THE FALL OF THE ALAMO.
"The enemy are upon us!"
This cry, ringing clearly throughout the Alamo, aroused everybody to
action, and hither and thither ran the soldiers to their various points
of duty,--some in uniform, and others just as they had leaped up from
their couches.
"Are they really coming?" demanded Henry Parker, who had been sleeping
beside Dan, in one of the rooms of the convent.
"I reckon they are, Henry," was the quick response, and up leaped the
youth, and ran, gun in hand, to where Poke Stover was doing guard duty.
"Are they coming, Poke?"
"Yes, Dan, and plenty of 'em, too. They are divided into several
divisions."
There was no time to say more, for already one of the divisions,
commanded by Colonel Duque, was attacking the northern wall. Here
Lieutenant-Colonel Travis commanded in person. The commander was
bareheaded, and carried a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other.
"Now, boys, give it to them hot!" he shouted. "Don't let them get over
the wall. Fire to kill! Fire to save your own lives!" And then the
cannon belched forth, followed by a crack-cracking of the smaller
firearms. The aim of the Texans was so deadly that the column was
repulsed for the moment, and Colonel Duque was seriously wounded.
By this time the divisions to attack the other sides of the mission had
come up. As one column tried to raise their scaling-ladders, Davy
Crockett threw his coonskin cap at them in defiance, and laid one of
the officers low with a shot from his trusty "Betsy." Fifty other shots
rang out, and the morning air became heavy with the smoke of rifles and
cannon.
"We must beat 'em back!" cried Stover, who was close to Crockett, and
as the old hunter blazed away so did the frontiersman and Dan, and the
youth had the satisfaction of seeing the Mexican he had aimed at go
down, rope and gun in hand, shot through the ankle.
The fighting was now incessant on all sides, but gradually the Mexicans
concentrated on the northern wall. They were yelling like so many
demons, and their officers urged them forward by threats and sword
blows, until the first rank was fairly wedged against the stone wall of
the mission. A cannon belched forth, doing fearful havoc, but those in
front could not retreat because of those pushing behind them, and in a
twinkle one Mexican soldier was piled above another, until the top of
the wall was gained, and, as one authority states, they came "tumbling
over it like sheep," falling, in some cases, directly on the bodies of
the Texans below.
"The convent yard is taken!" was the cry. "To the convent! To the
hospital!" And as quickly as it could be done the Texans left the yard.
In the crowd were Dan, Stover, and Henry Parker. As the latter turned,
a Mexican under-officer aimed his pistol at the young man.
"Down, Henry!" yelled Dan, but, before Parker could drop, the pistol
was discharged and Henry Parker fell like a lump of lead, shot through
the brain.
The sudden death of his friend made Dan spellbound, and he gazed at the
corpse in horror. Then he felt his arm seized by Poke Stover, and in a
minute more found himself being hurried toward the church.
"We can't do anything more," exclaimed the old frontiersman. "They
number ten to one, and more. We are doomed, unless we can manage to
escape!"
"Poor Henry!" murmured Dan, when he could speak. "What will his
mother----"
"Yes, yes, lad, I know; but we can't talk about it now. Come on."
"To where?"
"Anywhere, away from that howling, raging mob of greasers. They'll show
us no quarter."
"Travis is dead!" said somebody who was passing them. "They fairly
hacked him to pieces!"
As Stover and Dan ran into the church building, there was a loud report
in the courtyard. The Mexicans had captured one of the cannon, and
turned it upon the long ward of the hospital building, and the
grape-shot laid fifteen Texans low. The Texans were now fighting from
room to room of the convent, and the whole place looked like a
slaughter-pen.
"To the church!" came the cry. "To the church! Let the last stand be in
the church!" The cry was taken up on all sides, and every Texan who
could do so ran for the church with all possible speed. In the
meantime, the stockade had been carried, and fresh Mexican soldiers
were pouring over this in droves.
At the entrance to the church stood Davy Crockett, clubbed rifle in
hand, and with the blood pouring from a wound in the head.
"Rally around me, boys!" he shouted. "Don't give up! We are bound to
whip 'em yet!" And as the first of the Mexicans came on, he laid two of
them low with one mighty blow of his favourite "Betsy," that cracked
the rifle in half. And, as the rifle fell, so did lion-hearted Davy
Crockett, to rise no more.
With the fall of Crockett, the other Texans, especially those who had
emigrated from Tennessee, fought like demons, and soon the whole church
was so thick with smoke that scarcely one man could be told from
another. In a side apartment lay Bowie, suffering from a fall from a
platform, where he had been directing operations. As the Mexicans
swarmed into the room, Bowie raised himself up and fired his pistols.
Seeing this, the Mexicans retreated, and fired on him from behind the
door, killing him almost instantly.
It had been decided that, should the worst come to the worst, the
Texans must fire the powder-magazine located in one part of the church.
It was now seen that further resistance would be useless.
"The magazine!" came from half a dozen. "Blow the Mexicans up!"
"I will!" shouted back Major T. C. Evans, commander of the artillery,
and started forward with a firebrand for the purpose. The Mexicans,
however, saw the movement, and before Evans could go a dozen paces, a
score of guns were aimed at him, and he went down fairly riddled with
bullets.
"I'm shot!" cried Poke Stover, in the midst of the din and confusion,
and clapped his hand to his left shoulder. He had been leading Dan to a
rear apartment of the church, between overturned benches and sacks of
wheat and rice.
"Shot?" gasped the boy. "Where? Oh, I hope it isn't serious!"
"It's in the shoulder," and the old frontiersman gave a suppressed
groan.
"Can I do anything for you?"
"No! no! not now, Dan. Come, before it is too late."
"Where to?"
"Let us see if we can't hide from these bloodthirsty greasers. It is
worse than useless to stand up ag'in 'em longer!"
Again Stover caught hold of Dan, and the two pushed on through the
smoke and dust. Rifleshots still cracked out, and yells, screams, and
curses filled the air. The Alamo had fallen and now the Mexicans were
bent upon butchering every Texan who still remained alive. Out of the
whole gallant garrison not one man was spared!
Presently Dan and his companion entered a small room but a short
distance away from the powder-magazine. Here all was pitch-dark, as the
room contained no window. There were boxes and barrels stored here, but
for what purpose neither knew. Behind several of the boxes was a niche
about three feet square, and almost as deep.
"It's not much of a hidin'-place," said Stover, "but I reckon as how
it's better nor nothin'. Anyway, we can't do no more than try it. If
they root us out, we'll die game."
They squeezed themselves into the opening, Stover with many a supressed
groan over his wounded shoulder, which pained him not a little. Dan had
been struck in the side with a flying bit of masonry, and had an ugly
scratch under his arm in consequence, but just now he counted this as
little or nothing. The one thing was to escape with their lives. To
fight further would indeed have been sheer foolishness.
The din was gradually subsiding, and only the occasional yell of a
Texan being massacred in cold blood reached their ears. Dan could not
keep himself from shuddering. What a terrible Sunday morning! He
thought of the ranch home, and of his father and Ralph. Would he ever
see those loved ones again?
"Hush!" The warning came from Stover, and he placed his hand over
Ralph's mouth. Footsteps were approaching the little room.
"Hunt the rats out!" came in a rough Spanish voice. "Hunt them out!
Don't let one of them escape your bayonets!" And then several Mexican
soldiers entered the room and began to rummage among the boxes and
barrels.