Arista, for his part, decided quite naturally, while on his way to Matamoros, that he would plant himself on the American line of communication, and prevent our army from receiving ammunition, provisions and reinforcements. Accordingly the 1600 men under Torrejón, after disposing of Thornton's command, passed Fort Brown, held the road for some days without the knowledge of Taylor, and then by a grave blunder were drawn away, and concentrated on the Rio Grande opposite Longoreño, eight or ten miles below the city, to protect the crossing of the other troops, who proceeded to that point by several routes in order to deceive the Americans. The last day of the month Ampudia with his brigade and four guns went over; and on May 1 Arista--leaving Mejía with about 1400 men to hold Matamoros--followed with his other brigade and eight pieces. Unfortunately for him three scows of little capacity were the only boats available; and as these had been taken to Longoreño in carts by a circuitous route nearly fifteen miles in length, so as to avoid exciting our suspicions, they were not in good order. One or two, in fact, seem to have been almost useless, and hence many precious hours were lost; but at any rate the army succeeded in crossing a swift river without injury almost under the eyes of the Americans.[8.11] [TAYLOR ALARMED] By about one o'clock in the afternoon on the first of May Taylor heard that Mexicans were below him, and awoke. He saw now that Fort Brown required munitions and food, and that Point Isabel could not, even yet, resist a serious attack. Tents came down in haste; the wagon train was made ready; and at about half-past three--leaving behind the Seventh Infantry commanded by Major Brown, with Captain Lowd's four 18-pounders, Lieutenant Bragg's field battery and the sick, under orders to hold out as long as possible--Taylor marched for the coast. No time was lost in getting there. The troops bivouacked that night on the damp, chilly plain without fires, and early the next morning set out again. The shallow, greenish-brown lagoons rimmed with broad, flat, oozing banks of mud, the marshes full of tawny grass, and the low ridges mottled with patches of herbage and bald surfaces of gleaming dry dirt, seemed interminable; but as hours passed the now sultry air began to be streaked with salt odors, and by noon the panting troops caught the sparkle of blue waves. Fortunately they could not hear the shouts of joy in Matamoros over what was called their precipitate flight.[8.12]