A TEXAS RANGER: True Story of the Leander H. Mcnelly's Texas Ranger Company in the Wild Horse Desert. Napoleon Augustus Jennings
Читать онлайн книгу.
mainly because I was a “gringo.” The Mexicans on the border called all Americans “gringos.” The Americans retaliated by calling the Mexicans “greasers.” The origin of the term “gringo” is curious. There is a legend that, in the early days of the Mexican border, a Scotchman made himself unpopular there by overreaching the natives, and it is said that this man was in the constant habit of singing:
“Green grow the rushes, O”
The Mexicans couldn’t call him “Green grow,” but they came as near to it as their tongues could twist the words and called him “Gringo.” From that time the nickname gradually became a generic term in speaking of all Americans.
I had not been at the head of the Laredo police force two days before stories of vague threats having been made by some of the policemen under me began to reach my ears. I was young and did not pay much attention to the threats. I reasoned that if the men should become openly hostile I could easily dismiss them from the force. There was no civil-service-reform nonsense about the city government of Laredo.
The third day after my appointment I made my first arrest. The mayor had given me a silver badge, which I put on my coat. I had a .45 caliber six-shooter in a holster, slung to a cartridge belt about my waist, and I was impressed with the sense of my own dignity and appearance. On this day of my first arrest, I was walking quietly down the street when I saw a Mexican standing on the corner. He was giving a series of wild yells, and as I approached I saw that he was very, very drunk. I went up to him and grasped his arm to lead him to the “calaboose.” He looked at me in blank amazement for a moment and then jerked his arm away. Before I could get hold of him again, he reached down to his bootleg and, drawing a big knife, made a savage pass at me with it, and I retreated a couple of steps. I drew my revolver, cocked it, pointed it at his head and told him to drop the knife and hold up his hands. To my utter astonishment he did nothing of the kind. He backed slowly away.
I did not want to shoot him, nor did I care to get so close to him that he could use his knife on he. I was in a quandary. He backed up to a grocery store and then turned suddenly and ran inside. I ran in after him. There were half a dozen persons in the store, and when they saw me rush in with a revolver in my hand they dodged down behind the counter and boxes and barrels. The man I was after darted out through a rear door.
Before I could follow him, two women ran up to me and threw their arms about my neck. They held tightly to me in this embrace, screaming as loud as they could. I attempted to explain the circumstances to them, but my knowledge of their language was slight, and not at all equal to exciting occasions like this. When I finally did get into their heads the fact that I was a police officer and only wanted to arrest the man for drunkenness, he had disappeared.
I was mad clear through then. I went at once to the policemen on my force, and ordered them to hunt up the drunken man. They did not seem very anxious to obey, but I spoke imperatively and they started out on the search. I took one of them with me, and we began a hunt in that part of the town where I lost the man. We found him late in the afternoon, asleep in a little adobe house—belonging to one of his friends. We went in and arrested him and took him to the “calaboose,” but he fought like a tiger all the way. The next morning he had to pay a fine of $10.
This incident, although small in itself, led to more important results. The man whom I arrested was a great favorite with his native townsmen, and I did not make a bid for popularity in taking him to jail. One night a week later I was shot at in the street. I heard the bullet whistle by my head and hit the door behind me with a thud. I ran toward the place whence the report of the pistol had come, but could find no one there. The streets were very dark.
Half an hour later I was shot at again. Once more I failed to find the man, who had fled, although I hunted diligently. It was getting very uncomfortable. That night I was shot at five times. I told my policemen about it, and they apparently made great efforts to find the man or men.
There was something in the way they went about it, however, that aroused my suspicions, and I at last came to the conclusion that they were in sympathy with my unknown assailant. Indeed, I was not sure it was not one of my own men who had been firing at me. Be that as it may, I decided I had had enough of chieftainship, and the next day went to the mayor and resigned.
He accepted my resignation without hesitancy. He did not ask me why I resigned, nor did he ask me to remain on the force. I collected something more than twenty dollars for the time I had been chief of police. It did not take me long to spend the money, and once more I found myself without funds or prospect of getting any.
It was at this time that General Porfirio Diaz was leading the revolution in Mexico against the Government under President Sebastian Lerdo. There were several small “battles” in Nuevo Laredo, and the inhabitants of Laredo watched them with interest from the bluffs of the Rio Grande on the Texas side. The battles were tame affairs, as viewed from an American standpoint. They were not very bloody, but it was interesting to watch them, and all the inhabitants of Laredo made it a point to go down to the riverfront every time firing began on the other side. The river was less than a half a mile wide at that point.
One morning we were awakened by the sound of firing over in Mexico. It began with two or three savage volleys, and continued with a pattering fire, as of raindrops on the dead leaves in a forest. It meant that another battle was in progress, and I dressed as rapidly as I could and hurried down to the banks of the Rio Grande.
Many people were there watching the fight for the possession of the Mexican town. The Lerdists, or Government party, had been in possession of Nuevo Laredo for about two weeks, and now the revolutionists were attacking them. Should the revolutionists be victorious and drive the Lerdists from the town, it meant a dead loss to the merchants there. When the Lerdists had captured the place, in accordance with the regular custom of Mexican warfare—on the frontier at least—they had lost no time in levying a prestamo. In other words, they forced the merchants to pay them a large sum of money. The revolutionists did the same thing once or twice earlier in the game.
As a matter of fact, both forces on the frontier were composed of unscrupulous bandits who only engaged in the war for the money they could force from the merchants. If the revolutionists won the town again they were certain to make the merchants once more go down into their pockets. There were about two hundred men on a side in this fight. Those in possession of the town had built barricades across the streets. Some of them fought from behind these barricades, and others went to the housetops and fought from there. On nearly all the flat-roofed houses were raised edges which served admirably for battlements.
The opposing forces had been fighting for about four hours that day, without killing more than two or three men on each side, when it was learned that stray bullets had come over to our side of the river, and wounded two women and killed a boy who was standing in front of his home in Laredo, watching the fight. I reported this to United States Commissioner Peterson, and he sent word to the commanding officer at Fort McIntosh. This officer was Major Henry C. Merriam, later a general in the United States Army.
Major Merriam at once sent a squad of the Twenty-fourth Infantry (colored troops) into Laredo with an old brass muzzle-loading twelve-pounder, the only piece of artillery at the fort. This cannon was placed on a piece of high ground near the bluff which overhung the river.
There it was pointed straight at the Mexican town, half a mile or less away. This proceeding interested the Mexican citizens of Laredo so much that a crowd of them gathered around the colored soldiers and looked at the gun with great curiosity. They had little or nothing to say, but they did not seem pleased. This feeling was so evident, indeed, that all the Americans in the town were quietly supplied with muskets and ammunition from the fort, as a matter of precaution, should it become necessary to proceed to actual hostilities.
Major Merriam would take no further responsibility, however, and said that he would only act under the instructions of the United States Marshal or his deputy. Peterson said that I was the only United States Deputy Marshal in the town and would have to take charge of affairs.
This was interesting for a youth who had only a short time before left the peace and quiet of Philadelphia; but, with a supreme confidence in myself, born of inexperience