USA > California > Los Angeles County > History of Los Angeles county, Volume I > Part 48
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As they moved from there in their divisions, we had no chance to fire but two or three shots apiece (we had no breech loaders or repeaters) be- fore the larger portion of them were under the protection of our walls. They immediately set fire to the roof, which was made of cane covered with asphaltum, fire was applied in several places. The Californians were in position where we could not see them, neither could they see us, but awaited the result of the fire. The house burnt rapidly with a great deal of smoke and bad smell. As soon as they were satisfied that the fire would soon force us out of the building, the commander of the party, Cuibulo Varela, came to the main door, which was closed and barred, and called me by name. I went to the door where I could be near enough to converse with him through it. On asking him what he wanted, he inquired if I knew who he was, and I answered, "Yes, Cuibulo Varela." He then told me he commanded those men and wanted me to surrender to him, assuring me of his friendly disposition in these words; "You know I am your friend,
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neither you or any of your friends shall be injured ;" adding, that, as an old soldier he knew what were the laws of war respecting the treatment of prisoners. I informed my men at once of what Varela said, and they un- hesitantly answered that if he would send his men away, they would come out and deliver their arms. He assented, saying that he would send his men to the rear to put out the fire, whilst we marched out the forward door. We threw the broad door open and marched out, Cuibulo directed us to stack our arms against the walls, and we did so. We were then ordered to another building, distant about four hundred yards to the south, belonging to the same Ranch, and called, Casa de la Mantaza. During the fighting, Williams, the owner of the ranch, sent his three children (one boy and two girls) up a ladder, following himself, with a white flag and proclaiming his loyalty to the Mexican Government, at the same time crying out: "Don't shoot me! Don't shoot me!" One of the Californians then hallooed out : "Carajo no hablas se Cugua ane sete entienda, v porque no dieer, no me ยท Matere ?" Some of the Californians called him "Cobarde." These things we could hear from the inside. Varela ordered us all to be mounted, I being allowed to keep my own horse and saddle, and to ride by Varela, while the others were ordered to march forward in charge of the second command, Diego Sepulveda. We all started, the Californian chief saying, that they had to be in town that evening. Varela, the commander, remained back talking with some persons, I at his side. The rest went on and were about half a mile ahead. We then followed slowly along. About one mile from the house, these men who were in charge of the prisoners made a sudden halt, which attracted the attention of Varela. He put spurs to his horse, telling me that some deviltry was going on there, and to follow him. As soon as he got near enough to make himself heard, he gave the command to stop. The prisoners had all been placed on one side for the purpose of shooting them. But Varela rode up quickly and placed himself between his command and the prisoners, declaring that he would run his sword through the first man that attempted to touch a hair of the prisoners; that he had given his word as a gentlemen, and as a commander, to save the lives of the prisoners, and if they wanted to shoot anyone, they might shoot him. His voice was stentorian, his deportment very gallant, and his con- duct on that occasion made him worthy of our admiration and respect ; and although in later years, he became very much dissipated and really a vaga- bond, that conduct of his met with recognition from all Americans who knew him. On many occasions when he was arrested for breaking the peace, some American would immediately pay the fine and thereby obtain his release. He never was permitted to be in prison.
We all arrived that evening on the Mesa south of town, now known as Boyle Height, without any further occurrence, except the suffering and groans of my poor wounded men.
In Boyle Height, we were all placed in a small adobe room. The first thing after we were placed in there, a priest came in, bearing quite a large cross, and, after salutations, asked if any one amongst us wished to confess. Rubidoux, who was huddled in a corner answered, "Yes, I do;" adding, "My God, men ! They are going to shoot us. The priest's coming is a sure sign." The priest understanding some English, remarked; "My mission amongst you has nothing to do with the Government's intention in regard to
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you. I heard that some of you were badly wounded, and I did not know but some might be in jeopardy ; for this I came to tender my services." This quieted our men, and Rubidoux sat down again. Immediately after the priest left our room, I was instructed to walk out of the room; that the commanding general (Flores) wanted to see me. As I went out I met him, and we walked to one side and sat down. He addressed me as if he felt the importance of his position, saying in a mandatory voice to me: "I desire you address an open letter to Captain Gillespie (who was then en- camped on Fort Hill back of town) informing him of what you have seen, and that you and your men are prisoners. Say to him that General Flores is a Christian, as well as a soldier, and wishes to avoid the spilling of blood unnecessarily ; that my men are very anxious to attack him, and one charge from them would cause the destruction of himself (Gillespie) and all his soldiers."
That was true, for many of the old Californians who had been ill treated by Gillespie, felt revengeful. Flores' proposition to Gillespie, as conveyed in my letter, was that he would allow him to march out the next morning un- molested by any Californian forces, and proceed to San Pedro, carrying their arms, and there embark. Flores demanded an immediate answer, adding that if the answer was in the negative, he would not be responsible for the consequences. I believe that if Gillespie had refused the terms he would have been attacked that night, for a large portion of the Californians were drinking deeply, and expressing themselves against Gillespie person- ally. His answer accepting the terms, came back early the same night, Flores had directed me to state in the same note, as coming from myself, my own impression as to the state of things. I had done so, giving Gillespie my conviction that it was for the interest of himself and all Americans in the country, whether prisoners or not, that he should accede to Flores' demands, and leave forthwith. Gillespie then left early the next morning, which must have been the 28th of September.
Myself and associates were all marched into town, and placed in a building then standing on the site now occupied by the Saint Charles Hotel, on Main Street. On my being placed there, a doctor was for the first time allowed to attend to our wounded. Doctor Richard Den was the physician, and he is still living in Los Angeles. An old Spaniard, named Doctor Eulogio Celis, whose widow and family now reside in Los Angeles, came to our prison, where we had no comforts, no beds, blankets or cloth- ing. He saluted me whom he knew very well, and cast his eyes around as if he were counting the prisoners, saying but few words, went away and returned in a few minutes with two or three servants loaded with blankets, clothing and other articles for our comfort. I think he gave one suit of clothing, and two blankets to each man, and then broke out, looking at me : "Carajo, these fellows must all chew tobacco." He then ordered one of his servants to go and fetch him a box of tobacco, "para que la comare." Looking around and noticing that the men who guarded us seemed to consider us as so many criminals, Celis delivered a severe rebuke to them, asking if they were barbarians to treat prisoners of war as criminals ; that only barbarians did so; that civilized warfare demanded that prisoners of war should be kindly treated. It is a satisfaction for me to state these facts of one who, although not of our nationality, had the courage, as well as
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humanity, to stand for us, whilst several of our own countrymen who were close around us did not even come to see us.
Gillespie and his men being gone, as the Californians thought their country rid of all Americans but ourselves, who were prisoners in their hands, Flores, the commander, and many of the prominent ones came in and manifested great friendship to us personally; saying if I would sign for myself and men a parole of honor that none of us would again take up arms, or use our influence in any way during the existence of hostilities between Mexico and the United States, they would then and there give us our liberty. I replied that I would accept the offer, provided the condition was added that our obligation should not go beyond such time as we were exchanged. They would not agree to it and we remained prisoners. In the course of a few days we fully expected our release through the arrival of Captain Mervin, in the United States sloop of war, at San Pedro. Soon after our hearts were all made light by hearing the firing of cannon in the direction of San Pedro, but that was of short duration, for in the evening we learned that a force under Captain Mervin, including Gillespie and his command, had attempted to march to Los Angeles, been defeated, and forced to retreat and return on board the ships.
The deportment of General Flores towards the prisoners now changed entirely, and in a few days we heard of the hellish plot concocted by Flores and Henry Dalton (whose wives were sisters) to send us as prisoners and trophies to Mexico; having its conception in Dalton selling the remnants of an old store to Flores as commander-in-chief, for the pretended purpose of clothing the soldiers, and Flores giving to Dalton drafts for large amounts against the Mexican Treasury. Dalton was to go in charge of the prisoners and others, to present us to the Governor of Mexico as evidences of Flores' great military achievements. William Workman, of La Puente Ranch, an Englishman, having heard of the plot, at once came into town and determined to defeat the villainous plot. He at once put himself in communication with the leading. Californians, among the most prominent of whom was Don Ignacio Palomares, using the line of argument that if they stood by, and allowed us and others to be sacrificed to the cupidity of Flores and Dalton, they would be held by the Americans responsible in the future; that all Flores and his accomplice would have to do, would be to flee the country when the hour of danger came, and the Californians would be left to bear the whole brunt. The Californians saw through the whole thing. and resolved to undo the plan. They at once organized a revolution against Flores, and when everything was made ready with the utmost secrecy, one night Flores' headquarters was attacked, the California side being led by Workman, Palomares, and other prominent Californians. The whole plan was known to us previously, hence, during the firing with cannon and small arms in the streets, which was kept up for many hours, we were in the greatest anxiety, as our fate hung on the result. At a late hour in the night, the firing ceased. Workman rushed into our prison bringing us the glad tidings that Flores was a prisoner and in irons, and his and Dalton's plot broken. The next day Palomares, who was now virtually commander, took us out of prison, furnished us horses, and we all went to the Mission San Gabriel, where we remained several days breathing fresh air. A com- promise was made by the Californians and Flores, for the former to again
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recognize the latter as commander-in-chief, upon written conditions that we were to be treated as prisoners of war, with humanity, and not to be sent out of the country. We then went back to the prison in town, but were thereafter treated with more kindness and allowed greater liberty. Indeed we were permitted to arrange for our food at the respectable house of Don Luis Arenas. Things went on smoothly for a short time. Then news arrived that Commodore Stockton was coming with a powerful force, and with determination to put a stop to all further resistance on the part of the people here. One day Don Antonio Jose Carrillo, who was tem- porarily in immediate command of the Mexican forces around Los Angeles, came to our prison, and made known to me a plan that he had in his mind to take us all to Temple's Ranch (Cerritos, now owned by Bixby & Com- pany). We all marched down to said ranch. This was, I believe, early in November, 1846. After arriving there, Carrillo took me aside and said that he had now a good deal to talk to me about. He began by saying that they knew that Stockton would soon be in with his ships, and that he felt very unfriendly to many of the Californians for their revolt. Then he uncovered to me the following scheme: That when Stockton should reach San Pedro and begin to land his forces, "I have brought you down here; and will take you personally and place you on the mesa of San Pedro Land- ing. You will there remain alone with a sergeant, when I want you to raise a white flag. I will signify it to you by sending you the order. You will bear this message to the Commodore from me, that I hope no more blood will be shed on either side during the pendency of the War in Mexico, when the fate of this country must be decided upon. You can bear personal testimony to the Commodore that American interests in this country are safe, and that on my part I wish to make him this proposition-that I will guarantee as a gentleman and an officer, and as one who has the power to enforce it, that all Americans and their interests shall be duly protected and respected in this district ; that he, the Commodore, may land and take all the supplies needed for his forces, and hold the sea and landings, unmolested. Ask him, in the name of humanity, not to march forces through the country, as this would cause the spilling of blood and engender bad feeling between two people who, in all probability, will have to live together."
I was to depart and return with the Commodore's answer, either written or verbal, under my parole, pledging myself not to give any information beyond the message I was instructed to deliver. In accordance with this arrangement, I was placed under charge of a sergeant, and carried to the place designated, near the old San Pedro Landing, on the mesa, where I was to await Carrillo's orders. On our way we passed Carrillo's command of some four or five hundred men, all mounted. They seemed to be collecting on Dominguez's Ranch, all the scattered horses they could secure; they already had a large number together. The sergeant and myself having stationed ourselves as above, I looked back in the gap where the road leads through, from the Palos Verdes to San Pedro Landing, and saw an immense dust raised by a large caballada mixed with mounted soldiers. This immense band of horses and cavalcade occupied several hours in passing through the gap, which was kept up by turning to the left as they went through the gap, down a short distance, where there was a low depression in the same
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hills, and passing back through this depression or gap, going up again to the same gap and passing through again.
This gave the impression and appearance of an immense mass of mounted cavalry, as no one at a distance could distinguish through the dust, if all the horses had riders or not. At the time I took my position, I could see that the Commodore's flagship was loading boats with war materials, which boats, some four in number, left the ship's side and came ashore crowded with marines. By the time that the cavalcade stopped its maneu- vers the boats were signaled, as we supposed from the ship, for they all returned to her, leaving nothing on shore.
As soon as everything was reshipped, the frigate lifted her anchors and put to sea. I have seen it stated in a book which purported to give the lives and acts of American Commodores, that Stockton landed at San Pedro, marched with his marines three miles to Palos Verdes, there met the Califor- nians, with his well trained eye fired at them several shots, and slew a number (how many he could not tell, as their friends carried them away), but having no cavalry, he thought it imprudent to advance into the interior without it, and concluded to go to San Diego, and there improvise a cavalry force. The whole thing is a fabrication. I assert from personal observa- tion that Stockton did not land, but that four of his boats came to the water's edge, and returned to the frigate without having effected a landing at all. The commodore did good and gallant service, and his fame needs no fictitious aid. Carrillo then sent orders to the sergeant to bring me where he was. He saluted me, saying that he had deceived himself in endeavoring to make a demonstration to Stockton of his forces, in order to secure a favorable response. In other words, he had made too great a demonstra- tion and driven Stockton away. Therefore, there was nothing left for me to do but go back to my ranch prison. We remained there over night and the next day came to town, and went again into our prison. We had now the prospect before us of a long, monotonous imprisonment. But, excepting for the fact that we had to sleep in prison, we were allowed every other liberty and treated with uniform kindness by the natives. I omitted to mention the fact that when I arrived in Los Angeles, by order of Governor Pico, at the time of the advance of General Micheltorena in 1845, Abel Stearns was acting as Prefect of the District. The town, as I said, was in great excitement and Mr. Stearns seemed to realize fully the necessity of repelling the Micheltorena crowd, and not allow them to enter the city. He showed himself extremely active, spoke very encouraging words, intimating that on the next morning he would put himself at our head, and march us on to victory. On the next morning we saw Don Abel, at daylight, mounted on his favorite steed, still using energetic words. "Mount, boys, and go; there is no time to lose." So we all paraded before his house, ready to march, and supposed he was to command us. But he came out saying to us: "March ahead. I will soon overtake you." We saw no more of the prefect, till after the embarkation of General Micheltorena, when he returned back to his home in town, saying that he had received a message from his Ranch Almitos that demanded his immediate presence here, and he had been unable to return till now. I will here add that during the whole time of our subsequent imprisonment, Mr. Stearns never deigned to give us even a sign of recognition. Our life was now a monotonous one. The
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campaign ground which had been established by both parties is San Diego County. Nothing worthy of mention happened in Los Angeles. We had reports that Colonel Fremont was marching with a battalion from the north, and Commodore Stockton would soon come up from San Diego. Then we heard that Kearney had arrived from New Mexico and been badly defeated at San Pasqual.
These events bring us down to the sixth of January, 1847 ; on which day, Don Andres Pico and other prominent Californians came to our prison and said : "All our troops march tomorrow to meet Commodore Stockton and General Kearney, who are near Santa Ana, on their way up. You must give your parole and leave your prison for your own safety, as we have no spare force to guard you, or to protect you from the rabble." Pico added that the next morning early he would bring the two Blancos, one for Mr. Rowland, and one for myself ; those two horses were considered the fleetest in the country. We promised to make all ready for the next morning to disperse. He brought us the two horses, fully equipped, the next morning in person-the one intended for me had on his fine silver mounted saddle and bridle, silver spurs, etc., remarking as he handed me the bridle, "Take this horse, and you will be perfectly safe. There is no other horse in the country that can overtake you. If I fall in battle give it to my brother Don Pio." I expressed some sympathy for him, mentioning the hope that he would take no extraordinary risks. He replied jocosely, but with tears in his eyes: "No hay cuidado. Refiero que la portendad dirga, qui ananco Don Andres y no muno." Mr. Rowland and myself mounted our horses, the other men went and scattered themselves among the various vineyards, so as not to be seen in the streets. My family was in Santa Ana, at my wife's father, Don Bernardo Yorba, and Mr. Row- land's, at the La Puente. We joined our respective families that same day. On my way down I passed the American forces, but avoided speaking to them, or anyone, on the route. Knowing that on the 8th the contending forces would meet one another near the San Gabriel River, I came back skirting the hills of the Coyote Ranch, before I could get a view of the two armies. Remaining in view as long as the fight lasted, saw there had been nothing decisive except that the Californians rather gave way. Rode back to the rancho, where I remained all night. The day of the 8th a portion of the Californians made a charge and seemed for a time to have broken the American lines, which gave me much alarm. But as soon as the dust cleared away, I saw the Californians retreating, and, from what I learned afterwards, had the charge been simultaneous of all the California forces, the American lines would have been broken, and there is no telling what the end might have been. Our forces rallied and closed ranks. The Cali- fornians retired over a hill a short distance. I knew from the position of the two forces that the fight would be resumed the next morning. The Americans camped that night on the field of that day's fight. The ninth of January I started out to view the fight, but on my way I met some Califor- nians, friends of mine and relations of my wife, whom I knew had been in the action of the preceding day. They told me that in the morning Flores and his Mexicans had refused to continue the fight, confining themselves to firing a few guns, and that they were running away to Mexico, by way of San Gorgonio Pass, inviting all that wished to follow them. Hearing that
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news I made up my mind to spend the day in the hills back of La Puente Ranch, and wait for the night, to come into Los Angeles through La Puente, where I would obtain some definite news. But that night it rained in perfect torrents. The night was black as pitch, and I lost my way. I had no other recourse but to sit on my horse and wait for daylight. Early in the morning I went to the house of Mr. William Workman. After waking him up and having some conversation, he told me there were two very important persons in one of his outhouses, with some fellows he could not tell who, or how many. We talked a great deal in a few minutes and Mr. Workman told me that those persons were Monterey men, and I probably would know them, Workman felt in doubt about the condition of things; whether it would be safe for me to see them or not, or how far he would be compromised by har- boring them. We did not as yet know the actual results of the fight, and of course were unable to foresee events. The information I had the day before was not such as I could give entire weight to, as none of the men that communicated it were officers of note, though men of character that would not knowingly deceive me. I then asked Mr. Workman (as I was still a prisoner of parole) to go and speak to them himself, learn their names, ask them if the fighting was really over, what had been the result, and where were Flores and his command. Workman did so, and returned in a few minutes, confirming what I had learned the day before from my own friends ; that Flores and his Mexican forces (two or three hundred, per- haps) were by forced marches going out of the country. That the two chief men there harbored were the La Torre Brothers. I then concluded there was no impropriety in my seeing them, and asked Mr. Workman to let me go and have an interview with them. Mr. Workman went to the room where the Torres were, and told them Don Benito Wilson wished to see them. They came out remarking, that above all, I was the man they wanted to see. We met, had a very warm salutation, shaking of hands; for I had been on very intimate terms with Joaquin and Gabriel de la Torre, in Mon- terey. I said: "Is it possible these are my friends, Joaquin and Gabriel ?" They, like myself, had been out in the rain of the night before, and we all looked like so many drowned rats. I hastened to make inquiries of them about the state of matters, as they understood it. They reported that on the morning of the ninth, after the skirmish and retreat of Flores, they accompanied him all that day, till night came on still on the march. They and a few of their friends, all Californians, fell out under cover at night, and made a hasty retreat to La Puente, adding that they would rather be shot in California than go to Mexico. They begged me to go to town in person, and intercede for them with Commodore Stockton. I said: "No. I am sick of this thing, have been in prison three months, and want to see an end to this trouble." I was clearly of the opinion that the best course to pursue was for them, the brothers Torre, to mount their horses and come with me to town. I called Mr. Workman in English, requesting him to manage that of mine, which he did. The two brothers ordered their horses immediately and had them saddled. They gave some directions to their comrades, and sent some message to their families in Monterey, in case they were shot, for they really expected such might be their fate. After a good warm breakfast, the two brothers and myself started for Los Angeles, they having left their arms with their friends. It took us the whole day to
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