Los gringos; or, An inside view of Mexico and California

by H. A. Wise

With the fresh air of morning we left Madelena, and kept for some miles along the borders of a broad, shallow lake, of the same name, until the road diverged to the right, when we were obliged to forsake the good ground, and level country, for tedious labor, over mule paths and rugged mountains.

At Muchatilti we passed some ninety soldiers, horse and foot, barefoot, conveying a pack of rascally-looking thieves, and a small field piece. They were attended by twice this number of women and children, who at times relieved their liege lords of muskets or equipments, with the weight of camp utensils on their heads. On questioning a sergeant belonging to the detachment, he told me they generally marched four leagues a day, and in many places were obliged to throw the gun from its carriage, and transport each part separately for leagues at a time. This person also assured me, that he had served at the battle of Buena Vista, and with his company of infantry had marched twenty-eight leagues in forty-eight hours, with but a pint of parched Indian corn, and a quart of water per man! So far as marching, and powers of enduring privation go, I presume the Mexicans can do as much, if not more, than other nations. They are not deficient in courage either, when well officered and led—some of their bloody internal struggles attest it—but with us they proved sadly deficient in both.

I have but little knowledge of what constitutes the proper field for extended military operations; but from a few indifferent ideas picked up in other countries, as well as in this trip through Mexico, I think I may hazard the belief that in the line of march from Guadalajara towards the Pacific, there are seldom met with positions adapted to the operations of large bodies of troops, and save in the vicinity of large towns, an army of any magnitude would find difficulty in procuring subsistence; for the country is thinly populated, and but little land under cultivation, and though I should judge not totally impassible for artillery, it certainly seems an impracticable route for a numerous train, or heavy guns.

Making no longer stay at the brightly-stained inn of Muchatilti than was requisite to swallow a cup of coffee, and thrash a filthy Indian for being caught flagrante delictu—stealing a bit of silver from my bridle—we traversed the table-land beyond, and began zigzaging through defiles of mountains on the approach to the Plan de Barrancas. The sky became overcast—thunder was growling angrily in the distance, when we overtook a drove of mules, the arrieros urging them at speed down a valley to escape the fury of the impending storm. Descending to the base of a gorge, we crossed the rocky bed of a rippling brook, and removing the saddles from our horses, led them above, and secured them to a tree, whilst we ascended still higher, and sought refuge under the lee of a great shelving crag that had once formed part of the stupendous wall, five thousand feet above us. Rain began to fall in large heavy drops, lightning to glare, and thunder came nearer. The air was perfectly still; and the sharp whistles and cries of the drivers echoed and re-echoed from side to side of the chasm, as they hurried their beasts across the stream. By-and-by a strong gust of wind went rushing overhead, the thunder came crashing yet closer, the dark slate-colored clouds poured down in torrents, and lightning forked, flashing and vivid, made the narrow valley tremulous with noise and fire. The rain descended in unbroken sheets, and in an inconceivably short space of time, the bubbling brook had become a boiling torrent, swelling and leaping from rock to rock, until, at last, joining in the uproar of rain, wind, flame and thunder, the rocks themselves were loosened, and came rumbling and crashing down the steep gorges, and were swept away in the whirlpool of foaming waters. He who has never beheld a quickly-raised storm amid wild mountain passes, and the amazing power of the elements, can have but a vague idea of Nature when clothed in all her angry grandeur and sublimity.

The nubarrada was soon over, but the whole face of the valley was changed: trees and undergrowth had been torn up by the roots or washed down—deep fissures had been cut wherever the red clayey soil gave play to the impetuous currents—masses of basaltic granite had been dislodged, thrown from their foundations, hurled some distance below, and either served to block up some open channel, or enlarge others; and the point where the path crossed the stream had been burrowed out into a deep, raging pool, which would in future be impassible.

One of the poor mules belonging to the drove, with his cargo of sugar, had been caught and carried away in the contending water; the arrieros cursed like infidels, and wickedly declared they had long before wished a like fate might befall him for his stupidity.

As the thunder went muttering to the adjacent mountains, and the flood was still deluging our devoted heads, I yelled into the ear of Cypriano, who all the while kept his cigarillo alight, that it was una cosa rica—a fine display—tiene ud rason—"there's sense in that," said the old man, "but wouldn't you rather have a dry serapa and calconcillos?" So forthwith he wrung the moisture from my garments, and we prepared the horses for service. Leading them by a dangerous foothold down the course of the stream, we came to an enlarged basin, and halted on a smooth belt of rocks. Here the sun shown again warm and cheerily—we dried our reeking raiment, and I amused myself the while under a light cascade of turbid water.

At midday we had toiled slowly up the steep sides of the Barrancas, and four hours later, left the last link of the Sierra, and drew bridles at Istlan. Having no further need of the post administrador, or the services of his vivo mule, I sought the public meson. Here were seated under the portals a select group of politicians, listening to, and commenting upon an article in an old newspaper, read with much emphasis by a dirty jacketless person, with a head so large, and buried so deeply between his shoulders, as to bear a close resemblance to a turtle. Señor, said he, as I dismounted, rising with a graceful gesture, "the good patron of the inn is away; the caballero who addresses you is the well known licenciado Don Augustin Jarano—criado de vd: What can be done for you? that is a noble animal you bestride; he is tired! beat out—dead! You will profit by an exchange—my friend, here," winking to one of his auditors, "has an angel of a beast—tienes sobre pasos—has a gait like a lady—paces! and has refused two ounces—eh! no! quarante douros—forty hard dollars!" Buéno, I replied, much to the horror of my guide, who began to think the sharp advocate was going to become the owner of the pinto. After a world of tugging and struggling a miserable spavined nag was pulled from a corral to the patio, and secured to a post. Waiting until the praises of this muy bueno cavallo—this fine steed—had been fully sounded, I made them a prompt offer of six rials for him as he stood!—when, finding the gringo was not to be so easily jockeyed, they declared he was not worth half the money, and we became warm friends at once. I tarried an hour, discussing the right of church taxation; when Cypriano, having had a fowl grilled, a bowl of frijoles, bread, and country wine, snugly stowed in the alforgas, I informed my acute acquaintances that I was bound to Guadalajara, bid them adios, and after skirting the pretty town, turned to the opposite direction. It is always advisable in Mexico while travelling, to avoid if possible public places, and keep the destination secret; for the compadres—highwaymen—are often in collusion with people about mesons and derive information of the guests from those sources.