OPERATIONS AT THE SOUTHEAST
The Mississippi now bore the red pennant of Matthew C. Perry, who was to have command of the squadron on Conner’s retirement, and meantime, feeling anxious to serve, contented himself with the dignity of a vice commodore and acted as a captain; and since not only the Vixen but coal to make her effective were at last on hand, Conner despatched his energetic lieutenant southeastward, on the next day after the second Alvarado fiasco, with all the vessels employed in that affair except one of the gunboats. After seizing on the way an American barque, found in communication with Mexicans, Perry entered Tabasco River on the twenty-third, took possession of the town (Frontera), and the next day—transferring men from his flagship, which drew too much water for the bar, to the captured Petrita, a small but swift American-built steamer—he proceeded about seventy-five miles up the rapid and winding stream through heavy and splendid forests, disabling the guns of a small, deserted fort on the way, and reached San Juan Bautista, capital of the state of Tabasco, and seat of an active commerce in munitions and other goods, that reached as far as Mexico City. Here five merchant vessels fell into his possession. But now, unfamiliar with Mexican tactics, Perry blundered into peremptorily summoning the town, which J. B. Traconis, the comandante general, refused to give up.[18]
San Juan Bautista was a small, dull city of broad streets and one-story brick houses, lying in a wide plain. In spite of scandalous desertion Traconis probably had about 400 men supported by two small guns. These forces he broke into a number of parties and placed in the outskirts. Perry opened fire on the town with cannon, and after a time sent a party ashore. A skirmish followed, but nothing decisive could be accomplished, and after sunset, fearing the sailors would be shot down in the streets during the night, he recalled them.[18]
On the following day the foreigners protested against the bombardment. Negotiations were then tried; but the Comandante General, who cared much for his dignity and nothing for the people, insisted on playing out his rôle of the fearless patriot. Since it was impracticable to garrison the town, Perry decided to retire. But as one of the prizes grounded near the shore and a party of the Mexicans—although a white flag could be seen on the Vixen and other vessels—fired on the Americans who were aboard, causing the death of one and injuring two more, he resumed the cannonade. Of course the enemy gracefully withdrew; and then Perry did the same, leaving Traconis to magnify his triumph. The McLane and Forward were left at Frontera to blockade the river and protect neutrals; and after burning four vessels and capturing one more on the way, Perry rejoined Conner on the last day of the month with nine prizes. In its real aim the expedition had succeeded; but the affair at San Juan Bautista had been so indecisive and murderous that even American soldiers, eager to claim credit and inured to the chances of war, felt humiliated.[18]
The fortnight of activity and excitement cheered the men of the squadron a great deal, however, and then followed the capture of Tampico, which delighted Secretary Mason beyond measure, and gave the newspapers genuine material for a “noise.” When this affair, including the trip up the Pánuco, ended, Conner despatched his lieutenant southeastward in the Vixen, accompanied by two gunboats. December 21, at the town of Laguna on El Carmen Island, Yucatan, Perry seized a couple of small forts, garrisoned by a few timid soldiers, and disabled the guns; and after reinforcing the blockade of Tabasco River, looking into the coastal waters, and making two prizes on his return voyage, he joined the squadron two days after Christmas. A visit of Conner’s to the same point the following month ended important operations in this quarter for some time. The occupation of Laguna checked a thriving illicit commerce by the river that entered the Gulf here.[19]
All this while the haughty, outstanding challenge—the scalp-lock, so to speak—of Mexico, the fortress of San Juan de Ulúa in Vera Cruz harbor, remained secure. The capture of it, many of our citizens felt, would wrap the Gulf in a blaze of American glory; and young Porter, young Farragut and other possible Decaturs had plans of attack ready. But older men thought the enterprise impracticable for the navy alone. At the beginning of the war Bancroft expressly notified Conner that his forces were not deemed adequate for such an undertaking. Not only had the fortress been strongly and shrewdly constructed, but the channel that led to it was narrow and winding, so that a mishap would have endangered all of the attacking vessels. The French had taken it in 1838, but only by good luck and a sort of treachery, and since that year it had been greatly strengthened. Conner and Scott agreed that it could not be captured by the fleet. But in March, 1847, misfortune overtook Ulúa, for Scott, supported brilliantly by the naval forces, laid siege to Vera Cruz.[20]
PERRY SUCCEEDS CONNER
To the Home Squadron and its commander as well as to the “castle” this event signified a great deal. In fact it brought Conner both to the climax and to the tragedy of his professional career. It enabled him to display in the debarkation his real abilities; and then precipitated him on the eve of a triumph into oblivion. His regular term as commander had expired in November, 1846, and Perry notified him that a successor was ready. But Conner held Bancroft’s promise of an indefinite continuance in his position; he doubtless felt that after long withholding needed means, the department owed him a chance to do something worth while; and when he found that Scott was to move against Vera Cruz, he saw his opportunity. Unfortunately for him the change of secretaries, the complaints and bold proposals of young officers, and the clamor of the public, ignorant both of what had been possible and of what had been accomplished, had undermined his position.[21]
In January, 1847, Slidell informed the government that Conner had lost not only his physical and mental vigor but the confidence of his men. The following month Perry, whose ship had gone to Norfolk for repairs, visited Washington frequently; and how that ambitious, coarse-grained, wilful man talked, one can readily imagine. Besides, while Perry’s outfit of Christian graces was noticeably defective, it could not be denied that he possessed energy and a fighting temper. The government therefore decided that Conner had not “shown himself equal to the crisis.” March 3 a change of commanders was ordered; and when the dénouement of the operations at Vera Cruz approached, instead of gracefully permitting Conner to finish what he had begun, “Old Bruin,” as the sailors called Perry, insisted upon his rights. March 21, therefore, his broad blue pennant went up on the Mississippi, and in a few days his name shone forth in the capitulation of Vera Cruz and Ulúa. “Poor Commodore Conner,” said Marcy.[21]
Only one important fortified place on the Gulf, Tuxpán, now flew the tricolor, and it was a point of pride to capture the town, for guns from the Truxtun—our finest brig, wrecked on the bar—had been mounted there, and the strength of the position challenged our squadron. The city stood on the left bank of a river bearing the same name and about six miles from its mouth. On the lower edge of it rose a steep eminence, Hospital Hill, with a 9-pounder not far from its base and a 32-pound carronade pivoted at its top, both of them bearing upon the river. Nearly a mile and a half below, at the junction of a tributary, stood a water battery of two 18’s called Palmasola; and some distance farther down, on a bluff about sixty feet high jutting into the stream, two 32-pound carronades and a long nine in La Peña redoubt commanded the stream for perhaps two miles. In and near these forts were stationed some three or four hundred Mexicans under General Cos.[22]