to tell you, when I saw you in Texas, that she would wait for you up
there but she didn’t think she’d come down here.”
“Tyania?” mused the general, in his resonant voice. He repeated the
name, dwelling tenderly on the syllables, “Tyania? A noble woman, who
succored me in the darkest hours of my adversity. She belongs to my
past life. I shall send for her, I shall send for her; and my only fear
is that she will _not_ come.” He swept a fierce, eagle glance around
him. “Let no man ever utter a word derogatory to Tyania Rodgers.”
And in due time Sam Houston did send for Tyania to share his new life;
but she refused to leave her Indian people. There, shortly afterwards,
she died.
Dick Carroll broke the brief silence that followed the general’s
emphatic speech.
“I want this lad to meet Jim Bowie, too,” he said. “Shake hands with
Ernest Merrill, colonel. He’s thrown in with Texas, and is going to be
one of us as fast as he can. His uncle was wiped out by the Injuns on
the Trinity; named John Andrews.”
“I am pleased to meet the nephew,” responded Mr. Bowie, politely,
extending a slim, bronzed hand. “I have heard of the unfortunate fate
of Sergeant Andrews.”
Ernest bravely shook hands with a tall, straight man, of powerful
frame, light, fine skin, and smooth complexion set with small stern
mouth and a pair of coldly fierce blue eyes. But he had a gentle
manner, and Ernest decided to like him.
“Well, gentlemen, let us to what business there may be,” prompted
General Houston.
The group dissolved. The general and Colonel Bowie and several other
men walked away; Dick Carroll and Ernest proceeded to their supper.
“Sam Houston’s surely going to stay in Texas,” remarked Mr. Carroll.
“You heard what he said about Tyania and his past life. He’s already
sort of taken up residence at Nacogdoches, and agreed to be a delegate
to the convention, if he’s elected. He and Jim Bowie are bound for
Bejar, where Houston talks to the Comanche Indians, to get ’em to
attend a treaty council at Fort Gibson and promise to be friendly to
the United States. Colonel Bowie――――” he added. “Don’t forget that
you’ve met James Bowie. He was born in Georgia, but he was raised in
Louisiana. You’ve heard of the bowie-knife? Jim and his brother Rezin
invented it――mostly Rezin, they say. Jim’s a terrible fighter when
he’s called on to fight. They claim he’s the only man who ever roped
and rode an alligator, alone, for fun. Rezin and he have been in some
powerful Indian tussles, since they came to Texas. He’s married now to
the daughter of Juan Veramendi, the vice-governor of state of Coahuila
and Texas, at Bejar, and has the license for a big cotton and wool
factory, over beyond the Rio Grande. But I doubt if he’s the kind of a
man to settle down to that.”
The year had changed from 1832 to 1833, and the people of Gonzales and
of all Texas, as far as Ernest could hear, expected great prosperity.
Sam Houston had been to San Antonio de Bexar (or Bejar), and had
returned eastward by the great highway, the Royal Road, north of
Gonzales.
The convention was to meet in April to formulate a constitution and
other measures for presentation to Santa Anna as soon as he should be
installed as head of the Mexican Republic. Once permitted to elect its
state officers and make its own laws, Texas would jump ahead.
The convention assembled at San Felipe on April 1, this 1833. Ernest
did not ride over, but Dick Carroll, and other Gonzales citizens, did,
to be on hand, so Gonzales was well informed as to what was done.
The constitution was drawn under the direction of Sam Houston, the
chairman of the committee to prepare it. Another committee wrote a
memorial or address to the Mexican government, explaining what Texas
desired. It said that Texas was at a standstill, because of the attacks
by the Indians, the lack of sufficient laws, and the restrictions
placed upon immigration from the United States; and it asked that the
government decree of 1830, which ordered that no more Americans should
enter Texas, be officially repealed.
Three delegates were appointed to carry the wishes of Texas to the
City of Mexico; but only one made the trip. He was Stephen F. Austin
himself, the “Father of Texas.” And when he passed through Gonzales,
Ernest saw him for the first time.
It was not difficult to understand why the people of Texas loved Austin
so, but he looked more like a student than a pioneer who had brought
the first settlers into Texas, a dozen years ago, and had lived here
ever since. He was slender and graceful and of only medium height,
and wore a fringed suit of soft seal-brown buckskin――although it was
said that he had a suit of broadcloth with him, to wear in the City
of Mexico. His hair was brown and curly, his smooth face long and
fair, and his gray-blue eyes were large and thoughtful. He appeared
tired and perplexed, and not very strong. It was claimed that he was
a college graduate, and that since coming to Texas he had studied the
Spanish language until he could speak it thoroughly, and that nobody
was better acquainted with the Mexican laws than he. He and Sam Houston
had been born in the same year, in Virginia; but no two men were more
different. Sam Houston was massive and majestic; whereas Stephen Austin
was slight and modest.
Austin proceeded on for the City of Mexico, where General Santa Anna
had been inaugurated as president. Gonzales wished him good luck; he
was paying his own expenses, and he was going all alone, and much
depended again upon him.
“He’ll fetch back the bacon, if anybody can,” remarked Dick Carroll,
rather dubiously. “But sometimes I don’t trust even Santa Anna. You
never can tell what is about to happen, down there in Mexico; and Santa
Anna may want to be the whole thing, just like the others.”
It was a long journey to the City of Mexico, and weeks would pass
before Texas could hear from its petition for a separate statehood.
Meanwhile, affairs continued to be not satisfactory at all. For
instance, the legislature of Coahuila and Texas, which was more for
Coahuila than for Texas, had assembled and among other measures adopted
one that declared that petitions to the government “excited disorder,”
and therefore no more than three persons should join in any petition.
This was not the way Texas felt. Other resolutions also were adopted
which seemed to be aimed against the Texas half of the state. And
soon afterward Coahuila became even divided against itself, when the
legislature attempted to change the capital from the town of Saltillo
to the town of Monclova. A little revolution ensued, down there across
the Rio Grande. It was evident that Texas could expect small help from
Coahuila, and must stand on its own feet. The Mexican way of government
was not the Texas-American way.
Other disquieting news arrived. Santa Anna had been president only a
few months, when up rose a party of the Mexican people and proclaimed
him dictator, an absolute ruler responsible to nobody, much less to the
republic’s constitution of 1824. It seemed to be the opinion that Santa
Anna had hatched this movement, himself; and although he accompanied an
army under General Arista, to subdue the revolutionists, he was accused
of making only a pretense at resistance. Then, when General Arista
turned revolutionist, and actually seized Santa Anna and insisted that
he be dictator, the whole matter looked more suspicious than ever.
But Don Gomez Farias, the vice-president, proved to be honest and
faithful. He promptly squelched the movement, and President Santa
Anna, finding that the revolution was not going to succeed and that he
could not be made dictator yet, pretended to escape, and returned to
the capital. He did not like Don Gomez any the better for his honesty;
and saying that he needed rest he retired to his great ranch, there to
scheme while he waited another opportunity.
Meanwhile, again, Stephen Austin was due in the City of Mexico, bearing
the petition from Texas for the national congress to act upon; but with
so much confusion and plotting, it would appear that he would arrive at
not a very favorable time.
In Gonzales, even, not all the people were agreed. Dick Carroll and
some others were strong for securing Texas rights at no matter what
cost; but the majority seemed to be in favor of keeping things as they
were, if they could not be bettered peaceably. Gonzales was so cut
off from the rest of the American settlements, and was so exposed to
attack by Indians as well as the Mexican soldiery at Bejar, and so much
depended upon raising crops and other supplies, that the town dreaded
a general up-setting until it was more firmly established. Indeed, a
letter had been dispatched from the town to the Mexican “political
chief,” as he was entitled, of the district, at San Antonio, explaining
that Gonzales did not wish to take any part in the differences between
Bustamante and Santa Anna, and preferred to remain neutral and attend
to its own business. It also had declined to take sides in the dispute
with the Mexican officials in East Texas.
But when the convention was held at San Felipe, to prepare a
constitution and to ask for statehood, then Gonzales sent delegates.
On the question of statehood it stood up for Texas. Dick Carroll had
plenty of company.
As the weeks sped, Ernest met a number of Texans who were as prominent
as Colonel James Bowie. There was Colonel Ben Milam, a Kentuckian who
had fought in the War of 1812; had been an Indian trader in Texas
before the American settlements; and a leader in Mexico when the people
first tried to obtain a republican form of government; and a prisoner
there, and afterwards had been rewarded by a large tract of land,
and now had another tract, for a colony, but was unable to settle it
because of the Indians. A dark, handsome man was Colonel Benjamin R.
Milam, who spent much of his time over in Coahuila province.
There was Captain William Barret Travis, from North Carolina, who last
summer, at Anahuac on the Gulf coast of East Texas, had been thrown
into a dungeon by a tyrannical Mexican official, for resisting some
brutal soldiery. Only twenty-two was William Travis. His home was down
on Galveston Bay, near Anahuac, but Ernest once saw him while on a trip
to San Felipe――a lithe, boyish six-footer, with round freckled face,
reddish hair, and steel blue eyes. People said that he was all nerve;
nothing could daunt him.
There was “Deaf” Smith, whose real name was Erasmus Smith, but who
was hard of hearing. Texas was a great place for nicknames. A small,
spare, leathery-faced and wrinkled-faced man was “Deaf” Smith, of New
York, who kept very much to himself and rarely had anything to say
to anybody. He had come to Texas in 1817, and in 1825 had been one of
the first settlers at Gonzales. He had married a Mexican woman and now
lived at San Antonio. He was a famous hunter and Indian scout.
And in Gonzales itself there was Colonel Green DeWitt, the founder
of the colony and of the town: a rather heavy-set, full-faced,
smooth-shaven gentleman, with wavy hair well brushed down, a pleasant
smile, and courtly manners. His family were with him.
There was Major James Kerr, the other founder of the town. But he
had lost his wife and two children. A little girl was in the care of
friends at San Felipe.
There was Captain Matthew Caldwell, an Indian fighter. He was one of
the early settlers, and was called “Old Paint” Caldwell because his
ruddy complexion was blotched with white.
There was Almeron Dickinson, not far turned twenty, who had settled
away out here, found a pretty wife, and was one of the most popular
citizens, and altogether a splendid young man.
And there was Ezekiel Williams, the first officially-elected alcalde
or mayor, who had come out in 1829, and now lived in the “outer” town,
seven miles up the river. And James B. Patrick, the new alcalde; and
Almond Cottle, the new sindico or town attorney; and Byrd Lockhart,
the surveyor; and Winslow Turner, of Turner’s two-story hotel; and Eli
Mitchell, who had a large house; and Dr. Thomas R. Miller, at whose
house the council sometimes met; and the McCoys (seven of them), some
of whom were original settlers; and the two McClures (Abe and Bart);
and the Fulshears (Ben, Churchill and Graves); and the Jacob Darst
family, where there was a boy about Ernest’s age; and Andrew Ponton,
the smart Frenchman; and bold John Castleman, who contemplated moving
on west; and the Fuquas, and Tumlinsons, and Zumwalts, and a lot more,
of the “inner” town and the “outer” town――all forming a large family
in which scarcely anybody was over fifty, and the majority were under
forty.
These and others Ernest met or heard of while Texas awaited word from
Stephen Austin at the City of Mexico. He wrote about them and about
his fun and work in letters to his mother; he had already told her of
the death of Sergeant John Andrews at the hands of the Indians. He did
not know when his letters would get to her, and he never knew when to
expect replies; for the only way by which mail went and came was by
accommodating travellers. A regular mail service was one thing that
Texas was demanding from Mexico. Ernest hoped that his mother was not
worrying. She _said_ she wasn’t――but mothers sometimes say this anyway.
The summer of 1833 waxed and waned. At Gonzales a flat-boat ferry was
built and placed on the river, for crossing back and forth. Report
from the east claimed that great numbers of fresh settlers had entered
Texas; which was good. But from the southwest, reports out of old
Mexico stated that Santa Anna was still scheming on his ranch, that
cholera had broken out and that 10,000 persons had died in the City of
Mexico alone, and that congress was unable to hold regular sessions.
Over in Coahuila the Mexican people were still quarrelling about the
location of the state capital, the governorship, and other matters;
and nothing that the legislature did, meeting at Monclova, pleased the
people of Saltillo, the former capital.
All the Mexican part of Mexico seemed to be in disorder. It was high
time that Texas, which knew what it wanted, be granted statehood, so
that it could cut loose from Coahuila and pursue prosperity in the
American way while the rest of Mexico, south of the Rio Grande, fussed
and fought in the Mexican way.
Word was received that Stephen Austin had arrived in the City of Mexico
in July, and that he had immediately presented the Texas petition. But
the year aged, and little further was heard in Gonzales.
“Why doesn’t President Santa Anna help?” once asked Ernest, of Mr.
Carroll. “I thought he was in favor of Texas. Texas helped him in his
revolution, didn’t it?”
Dick Carroll banged the supper table with his fist.
“Santa Anna!” he snorted. “He’s going to be dictator, I tell you. He’s
staying there on his rancho, so as to let Farias the vice-president
introduce republican laws that will make the other parties mad; and
when the other parties get strong enough he’ll come out and say that
the ‘wish of the people’ must be obeyed. Just now he comes out only
long enough to stir the broth with his finger, occasionally. I’ll bet
my hat he fools Steve Austin. Austin’s a good man, and a smart man, but
some of us rather fear he’s a little too mild. Of course, it’s better
to win a p’int by peace than by war, and Austin is a man of peace, as
long as peace stands any show. He hopes that if we prove to Mexico
we’re honest, Mexico will be honest with us. Besides, we’ve all we can
do to fight off the Injuns. But I for one don’t trust Don Presidente
Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna as far as you can throw a bull by the tail.”
“Did you ever see Santa Anna?” asked Ernest, curiously.
“No, I never did. But Ben Milam and several other men I know have seen
him. Milam fought along with the patriots in 1821, when Mexico freed
herself from Spain and became a republic. Santa Anna was a colonel
then, on the patriot side, although he was born in Spain and was in the
Spanish regular army. When the new president, named General Iturbide,
turned about and proclaimed himself emperor, Milam and a lot more who
opposed him were put in jail; but Santa Anna headed another revolution
that deposed Iturbide, restored the republican government, and of
course freed Milam and the rest. Santa Anna has always been ag’in a
monarchy or a despotism――look what he did in 1832 when Bustamante tried
to seize the reins――and we all have thought he would be just the man
to understand the Texas ideas. But he’s surely acting suspicious now.
He’s a brainy man, and not big to look at. About five feet five, I
hear, small-boned, dark complexioned, Spanish type, with good head and
smart face, and fine manners. Aged about forty-five. And he’s quite a
soldier, too. He’s always been successful in his fighting, to date.”
The year 1834 opened with a terrific “norther” or cold, sleety storm,
sweeping struggling Texas almost from border to border. The people of
Gonzales were only beginning to thaw out in the welcome sunshine, when
from Stephen Austin arrived bad news at last. He had had the cholera.
The petition was unanswered, and congress kept postponing any action on
it. He finally had told Vice-president Farias that unless something was
done for Texas very soon, the settlers would be likely to take matters
into their own hands. Also, he had written a long letter to the mayor
and people of San Antonio, saying that he did not believe he could
accomplish anything and that San Antonio and the other Texas towns had
better meet and form a state government, anyway, as permitted by the
Constitution of 1824 whenever Texas could prove that she was ready for
statehood.
Then, before this advice had been spread far enough to be acted upon, a
man on lathering horse rode post-haste from the west into Gonzales. He
was Ben Milam. As he drew rein in Market Square excited voices hailed
him.
“What’s the matter, Ben?”
“Austin’s been arrested!”
IV
“WE MUST DEFEND OUR RIGHTS”
“_Austin’s been arrested!_”
The terse sentence seemed to carry instantly through all inner
Gonzales, as attracted by the galloping horse men came running.
“Steve Austin arrested? When? Where?”
“On January 3rd, at Saltillo, by orders from the capital. He’d got this
far, on his way home; now they’re taking him back again, to the City of
Mexico.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was there and saw it.”
“What did they arrest him for?”
“Mostly on account of that letter he wrote to San Antonio, advising
Texas to get together and form its state government. The mayor sent the
letter to the capital, saying he disapproved――――”
“The scoundrel!”
“And Farias [the vice-president], who didn’t like some things that
Austin had said, anyway, dispatched orders post-haste to have him
arrested and turned back. So he was stopped down at Saltillo, and
charged with treason to Mexico; and back he’s gone.”
“Did you talk with him, Ben?”
“I did. He was coming home because he thought that everything was all
right. Matters had quieted around the capital, and in November Santa
Anna called a meeting of his council to hear what Texas had to say. So
Austin said it――told why he had brought the petition, and why Texas
objected to being joined with Coahuila. Everything went off nicely.
The council didn’t think that Texas was ready, quite yet, to be an
independent state; but they agreed with Santa Anna that the law against
colonization by Americans should be repealed, and they promised a
lot of other reforms. That of course was after Austin had written the
letter to San Antonio. He claims that he wrote it for fear Texas would
take to arms instead of organizing civilly, and would lose all chances.
Now that the petition had been acted on at last, in a friendly manner,
in December he started home; got as far as Saltillo, and was arrested.
He lays it to Farias, rather than to Santa Anna, who’d gone back to his
rancho and left Farias in charge.”
“Then as soon as Santa Anna knows, he’ll release him.”
“He’s friendly to Texas, is Santa Anna. We helped him, and he’ll help
us.”
“He likes Austin, too. He’ll not see Texas and Steve Austin mistreated.”
Many were such expressions of hope, in Gonzales, that Santa Anna the
president would countermand the orders of Farias the vice-president,
that Stephen Austin would be released at once, and that all would come
out well for Texas. As onward through Texas rushed the tidings of the
arrest, other people were hopeful, too. But the hope rode on a great
wave of angry protest.
Austin arrested? The honest, honorable, fair-spoken Austin, who always
had advised peaceful methods, and had been faithful to Mexico as well
as to Texas, and in order to obtain simple justice had borne his own
expenses as a delegate from Texas to the Santa Anna government, and
after waiting there six months had only frankly and bravely told Don
Gomez Farias that if Texas was not helped she would have to help
herself. As for his letter to the Mexican mayor of San Antonio de
Bejar――that had contained nothing treasonable. The petition from Texas
had not been refused, yet, and he had merely advised that Texas wait no
longer but go ahead and form the state government.
Who was Don Gomez Farias? Nobody but the vice-president! Santa Anna was
the boss. Wait till Santa Anna the president heard.
So Gonzales and the rest of Texas did wait, and fume; and a public
meeting held at San Felipe de Austin sent to the City of Mexico another
petition, requesting that Stephen Austin be released. But it was
unanswered.
However, to his town of San Felipe came from Austin a letter written
on his way as a prisoner back to the City of Mexico. He said that
matters had gone very well for Texas, and that the people there would
do wisely to be grateful and to obey the Mexican regulations until the
better ones were made. This sounded encouraging――but it was the last
word from him for several months. News out of the City of Mexico stated
that he had been placed in a dungeon, to await trial. He was allowed to
communicate with nobody and nobody was allowed to communicate with him.
“Just like those Mexicans,” avowed Dick Carroll. “You see Santa Anna
hasn’t released him? No, sir! Mark my words: Santa Anna is lying low,
till all his schemes are ripe for him to be dictator. He’s letting
Don Gomez [who was Farias the vice-president] have full swing and
make republican laws that the monarchists don’t like; and when the
monarchists are strong enough he’ll come out in the open, be their
champion, pretending it’s the will of the people――fire Farias――who’s a
more honest man than he is――and sit the saddle himself. Meantime he’s
holding Austin, as a hostage for the good behavior of Texas. We don’t
dare to r’ar ’round much now, for fear of harm to Steve.”
And Dick Carroll was proved to be a shrewd prophet.
Texas continued in a great confusion. There was a hot-headed war party,
which urged separation from Coahuila and establishment as a state under
the constitution of 1824, at any price, whether of blood and arms or
not; and there was a stronger peace party, which urged the people to
wait, to abide by the advice of Stephen Austin, and to go slow and
better their condition gradually, rather than risk all on a doubtful
war.
Over across the Rio Grande, in Coahuila province, which was the other
half of the state of Coahuila and Texas, the confusion was worse.
The people of Saltillo opposed whatever the people at Monclova, the
capital, did; but the state legislature, meeting, passed a number
of acts which gave Texas several measures that it wanted. Then the
Saltillo party declared all these acts, and others, illegal; set up
their own governor, and spoke of war.
This left Texas without any settled state government; and to Dick
Carroll and many others, including Ernest (who listened and thought as
hard as he could), it looked as if indeed Texas must take matters into
its own hands, or it would go to ruin.
Just as Dick had predicted, in April Santa Anna emerged from his ranch,
Magna de Clavo, displaced the honest Don Gomez and the Farias cabinet,
disbanded a number of state legislatures, deposed some governors whom
he didn’t like, dissolved the congress, and ordered a new congress and
a new constitution to suit himself!