans capitulated, and were allowed to march out
of the city with the honors of war.

“A few days after this event, the Rangers were mustered
out of service, and I found myself once more master
of my time and person. I lingered about the town for a
few days longer, and then set off with a train for Camargo,
on my return to the United States.

“I pass over several little incidents, which might or
might not interest you, but which have no bearing on the
story it is my purpose to relate. About twelve or fifteen

miles from Mier, the train halted late one hot afternoon;
and being told that a small party of our men had ridden
on to Mier, and might easily be overtaken, I resolved to
push on alone for that purpose.

“The road, somewhat hilly, and passing over an almost
barren waste of country, I knew to be dangerous, from the
prowling bands of robbers and guerrillas that infested it;
and had I not felt certain of overtaking the party in
advance before nightfall, I should not have attempted it
alone.

“But as fortune would have it, I got benighted without
overtaking my comrades; and in one of the most gloomy
and dismal places on the route—a deep, dark hollow,
between two steep hills—I found myself suddenly jerked
from my horse to the ground, by means of a lasso, which
had been thrown over my head with unerring aim, and
which, falling over my arms, so completely pinioned them
to my body, as to prevent my drawing a single weapon in
my defence.

“Scarcely had I struck the ground, when two men
sprung upon me, and I could see the bright blades of
their weapons gleam in the dim light.

“ `For God's sake, gentlemen, do not murder me!' I
cried in Spanish, though with little hope that my prayer
would be heeded—for I had seen more than one cross on
my route, to note the spot where some solitary traveler

had fallen a victim to these so-called knights of the
road.

“ `Who are you?' gruffly demanded one of the two, as
he determinedly put his hand upon my throat and raised
his knife, as I believed, for the fatal stoke.

“ `Why don't you finish him, Guido?' said a voice at a
short distance from me; and glancing my eyes in the direction
of the speaker, I dimly perceived three or four figures
grouped together, one of whom had my horse by the bit.
`Why don't you finish him, I say? what is it to you who
or what he is?'

“ `Why, if he's a gentleman,' returned Guido, as he
deliberately brought the point of the sharp weapon down
upon my naked throat, `who knows but he might pay us a
handsome ransom for his life!'

“I caught at the suggestion, and instantly replied:

“ `I will—I will! I am a gentleman of means, and will
pay you any ransom that we may agree upon, at any place
convenient to both.'

“ `Fools! why do you dally?—dead men tell no tales!'
cried another voice behind me, which not only sounded like
that of a woman, but which, strangely enough, I fancied
was not altogether unfamiliar to me.

“ `Can it be possible that one of the gentler sex decrees
me to death?' said I; while the ruffian, whose hand and

knife were upon my throat, seemed to wait for some reply
before the completion of his bloody work.

“ `Hold, Guido—stay your hand!' said the same feminine
voice. `Who are you, sir?' was next addressed
to me.

“Instantly the truth flashed upon me. I had heard that
voice before—it was a woman's—and that woman had had
reason to remember me gratefully.

“ `If it is Paula who asks that question, I am the officer
who saved her father at the storming of Monterey,' was
my reply to the interrogation.

“ `Ha! is it so indeed?' said the same voice. `Back,
there, Pablo and Guido!' and as the ruffians released their
hold of me, a woman's face was brought close to mine,
and that face I could see was Paula's. `It is true!' she
proceeded after a close scrutiny of my features; `this gentleman
did save my father, and for that act is now free.
Señor Cabellero,' she continued, addressing me, `accept
my regrets for the trouble we have given you, and my congratulations
that nothing more serious has occurred!
Arise, sir—you are free. Mount your horse and away,
with a God-speed and without question! and when you
relate this adventure to your friends, tell them you found
gratitude even in the breast of Paula Mendolez, the Guerrilla
Queen.'

“ `Thanks, fair lady—a thousand thanks for my life!'
said I, as I started to my feet, though even then fearful
of a treacherous stab from the sullen and disappointed
bandits.

“ `Away!' said Paula, sternly; `and let us never meet
again—for though we part as friends now, we should next
meet as foes. We are quits now. You saved my father's
life, and I have saved yours. Adios!'

“It needed no special urging to get me into the saddle;
and finding myself clear of the robbers, and once more
under way, I drove the spurs into my horse; and, in less
than an hour, the foam-covered beast stood panting beside
my comrades in the town of Mier.

“Such, gentlemen, is in brief the story I promised,”
concluded the captain, refilling his glass. “I see you all
look as if you would ask for more facts—but I have none
to give. Who Paula Mendolez really was, and what
became of her, I know no more than you. I only know
we met and parted in the manner I have stated, and that
I still feel very grateful to her for having my head on my
shoulders to-night, to tell you the story. Fill up, gentlemen,
and here is to the very good health of the Guerrilla
Queen.”