Cofachiqui, and Other Poems/Victorio
VICTORIO.
FOR a year and a month, though half-palsied and old,
Had this warlike Apache chief wily and bold
Bid defiance to foes, be they black, red or white,
Prompt and skilled in retreat, fierce and fearless in fight.
He had captured the horses sent out to pursue
And their riders had slain where he found they were few.
And the red-kerchiefed scouts[1] who infested his way
Fled aghast when he turned like a lion at bay.
He had driven the beeves from the fort's stout corrals
In despite of the muskets and high 'dobe walls.
He had feasted his fill on the white flocks that fed
In Valencia's vale, while the herdboys had fled,
Or to distant Chihuahua as captives were led.
And in spite of the troopers and ranchmen dismayed,
So far to the northward he pushed his bold raid,
Over sheep ranches brown and through vineyards dark-green,
That the smoke of his burnings might well have been seen
From the Sandia's crags that like dun castles frown
To the eastward beyond Albuquerque's old town.
Through all the wide border his trail was of blood
From the llanos of Texas to Gila's broad flood.
The mine on the mountain, the ranch on the plain
Had mourned his dread coming again and again.
When they feared his approach hardy prospectors paled,
And his visits the Mexican plazas bewailed;
And travelers, ambushed in some lonely spot,
By coach-loads were slaughtered and left there to rot.
Had this warlike Apache chief wily and bold
Bid defiance to foes, be they black, red or white,
Prompt and skilled in retreat, fierce and fearless in fight.
He had captured the horses sent out to pursue
And their riders had slain where he found they were few.
And the red-kerchiefed scouts[1] who infested his way
Fled aghast when he turned like a lion at bay.
He had driven the beeves from the fort's stout corrals
In despite of the muskets and high 'dobe walls.
He had feasted his fill on the white flocks that fed
In Valencia's vale, while the herdboys had fled,
Or to distant Chihuahua as captives were led.
And in spite of the troopers and ranchmen dismayed,
So far to the northward he pushed his bold raid,
Over sheep ranches brown and through vineyards dark-green,
That the smoke of his burnings might well have been seen
From the Sandia's crags that like dun castles frown
To the eastward beyond Albuquerque's old town.
Through all the wide border his trail was of blood
From the llanos of Texas to Gila's broad flood.
The mine on the mountain, the ranch on the plain
Had mourned his dread coming again and again.
When they feared his approach hardy prospectors paled,
And his visits the Mexican plazas bewailed;
And travelers, ambushed in some lonely spot,
By coach-loads were slaughtered and left there to rot.
Long the blue-clad black riders had chased him in vain
For hundreds of leagues o'er the drear Staked Plain,
Where the cactus grows armed with its hideous thorns
And where oft the dread hum of the rattlesnake warns,
And across the Jornada's long, waterless plain,
Where the bones of dead Spaniards for ages have lain;
Back and forth 'cross the vale of the broad Rio Grande
With its vineyards and wheat and mesquite plains sandy.
But he baffled them oft in Florida's[2] cañons
Or San Mateo's range, or the far Mogollons.[2]
For hundreds of leagues o'er the drear Staked Plain,
Where the cactus grows armed with its hideous thorns
And where oft the dread hum of the rattlesnake warns,
And across the Jornada's long, waterless plain,
Where the bones of dead Spaniards for ages have lain;
Back and forth 'cross the vale of the broad Rio Grande
With its vineyards and wheat and mesquite plains sandy.
But he baffled them oft in Florida's[2] cañons
Or San Mateo's range, or the far Mogollons.[2]
When his foes o'er a thousand pressed hard at his back,
On his front and his flank—they were red, white and black—
Then away o'er the Mexican border he hied
In the vales of Chihuahua to ravage and ride.
Then by scores the rancheros' best horses were ta'en,
Were the merchant-trains plundered and herdsmen were slain.
Then Terrazas, the Governor, wrathfully swore
That Victorio should ravage his ranches no more.
"Three thousand broad pieces of eight[3]—will I pay
To the hand that this bold robber chieftain shall slay."
But undaunted for months did Victorio ride,
And the arms of two nations escaped and defied.
On his front and his flank—they were red, white and black—
Then away o'er the Mexican border he hied
In the vales of Chihuahua to ravage and ride.
Then by scores the rancheros' best horses were ta'en,
Were the merchant-trains plundered and herdsmen were slain.
Then Terrazas, the Governor, wrathfully swore
That Victorio should ravage his ranches no more.
"Three thousand broad pieces of eight[3]—will I pay
To the hand that this bold robber chieftain shall slay."
But undaunted for months did Victorio ride,
And the arms of two nations escaped and defied.
But Buell's black riders behind him still came,
As the sleuth-hounds relentlessly follow their game;
While by scores and by hundreds around him arose,
Spurring hard their wild broncos, his Mexican foes;
And the belts of his warriors of cartridges fail,
While the troops of two nations ride hot on his trail.
Then he halted amid Tres Castillos'[4] rocks bald,
And to Nana, his war-chief devoted, he called:
"Of my bravest take thirty, ride out and away,
And accomplish your mission wherever you may.
Sack the plaza tienda[5] and plunder the train—
Do aught and do all the red shells to obtain;
And if of your purpose you wholly should fail,
Let no warrior come back here to tell me the tale."
In haste and in silence they mount and are gone,
With a clatter of hoofs down the rocky cañon.
As the sleuth-hounds relentlessly follow their game;
While by scores and by hundreds around him arose,
Spurring hard their wild broncos, his Mexican foes;
And the belts of his warriors of cartridges fail,
While the troops of two nations ride hot on his trail.
Then he halted amid Tres Castillos'[4] rocks bald,
And to Nana, his war-chief devoted, he called:
"Of my bravest take thirty, ride out and away,
And accomplish your mission wherever you may.
Sack the plaza tienda[5] and plunder the train—
Do aught and do all the red shells to obtain;
And if of your purpose you wholly should fail,
Let no warrior come back here to tell me the tale."
In haste and in silence they mount and are gone,
With a clatter of hoofs down the rocky cañon.
But long before Nana returned from his raid
The last act in Victorio's drama was played.
Back to camp in hot haste came each fleet mounted scout
Whom the wily old chief had that morning sent out,
And "The Mexicans come!" is the tale that each tells;
"Ride the regulars first with their belts full of shells,
And their guidons flaunt gay, hanging down by the flanks
Of the cantering horses each broad saber clanks.
Then by scores the rancheros are crowding behind,
And their gaudy serapes[6] stream out on the wind.
In the front rides Terrazas with soldierly mien;
Mexico has no braver than Colonel Joaquin."
The last act in Victorio's drama was played.
Back to camp in hot haste came each fleet mounted scout
Whom the wily old chief had that morning sent out,
And "The Mexicans come!" is the tale that each tells;
"Ride the regulars first with their belts full of shells,
And their guidons flaunt gay, hanging down by the flanks
Of the cantering horses each broad saber clanks.
Then by scores the rancheros are crowding behind,
And their gaudy serapes[6] stream out on the wind.
In the front rides Terrazas with soldierly mien;
Mexico has no braver than Colonel Joaquin."
Said Victorio then, "My career is nigh run;
Soon my spirit shall meet that of Red Sleeve, my son.
Soon the mountain coyote shall feed on this frame,
That for hundreds of moons, although withered and lame,
Has contained a strong heart and a spirit of flame.
If our foes but press on soon their work will be closed
And this head on Chihuahua's broad plaza exposed
To be struck by the hands of the leperos brown
That would pale were I living and shake at my frown.
Were each peso[7] Terrazas has laid on my head
But a shell in our belts with its capping of lead,
You would see these gay troopers turn short on their trail,
Each ranchero's hot bronco[8] would show us his tail.
Though our foes may be many, our cartridges few,
Let your hearts yet be strong and your aim still be true,
And let each blackened shell, void of powder and lead,
From your musket's breech flung when its bullet has sped,
Count a Mexican carcass as void and as dead."
Soon my spirit shall meet that of Red Sleeve, my son.
Soon the mountain coyote shall feed on this frame,
That for hundreds of moons, although withered and lame,
Has contained a strong heart and a spirit of flame.
If our foes but press on soon their work will be closed
And this head on Chihuahua's broad plaza exposed
To be struck by the hands of the leperos brown
That would pale were I living and shake at my frown.
Were each peso[7] Terrazas has laid on my head
But a shell in our belts with its capping of lead,
You would see these gay troopers turn short on their trail,
Each ranchero's hot bronco[8] would show us his tail.
Though our foes may be many, our cartridges few,
Let your hearts yet be strong and your aim still be true,
And let each blackened shell, void of powder and lead,
From your musket's breech flung when its bullet has sped,
Count a Mexican carcass as void and as dead."
'Round their camp rose the sheltering crags high and wild,
In each defile between with great labor were piled
Heavy fragments of stone, that a barrier of rock
Might the rush of the foeman at every point block.
Their squaws and papooses were gathered within;
On the far reservation long herded they'd been,
But disdaining to live as the agency's wards,
O'er the many drear leagues they had followed their lords.
In each defile between with great labor were piled
Heavy fragments of stone, that a barrier of rock
Might the rush of the foeman at every point block.
Their squaws and papooses were gathered within;
On the far reservation long herded they'd been,
But disdaining to live as the agency's wards,
O'er the many drear leagues they had followed their lords.
Sinking low in the west was the red, blazing sun
When Victorio's pickets discharged the first gun.
Though the Mexican skirmishers cautious advanced
From shelter to shelter, while sharply they glanced
At each spot which might cover the ambush so dread,
Yet the ball from each picket drew blood as it sped.
But the Mexican lines in a circle swung 'round,
Although each caballero[9] crept close to the ground,
While his pony, accoutered with gay saddle-gear
And silver-bossed bridle, was left in the rear.
When Victorio's pickets discharged the first gun.
Though the Mexican skirmishers cautious advanced
From shelter to shelter, while sharply they glanced
At each spot which might cover the ambush so dread,
Yet the ball from each picket drew blood as it sped.
But the Mexican lines in a circle swung 'round,
Although each caballero[9] crept close to the ground,
While his pony, accoutered with gay saddle-gear
And silver-bossed bridle, was left in the rear.
The bare crags of Castillos grew purple, then blue,
As the western hills hid the broad sun from the view.
High rode the full moon o'er the desolate scene,
And the splintered crags ghastly loomed up in its sheen.
Reflecting and scattering those bright glancing beams,
On hundreds of carbines the polished steel gleams,
As the Mexican lines in a broad circle lie
And await the bright dawn in the far eastern sky,
While behind the dark rocks like wild beasts in their lair,
Crouch the tameless Apaches in dauntless despair.
As the western hills hid the broad sun from the view.
High rode the full moon o'er the desolate scene,
And the splintered crags ghastly loomed up in its sheen.
Reflecting and scattering those bright glancing beams,
On hundreds of carbines the polished steel gleams,
As the Mexican lines in a broad circle lie
And await the bright dawn in the far eastern sky,
While behind the dark rocks like wild beasts in their lair,
Crouch the tameless Apaches in dauntless despair.
The sun yet unseen threw a bright tinge of gold.
On the far western hills where the white mists uprolled,
When the blast of a bugle rang out on the air
And the echoes pealed back from the crags high and bare,
And Terrazas cried "Charge!" with a thundering sprang out.
And five hundred dark forms from their ambush shout,
With a yell and a rush on the wild foe they sprang,
While the rifles of all the Apache braves rang
In one deadly discharge, then forever were dumb,
For their last shell was spent and their red doom had come.
Then the Mexican carbines again and again
Sent forth their red flashes and murderous rain.
While that brief storm of carnage rolled fearful and wild
Fell by scores the strong warrior, the squaw and the child.
On the far western hills where the white mists uprolled,
When the blast of a bugle rang out on the air
And the echoes pealed back from the crags high and bare,
And Terrazas cried "Charge!" with a thundering sprang out.
And five hundred dark forms from their ambush shout,
With a yell and a rush on the wild foe they sprang,
While the rifles of all the Apache braves rang
In one deadly discharge, then forever were dumb,
For their last shell was spent and their red doom had come.
Then the Mexican carbines again and again
Sent forth their red flashes and murderous rain.
While that brief storm of carnage rolled fearful and wild
Fell by scores the strong warrior, the squaw and the child.
"Tell me, where is Victorio?" Terrazas demands
Of the few silent captives with firmly bound hands;
For naught could be seen, either living or dead,
Of that chief with so heavy a price on his head.
But not an Apache by look or by word
Gave a sign that Terrazas' fierce question he heard.
Cried the Colonel, "Stand ten of the dogs in a line
And shoot each of them who to reply shall decline."
It was done and the stern inquisiton begun;
But impassive and speechless still stood every one,
And each in his turn, as he failed to reply,
At the carbine's report sank in silence to die.
But the tenth, who was half of the Mexican race,
Gave away with that muzzle so grim at his face,
And consented to show to Terrazas the way
To the nook where sore wounded Victorio lay,
By the squaws of his band with all cunning concealed.
When unable to fight and unwilling to yield.
Of the few silent captives with firmly bound hands;
For naught could be seen, either living or dead,
Of that chief with so heavy a price on his head.
But not an Apache by look or by word
Gave a sign that Terrazas' fierce question he heard.
Cried the Colonel, "Stand ten of the dogs in a line
And shoot each of them who to reply shall decline."
It was done and the stern inquisiton begun;
But impassive and speechless still stood every one,
And each in his turn, as he failed to reply,
At the carbine's report sank in silence to die.
But the tenth, who was half of the Mexican race,
Gave away with that muzzle so grim at his face,
And consented to show to Terrazas the way
To the nook where sore wounded Victorio lay,
By the squaws of his band with all cunning concealed.
When unable to fight and unwilling to yield.
Although mangled and helpless, the chief raised his head
When he heard all around him the Mexicans tread,
And he fronted his foes with a murmur and glare
Like the challenging growl of a dying gray bear.
"It is he," said a ranchman from off Rio Grand',
He had seen the old chief at the head of his band.
"It is he," then a red Mescalero[10] spoke brief—
At the agency oft he had seen the old chief.
Not a word spoke the others, revengeful and grim,
And Victorio there, not a word came from him.
When he heard all around him the Mexicans tread,
And he fronted his foes with a murmur and glare
Like the challenging growl of a dying gray bear.
"It is he," said a ranchman from off Rio Grand',
He had seen the old chief at the head of his band.
"It is he," then a red Mescalero[10] spoke brief—
At the agency oft he had seen the old chief.
Not a word spoke the others, revengeful and grim,
And Victorio there, not a word came from him.
Then the clicks of the locks that the dead silence broke
At a sign from the Colonel the death-warrant spoke.
Came a crash, and a smoke-cloud enveloped them there,
While the sand and the pebbles flew high in the air.
Down sank those black locks thickly sprinkled with white;
From the strong, wrinkled face passed the fierce, lurid light;
From the mangled old body the tameless soul fled,
And the savagest, greatest Apache was dead.
At a sign from the Colonel the death-warrant spoke.
Came a crash, and a smoke-cloud enveloped them there,
While the sand and the pebbles flew high in the air.
Down sank those black locks thickly sprinkled with white;
From the strong, wrinkled face passed the fierce, lurid light;
From the mangled old body the tameless soul fled,
And the savagest, greatest Apache was dead.
- ↑ Red-kerchiefed scouts—The Apache scouts employed by the government wore red kerchiefs to distinguish them from the hostiles.
- ↑ 2.0 2.1 Floridas and Mogollons (pronounced Flo-ree-das and Mo-go-yones) mountains of New Mexico.
- ↑ Pieces of eight—eight reales, one dollar.
- ↑ Tres Castillos (pro. Trase Cas-tee-yos) mountains in Chihuahua.
- ↑ Plaza—an agricultural hamlet; also a public square. Tienda—Shop, store.
- ↑ Serape (pro. ser-ah-pe) a long, narrow blanket worn as a scarf.
- ↑ Peso—Mexican dollar.
- ↑ Bronco—A wild or half-tamed branded horse.
- ↑ Caballero—horseman.
- ↑ Mescalero (accent on third syllable)—A branch of the Apache tribe.