5: CHAPTER V.
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When our party left Corpus Christi it was quite large, including
the cavalry escort, Paymaster, Major Dix, his clerk and the
officers who, like myself, were simply on leave; but all the
officers on leave, except Lieutenant Benjamin—afterwards killed
in the valley of Mexico—Lieutenant, now General, Augur, and
myself, concluded to spend their allotted time at San Antonio
and return from there. We were all to be back at Corpus Christi
by the end of the month. The paymaster was detained in Austin so
long that, if we had waited for him, we would have exceeded our
leave. We concluded, therefore, to start back at once with the
animals we had, and having to rely principally on grass for
their food, it was a good six days' journey. We had to sleep on
the prairie every night, except at Goliad, and possibly one night
on the Colorado, without shelter and with only such food as we
carried with us, and prepared ourselves. The journey was
hazardous on account of Indians, and there were white men in
Texas whom I would not have cared to meet in a secluded place.
Lieutenant Augur was taken seriously sick before we reached
Goliad and at a distance from any habitation. To add to the
complication, his horse—a mustang that had probably been
captured from the band of wild horses before alluded to, and of
undoubted longevity at his capture—gave out. It was absolutely
necessary to get for ward to Goliad to find a shelter for our
sick companion. By dint of patience and exceedingly slow
movements, Goliad was at last reached, and a shelter and bed
secured for our patient. We remained over a day, hoping that
Augur might recover sufficiently to resume his travels. He did
not, however, and knowing that Major Dix would be along in a few
days, with his wagon-train, now empty, and escort, we arranged
with our Louisiana friend to take the best of care of the sick
lieutenant until thus relieved, and went on.
I had never been a sportsman in my life; had scarcely ever gone
in search of game, and rarely seen any when looking for it. On
this trip there was no minute of time while travelling between
San Patricio and the settlements on the San Antonio River, from
San Antonio to Austin, and again from the Colorado River back to
San Patricio, when deer or antelope could not be seen in great
numbers. Each officer carried a shot-gun, and every evening,
after going into camp, some would go out and soon return with
venison and wild turkeys enough for the entire camp. I,
however, never went out, and had no occasion to fire my gun;
except, being detained over a day at Goliad, Benjamin and I
concluded to go down to the creek—which was fringed with
timber, much of it the pecan—and bring back a few turkeys. We
had scarcely reached the edge of the timber when I heard the
flutter of wings overhead, and in an instant I saw two or three
turkeys flying away. These were soon followed by more, then
more, and more, until a flock of twenty or thirty had left from
just over my head. All this time I stood watching the turkeys
to see where they flew—with my gun on my shoulder, and never
once thought of levelling it at the birds. When I had time to
reflect upon the matter, I came to the conclusion that as a
sportsman I was a failure, and went back to the house. Benjamin
remained out, and got as many turkeys as he wanted to carry back.
After the second night at Goliad, Benjamin and I started to make
the remainder of the journey alone. We reached Corpus Christi
just in time to avoid "absence without leave." We met no one
not even an Indian—during the remainder of our journey, except
at San Patricio. A new settlement had been started there in our
absence of three weeks, induced possibly by the fact that there
were houses already built, while the proximity of troops gave
protection against the Indians. On the evening of the first day
out from Goliad we heard the most unearthly howling of wolves,
directly in our front. The prairie grass was tall and we could
not see the beasts, but the sound indicated that they were
near. To my ear it appeared that there must have been enough of
them to devour our party, horses and all, at a single meal. The
part of Ohio that I hailed from was not thickly settled, but
wolves had been driven out long before I left. Benjamin was
from Indiana, still less populated, where the wolf yet roamed
over the prairies. He understood the nature of the animal and
the capacity of a few to make believe there was an unlimited
number of them. He kept on towards the noise, unmoved. I
followed in his trail, lacking moral courage to turn back and
join our sick companion. I have no doubt that if Benjamin had
proposed returning to Goliad, I would not only have "seconded
the motion" but have suggested that it was very hard-hearted in
us to leave Augur sick there in the first place; but Benjamin did
not propose turning back. When he did speak it was to ask:
"Grant, how many wolves do you think there are in that pack?"
Knowing where he was from, and suspecting that he thought I
would over-estimate the number, I determined to show my
acquaintance with the animal by putting the estimate below what
possibly could be correct, and answered: "Oh, about twenty,"
very indifferently. He smiled and rode on. In a minute we were
close upon them, and before they saw us. There were just two of
them. Seated upon their haunches, with their mouths close
together, they had made all the noise we had been hearing for
the past ten minutes. I have often thought of this incident
since when I have heard the noise of a few disappointed
politicians who had deserted their associates. There are always
more of them before they are counted.
A week or two before leaving Corpus Christi on this trip, I had
been promoted from brevet second-lieutenant, 4th infantry, to
full second-lieutenant, 7th infantry. Frank Gardner,1
of the 7th, was promoted to the 4th in the same orders. We immediately
made application to be transferred, so as to get back to our old
regiments. On my return, I found that our application had been
approved at Washington. While in the 7th infantry I was in the
company of Captain Holmes, afterwards a Lieutenant-general in
the Confederate army. I never came in contact with him in the
war of the Rebellion, nor did he render any very conspicuous
service in his high rank. My transfer carried me to the company
of Captain McCall, who resigned from the army after the Mexican
war and settled in Philadelphia. He was prompt, however, to
volunteer when the rebellion broke out, and soon rose to the
rank of major-general in the Union army. I was not fortunate
enough to meet him after he resigned. In the old army he was
esteemed very highly as a soldier and gentleman. Our relations
were always most pleasant.
The preparations at Corpus Christi for an advance progressed as
rapidly in the absence of some twenty or more lieutenants as if
we had been there. The principal business consisted in securing
mules, and getting them broken to harness. The process was slow
but amusing. The animals sold to the government were all young
and unbroken, even to the saddle, and were quite as wild as the
wild horses of the prairie. Usually a number would be brought
in by a company of Mexicans, partners in the delivery. The
mules were first driven into a stockade, called a corral,
inclosing an acre or more of ground. The Mexicans,—who were
all experienced in throwing the lasso,—would go into the corral
on horseback, with their lassos attached to the pommels of their
saddles. Soldiers detailed as teamsters and black smiths would
also enter the corral, the former with ropes to serve as
halters, the latter with branding irons and a fire to keep the
irons heated. A lasso was then thrown over the neck of a mule,
when he would immediately go to the length of his tether, first
one end, then the other in the air. While he was thus plunging
and gyrating, another lasso would be thrown by another Mexican,
catching the animal by a fore-foot. This would bring the mule
to the ground, when he was seized and held by the teamsters
while the blacksmith put upon him, with hot irons, the initials
"U. S." Ropes were then put about the neck, with a slipnoose
which would tighten around the throat if pulled. With a man on
each side holding these ropes, the mule was released from his
other bindings and allowed to rise. With more or less
difficulty he would be conducted to a picket rope outside and
fastened there. The delivery of that mule was then complete.
This process was gone through with every mule and wild horse
with the army of occupation.
The method of breaking them was less cruel and much more
amusing. It is a well-known fact that where domestic animals
are used for specific purposes from generation to generation,
the descendants are easily, as a rule, subdued to the same
uses. At that time in Northern Mexico the mule, or his
ancestors, the horse and the ass, was seldom used except for the
saddle or pack. At all events the Corpus Christi mule resisted
the new use to which he was being put. The treatment he was
subjected to in order to overcome his prejudices was summary and
effective.
The soldiers were principally foreigners who had enlisted in our
large cities, and, with the exception of a chance drayman among
them, it is not probable that any of the men who reported
themselves as competent teamsters had ever driven a mule-team in
their lives, or indeed that many had had any previous experience
in driving any animal whatever to harness. Numbers together can
accomplish what twice their number acting individually could not
perform. Five mules were allotted to each wagon. A teamster
would select at the picket rope five animals of nearly the same
color and general appearance for his team. With a full corps of
assistants, other teamsters, he would then proceed to get his
mules together. In two's the men would approach each animal
selected, avoiding as far as possible its heels. Two ropes
would be put about the neck of each animal, with a slip noose,
so that he could be choked if too unruly. They were then led
out, harnessed by force and hitched to the wagon in the position
they had to keep ever after. Two men remained on either side of
the leader, with the lassos about its neck, and one man retained
the same restraining influence over each of the others. All
being ready, the hold would be slackened and the team started.
The first motion was generally five mules in the air at one
time, backs bowed, hind feet extended to the rear. After
repeating this movement a few times the leaders would start to
run. This would bring the breeching tight against the mules at
the wheels, which these last seemed to regard as a most
unwarrantable attempt at coercion and would resist by taking a
seat, sometimes going so far as to lie down. In time all were
broken in to do their duty submissively if not cheerfully, but
there never was a time during the war when it was safe to let a
Mexican mule get entirely loose. Their drivers were all
teamsters by the time they got through.
I recollect one case of a mule that had worked in a team under
the saddle, not only for some time at Corpus Christi, where he
was broken, but all the way to the point opposite Matamoras,
then to Camargo, where he got loose from his fastenings during
the night. He did not run away at first, but staid in the
neighborhood for a day or two, coming up sometimes to the feed
trough even; but on the approach of the teamster he always got
out of the way. At last, growing tired of the constant effort
to catch him, he disappeared altogether. Nothing short of a
Mexican with his lasso could have caught him. Regulations would
not have warranted the expenditure of a dollar in hiring a man
with a lasso to catch that mule; but they did allow the
expenditure "of the mule," on a certificate that he had run away
without any fault of the quartermaster on whose returns he was
borne, and also the purchase of another to take his place. am a
competent witness, for I was regimental quartermaster at the
time.
While at Corpus Christi all the officers who had a fancy for
riding kept horses. The animals cost but little in the first
instance, and when picketed they would get their living without
any cost. I had three not long before the army moved, but a sad
accident bereft me of them all at one time. A colored boy who
gave them all the attention they got—besides looking after my
tent and that of a class-mate and fellow-lieutenant and cooking
for us, all for about eight dollars per month, was riding one to
water and leading the other two. The led horses pulled him from
his seat and all three ran away. They never were heard of
afterwards. Shortly after that some one told Captain Bliss,
General Taylor's Adjutant-General, of my misfortune. "Yes; I
heard Grant lost five or six dollars' worth of horses the other
day," he replied. That was a slander; they were broken to the
saddle when I got them and cost nearly twenty dollars. I never
suspected the colored boy of malicious intent in letting them
get away, because, if they had not escaped, he could have had
one of them to ride on the long march then in prospect.
__________
1 Afterwards General Gardner, C.S.A.
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