A TEXAS RANGER: True Story of the Leander H. Mcnelly's Texas Ranger Company in the Wild Horse Desert. Napoleon Augustus Jennings
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action without consulting Peterson. How I came to be so modest as that has escaped my memory. By Peterson’s advice, I notified a number of men to act as a posse, among them St. Clair and his partner.
With St. Clair, I went down the riverbank to the ferry landing and waited for the boat to be punted over from Mexico. By advice of Peterson, I was going to leave St. Clair at the landing with orders to detain any man who should attempt to cross to the other side of the river with arms.
The ferry landing was under the bluff on which the cannon was planted, but a little further down the river. We had hardly reached the place before we heard the “zip” of a bullet as it sped by our heads. In another moment the sound was repeated. Then we heard three or four bullets come humming by us in quick succession. Although perfectly aware of the futility of such action, I could not refrain from ducking my head a little whenever I heard a bullet pass. It is as natural to do that as it is to close one’s eye to avoid something flying into it.
“They certainly must be firing at us from across the river,” I said to St. Clair; “those can’t be accidental shots.”
“Right you are, my boy,” he answered; “and the quicker we get away from here, the healthier it will be for us.”
We looked across the Rio Grande, and two or three more bullets sang by us. One struck in the water in front of us. By this time we had detected a little puff of smoke rising from the bushes that fringed the bluff on the opposite bank. I quickly raised the Winchester rifle borrowed from Peterson, and fired at a point a little under the smoke. A moment later a perfect shower of bullets came by us and we did not linger longer in that vicinity. We didn’t exactly run, but we certainly did not waste any time getting away.
But I was glad I fired that shot, and I hoped it did some damage. It tickled me to think that I had fired the first shot from the United States at Mexico, in what I was beginning to imagine would be a war between the two countries. Once more I must remind the reader that I was extraordinarily young and inexperienced in those days.
When we reached the top of the hill where the gun was placed, we found a young lieutenant in charge. His name, I believe, was Glendenning. I told him that we had been fired upon from Mexico, and I added that, in my opinion, a cannon-shot would have a salutary effect about that time.
“Oh, I hardly think it was anything more than a few stray bullets,” said the lieutenant.
“I am positive they were firing at us,” said I.
“Oh, I don’t believe they would do that,” said he. “It must have been stray bullets.”
Before I could answer him, the familiar sound of the bullets as they hummed by our ears made the officer duck his head and jump for safety behind a little adobe house close by. Arrived at this shelter, he straightened up, threw out his chest, and shouted in a commanding voice:
“Put a shell over that town!”
It was beautiful to see the way those colored soldiers in Uncle Sam’s blue uniforms sprang to their positions and made ready to fire the twelve-pounder. They moved like clockwork. Most of the Americans of the town were on the spot by this time, and with the greatest interest they watched the loading and aiming of the gun. Then the gunners fell back a few steps, and the next moment the cannon boomed its defiance to Mexico.
As a shell went screeching over the Rio Grande and burst right above the town of Nuevo Laredo, all the Americans gave a loud cheer and flung their hats into the air and shook hands with each other; and laughed and danced for joy. You see, there was no great love, at any time, on that border between the Americans and the Mexicans, and the idea of a fight was soothing and pleasant to the white men there, outnumbered as they were.
The hundred or so of Mexicans who were near the gun did not cheer or look pleased. They were silent, and seemed very serious.
“Now, men,” cried the young lieutenant, “I want you to put a shell or a solid shot over into that town for every bullet that comes this way.”
Again the Americans cheered and yelled with pure joy. Foolish? Yes, very, very foolish, but wholly delightful in its patriotism. There were enough Mexicans in those two towns to have massacred every American there, soldiers and all, in fifteen minutes. There were only about thirty soldiers at the fort. Counting every one, there were not more than eighty Americans who could be relied upon in a fight. The Mexican population of the two towns was about five thousand.
But the bullets stopped coming our way. Indeed, the Mexican forces across the Rio Grande were so taken by surprise by the introduction of artillery into their “battle” that they stopped fighting, as though by mutual consent.
There was a sudden clattering of hoofs down the street, and, in a minute, Major Merriam dashed up to the gun on his horse.
“By whose orders did you fire that gun?” he demanded, as the lieutenant saluted.
“Well, sir,” said the young officer, “they were firing at us from across the river, and—and this young man, the Deputy Marshal, asked me to fire, so I gave orders to send a shell or a solid shot over there for every bullet that should come this way.”
“I told him to fire, sir,” I added.
Major Merriam put his hand to his mouth to conceal a smile. Then he said gravely:
“You have done perfectly right, gentlemen. I have just received orders from San Antonio to do exactly what you have done.” Our attention was attracted at this moment to a rowboat which put out from the Mexican bank of the river. Someone in it was holding a white flag and waving it to attract attention. The boat came halfway across the river and stopped. Major Merriam studied it for a few minutes with the aid of field glasses. Then he dismounted and walked down to the riverbank, followed by an orderly.
They got into a boat and were rowed out to where the other boat had stopped. There they found the Comandante of the Lerdist, or Government, party. The Comandante demanded to know why his city was bombarded by the United States authorities. Major Merriam told him the reason, and further informed him that if the bullets continued to come over into Laredo he would knock the Mexican town about its ears, or words to that effect.
“If you must fight a battle over there,” said Merriam, “you must contrive to do it as they fight on the stage—sideways. It won’t do to shoot into the audience.”
The boats separated and returned to their respective shores. A quarter of an hour later, the “battle” was raging merrily again, but the combatants seemed to have actually taken the Major’s advice and were doing their fighting in such a way as to prevent bullets flying over into Texas.
Now, although this was doubtless highly satisfactory to Major Merriam, it was too tame altogether for the more adventurous spirits among the Americans. The firing of that old cannon had aroused their patriotism and they wanted to hear it boom some more. A few of us consulted together over the situation, and hit upon a plan to have some more fun.
We quietly stole down to a crevice in the bluff on the Texas side of the river, where we could not be seen by the American soldiers. Then we began to fire over into Nuevo Laredo. This soon brought a return fire, some of the Mexicans shooting at the gunners on the bluff. In another minute the cannon was roaring again, and this time a solid shot knocked down a little house in the Mexican town. Next, a shell was sent over, and it was quickly followed by a solid shot.
By carefully putting in our rifle shots where they would do the most good and so drawing a return fire to the cannon, we managed to keep up hostilities all the afternoon, and neither Major Merriam nor the young lieutenant and his soldiers knew that we were the cause of it.
Toward nightfall the revolutionists were driven back from the town of the Lerdists. We learned afterward that their entire loss was two men killed and five wounded! Of course, when they stopped their battle we ceased firing on them and the cannon was silent.
Strange as it may seem, this bombardment of a Mexican town by United States troops did not lead to any international complications. The reason for this probably was