FANNIN'S CAMP
When Ned made his startling announcement he leaped down lightly from the
wall.
"If you will look through the loophole there," he said to Colonel Ward,
"you will see a great force only a few hundred yards away. The man on
the large horse in front is General Urrea, who commands them. He is one
of Santa Anna's most trusted generals. His nephew, Captain Urrea, led
the cavalry who besieged us yesterday and last night."
Captain Ward looked, but the Mexicans turned into the wood and were
hidden from sight. Then the belief became strong among the recruits that
Ned was mistaken. This was only a little force that had come, and Ward
and King shared their faith. Ward, against Ned's protest, sent King and
thirteen men out to scout.
Ned sadly watched them go. He was one of the youngest present, but he
was first in experience, and he knew that he had seen aright. General
Urrea and the main army were certainly at hand. But he deemed it wiser
to say nothing more. Instead, he resumed his place on the wall, and kept
sharp watch on the point where he thought the Mexican force lay. King
and his scouts were already out of sight.
Ned suddenly heard the sound of shots, and he saw puffs of smoke from
the wood. Then a great shout arose and Mexican cavalry dashed from the
edge of the forest. Some of the other watchers thought the mission was
about to be attacked, but the horsemen bore down upon another point to
the northward. Ned divined instantly that they had discovered King and
his men and were surrounding them.
He leaped once more from the wall and shouted the alarm to Ward.
"The men out there are surrounded," he cried. "They will have no chance
without help!"
Ward was brave enough, and his men, though lacking skill, were brave
enough, too. At his command they threw open the gate of the mission and
rushed out to the relief of their comrades. Ned was by the side of Ward,
near the front. As they appeared in the opening they heard a great
shouting, and a powerful detachment of cavalry galloped toward their
right, while an equally strong force of infantry moved on their left.
The recruits were outnumbered at least five to one, but in such a
desperate situation they did not blench.
"Take good aim with your rifles," shouted Ward. And they did. A shower
of bullets cut gaps in the Mexican line, both horse and foot. Many
riderless horses galloped through the ranks of the foe, adding to the
confusion. But the Mexican numbers were so great that they continued to
press the Texans. Young Urrea, his head in thick bandages, was again
with the cavalry, and animated by more than one furious impulse he drove
them on.
It became evident now even to the rawest that the whole Mexican army was
present. It spread out to a great distance, and enfolded the Texans on
three sides, firing hundreds of muskets and keeping up a great shouting,
Ned's keen ear also detected other firing off to the right, and he knew
that it was King and his men making a hopeless defence against
overpowering numbers.
"We cannot reach King," groaned Ward.
"We have no earthly chance of doing so," said Ned, "and I think,
Colonel, that your own force will have a hard fight to get back inside
the mission."
The truth of Ned's words was soon evident to everyone. It was only the
deadly Texan rifles that kept the Mexican cavalry from galloping over
them and crushing them at once. The Mexican fire itself, coming from
muskets of shorter range, did little damage. Yet the Texans were
compelled to load and pull trigger very fast, as they retreated slowly
upon the mission.
At last they reached the great door and began to pass rapidly inside.
Now the Mexicans pressed closer, firing heavy volleys.
A score of the best Texan marksmen whirled and sent their bullets at the
pursuing Mexicans with such good aim that a dozen saddles were emptied,
and the whole force reeled back. Then all the Texans darted inside, and
the great door was closed and barricaded. Many of the men sank down,
breathless from their exertions, regardless of the Mexican bullets that
were pattering upon the church. Ward leaned against the wall, and wiped
the perspiration from his face.
"My God!" he exclaimed. "What has become of King?"
There was no answer. The Mexicans ceased to fire and shout, and
retreated toward the wood. Ward was destined never to know what had
become of King and his men, but Ned soon learned the terrible facts, and
they only hardened him still further. The thirteen had been compelled to
surrender to overwhelming numbers. Then they were immediately tied to
trees and killed, where their skeletons remained upright until the
Texans found them.
"You were right, Fulton," said Ward, after a long silence. "The Mexican
army was there, as we have plenty of evidence to show."
He smiled sadly, as he wiped the smoke and perspiration from his face.
Ned did not reply, but watched through a loophole. He had seen a glint
of bronze in the wood, and presently he saw the Mexicans pushing a
cannon from cover.
"They have artillery," he said to Ward. "See the gun. But I don't think
it can damage our walls greatly. They never did much with the cannon at
the Alamo. When they came too close there, we shot down all their
cannoneers, and we can do the same here."
Ward chose the best sharpshooters, posting them at the loopholes and on
the walls. They quickly slew the Mexicans who tried to man the gun, and
General Urrea was forced to withdraw it to such a distance that its
balls and shells had no effect whatever upon the strong walls of the
church.
There was another period of silence, but the watchers in the old mission
saw that much movement was going on in the wood and presently they
beheld the result. The Mexican army charged directly upon the church,
carrying in its center men with heavy bars of wood to be used in
smashing in the door. But they yielded once more to the rapid fire of
the Texan rifles, and did not succeed in reaching the building. Those
who bore the logs and bars dropped them, and fled out of range.
A great cheer burst from the young recruits. They thought victory
complete already, but Ned knew that the Mexicans would not abandon the
enterprise. General Urrea, after another futile charge, repulsed in the
same deadly manner, withdrew some distance, but posted a strong line of
sentinels about the church.
Having much food and water the recruits rejoiced again and thought
themselves secure, but Ned noticed a look of consternation on the face
of Ward, and he divined the cause.
"It must be the ammunition, Colonel," he said in a whisper.
"It is," replied Ward. "We have only three or four rounds left. We could
not possibly repel another attack."
"Then," said young Fulton, "there is nothing to do but for us to slip
out at night, and try to cut our way through."
"That is so," said Ward. "The Mexican general doubtless will not expect
any such move on our part, and we may get away."
He said nothing of his plan to the recruits until the darkness came, and
then the state of the powder horns and the bullet pouches was announced.
Most of the men had supposed that they alone were suffering from the
shortage, and something like despair came over them when they found that
they were practically without weapons. They were more than willing to
leave the church, as soon as the night deepened, and seek refuge over
the prairie.
"You think that we can break through?" said Ward to Ned.
"I have no doubt of it," replied Ned, "but in any event it seems to me,
Colonel, that we ought to try it. All the valor and devotion of the men
in the Alamo did not suffice to save them. We cannot hold the place
against a determined assault."
"That is undoubtedly true," said Ward, "and flushed by the success that
they have had elsewhere it seems likely to me that the Mexicans will
make such an attack very soon."
"In any event," said Ned, "we are isolated here, cut off from Fannin,
and exposed to imminent destruction."
"We start at midnight," said Ward.
Ned climbed upon the walls, and examined all the surrounding country. He
saw lights in the wood, and now and then he discerned the figures of
Mexican horsemen, riding in a circle about the church, members of the
patrol that had been left by General Urrea. He did not think it a
difficult thing to cut through this patrol, but the Texans, in their
flight, must become disorganized to a certain extent. Nevertheless it
was the only alternative.
The men were drawn up at the appointed time, and Ward told them briefly
what they were to do. They must keep as well together as possible, and
the plan was to make their way to Victoria, where they expected to
rejoin Fannin. They gave calabashes of water and provisions to several
men too badly wounded to move, and left them to the mercy of the
Mexicans, a mercy that did not exist, as Urrea's troops massacred them
the moment they entered the church.
Luckily it was a dark night, and Ned believed that they had more than
half a chance of getting away. The great door was thrown silently open,
and, with a moving farewell to their wounded and disabled comrades, they
filed silently out, leaving the door open behind them.
Then the column of nearly one hundred and fifty men slipped away, every
man treading softly. They had chosen a course that lay directly away
from the Mexican army, but they did not expect to escape without an
alarm, and it came in five minutes. A Mexican horseman, one of the
patrol, saw the dark file, fired a shot and gave an alarm. In an
instant all the sentinels were firing and shouting, and Urrea's army in
the wood was awakening.
But the Texans now pressed forward rapidly. Their rifles cracked,
quickly cutting a path through the patrol, and before Urrea could get up
his main force they were gone through the forest and over the prairie.
Knowing that the whole country was swarming with the Mexican forces,
they chose a circuitous course through forests and swamps and pressed on
until daylight. Some of the Mexicans on horseback followed them for a
while, but a dozen of the best Texan shots were told off to halt them.
When three or four saddles were emptied the remainder of the Mexicans
disappeared and they pursued their flight in peace.
Morning found them in woods and thickets by the banks of a little creek
of clear water. They drank from the stream, ate of their cold food, and
rested. Ned and some others left the wood and scouted upon the prairie.
They saw no human being and returned to their own people, feeling sure
that they were safe from pursuit for the present.
Yet the Texans felt no exultation. They had been compelled to retreat
before the Mexicans, and they could not forget King and his men, and
those whom they had left behind in the church. Ned, in his heart,
knowing the Mexicans so well, did not believe that a single one of them
had been saved.
They walked the whole day, making for the town of Victoria, where they
expected to meet Fannin, and shortly before night they stopped in a
wood, footsore and exhausted. Again their camp was pitched on the banks
of a little creek and some of the hunters shot two fine fat deer further
up the stream.
Seeking as much cheer as they could they built fires, and roasted the
deer. The spirits of the young recruits rose. They would meet Fannin
to-morrow or the next day and they would avenge the insult that the
Mexicans had put upon them. They were eager for a new action in which
the odds should not be so great against them, and they felt sure of
victory. Then, posting their sentinels, they slept soundly.
But Ned did not feel so confident. Toward morning he rose from his
blankets. Yet he saw nothing. The prairie was bare. There was not a
single sign of pursuit. He was surprised. He believed that at least the
younger Urrea with the cavalry would follow.
Ned now surmised the plan that the enemy had carried out. Instead of
following the Texans through the forests and swamps they had gone
straight to Victoria, knowing that the fugitives would make for that
point. Where Fannin was he could not even guess, but it was certain that
Ward and his men were left practically without ammunition to defend
themselves as best they could against a horde of foes.
The hunted Texans sought the swamps of the Guadalupe, where Mexican
cavalry could not follow them, but where they were soon overtaken by
skirmishers. Hope was now oozing from the raw recruits. There seemed to
be no place in the world for them. Hunted here and there they never
found rest. But the most terrible fact of all was the lack of
ammunition. Only a single round for every man was left, and they replied
sparingly to the Mexican skirmishers.
They lay now in miry woods, and on the other side of them flowed the
wide and yellow river. The men sought, often in vain, for firm spots on
which they might rest. The food, like the ammunition, was all gone, and
they were famished and weak. The scouts reported that the Mexicans were
increasing every hour.
It was obvious to Ned that Ward must surrender. What could men without
ammunition do against many times their number, well armed? He resolved
that he would not be taken with them, and shortly before day he pulled
through the mud to the edge of the Guadalupe. He undressed and made his
clothes and rifle into a bundle. He had been very careful of his own
ammunition, and he had a half dozen rounds left, which he also tied into
the bundle.
Then shoving a fallen log into the water he bestrode it, holding his
precious pack high and dry. Paddling with one hand he was able to direct
the log in a diagonal course across the stream. He toiled through
another swamp on that shore, and, coming out upon a little prairie,
dressed again.
He looked back toward the swamp in which the Texans lay, but he saw no
lights and he heard no sounds there. He knew that within a short time
they would be prisoners of the Mexicans. Everything seemed to be working
for the benefit of Santa Anna. The indecision of the Texans and the
scattering of their forces enabled the Mexicans to present overwhelming
forces at all points. It seemed to Ned that fortune, which had worked in
their favor until the capture of San Antonio, was now working against
them steadily and with overwhelming power.
He gathered himself together as best he could, and began his journey
southward. He believed that Fannin would be at Goliad or near it. Once
more that feeling of vengeance hardened within him. The tremendous
impression of the Alamo had not faded a particle, and now the incident
of Ward, Refugio and the swamps of the Guadalupe was cumulative.
Remembering what he had seen he did not believe that a single one of
Ward's men would be spared when they were taken as they surely would be.
There were humane men among the Mexicans, like Almonte, but the ruthless
policy of Santa Anna was to spare no one, and Santa Anna held all the
power.
He held on toward Goliad, passing through alternate regions of forest
and prairie, and he maintained a fair pace until night. He had not eaten
since morning, and all his venison was gone, but strangely enough he was
not hungry. When the darkness was coming he sat down in one of the
little groves so frequent in that region, and he was conscious of a
great weariness. His bones ached. But it was not the ache that comes
from exertion. It seemed to go to the very marrow. It became a pain
rather than exhaustion.
He noticed that everything about him appeared unreal. The trees and the
earth itself wavered. His head began to ache and his stomach was weak.
Had the finest of food been presented to him he could not have eaten it.
He had an extraordinary feeling of depression and despair.
Ned knew what was the matter with him. He was suffering either from
overwhelming nervous and physical exhaustion, or he had contracted
malaria in the swamps of the Guadalupe. Despite every effort of the
will, he began to shake with cold, and he knew that a chill was coming.
He had retained his blankets, his frontiersman's foresight not deserting
him, and now, knowing that he could not continue his flight for the
present, he sought the deepest part of the thicket. He crept into a
place so dense that it would have been suited for an animal's den, and
lying down there he wrapped the blankets tightly about himself, his
rifle and his ammunition.
In spite of his clothing and the warm blankets he grew colder and
colder. His teeth chattered and he shivered all over. He would not have
minded that so much, but his head ached with great violence, and the
least light hurt his eyes. It seemed to him the culmination. Never had
he been more miserable, more lost of both body and soul. The pain in his
head was so violent that life was scarcely worth the price.
He sank by and by into a stupor. He was remotely conscious that he was
lying in a thicket, somewhere in boundless Texas, but it did not really
matter. Cougars or bears might come there to find him, but he was too
sick to raise a hand against them. Besides, he did not care. A million
Mexicans might be beating up those thickets for him, and they would be
sure to find him. Well, what of it? They would shoot him, and he would
merely go at once to some other planet, where he would be better off
than he was now.
It seems that fate reserves her severest ordeals for the strong and the
daring, as if she would respond to the challenges they give. It seems
also that often she brings them through the test, as if she likes the
courage and enterprise that dare her, the all-powerful, to combat. Ned's
intense chill abated. He ceased to shake so violently, and after a while
he did not shake at all. Then fever came. Intolerable heat flowed
through every vein, and his head was ready to burst. After a while
violent perspiration broke out all over him, and then he became
unconscious.
Ned lay all night in the thicket, wrapped in the blankets, and breathing
heavily. Once or twice he half awoke, and remembered things dimly, but
these periods were very brief and he sank back into stupor. When he
awoke to stay awake the day was far advanced, and he felt an
overwhelming lassitude. He slowly unwound himself from his blankets and
looked at his hand. It was uncommonly white, and it seemed to him to be
as weak as that of a child.
He crept out of the thicket and rose to his feet. He was attacked by
dizziness and clutched a bush for support. His head still ached, though
not with the violence of the night before, but he was conscious that he
had become a very weak and poor specimen of the human being. Everything
seemed very far away, impossible to be reached.
He gathered strength enough to roll up his blankets and shoulder his
rifle. Then he looked about a little. There was the same alternation of
woods and prairie, devoid of any human being. He did not expect to see
any Texans, unless, by chance, Fannin came marching that way, but a
detachment of Mexican lancers might stumble upon him at any moment. The
thought, however, caused him no alarm. He felt so much weakness and
depression that the possibility of capture or death could not add to it.
Young Fulton was not hungry,--the chill and following fever had taken
his appetite away so thoroughly,--but he felt that he must eat. He found
some early berries in the thickets and they restored his strength a
little, but the fare was so thin and unsubstantial that he decided to
look for game. He could never reach Fannin or anybody else in his
present reduced condition.
He saw a line of oaks, which he knew indicated the presence of a
water-course, probably one of the shallow creeks, so numerous in Eastern
Texas, and he walked toward it, still dizzy and his footsteps dragging.
His head was yet aching, and the sun, which was now out in full
brightness, made it worse, but he persisted, and, after an interminable
time, he reached the shade of the oaks, which, as he surmised, lined
both sides of a creek.
He drank of the water, rested a while, and then began a search of the
oaks. He was looking for squirrels, which he knew abounded in these
trees, and, after much slow and painful walking, he shot a fine fat one
among the boughs. Then followed the yet more mighty task of kindling a
fire with sticks and tinder, but just when he was completely exhausted,
and felt that he must fail, the spark leaped up, set fire to the white
ash that he had scraped with his knife, and in a minute later a good
fire was blazing.
He cooked the tenderest parts of the squirrel and ate, still forcing his
appetite. Then he carefully put out the fire and went a mile further up
the creek. He felt stronger, but he knew that he was not yet in any
condition for a long journey. He was most intent now upon guarding
against a return of the chill. It was not the right time for one to be
ill. Again he sought a place in a thicket, like an animal going to its
den, and, wrapping himself tightly in the blankets, lay down.
He watched with anxiety for the first shiver of the dreaded chill. Once
or twice imagination made him feel sure that it had come, but it always
passed quickly. His body remained warm, and, while he was still watching
for the chill, he fell asleep, and slept soundly all through the night.
The break of day aroused him. He felt strong and well, and he was in a
pleasant glow, because he knew now that the chill would not come. It had
been due to overtaxed nerves, and there was no malaria in his system.
He hunted again among the big trees until he found a squirrel on one of
the high boughs. He fired at it and missed. He found another soon and
killed it at the first shot. But the miss had been a grave matter. He
had only four bullets left. He took them out and looked at them, little
shining pellets of lead. His life depended upon these four, and he must
not miss again.
It took him an hour to start his fire, and he ate only half of the
squirrel, putting the remainder into his bullet pouch for future needs.
Then, much invigorated, he resumed his vague journey. But he was
compelled very soon to go slowly and with the utmost caution. There were
even times when he had to stop and hide. Mexican cavalry appeared upon
the prairies, first in small groups and then in a detachment of about
three hundred. Their course and Ned's was the same, and he knew then
that he was going in the right direction. Fannin was surely somewhere
ahead.
But it was most troublesome traveling for Ned. If they saw him they
could easily ride him down, and what chance would he have with only four
bullets in his pouch? Or rather, what chance would he have if the pouch
contained a hundred?
The only thing that favored him was the creek which ran in the way that
he wanted to go. He kept in the timber that lined its banks, and, so
long as he had this refuge, he felt comparatively safe, since the
Mexicans, obviously, were not looking for him. Yet they often came
perilously near. Once, a large band rode down to the creek to water
their horses, when Ned was not fifty feet distant. He instantly lay flat
among some bushes, and did not move. He could hear the horses blowing
the water back with their noses, as they drank.
When the horses were satisfied, the cavalrymen turned and rode away,
passing so near that it seemed to him they had only to look down and see
him lying among the bushes. But they went on, and, when they were out
of sight, he rose and continued his flight through the timber.
But this alternate fleeing and dodging was most exhausting work, and
before the day was very old he decided that he would lie down in a
thicket, and postpone further flight until night. Just when he had found
such a place he heard the faint sound of distant firing. He put his ear
to the earth, and then the crackle of rifles came more distinctly. His
ear, experienced now, told him that many men must be engaged, and he was
sure that Fannin and the Mexican army had come into contact.
Young Fulton's heart began to throb. The dark vision of the Alamo came
before him again. All the hate that he felt for the Mexicans flamed up.
He must be there with Fannin, fighting against the hordes of Santa Anna.
He rose and ran toward the firing. He saw from the crest of a hillock a
wide plain with timber on one side and a creek on the other. The center
of the plain was a shallow valley, and there the firing was heavy.
Ned saw many flashes and puffs of smoke, and presently he heard the thud
of cannon. Then he saw near him Mexican cavalry galloping through the
timber. He could not doubt any longer that a battle was in progress. His
excitement increased, and he ran at full speed through the bushes and
grass into the plain, which he now saw took the shape of a shallow
saucer. The firing indicated that the defensive force stood in the
center of the saucer, that is, in the lowest and worst place.
A terrible fear assailed young Fulton, as he ran. Could it be possible
that Fannin also was caught in a trap, here on the open prairie, with
the Mexicans in vastly superior numbers on the high ground around him?
He remembered, too, that Fannin's men were raw recruits like those with
Ward, and his fear, which was not for himself, increased as he ran.
He noticed that there was no firing from one segment of the ring in the
saucer, and he directed his course toward it. As soon as he saw horses
and men moving he threw up his hands and cried loudly over and over
again: "I'm a friend! Do not shoot!" He saw a rifle raised and aimed at
him, but a hand struck it down. A few minutes later he sprang breathless
into the camp, and friendly hands held him up as he was about to pitch
forward with exhaustion.
His breath and poise came back in a few moments, and he looked about
him. He had made no mistake. He was with Fannin's force, and it was
already pressed hard by Urrea's army. Even as he drew fresh, deep
breaths he saw a heavy mass of Mexican cavalry gallop from the wood,
wheel and form a line between Fannin and the creek, the only place where
the besieged force could obtain water.
"Who are you?" asked an officer, advancing toward Ned.
Young Fulton instantly recognized Fannin.
"My name is Edward Fulton, you will recall me, Colonel," he replied. "I
was in the Alamo, but went out the day before it fell. I was taken by
the Mexicans, but escaped, fled across the prairie, and was in the
mission at Refugio when some of your men under Colonel Ward came to the
help of King."
"I have heard that the church was abandoned, but where is Ward, and
where are his men?"
Ned hesitated and Fannin read the answer in his eyes.
"You cannot tell me so!" he exclaimed.
"I'm afraid that they will all be taken," said Ned. "They had no
ammunition when I slipped away, and the Mexicans were following them.
There was no possibility of escape."
Fannin paled. But he pressed his lips firmly together for a moment and
then said to Ned:
"Keep this to yourself, will you? Our troops are young and without
experience. It would discourage them too much."
"Of course," said Ned. "But meanwhile I wish to fight with you."
"There will be plenty of chance," said Fannin. "Hark to it!"
The sound of firing swelled on all sides of them, and above it rose the
triumphant shouts of the Mexicans.