Scott, however, was determined to forestall the danger of a quarrel. Immediately on suggesting to the government that as head of the army he was the proper individual to command the Vera Cruz expedition, he notified Taylor of this action, and only two days after receiving his appointment he drafted a letter informing that officer about the matter; but the President, regarding absolute secrecy as a prime requisite, would not permit him to mention it.[14] A few days later (November 25) he wrote from New York to this effect: I am going to Mexico and shall conduct operations in a new field; where that is to be I cannot safely state, but with the aid of advices received from Washington you can imagine; new forces have been called out, yet—as the season of yellow fever is at hand—I shall have to take most of your troops; your victories, however, have placed you on such an eminence that you can afford to act on the defensive for a time, and before spring I think you will be able to resume active operations; I desire to consult with you, and plan to be at Camargo for that purpose about the twenty-third of December.[15] The letter was confidential and cordial; and having now done what he could to conjure the tempest, as well as to prepare for his work, the General sailed from New York the last day of November. The voyage to New Orleans, hindered by the weather, took nearly three weeks. He made a brief and busy stay in that city, and two days after Christmas he reached Brazos Island.[16]
Certain steps tending to facilitate his enterprise had now been taken by General Taylor. December 10 the temporary Field Division organized at Camargo was broken up—the Georgia, Mississippi and First Tennessee regiments reporting to Quitman, and the Ohio and Kentucky regiments to Butler; the First Division (regulars) under Twiggs was reorganized;[17] on December 13 and 14, a day apart, this division and Quitman’s brigade set out for Victoria, nearly 200 miles distant; and on the fifteenth Taylor himself, leaving Butler behind to command at Monterey, followed them.[23]
It was not pleasant marching, for a long drought had burned everything up, the sun blazed with intense heat, and the road, when not covered with small, sharp stones, was ankle-deep in light dust; but the inspiring Saddle Mountain seemed to keep company with the troops all day, Cerralvo Mountain hung like a dark shadow on the left, the cool blue line of the Sierra Madre extended on the right farther than the eye could see, and the town first reached—Cadereita, about twenty-five miles from Monterey—burying its white houses in orange groves, looking out over gardens, and looking down from a low bluff into the clear waters of the Topo Grande, was delightful. December 17 the infantry arrived at Montemorelos, a small town at the foot of the sierra, planted beside a swift, cool stream, full of trout, that watered a beautiful valley, and suggesting at a distance under the blue sky—wrote a surgeon—a pearl set in an azure stone. Here the command absorbed the Second Infantry and the Second Tennessee; and it now amounted to some 3500 men, of whom rather more than a third were regulars.[23]
But Santa Anna was not asleep. Learning of Taylor’s proposed march and believing that Wool had left Parras for Chihuahua, he determined to advance about December 24, strike at Saltillo and Monterey in person with 9000 picked infantry, 4000 cavalry and twelve guns, despatch troops from Tula against the Americans at Victoria, and finally close in upon Taylor with his own forces; and a large part of these troops actually set out. Worth got wind of danger, however, on December 16; in accordance with instructions previously given he called for help;[18] and in the evening of the next day four grimy troopers burst upon Taylor at Montemorelos with the startling intelligence, that Santa Anna would attack Worth in three days. Ordering Quitman to proceed, Taylor therefore set out on December 18 with his regulars for Saltillo. Butler, calling a regiment from Camargo to Monterey, reached the front with his own forces on December 19, and Wool arrived there two days later. Santa Anna, discovering Wool’s march by December 24, countermanded his orders; and Taylor, learning on December 20 while between Monterey and Saltillo, of Wool’s advance and the non-appearance of the Mexicans, and concluding there was no danger, turned back.[23]
On the twenty-third he again left Monterey, and the next day he received Scott’s New York letter.[19] His presence with the forces was not at all requisite. No serious fight was in prospect, for Quitman had reported nothing of the sort. There was at least one topographical engineer in the command, who could make better notes of the country than he.[20] Probably his military engineers also, among whom figured Robert E. Lee, afterwards the famous Confederate leader, were there; and as for disposing of the troops, General Scott’s letter gave him reason to believe, that a superior officer was now on the ground with new plans. His obvious duty was therefore to report at Camargo, the place mentioned by Scott, or at least await instructions at Monterey. But the stout old gentleman in the loose olive-brown frock-coat, wool socks and Mexican sombrero had a temper and several ideas of his own. Probably he did not wish to arrange matters amicably; and he kept straight on for ten days, plunging farther and farther toward the remotest portion of his field, inaccessible from any and every point where Scott might by any reasonable possibility chance to be. Indeed, Scott’s letter was not answered for two days, and eight more passed before the answer, which stated that General Taylor was going to Victoria, reached Camargo.[23]
TAYLOR’S MARCH TO VICTORIA
Beyond Montemorelos a great deal of the country was rough, and it was intersected with chilly streams, waist-deep, that cut like a knife as the hot soldiers plunged in; but an incessant variety of novel scenes kept up their spirits. Groves of ebony sheltered bears and wolves. Wild turkeys and wild hogs abounded; and almost every evening ten or twelve deer were brought in. Here flourished pecans, live-oaks and immense trees of lignum vitæ; there an endless procession of ants wound along their smoothly worn trail; yonder towered a mountain of gleaming porphyry set off with dark green foliage, and at all times fleecy clouds could be seen drifting languidly across the slopes of the curiously wrought sierra. Finally the troops entered the rich valley of Linares. On the one hand lay wide cornfields or perhaps a thousand acres of sugarcane in a single, well-irrigated lot; on the other apple and peach orchards, orange and lemon groves with tempting gleams amidst their dark leaves, and half a mile or so of fig-trees. Then came the gardens and flat houses of the town itself, a dull place, with some smiling and some tearful eyes looking out from the grated windows.[23]
Then forward again marched the troops, passing out of the valley into wild country full of chaparral and mesquite, where sometimes wolves trotted along the road ahead of them like dogs. The need of water determined the length of the daily march; but usually there was enough of it, shaded sometimes by noble cypresses dripping with Spanish moss. Once a real norther set in, and the troops choked for twenty miles in a driving cloud of dust;[21] but through it they caught glimpses of a high cliff that looked like an immense pink and yellow dome, and another cheering bit of color now and then was Señor Don So-and-so, the alcalde, dressed in white and a red sash, with silver coins all over his clothing, saddle and bridle. Usually the weather held fair, and a blanket supported by four stakes answered the purpose of a tent well enough.[23]
But the faces of the people grew dark occasionally, and once they muttered something like “Fandango poco tiempo,” which signified, “You’ll be fighting pretty soon.” Then the soldiers cheered till they were hoarse. Fatigue and supper were forgotten. “Turn out, turn out!” was the cry. The column formed, and dashed down the hill at a double quick; but for enemy it found only the trim white cottage of a Frenchman, planted beside a rippling stream amid laden orange trees gilded by the setting sun. There had been rumors of Mexican cavalry ahead, but no cavalry could be seen;[22] and as for irregulars, both funds and arms were lacking, and the close wall of prickly pear five or ten feet high, which ran on each side of the road almost without a break for nearly two hundred miles, would have kept them off as it did the breeze. And so on January 4 Taylor and the regulars entered Victoria, a small, neat city at the foot of wooded mountains, which Quitman had occupied with some formality six days before. “Victoria is taken. It was a bloodless victory. But where is Victoria?” said the New York Herald.[23]
PATTERSON’S MARCH TO VICTORIA