Thy champions cling to thee!
They follow where you lead them――
To death or victory.
Through all the smoke and flame of war
Forever shines the Single Star!”
During the afternoon of this day, or perhaps after dark, the Pirate,
the Indian Hunter, and two others volunteered to carry an urgent
appeal to Fannin, who was supposed to be about one hundred miles
away. They had scarcely made their way out of the fort when thirty
men from Gonzales came in, tired and dusty, after eluding the rapidly
concentrating forces of Santa Anna.
There were now in the garrison one hundred and eighty-seven men and a
few women and children, among them the wife of Lieutenant Dickinson.
When Davy and his party arrived with the news of Santa Anna’s approach,
there was not a man who could not have escaped; yet when Travis asked
who would stand by him to the last, only one man turned away. His name
is known, but it has been borne by braver men, so let us judge him with
what leniency we may. The others awaited the supreme hour of battle
with a courage that can only animate the defenders of their faith in a
righteous cause.
On the 24th, having invested the fortress, the Mexicans planted a
battery near the San Antonio River, three hundred and fifty yards
away, and began a cannonade. Occasionally a bit of the parapet would be
clipped, but most of the shots were stopped by the thick adobe walls.
The riflemen in the fort now began their deadly work, and one by one
the gunners fell beside their pieces. At one of the batteries, placed
where it commanded the gates of the Alamo, a score of Mexicans lay
dead and dying before the position was abandoned. The Americans wasted
little powder in working the fourteen small cannon about the fort. The
scanty supply could be used to better advantage in their long rifles.
The Mexicans fired continually from behind every house and tree, and it
was dangerous to be seen above the walls.
During the afternoon of the 24th, Thimblerig was struck by a
three-ounce leaden ball, after it had glanced from the parapet. It
was a painful but not dangerous wound, and Davy dressed it as best he
could. When he advised Thimblerig to keep the missile as a souvenir,
the latter said that he hoped to be shot again if he did. He proceeded
to cut it up into slugs, wherewith to pay his debts to the enemy.
Before daylight of the 25th two more batteries were planted about the
Alamo, and the situation grew serious. In spite of the deadly aim
with which the defenders killed or wounded the men who served the
pieces, their places were immediately filled by others, for there were
thousands at Santa Anna’s command. During the 25th, Thimblerig is said
to have paid his debts, with interest, by dropping four Mexicans with
the slugs he had made from the bullet which had struck him.
On the 26th Colonel Bowie fell ill with typhoid, and was unable to
leave his bed. He is said to have been badly injured from a fall just
before this, but even in his delirium he seems to have had no thought
but to direct and cheer the smoke-grimed garrison. The Bee-Hunter kept
every one in good heart with his jests and songs and his unfailing
spirits. If he thought of Kate, so far away, he gave no sign. During
the afternoon he led a sortie from the rear stockade about the fort,
for the purpose of obtaining wood and water. Before they could return
they were seen by some of General Sesma’s men, and a running fight
followed. The Bible in the Bee-Hunter’s pocket, which had been Kate’s
last gift, was struck by a bullet, but it glanced away without harming
him. As he fell asleep, Davy heard the girl’s name upon his lips.
The appeal to the inhabitants of San Antonio for assistance, issued
by Travis upon the 24th, had not brought any volunteers, but food and
other supplies were promised. To obtain these it was necessary to
send out picked men after dark, and considerable forage and grain was
brought in during the 28th and 29th. There took place among the enemy
about this time certain movements that might have been caused by the
approach of Colonel Fannin’s command. For awhile, the slightest hope
was enough to raise the spirits of the garrison. Every day gained made
the possibility of relief seem more probable. But as night after night
fell about the city, with the enemy’s lines drawing ever closer, it was
hard to fight with a cheerful faith.
On the 4th of March, when the sun was low, a man was seen to the
westward of the fort, running towards the gate of the stockade, and
pursued by several Mexicans. He was almost at once recognized as the
Pirate, who had been one of the men sent in search of relief from
Goliad. Crockett, Thimblerig, and the Indian were the first to rush to
his aid. As they opened the gate of the stockade a dozen men followed
them, and a fierce hand-to-hand fight took place. Another sortie was
made from the stockade, and with the help of the men in this party,
they were able at last to repulse the enemy. Eight Mexicans were
killed, but the Americans had also fared badly. The Pirate and the
Bee-Hunter were mortally wounded, and Davy had a terrible sabre-cut
across his forehead.
The old Pirate died without a word, just as they entered the gate. His
story was never known. Davy saw the young Bee-Hunter laid carefully
in his bed, and helped to dress the wound in his side. Until midnight
he lay without signs of the pain he endured, and then he called for
Colonel Crockett. Davy asked if there was anything he could do for him.
He shook his head with a sigh that was like a sob. “Poor Kate! Poor
Kate!” he exclaimed. “Her words were only too true.” For a moment he
was silent, and then in a low, clear voice he sang the last words he
had heard from her lips:
“But hame cam’ the saddle, all bluidy to see,
And hame cam’ the steed, but hame never cam’ he.”
He spoke no more, and a few minutes afterwards breathed his last.
In the morning light of the 5th of March the Red Flag fluttered in
silence above the old San Fernando church. No quarter was to be
expected, and there was little hope of relief, but there was still a
chance to escape. Travis again asked if there were any who wished to
go, but not a man showed the white feather. Every possible preparation
was made for the expected assault. During the afternoon a Comanche
arrow was sent into the fort by some friendly person in the city, with
a copy of the following proclamation attached. This proclamation had
just been issued to the army, and is a matter of record:
OFFICIAL ORDER
The reserves will be composed of the battalions of Sappers and
Miners and five companies of the Grenadiers of the Matamoras,
Jimenez, and Aldamas battalions of regulars, and of the Toluca
and San Luis battalions of volunteers.
The reserve will be commanded by the General-in-Chief (Santa
Anna) in person, at the time of making the attack, but these
forces will be organized by Colonel Don Agustin Amat, under
whose control they will remain from this evening, and who will
conduct them to the point which will be designated to him at
the proper time.
The first column will be provided with ten scaling-ladders,
two crowbars, and two axes; the second will be provided with
the same quantity; the third with six, and the fourth with
two. The men carrying ladders will sling their guns over their
shoulders, so as to leave them entirely free to place their
ladders wherever directed.
Grenadier and Cavalry companies will be supplied with six
packages of cartridges to the man; the infantry company with
four, with two extra flints. The latter will not be encumbered
with overcoats, blankets, or anything which will prevent
rapidity in their movements. All caps will be provided with
chin-straps. Corps commanders will pay particular attention to
this provision, and are also required to see that their men
are provided with shoes or other covering for their feet. The
men of the attacking column will retire to rest at sundown,
preparatory to moving at midnight.
Men not well drilled will remain at their quarters.
All arms, particularly bayonets, must be put into the best
condition.
At the rising of the moon the riflemen of the San Luis reserve
battalion of volunteers will retire to their quarters, leaving
the points they cover along the line, and will thereupon put
their equipage in readiness.
The cavalry, under command of General Don Ramirez y Sesma,
will occupy the Alameda, and saddle up at three o’clock in the
morning. Their duty will be to prevent the escape of any of the
enemy and to watch the camp.
The honor of the nation and of the army being involved in
the contest with the desperate foreigners in our front, His
Excellency the Commander-in-Chief expects that each man
will perform his duty and contribute his share in securing
a day of glory for his country, and of honor to the Federal
Government, which will be proud to honor the brave men who
shall distinguish themselves by feats of valor.
By command:
JUAN VALENTINE AMADOR.
XXIII.
THE MEXICANS’ CHARGE
The devoted little band makes ready to measure swords with their
enemies――The bugle blows as the Sabbath breaks――The Mexicans charge
the Alamo with two thousand five hundred men――A terrible slaughter
outside the walls――The death of Colonel Travis――The scaling of the
parapets, and the death struggles in the fort――Bayonets, bowie-knives,
and clubbed rifles――Where Davy Crockett fell fighting to the last――The
silver bugle blows again――The end has come――The slaughter of the
prisoners――The after scenes――“Thermopylæ had its messenger of defeat;
the Alamo had none.”
It was radiant spring-time when Davy leaned upon his rifle and looked
across the Texas plains and over the hills that rose to the north
and east of the valley. He had read the grim orders for the expected
assault as he might have read an unimportant order of the day. No
comments had been heard as the proclamation passed from hand to hand.
On the walls of the Alamo and the tops of the flanking stockades
were fourteen guns loaded with grape and slugs, ready to be fired
at a moment’s notice. Every man was supplied with bullets and a full
powder-horn.
Some of the garrison were Mexicans, fighting for the common cause.
These were armed with rifles carrying bayonets. They were not marksmen
or experts in rapid firing, but they knew their fate if defeated, and
were relied upon to resist to the last.
A hush fell over all the land as the sun went down, touching with
tender beauty the early verdure of the plains. In the cottonwoods
finches sung their vesper songs, and the redbirds piped their plaintive
calls. The melody of the thrushes came from the willows along the
river’s banks, so sweet and far-away that Davy seemed to stand once
more by the winding current of the Obion. The odor of cedar was in the
air as the people of the city prepared their evening meals over fires
of the fragrant wood. The softened tones of the vesper bells came from
the Mission towers, full of an infinite peace and calm, and the day
merged into night, and the stars came out, and the birds were still. So
ended the 5th of March at San Antonio de Bejar.
The fitful sleep of the garrison came to an end when word was passed
around that activity had begun in the camp of the Mexicans. The sound
of horses’ feet was heard as the men of Sesma’s cavalry command
turned out for service at three o’clock, before the first sign of day
appeared. By four o’clock the tramp of moving hosts had ceased, and in
the bright moonlight the glitter of bayonets showed that the forces
that were to make the assault had taken the positions assigned them.
Every American took his place upon the walls of fort or stockade, and
saw that the priming of his gun or rifle was renewed.
As the first glimmer of dawn came out of the east, the fateful winding
of a bugle broke the stillness of the Sabbath morn. Voices were faintly
heard in stern command, and then, like the sweep of a tidal wave,
mingled with the earthquake’s sullen roar, the unleashed hosts of Santa
Anna swarmed against the massive walls of the Alamo. When near the fort
they were met by a storm of grape and slugs and the bullets of the
riflemen. Two thousand five hundred Mexicans took part in the first
attack, advancing in three columns against the eastern, western, and
northern sides, but they recoiled in confusion before the withering
fire. Colonel Duque was killed as he approached the northern wall, and
his men were thrown into terrified confusion. Upon the other sides of
the fortress the attack was at first repelled; but behind the shrinking
men who faced the first fire came the forces in reserve, until they
outnumbered the defenders fifteen to one, and at last they reached
the walls. Finding it impossible to scale them, the whole assault was
directed against the stockade upon the northern side. Here the walls
were comparatively low, and the ladders could be used. In the meantime
the men within were loading and firing with desperate energy. The
slaughter was terrible, and two or three hundred Mexicans had fallen
before the partial shelter of the walls was gained. Here they were
safe from the fire of the cannon overhead, but at so close a range
almost every bullet found a victim. Only the knowledge that others were
hurrying to their support kept them from fleeing for their lives.
Travis had been killed at the northwestern angle of the parapet, while
working one of the cannon defending a small breach that had been made.
After repeated attempts, General Amador succeeded in scaling the walls
at this point, and a swarm of Mexicans followed him. Under Morales
and Miñon, the outer defenses of the stockades had been occupied, the
cannon captured, and the defenders forced to retire to the main part
of the Alamo and the long barracks attached. The Texans soon fired
their last shots, then swung their clubbed rifles against the mobs that
pressed upon them with bayonet and sword. As these drove the Americans
against the walls, their keen-edged knives were drawn for a moment of
desperate conflict before they fell dying one by one. Bowie was lying
in an almost helpless condition in an upper room of the barracks, but
when the enemy rushed in upon him he shot down several with his pistols
before he was despatched. Bonham, who had been one of the most active
of the garrison, had been killed while loading a cannon. Crockett had
retreated with the others into the plaza in which the long two-story
barracks opened. The last that is known about him is that his mutilated
body was seen near the main walls of the Alamo by Mrs. Dickinson, whose
life was spared by the Mexicans. The story of his capture behind a pile
of dead men, whom he had killed before being overpowered, is not true.
Like most of his companions, he died in his tracks, disdaining to ask
for quarter. A few of his comrades are known to have attempted escape
by hiding in the barracks, an act which was entirely justifiable, for
the fighting was over, and longer resistance was useless. The Mexicans
stood at last within the walls of the Alamo, surrounded by the dead,
with no hand raised against them.
The conflict had been terrible, but was soon over. It was yet an hour
before the rising of the sun upon the plains when the calm, sweet notes
of a bugle sounded from the midst of drifting smoke above the captured
fort. The bands without were hushed, and the fierce Degüello was no
longer needed to incite to fury and frantic assault. The Lone Star flag
that had been so proudly raised upon Washington’s Birthday lay trampled
in the dust, and in its stead the tri-color of Mexico flaunted in
the morning breeze. There was a rolling of drums as the victorious
Santa Anna appeared before the open gates of the Alamo. Five men who
had secreted themselves in the barracks were brought before him.
Their captors asked what disposition should be made of the prisoners.
For answer Santa Anna wheeled his horse until his back was turned.
Disregarding all the tenets of military discipline, the guard about him
broke ranks and fell upon the captives like a pack of wolves, and in
a moment’s time the last of the defenders of the fort had gone to his
final accounting.
It has been generally supposed that Crockett and a few others were
massacred by Santa Anna’s command; but the best evidence now disproves
this, though it confirms his savage cruelty in ordering the shooting of
Colonel Fannin and his men, afterwards captured at Goliad.
Five hundred dead and dying Mexicans met the gaze of the victorious
commander-in-chief as he rode into the fort; and the total losses of
the Mexican army were between fifteen hundred and sixteen hundred men.
Almost two hundred Americans lay among the ghastly harvest they had
reaped.
The bodies of all the Americans, with the possible exception of Bowie,
whose wife was a sister of the wife of Santa Anna, were at once laid
upon a pile of wood and brush and burned. The Mexicans’ own dead were
buried, and preparations were made for the extermination of the last
vestige of rebellion.
In February, 1837, Colonel Seguin removed the ashes and charred bones
of the funeral pile of the defenders of the Alamo, and buried them near
the fort. In after years a small monument was set up in the entrance to
the State House at Austin, built from fragments of the stockade against
which the tide of battle swept with such fury on that quiet Sabbath
morn. Upon this monument are the names of one hundred and sixty-six men
who met death before the bugle rang above the old church walls. Among
the first is the name of Davy Crockett.
The Alamo is now cared for by the Society of the Daughters of the
Republic of Texas. The patriotic ladies who compose this Society
have done everything possible to restore and preserve the historic
building. The four-foot walls are intact, and the roof has been
rebuilt. A custodian is always in charge, and many objects of interest
have been collected and placed on exhibition. Pictures of Crockett,
Travis, Milam, Burleson, and others are hung upon its walls. The most
characteristic of all the pictures of Davy Crockett is one painted by
John L. Chapman in 1834, while Crockett was in Congress. It shows him
as he looked as scout and hunter, and reveals in every feature a kindly
and sympathetic nature, liable to strong emotion and sensitive to every
slight. Another picture, now in the Alamo, is that of Crockett in more
fashionable attire. The two are by different artists, but are so alike
in almost every lineament that each is a guaranty for the other. For
the use of the first of these pictures, the publishers are indebted to
the Daughters of the Republic of Texas.
The death of Davy Crockett and the other brave men who fell in the
Alamo could not be made the occasion for interference by the United
States, but thousands of Americans took up their cause, and it was not
long before the Stars and Stripes were lowered in salute before the
battle-scarred fortress, as our army passed by on its way to Mexico.
What visions came to Davy Crockett in the smoke and flame of his last
fight, we do not know; but the love of his own, like an attendant
angel, stood by him as he met his enemies one by one; and when the last
ray of light had faded from his soul, the glory of his sacrifice grew
out of the ghastly ending of a life unspoiled by false ideals, and
never unfaithful to those who shared his humble home. The soft airs of
the Southland play about his resting-place, and the thrush and robin
sing their plaintive songs above his dust. While the laurels glorify
the Limestone’s rugged hills, and the mayflowers scent the Nolichucky’s
wilderness, he sleeps unmindful of their fragrance and beauty, or the
singing of the birds. But his memory cannot die; his epitaph is upon
the walls of the Alamo――
THERMOPYLÆ HAD ITS MESSENGER OF DEFEAT:
THE ALAMO HAD NONE!
Transcriber’s Notes:
――Text in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).
――The portrait of David Crockett referenced in the Preface and last
chapter, was not included in this edition/printing of the book.
――Obvious punctuation and spelling inaccuracies were silently corrected.
――Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
――Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.
End of Project Gutenberg's David Crockett: Scout, by Charles Fletcher Allen