the whole of the hostile should be in full
pursuit, we were to charge them in flank, and put them to rout. All
happened as was anticipated; we mustered about three hundred and fifteen
men, acting under one single impulse, and sanguine as to success. On
came the governor with his heroes.

A queer sight it was, and a noisy set of fellows they were;
nevertheless, we could see that they were rather afraid of meeting with
opposition, for they stopped at the foot of the hill, and perceiving
some eight or ten Montereyans at the top of the pass, they despatched a
white flag, to see if it were not possible to make some kind of
compromise. Our friends pretended to be much terrified, and retreated
down towards the prairie. Seeing this, our opponents became very brave.
They marched, galloped, and rushed on without order, till they were
fairly in our power; then we gave the war-whoop, which a thousand echoes
rendered still more terrible.

We fired not a bullet, we shot not an arrow, yet we obtained a signal
victory. Soldiers and stragglers threw themselves on the ground to
escape from death; while the governor, trusting in his horse's speed,
darted away to save himself. Yet his cowardice cost him his life, for
his horse tumbling down, he broke his neck. Thus perished the only
victim of this campaign.

We took the guns and ammunition of our vanquished opponents, leaving
them only one fusil for every ten men, with a number of cartridges
sufficient to prevent their starving on their return home. Their leader
was buried where he had fallen, and thus ended this mock engagement.
Yet another battle was to be fought, which, though successful, did not
terminate in quite so ludicrous a manner.

By this time Fonseca was coasting along the shore, but the
south-easterly winds preventing him from making Monterey, he entered the
Bay of St. Francisco. This settlement is very rich, its population
being composed of the descendants of English and American merchants, who
had acquired a fortune in the Pacific trade; it is called _Yerba buena_
(the good grass), from the beautiful meadows of wild clover which extend
around it for hundreds of miles.

There Fonseca had landed with about two hundred rascals of his own
stamp, and his first act of aggression had been to plunder and destroy
the little city. The inhabitants of course fled in every direction; and
on meeting us, they promised the Indians half of the articles which had
been plundere