was ill in bed, to Ernest. “And they’ll fight to the death. They’ll
never surrender. After winning Bejar, we’ll lose it. If I was only on
my feet――――! Meanwhile, ’stead of sending reinforcements, Texas is
fighting amongst itself, and at the same time depending on Sam Houston.
But what can Houston do――a general without an army to obey him, or a
government to help him. Travis and Bowie and Bonham and a few others
are about all the friends he seems to have, aside from the governor,
who’s a governor no longer.”
Ten days passed, marked by more rumors, and by another courier bearing
through Gonzales an appeal from Lieutenant-Colonel Neill to the
government for help. Then, at the last of January, appeared in Gonzales
William Barret Travis, for Bejar with thirty horsemen.
“Who’s for Bexar?” he challenged, hotly. “What’s the matter with you
Texans? Are you Gonzales people just as cold-blooded as the rest of the
state?”
“Where’s your regular army, colonel?” retorted somebody.
Lieutenant-Colonel Travis threw up his hand with a gesture of despair.
“The regular army!” he cried. “I’ve been on recruiting service for
weeks. So has Fannin; so has Rusk. The whole regular army doesn’t
number a hundred men. Since I received orders to march to the relief of
Bexar I’ve worked day and night to get regulars, volunteers, anybody;
and at San Felipe and at Burnam’s on the Colorado I’ve raised only
thirty men――twenty-six of ’em regulars, and four of ’em volunteers. I
had more, but they deserted, with their horses and outfit. Boys, I’m
discouraged. The country seems exhausted, or else won’t fight. We’ve
a few patriots, but they’re about worn out. They can’t do everything.
I haven’t slept, and I’ve pledged my own money. The governor’s been
deposed, and nobody will follow Sam Houston――the best man who’s yet
thrown in with Texas. Looks to me as if we were counting on the United
States to fight our battles for us. But I’m going to Bexar if I have
to go alone. It’s the key to Texas, and I, personally, shall never
surrender it.”
He took Captain Dickinson and Captain Albert Martin and two or three
other Gonzales men with him among his volunteers, and rode on. He never
came back; and came not back Captain Dickinson. Ernest would gladly
have gone with his captain, but he could not leave Dick.
January merged into February. General Houston was reported to have
been forced out of his commandership, and to have gone on a mission
to make a treaty with the Cherokee Indians in Texas. The regular army
was a failure; and the majority of the volunteers, about 400 (most
of them from the United States) were with Colonel Fannin at Goliad.
Lieutenant-Colonel Travis, Colonel Bowie, Colonel Bonham, and Captain
Dickinson (who had been reappointed as lieutenant in the regular
service) were still at Bejar. Captain Dickinson had sent for his wife
and baby to join him and visit relatives there. Lieutenant-Colonel
Neill passed through Gonzales on his way home, sick. He had left Travis
in command of about 150 men――far, far too few.
For the Mexican soldiery were marching north. Reports from
Lieutenant-Colonel Travis said that he was in command of the regulars
and cavalry, and Colonel Bowie of the volunteers. But General Sesma, of
the Mexican army, he reported, certainly had arrived at the Rio Grande
River and joined General Cos, with 2000 men.
We are illy prepared for their reception [ran his appeal to the
helpless Governor Smith], as we have not more than one hundred
and fifty men here, and they are in a very disorganized state.
Yet, we are determined to sustain it as long as there is a man
left, because we consider death preferable to disgrace, which
would be the result of giving up a post which has been so
dearly won, and thus opening the door for the invaders to enter
the sacred territory of the colonies. We hope our countrymen
will open their eyes to the present danger, and wake from their
false security. I hope all party dissensions will subside, and
that our citizens will unite in the common cause and fly to the
aid of the frontier.
I fear it is useless to waste arguments upon them. The thunder
of the enemy’s cannon――the cries of their famished children and
the smoke of their burning dwellings will only arouse them.
For God’s sake, and for the sake of our country [implored the
brave Lieutenant-Colonel Travis], send us reinforcements. And
he added:
With two hundred men I believe this place can be maintained,
and I hope they will be sent as soon as possible. Yet, should
we receive no reinforcements, I am determined; and should
Bexar fall, your friend will be found beneath its ruins.
Colonel Bowie had written, too; and Lieutenant-Colonel Neill had
brought word in person. What could 150, or 200 men, do against 2000?
But scarcely had the appeals from Bejar been published in the San
Felipe _Telegraph_, when on the night of February 26 a dispatch rider
again galloped, horse afoam, into Gonzales. He bore a message from
Bejar to the alcalde or anybody else in authority.
COMMANDANCY OF BEXAR,
Feb. 23, 3 o’clock P.M., 1836.
_To Andrew Ponton, Judge, and the Citizens of Gonzales_:
The enemy in large force is in sight. We want men and
provisions. Send them to us. We have 150 men and are determined
to defend the Alamo to the last. Give us assistance.
W. B. TRAVIS, Lieut.-Col., Commanding.
P. S.――Send an express to San Felipe with the news, night and
day.
TRAVIS.
XIV
INDEPENDENCE IS DECLARED
Aroused by the clatter of hoofs in the street, while he and Dick were
getting ready for bed, Ernest had rushed out, curious, for now every
hurrying horseman carried a fresh alarm.
Having delivered the message, the dispatch-bearer was sitting his
horse in the gloom-enshrouded main plaza, and repeating his story
to an ever-increasing group of citizens around him. Captain John W.
Smith, the civil engineer of Bejar, who had guided Sion’s column to
the attack, and now had taken up residence at Gonzales, was there; and
Jacob Darst and others.
“They came on us all of a sudden [was saying the courier]; first their
advance guard, of nigh a thousand, on the twenty-second, driving in
before them a couple of our scouts. We’d just time to evacuate for the
Alamo, taking along what cattle we could pick up on the way, and some
of the women and children. Dickinson managed to grab his wife and baby
from the doorway of a house where they were staying and carry them on
his saddle. We worked all night arranging things in the Alamo, for we
hadn’t men enough to hold both places; and on the next day the whole
Mexican army appeared――two thousand more infantry and cavalry, with
Santa Anna himself. Travis sent me out with word to Gonzales, and
Colonel Bonham’s gone on south for Fannin at Goliad.”
“Will Travis stay?”
“You’re right he will! He can’t be budged――the bravest, pluckiest man
in Texas. And Bowie’s there, and Davy Crockett.”
“What! Davy Crockett the Tennessee hunter?”
“Yes, sir; the same. Davy and his rifle Betsy. He got in about two
weeks ago, from Nacogdoches, with a dozen other Tennesseeans, all
hankering to help Texas fight for liberty. But there’ll have to be
other reinforcements. Fannin may try. Whether he’ll get through I don’t
know. The trail in from the east is still open. Who’ll go――and who’ll
carry the news on to the government?”
“I will,” spoke a voice. Twas that of Dick Carroll, who, buttoning his
clothes, had followed Ernest. “I’m too weak to fight, boys――I’ve been
sick, you know; but I can ride. If I don’t get through, Ernest will.
Come on, lad; saddle up.”
Without waiting for any answer, he hurried off to the corral. Ernest at
his heels.
They quickly buckled the bridles and slapped on the saddles, speaking
scarcely a word.
“Finish, and bring the horses,” bade Dick. “Get our fixin’s from the
house. I want to see Ponton and that message. Meet me in the square.”
He hastened away through the darkness. Ernest cinched the saddles, ran
to the house and got the rifles and ammunition, coats and blankets; and
on Duke, leading Dick’s horse, trotted to the square.
Throughout the town lights were glimmering in windows, men and women
were stirring, and in the plaza the crowd was larger. The heavy air was
full of fear and excitement. But Dick was waiting; he seized the bridle
of his horse, as Ernest came up, and vaulted into the saddle.
“Ready?” he uttered, tersely. “We’re off, then.” And with touch of spur
he broke his horse into a trot. Ernest drew beside him.
“We’ll make through to Burnam’s,” he said. “Change horses; make San
Felipe, and I reckon one of us’ll have to go on up to Washington and
find Houston.”
“I’ll do it, Dick,” promised Ernest. “You’ve been sick.”
“I know you will. If I wasn’t so all-fired weak, I’d be for the Alamo.
Smith is collecting volunteers. They’ll leave in the morning.” He
groaned. “Oh, what’s this country coming to? The state without a
governor――or with two of ’em, rather. The council and the people
divided. Sam Houston without a command――a regular army of sixty or
seventy, they say, and no officers or supplies; rest of ’em mainly
volunteers from the States――four hundred with Fannin at Goliad, a
hundred and thirty with Johnson and Grant at San Patricio, and only a
hundred and fifty regulars and volunteers thrown together at Bejar.
Houston sent to treat with the Injuns, when he ought to be right on
the spot. And the convention, to set things right, not due till March
first, and three thousand Mexicans already across the border, to sweep
the state. If those fellows would only get out of the Alamo while they
have a chance. They could take to the timber and fetch off some of
their artillery, too.”
“Don’t you think they will, Dick?”
“Travis? And Bowie, and Bonham, and Dickinson and Crockett? No! They
don’t know the meaning of retreat. They’ll wait for Fannin. Maybe he’ll
cut through, if he can move his baggage; but I doubt it. He’ll have a
hundred miles to cover and Santa Anna’ll be watching for him. Same with
Grant and Johnson. If the boys can hold out, they’ll get reinforcements
from the east. The Gonzales batch will likely make it――but they’ll be
only a few. Most of the settlers are scattered at their homes. They’ll
wake, and they’ll wake too late. _Darn_ ’em! Darn us all!”
“But Sam Houston’ll go,” proffered Ernest, hopefully.
“What can he do alone? The council’s ag’in him and the governor, and
the people don’t know which to trust. All sorts of stories are afloat.
The convention’s got to settle matters. You’ll see, though, how quick
they’ll all turn to Sam Houston, with Santa Anna at their doors. Once
let the convention give him authority again, and he’ll act, he’ll act.
Just now he’s only a delegate from Refugio, waiting orders. But if he
gets ’em, and the Texas people will obey him, he’ll save Texas yet.”
Occasionally hoping and despairing, all night they rode, and at dawn
reached Burnam’s on the Colorado. While from here the alarm was carried
north and south along the river, they drank, ate, rested a couple
of hours, and on fresh horses rode for San Felipe, although other
messengers had volunteered.
“No. Go to Gonzales, every one of you,” urged Dick.
They arrived at San Felipe with Dick fagged and barely able to sit the
saddle. Ernest, tough and young and well, staggered as he dismounted
and helped his partner off. It had been a hard ride――the last stretch
the hardest of all.
They found San Felipe well-nigh emptied of its able-bodied men;
those not out in the fields had gone up to Washington, where the
convention of March first already was gathering. The quarrel between
the governor and the council was to be settled; and it was rumored that
a declaration of independence from Mexico was to be passed. Governor
Smith had gone. General Houston would be back from his trip to the
Cherokees.
So they found San Felipe quiet, save for its anxiety to ask: “What
about Travis at Bejar?” And when with their message they answered
the questions, speedily San Felipe was aroused as Gonzales had been.
Expresses were sent scouring to summon the Brazos settlers, and within
an hour the Travis call to the government was on its way again, by
new and stronger hands, to the gathering at Washington, fifty miles
up-river.
“I’m all in,” admitted Dick, drooping. “We’ve done our best, the boy
and I. We’ve got to rest a night. Hurry on, hurry on. Maybe we’ll go up
in the morning; one of us, anyway.”
Ernest it was who went. In the morning he felt keen and able once more.
Dick was still laid up, but urged him to leave.
“If there’s a declaration of independence, I want you to hear it,”
he said. “There’ll have to be one. Houston says that’s the only way,
now; and so does Austin. We can’t get the help we need from the United
States unless we stand on our own bottom. Then the word of Texas will
mean something. Now Santa Anna’ll never let us be a state even. We must
fight for independence and not for the constitution. And you’ll see
Houston. Make yourself known to him. He’ll remember you. Tell him of
the doings at Gonzales. Tell him you’ve just come from there, and that
the people all along the route need him.”
That evening of February 28, Ernest rode, weary and dusty again, into
the town of Washington on the Brazos. It was filling up with people:
there were a few volunteers attached to the regular army, and encamped,
and many settlers attracted by the convention. The visitors had
tethered their horses and had spread their blankets in the open. The
Alamo already seemed to be on every tongue, but nobody was preparing to
leave. All were waiting.
Ernest sought a good spot; then he sought Sam Houston. He quickly
sighted him seated on the porch of the tavern, surrounded by a group
of men. No one could fail to pick Sam Houston out of any crowd. Ernest
elbowed in to him.
“Well, my boy?” queried the general, as Ernest stood before him, eyed
by the little crowd. “Do you wish to speak to me? Excuse me, gentlemen.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Ernest, saluting. “I’m Ernest Merrill, from
Gonzales. I knew you at Fort Gibson, too.”
“I remember, I remember,” nodded the general, speaking with his firm
resonant voice. “From Gonzales. When did you arrive? You don’t bring
more bad news, I trust.”
“I left Gonzales night before last,” answered Ernest. “Dick Carroll
(he’s my father) left, I mean, to carry Colonel Travis’s dispatch to
San Felipe, and I rode with him because he was sick. Then at San Felipe
we had to rest, but we sent the message on up here.”
“Yes,” soberly nodded the general. “We have the message. It made quick
time――remarkably quick. But what of Gonzales? Are the people rallying?
Did you spread the word along the road? How did you come?”
“By Burnam’s, sir,” replied Ernest. “The settlers are going to Gonzales
as fast as they can get ready. Captain John Smith was getting a company
together at Gonzales when we left and I expect they’ve started for the
Alamo, but they won’t be very many. Colonel Travis’s messenger said
that Colonel Bonham had been sent to Goliad, too, for help from Colonel
Fannin.”
The general excitedly rose and stamped back and forth. He talked as he
strode.
“Slowly, slowly,” he declared. “We must take time. It will be madness
for small bodies to attempt the Alamo now. They will go to destruction.
Fannin himself is liable to be cut off, and Goliad will fall. We must
organize. We must have discipline, and a commander-in-chief. The
convention must act. This tragedy would have been averted if Colonel
Neill had obeyed orders and evacuated. Bexar is too remote on the
frontier to be properly defended with the forces at our disposal yet.
Now what are we to do, what are we to do? First, we must have harmony,
and a concerted plan of action. As for Sam Houston, he is willing to
do anything――to lead or to follow, if that will save Texas. Boy,” he
continued, pausing, to Ernest, “you may tell your people at Gonzales
that Sam Houston is at the service of Texas, whether as a general or a
private soldier. The enemy shall be met and defeated.”
“I thought I’d stay for the convention,” hazarded Ernest. “Dick Carroll
asked me to.”
“You look tired,” mused the general, surveying him. “You’ve had a hard
ride and have done well. Do so, then; stay, and you will see history
made. And, by Heaven, when we march against the enemy you will see more
history made.”
This was Sunday evening. The convention was called for Tuesday, for
February of 1836 had twenty-nine days. To-night, and Monday, Ernest
saw a number of delegates that he knew. Matthew Caldwell, of Gonzales,
was here――“Old Paint” the Indian fighter; and so was Sam Maverick, of
Bejar; and both were near crazed with anxiety over the fate of their
families and their homes. But the convention must act, and order
be restored, or all would indeed be lost. Lorenzo de Zavala, the
ex-president of the State of Mexico, was here; and Antonio Navarro,
formerly of Bejar, a brother of Angel Navarro the political chief,
whose house had been shattered in the taking of Bejar, but a friend
of Texas; and Francisco Ruiz, another patriot; and Colonel Thomas
Rusk, who had commanded cavalry at the siege of Bejar; and others――not
omitting Sam Houston.
Who should blow in, Monday morning, but Dick Carroll, after a night’s
ride. Ernest, for one, welcomed him gladly.
“They’re fighting at the Alamo,” announced Dick, to his listeners.
“I’ve brought another dispatch from Travis, date of twenty-fourth.
Delivered it to Governor Smith. Expect we-all’ll hear it read at the
convention. It’s a humdinger. Travis is holding out, and he says he’s
_going_ to hold out. Boys, there’s some man! You’ll be proud when you
hear his words. Captain Martin fetched it out of the Alamo to Gonzales;
Smither brought it on to San Felipe; and I carried it up here. Wanted
to come anyway. Cos, they say, is out there; he’s broken his parole.
And Sesma, and Santa Anna, and General Vincente Filisola, the Italian:
the best officers in the Mexican army. But Travis and Bowie will keep
them busy. At least,” he added, “they’ll try to. Martin says the
Gonzales company is going straight in. That will help――a little.
Haven’t heard from Fannin, have you?”
All day Monday the crisis at the Alamo lay heavy upon the hearts of
those Texas citizens gathered in Washington on the Brazos. There was
no word from Colonel Fannin, and no further word from Colonel Travis.
Still, among the near 200 men collected in Washington, nobody seemed
disposed to leave and join the rendezvous at Gonzales. Hanging around
the convention hall and the tavern and the army headquarters, they were
waiting for the reorganization of Texas――for some declaration to be
made, a government to be re-established, a commander to be appointed,
and an army provided for.
They somewhat reminded Ernest of the crowd that he had read waited
around the old State House in Philadelphia, in July of 1776, when
the Independence of the United States was being declared; but they
also appeared all at sea to know what to do, as if they were stunned.
Meanwhile boyish Colonel Travis, and the brave Jim Bowie, and probably
Colonel Bonham, and young Captain Dickinson with his wife and baby,
and Davy Crockett, and the other 145, were defending the Alamo against
2000, maybe 3000, of the best troops of Mexico, led by their best
generals!
The members took their seats on this Tuesday morning. There were about
sixty delegates, and they occupied all the benches. The rear of the
room was packed with spectators and listeners, standing, and the throng
pressed against the windows and door. Ernest, being a boy, might have
lost out, had not Captain Matt Caldwell, who was a delegate, taken him
forward and placed him in the front rank where he could both see and
hear. Dick Carroll could be depended upon to care for himself.
The first thing done was the election of officers. Mr. Richard Ellis,
of Pecan Point, the Red River district, was chosen president of the
convention; and Mr. H. S. Kimball, secretary. President Ellis made a
short address; and then he announced that while the committees were
at work, he would read a document that had been handed to him――“of the
most important character ever received by any assembly of men”! It was
the dispatch brought by Dick Carroll.
COMMANDANCY OF THE ALAMO,
Bejar, Feb’y 24th, 1836.
To the People of Texas &
all Americans _in the World_.
Fellow-citizens & compatriots:
I am besieged, by a thousand or more of the Mexicans under
Santa Anna. I have sustained a continual Bombardment &
cannonade for 24 hours & have not lost a man. The enemy has
demanded a surrender at discretion, otherwise the garrison are
to be put to the sword, if the fort is taken. I have answered
the demand with a cannon shot, & our flag still waves proudly
from the walls. _I shall never surrender or retreat. Then_,
I call on you in the name of Liberty, of Patriotism, & of
everything dear to the American character, to come to our
aid, with all dispatch. The enemy is receiving reinforcements
daily & will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in
four or five days. If this call is neglected, I am determined
to sustain myself as long as possible & die like a soldier
who never forgets what is due to his own honor & that of his
country. VICTORY OR DEATH.
WILLIAM BARRET TRAVIS,
Lt.-Col., com’d’t.
P. S.――The Lord is on our side. When the enemy appeared in
sight we had not three bushels of corn. We have since found in
deserted houses 80 or 90 bushels & got into the walls 20 or 30
head of Beeves.
TRAVIS.
“What flag is that he mentioned?” asked somebody behind Ernest. “The
Lone Star flag or the Independence flag you fellows had at the siege?”
“I reckon maybe,” answered the voice of Dick Carroll, who also had
elbowed to the front. “They’re out there somewhere, like as not. But
Smither said Captain Martin said they’d raised the regular Mexican
green, white and red tri-color, with ‘1824’ on the middle of it,
signifying the constitution.”
However, Chairman Ellis was about to read again.
“I will now read the endorsements from the express carriers, on the
back,” he said. “The first:
“Since the above was written I heard a very heavy cannonade
during the whole day. Think there must have been an attack
on the Alamo. We were short of ammunition when I left. Hurry
all the men you can forth. When I left there were but 150 men
determined to do or die. To-morrow I leave for Bexar with
what men I can. Almonte is there. The troops are commanded by
General Sesma.
‘ALBERT MARTIN.’”
Captain Martin was this, of Gonzales. And he was going back!
“Now the second endorsement,” continued Richard Ellis. “As follows:
“I hope every one will Rendeves [gather] at Gonzales as soon as
Possible as the Brave soldiers are suffering; do not forget the
powder is very scarce and should not be delad one moment.
‘L. SMITHER.’”
Chairman Ellis refolded the dispatch and passed it aside to the
secretary. Later it was read again by many present.
A hush, thrilled with the murmur and stir of admiration, rage, and
helplessness followed upon the reading. Several men attempted excitedly
to speak; but the chairman motioned them down.
“You have heard the dispatch,” he said, huskily. “You know what is
before us. The delegates will now proceed to the business of the
consultation.”
Committees were appointed; and the convention adjourned, for the day.
It was a grim evening and night in Washington. The name of the heroic
Travis was on every lip and in every heart was the fear lest a great
Mexican army already had overwhelmed the Alamo and were sweeping
across for the settlements eastward. And Gonzales, Ernest realized,
would be the first to fall victim.
“Houston! Why doesn’t Houston go?”
“He can’t. He’s a delegate.”
“But he’s commander-in-chief.”
“No, he isn’t. He had to quit when the governor was ousted. The council
was ag’in ’em both.”
“Who’s our head, then? Why doesn’t the convention reappoint him? We’ve
got to have somebody, quick.”
“I reckon it will. But maybe he won’t accept. Wouldn’t blame him any.
He’s been treated right shabbily.”
“He’ll take it,” assured Dick Carroll. “There’s nothing small or
picayune about Sam Houston. And fighting for independence, under
Houston, we’ll lick Santa Anna out of his boots.”
Nevertheless, upon the forms sitting enveloped in their blankets, or
lying to try to sleep, rested a gloom not of the night alone. In the
headquarters of General Houston a light burned until almost morning.