Capítulo 152: Chapter 153: [The Promised Land]
"Boom!" However, the north gate was also hit by artillery fire.
The south gate is not okay, the north gate is not okay, there is no gate on the west side, the east gate...
They originally thought that there seemed to be some hope for the East Gate. Although there were enemies guarding it, at least they would not be hit by artillery fire.
"Whoosh——" However, at this moment, accompanied by a neighing of horses, dozens of cavalrymen galloped over.
Their leader was as tall as a giant, and the warhorse under his crotch was as ferocious as a beast, which was terrifying.
The arrival of sixty cavalrymen immediately overwhelmed the white people both physically and psychologically.
"Bang, bang, bang--" dense bullets swept towards the white people who were still resisting.
In John Sartre's philosophy, he himself is undoubtedly a hardworking person. Although he has enviable wealth and power, he can still get up at seven or eight o'clock every day without anyone calling him.
The bad thing is that today he met someone who was more hardworking than him.
What's worse, these people seem to be his enemies.
"Boom--" The sudden gunshots and artillery sounds in the early morning woke John Sutter from his sleep.
In addition to the sound of gunfire, there were also bursts of screams, some of which he could even recognize who they belonged to.
Sartre quickly got up from the bed, a layer of cold sweat oozing out of his bald head.
What was going on? Was someone attacking Sutter's Fort?
Who were the invaders?
Were they Americans?
"Mr. Sutter, the Indians have taken over the tower!" Redding rushed into the room and answered his question.
"Indians?" Sutter blurted out. "That's impossible. The Indians in California don't even have guns! Could it be that the Indians in the fort rebelled?"
"Indians indeed, from outside." Redding panted, a little panicked, "Maidu from the Wild Duck Clan."
"Maidu people? Those cowardly construction workers?" Sartre still couldn't believe it, but the gunshots forced him to put on his clothes quickly.
Redding: "Yes, the Maidu people... I don't know why, but they suddenly took out weapons from nowhere and quickly occupied the tower, just like a group of sheep suddenly turned into a group of wolves!"
Sartre: "How many of them are there?"
"More than twenty people." Redding added, "But their fighting power is very strong. At least the soldiers guarding the two towers are no match for them. And it seems that they have more people outside the city. Mr. Sartre, we have to escape quickly!"
"Let's go!" Sartre put on his clothes, picked up a brown bass and rushed out the door.
"Boom!" As soon as he went out, a cannonball fell from the tower to the north gate of the fortress, blasting the soldiers there and several residents who tried to escape from there into pieces, with blood and flesh flying everywhere.
Sartre was shocked and angry. He turned to look at the south gate and found several body parts lying there.
There were about ten Indians at the east gate, shooting everywhere with revolvers, making it almost impossible for his soldiers to show their heads.
At the same time, dozens of Indian cavalry rushed in from the east gate. Each of them carried a rifle and held two revolvers in their hands, and their firepower was even more fierce.
As the cavalry arrived, the sound of gunfire gradually turned into bursts of unskilled English and Spanish.
"lay down your weapon!"
"Put your hands up!"
"Surrender and you won't be killed!"
As these shouts continued, the gunfire became increasingly sparse, and realizing that defeat was inevitable, the soldiers and residents of Sutter's Fort chose to surrender.
More than a hundred people gathered in an open space, raised their hands, and looked terrified.
"Mr. Sutter, come here quickly!" a white woman in the crowd waved.
Seeing that resistance was hopeless and escape was impossible, Sartre had no choice but to lay down his weapon, blend into the crowd of surrendering people, and look around nervously.
"If they keep their word, our lives won't be in danger," Redding said nervously.
"Will Indians keep their word?" Sartre said, shaking with nervousness.
He wondered whether the Indians would keep their word.
But he found it hard to believe that the Indians would let him go, after all, he knew very well what he had done to the Indians.
God bless...
At this time, Sartre could only pray to God.
The battle is over.
All those who survived chose to surrender, or rather, all those who chose to surrender survived.
More than a hundred white people gathered together, and the slaves in the fort were all released. They stood in groups of two or three and pointed at them.
The relationship between some slaves and slave owners was quite good, even much better than the relationship between workers and capitalists.
But this was clearly not the case for many of the slaves at Sutter's Fort.
They were almost the slaves who suffered the most cruel treatment. Many of them were ragged, pale and thin, and some of them had injuries.
So when they gained their freedom, they almost wanted to eat the white slave owners alive.
"He was the one who killed my mother! I want him to pay with his life!" A Miwok man said excitedly, picking up a stone and about to hit the slave owner.
"Stop." The Apache soldier next to him stopped him immediately.
"Why, can't I avenge my mother?"
"Apache law will judge his crimes and forbid anyone from lynching him."
The soldiers restrained not only the white people but also the slaves, a scene that surprised many of them.
"These Indians seem different..." said a slightly fat white farmer with a heavy nasal voice.
"What?" Samuel Brannan said. Today's experience made him annoyed and anxious. He couldn't help but yelled, "Cordova, you inarticulate guy! Fuck you!"
The white farmer called Cordova was obviously good-tempered: "I mean, I think they should keep their promise and not kill us."
Brannan continued to curse: "Credit? If the penalty is greater than the profit, then keep the credit. If the penalty is less than the profit, then abandon the credit. Credit is a piece of shit!"
"Brannan, calm down...that Indian soldier is looking at you," Cordova said.
Brannan glanced over and found that there was indeed an Indian soldier looking at him. He took a deep breath and calmed his confused emotions.
"Quiet!" A powerful voice quickly quieted the still chaotic scene.
Everyone looked at the person who made the sound, an Indian youth who was riding a black warhorse and had an unusually burly build.
He wore nine eagle feathers on his head, and his already astonishing size, coupled with the equally astonishing size of his warhorse, allowed him to look down on everyone from a high vantage point.
"Nine eagle feathers..." Some people seemed to have thought of something.
Ma Shao said slowly: "Now, this fort belongs to the Apache. Everyone will go to the promised land according to the Apache law."
"Who is John Sutter?" he asked.
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