THE VICTORY OF SAN JACINTO.
"I reckon we are in for it now, father."
"Yes, Dan, we shall soon see some heavy fighting, I am afraid. I trust
you come out of it unharmed."
"And I hope you come out unharmed, too, father," added Dan, earnestly.
The two sat under a live-oak, overlooking a wide expanse of prairie,
dotted here and there with patches of timber. Behind them flowed the
broad and muddy stream, with a stretch of treacherous marsh-land
separating them from the water. The soldiers had been formed into
something resembling companies, and Mr. Radbury had been assigned to
his old position of lieutenant, with Dan as one of the privates under
him.
The Texans had gathered around in little knots to discuss the situation
in low tones. Under one of the trees stood General Houston, clad in
nothing more striking than an old slouch hat, a shiny black coat, and a
light-coloured pair of trousers which had long since seen their best
days. His sword, also an old affair, was tied to his belt with bits of
a lariat. Altogether he looked anything but a general bent upon leading
a raw and undisciplined army to victory.
"We will win!" he was saying. "We cannot afford to lose. The whole fate
of Texas hangs upon our courage!"
Amos Radbury looked at Dan, and something of a smile crossed his face.
"Did you hear that, lad?" he asked. "I believe our general speaks the
truth. He is not a man to fail."
The day wore along until two in the afternoon, when several
cannon-shots were heard in the distance, and incoming scouts announced
that Santa Anna was coming, but not with his entire army. The Mexican
general had divided his forces again, much to his disadvantage, as we
shall see.
A light skirmish occurred late in the afternoon, but Houston could not
draw on a general engagement, and while Santa Anna pitched his camp and
fortified it, the Texans remained on strict guard all night, fearing a
surprise.
In the morning General Cos arrived with five hundred men, to reinforce
Santa Anna, but the soldiers were so tired out by a forced march they
could scarcely stand, and so for the time being the Mexican general did
nothing. In the meantime, the Texans called a council of war. Some were
for attacking the Mexicans, and others wanted to wait to be attacked.
Houston said but little, yet by his face he showed that some plan of
action was forming in his brain.
The council over, the commander called two trusty scouts to him, and
sent them off with axes on a secret mission, which was to cut away the
bridge by which both armies had reached their present encampments. This
done, neither could retreat, so the fight would have to be "to a
finish."
"To arms!" came the call in the middle of the afternoon, and the
solitary drum the Texans possessed began to roll. Then, as the men
formed to march, the single fifer struck up the popular tune of the
day, "Will You Come to the Bower?"
"Dan, be careful of yourself!" cried Amos Radbury, as he pressed his
son's hand. "Be careful for my sake!" And then he rushed off to lead
his men forward. Dan's face was pale, but his clear eyes shone with a
determination that could not be mistaken. He would do his duty, come
what might.
"Vance's bridge has been cut down!" came the cry. "You must fight now
to a finish! Remember the Alamo!"
"Remember the Alamo!" came back wildly. "_Remember the Alamo!_ Down
with Santa Anna!" And then the long lines rushed on, straight for the
barricades which the Mexicans had erected.
The Mexicans were taken completely by surprise, for it had grown so
late that they had come to the conclusion that hostilities would be put
off until the next day. Santa Anna was taking a nap in his tent, while
his officers lay around smoking and playing cards. The soldiers were
partaking of such food as their scanty means afforded.
"Forward!" came from the Texan officers. "Forward! Don't give them time
to form!" And on swept the line, and crack! crack! went the rifles and
pistols. Some of the Mexicans tried to return the fire, while others
fell flat to avoid the bullets.
"The cannon!" shouted the Mexican general, Castrillon, when a bullet
killed him instantly. Some of the cannoneers were already at the
field-pieces, but they could do little, for the Texans were already
upon them. The smoke was thick, and the yelling upon both sides
incessant. In the midst of all was General Houston, firing his pistol
and using his sword to every possible advantage, and calling to his men
to remember the Alamo and not let one Mexican get away.
Side by side Amos Radbury and Dan gained the barricade. A Mexican
loomed up before them and the lieutenant despatched him with a
pistol-shot. Then over the barricade went father and son, Dan using his
empty gun as a club, and the lieutenant drawing his bowie-knife, a
weapon with which nearly every Texan was provided. The Texans came over
at leaps and bounds, and charged straight into the heart of the enemy's
camp, striking down every Mexican that opposed them.
Coming out of his tent, Santa Anna yelled to his men to arm themselves
and form into battle-line. But the confusion was so great that none of
his followers paid attention to him. The Texans were aroused as never
before, and struck at the Mexicans with such lightning-like rapidity
that the enemy was dazed, and scores of them fell upon their knees
begging for mercy. The shooting still continued, and now Dan was
horrified to see his father go down, stabbed in the leg by a Mexican
bayonet.
"Father!" he yelled, hoarsely, and then turned to the Mexican who had
done the deed. The fellow tried to pierce Dan with his steel, but more
by instinct than reason the youth leaped to one side. Then Dan's gun
came crashing down, and the Mexican with it, his skull cracked by the
force of the blow.
A crowd was now rushing that way, a score of Mexicans pursued by fully
as many Texans, and Dan had his hands full to keep his parent from
being trampled upon. There was a strange humming in the boy's ears, and
he seemed to be lifted up as though walking on air, while he panted for
breath.
"Keep off,--he is my father!" he screamed, and hurled one of the
Mexicans to one side. Then another came to take his place, and man and
boy rolled over on the prairie--grass close to the wounded lieutenant.
The Mexican had Dan by the throat when a Texan, rushing forward, kicked
the enemy in the head, rendering him partly unconscious.
Leaping up, Dan tried to collect his confused senses. Texans and
Mexicans were running in every direction, but at a glance he saw that
his own side had the best of the battle, and a prayer of thankfulness
burst from his lips. Then he saw General Houston go down, struck in the
ankle by a bullet. Yet the staunch commander kept to his post. His
horse was also shot several times.
At last the Mexicans were in full retreat. Paralysed with fear, some of
them sought the open prairie, where they were shot down by the Texan
sharpshooters, while others ran frantically for where the Vance bridge
had been located. Here the banks of the river were high and rocky, and
but few escaped to the opposite side.
The battle had been fought and won, but the end was not yet. On the
prairie, one of the Mexican commanders tried to make a stand, but the
Texans shot down the line almost as quickly as it was formed. Then the
Mexicans began to throw down their firearms, and the officers held up
their swords, handles to the front, as a token of surrender.
"It's too late to surrender!" cried a number of Texans. "Remember the
Alamo!" Meaning, "Remember how you butchered our soldiers!"
"Me no Alamo! Me no Alamo!" shrieked many of the Mexicans. "Good
Americano! Me no Alamo!" They wished the Texans to understand that they
were not responsible for the cold-blooded slaughter at the mission. At
last Colonel Almonte gathered together nearly four hundred of the
defeated and made a formal surrender, and to the everlasting honour of
Texas be it said that these prisoners were not maltreated.
The night that followed was one never to be forgotten. Santa Anna had
escaped, and while some ran around crying, "Santa Anna! Hunt down Santa
Anna!" others procured from the Mexicans' store a number of candles,
which they lit, and then formed a grand procession through the live-oak
grove and across the prairie, dancing and yelling like a lot of
Indians. The victory had been so long delayed that now, when it was
really theirs, they were intoxicated with joy.
The contest had been a remarkable one in many ways. The Texan army
numbered exactly 743, of whom eight were killed and thirty wounded.
Santa Anna's force numbered over sixteen hundred, and of these, 630
were killed, two hundred wounded, and 730 made prisoners. The enemy had
lost, in killed and wounded, more men than the Texan army contained,
and at the end of the battle the Texans had more prisoners than they
had men in the ranks! Besides prisoners, the Texans took over a
thousand firearms, two hundred sabres, four hundred horses and mules,
and about $12,000 in silver. Part of the money was divided among the
soldiers, each man receiving $7.50, and that was his entire pay for the
campaign.
The Texans were bound to find Santa Anna, and scouts went out in all
directions in search of him. On the following day he was discovered in
the long grass near the edge of a ravine, on the other side of the
river. He tried to hide in the grass, but was compelled to crawl out
and surrender. At first he claimed to be a private, but his jewels
betrayed him, and then he said he was one of Santa Anna's
aides-de-camp. But no one believed him, and he was taken into the Texan
camp without delay. Here there was a most dramatic scene between
General Houston and his noted prisoner. Houston, exhausted and covered
with the dirt of battle, lay at the foot of a tree, where he had just
taken a nap after having his ankle dressed.
"I am General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, President of the Mexican
Republic," said that individual, as he bowed low and flashed his jewels
and military decorations before Houston. "I claim to be a prisoner of
war at your disposal."
General Houston regarded him in utter silence for several seconds, a
silence in which each man measured the other thoroughly. Plainly Santa
Anna was disconcerted, and he looked around nervously, as if expecting
that at any moment he might be shot in the back. Then Houston waved him
to a seat on a near-by box of ammunition.
An interpreter was called up, and Santa Anna asked for a piece of
opium, saying he was suffering much pain. The opium was given him and
this quieted his nerves.
"That man may consider himself born to no common destiny who has
conquered the Napoleon of the West," went on the Mexican general,
bombastically. "It now remains for him to be generous to the
vanquished."
Again Houston looked at him, a look that made Santa Anna quail.
"You should have remembered that at the Alamo," said the Texan
commander.
"I am not to blame--I acted under the orders of the government of
Mexico," cried Santa Anna, hastily, and tried to explain that there was
a law which held that prisoners taken with arms must be treated as
pirates. But Houston cut the interpreter short when translating the
words.
"Who is the government of Mexico?" he exclaimed. "You, and you alone,
and you are responsible for the law that made the slaughter at the
Alamo possible. And you are likewise responsible for the massacre at
Goliad!" went on Houston, with great intensity of feeling.
"No, no, you are mistaken," answered Santa Anna, and then tried to
excuse the massacre of Fannin and his men in various ways. He wanted to
treat for peace and for his release, but Houston told him that only the
government of Texas had jurisdiction in the matter. Then Santa Anna was
placed in a tent, given his private baggage, and a strong guard was
set, that some of the more headstrong of the Texans might not kill him.