Brownsville, March 8th. Almost a calm this clear morning, but occasionally a soft breeze, so gentle as just to wave the white cover of the table at which I sat. From time to time a distant hammer sluggishly drove a nail, and the proud cock was heard to boast his self-importance in a shrill crow, the same I have heard from Berlin to this lonely place; the mocking-birds sang just as they did in my happiest days in beautiful Louisiana; my heart went back to my home, and a foreboding of evil seemed to come over me.
Brownsville is one of those little places like thousands of others in our Southern states; little work and large profits give an undue share of leisure without education or refinement, consequently drinking-houses and billiards with the etc. are abundant. The river here is narrow and rapid, and crossed by two ferry-boats swung on hawsers in the old-fashioned way stretching from bank to bank of the great "Rio Grande del Norte." They do a thriving business, as Matamoras contains many Mexicans who do both a wholesale and retail "running business," that is, smuggling.
March 10th. Col. Webb and the company came up last evening on the "Mentoria," Captain Duffield. He stayed over night and after purchasing a few barrels of rice at about twice its cost at New Orleans, and one or two little additions to our already large stock of necessaries, we set sail in the "Corvette," Captain O'Daniel. Some time was lost in our progress that night, as we stuck on the bar just above the town, however we soon went on, and I found this river quite different from the usual run of its channel, as after every rise, which is not often at this season, the channel is left full of mud, and the deepest water for a week or so outside the regular channel.
I do not believe any part of this country can be good for a thing, as the rain is so uncertain in its favors. The miserable Mexicans, who live far apart, at distances of ten or even twenty miles from each other, do not plant their patches of corn with any certainty that it will mature, the rain failing to come to fill the ears more frequently than it comes.
The ranchos are forlorn "Jacals" (a sort of openwork shed covered with skins and rushes and plastered with mud, here so full of lime and marl that it makes a hard and lasting mortar), precisely alike, varying only in picturesqueness of tree or shrub, or rather shrub alone, for there are no fine trees here, though the musquit[8] and willow sometimes arrive at the height of twenty or twenty-five feet, and back from the river the hackberry attains a tolerable size.
A tall reed of rank growth in thickets, and in other places a dwarf willow in patches like the young cottonwoods along the banks of the Mississippi, are the chief growth.
The water is warm, and so full of lime as to create, rather than allay thirst; what but necessity could ever have induced settlers to remain here I can not tell, for the whole trip from Brownsville to Camp Ringgold[9] does not present one even tolerable view; and the most pleasing sight to us was our own bright flag, one minute fluttering in a southeast breeze, then gently falling to its rough flag-staff, and again, five minutes after, blowing furiously from the northwest, so changeable are the winds; we hoisted our flag in return, and came to, just under Major Lamotte's[10] tent.
Col. Webb went in to see him alone, to induce him to allow us to go as far as Roma, but it appeared that Major Chapman had given orders to the contrary, as our boat was so large that her return would be doubtful, so we were taken only two miles further up the river, and put out on the Mexican side, on a sandbar, opposite Rio Grande City. It was two o'clock, the sun pouring down on us, the mercury 98 degrees in the shade, nevertheless with all our winter blood in us, we had to unload our heavy luggage. Casks of government tents and camp equipage, which we were obliged to roll sixty or seventy yards through mud and sand, was hard work. This began to tell the tale. The good men went at it with a will, the dandies looked at their hands, touched a bacon barrel, rubbed their palms together, looked again, and put on gloves; but it would not do, and out of our ninety-eight men, only about eighty were at their work with good will and cheerful hearts, but all was soon done, and I gave a sort of melancholy glance at the "Corvette" as she started off. The Captain had been very kind to us and we gave him three cheers, and turned to set up our tents for the first time. We adhered closely to military style, and our straight line of tents did not vary; dry sand or wet mud had no effect on our position. In the cool of the evening after I had done all I could for the comfort of those around me, I stretched myself out, with hat, coat and boots off, to look at the busy scene around me. Gaily and cheerfully everything went on, under a clear sky like that of August at home, with all the soft, balmy, summer-like feeling. About me were the familiar notes of dozens of mocking-birds and thrushes. I opened out the nucleus of my collections, a little package of birdskins; a new thrush, a beautiful green jay, a new cardinal, were side by side with two new wood-peckers and a little dove, all new to our fauna, and I carefully spread them out to dry, and admired them. The sun went down, our supper was ready, and never did a company enjoy their meals more than we did for the first two days we were ashore, when exercise and good health gave a relish to everything. Our guard was set and detailed for the night, and I turned in on my blankets with a short prayer for health and continuance of blessings on my family.
CHAPTER II
DISASTER IN THE VALLEY OF THE RIO GRANDE
March 13th, 1849. Daylight came in beautiful and calm, but we were enveloped in a dense fog, so heavy that though the clear sky could be seen over head, not more than fifty yards could be distinguished about us, and the tents looked as if we had had a heavy rain in the night.