No more news from Colonel Travis had arrived; but report stated
that during the night the delegates had drawn up a declaration of
independence, and that it was about ready for adoption. The report
proved true. Soon after the convention was called to order, President
Ellis arose, a mass of foolscap paper in his hand, and stated that
he would have the secretary read the report of the committee upon an
announcement of the Republic of Texas.
“The Unanimous Declaration of Independence made by the
Delegates of the People of Texas in General Convention at
the Town of Washington, on the 2nd day of March, 1836,” read
Secretary Kimball.
“When a government has ceased to protect the lives, liberty
and property of the people, from whom its legitimate powers
are derived, and for the advancement of whose happiness
it was instituted, and so far from being a guarantee for
the enjoyment of those inestimable and inalienable rights,
becomes an instrument in the hands of evil rulers for their
oppression: When the Federal Republican Constitution of
their country, which they have sworn to support, no longer
has a substantial existence, and the whole nature of their
government has been forcibly changed, without their consent,
from a restricted federative republic, composed of sovereign
states, to a consolidated, central, military despotism....”
continued Secretary Kimball, in a long introduction; then
“self-preservation” and “a right towards themselves and a
sacred obligation to their posterity” warrant a people “to
abolish such government” and to create another safer and
happier.
“Nations, as well as individuals, are amenable for their acts
to the public opinion of mankind [proceeded the declaration]. A
statement of a part of our grievances is, therefore, submitted
to an impartial world, in justification of the hazardous but
unavoidable step now taken of severing our political connection
with the Mexican people, and assuming an independent attitude
among the nations of the earth.
“The Mexican government had pledged the colonists liberty
of action under a republic and a constitution, and now had
submitted it to a military despotism under General Antonio
Lopez de Santa Anna. It had refused to grant an appeal,
according to the constitution, for statehood separate from
unfriendly Coahuila. It had imprisoned Stephen Austin. It had
refused to provide trial by jury. It had provided no schools or
other means of public education. It had allowed the soldiers
to oppress the citizens. It had forced the state congress of
Texas and Coahuila to dissolve. It had demanded the surrender
of citizens, for an imprisonment without a trial. It had seized
trading vessels. It had interfered with religious liberty. It
had demanded the delivery of private arms. It was invading
Texas with an army, to drive the people from their homes. It
was inciting the Indians to attack the colonists. It was, and
ever had been, a “weak, corrupt, and tyrannical government.”
“These, and other grievances, were patiently borne by the
people of Texas [continued Mr. Kimball, reading] until they
reached that point at which forbearance ceases to be a virtue.
We then took up arms in defence of the national constitution.
We appealed to our Mexican brethren for assistance. Our
appeal has been made in vain. Though months have elapsed, no
sympathetic response has yet been heard from the Interior.
We are, therefore, forced to the melancholy conclusion that
the Mexican people have acquiesced in the destruction of
their liberty, and the substitution therefor of a Military
Government――that they are unfit to be free and incapable of
self-government.
“The necessity of self-preservation, therefore, now decrees our
eternal political separation.
“We, therefore [and the reader’s voice rose firmly], the
delegates, with plenary powers, of the people of Texas, in
solemn convention assembled, appealing to a candid world for
the necessities of our condition, do hereby resolve and declare
that our political connection with the Mexican nation has
forever ended, and that the _people of Texas_ do now constitute
a _free sovereign and independent republic_, and are fully
invested with all the rights and attributes which properly
belong to independent nations; and, conscious of the rectitude
of our intentions, we fearlessly and confidently commit the
issue to the decision of the Supreme Arbiter of the destinies
of Nations.”
The secretary evidently had finished the reading of the declaration.
He turned and resumed his seat at his little table on the platform.
There was an instant of dead silence, while the people present tried to
realize that Texas was no longer to be attached to Mexico.
“You have heard the report of the committee,” addressed President
Ellis, his voice clear. “Are there any objections?”
A shuffle of impatient feet had begun; and――――
“No! No!” swelled the shout, in a great volley, from delegates and
visitors alike.
“The chair hears no objections. All in favor of adopting the report as
it stands will signify by saying ‘Aye.’”
“Aye! Aye!”
“The report, declaring Texas a free and independent republic, is
adopted,” announced President Ellis. “The delegates will please step
forward and sign the declaration.”
One by one, in a constant file, the delegates advanced to the
secretary’s table upon the platform, and attached their signatures to
the paper. The president first; and in due order Antonio Navarro, and
Captain Caldwell, and de Zavala, and Colonel Rusk, and the towering
form of Sam Houston, and all――fifty-eight in number.
Now indeed had the silence been broken, and well broken. From the crowd
in the rear of the hall and pressing outside pealed cheer upon cheer,
echoed from beyond as fast sped the news. Hats were swung, guns spoke.
Ernest, on tiptoe, swung his hat and added his shrill voice to the
clamor. Near him somebody was singing, and the chant spread.
For this we are determined, that Texas shall be free;
And TEXAS TRIUMPHANT our watchword shall be!
And 200 miles to the west, young William Travis and his little band
were fighting desperately for this new Republic of which they were
destined never to be told; while Colonel Fannin’s wagons had broken
down and he had been forced back into Goliad again.
XV
THE SIGNAL GUNS OF THE ALAMO
Little more was done this day. It was reported that the committees
were busy preparing a constitution for the new Republic of Texas and
revising plans for an army and navy. Most of the delegates remained
in the convention hall, where the committees were meeting; and the
visitors waited outside, under the trees. The office of governor and
council had now passed out of existence, so the quarrel between the two
parties need not be considered.
General Houston was closeted with a committee, the main part of the
day, discussing the military measures. But in the afternoon there was
read a short address from him to the people of Texas.
CONVENTION HALL, March 2, 1836.
War is raging on the frontiers. Bexar is besieged by two
thousand of the enemy under command of General Sesma.
Reinforcements are on the march to unite with the besieging
army. By the last report our force at Bexar was only one
hundred and fifty men. The citizens of Texas must rally to the
aid of our army or it will perish. Let the citizens of the East
march to the combat. The enemy must be driven from our soil or
desolation will accompany their march upon us. _Independence is
declared._ It must be maintained. Immediate action, united with
valor, can alone achieve our great work. The services of all
are forthwith required in the field.
SAM HOUSTON,
_Commander-in-Chief of the Army_.
P. S.――It is rumored that the enemy are on their march to
Gonzales, and that they have entered the colonies. The fate of
Bexar is unknown. The country must and shall be defended. The
patriots of Texas are _appealed to in behalf of their bleeding
country_.
The postscript sounded bad, and Ernest turned with whitened face to
Dick.
“Do you think they have attacked Gonzales, Dick?”
“No, I don’t. They wouldn’t attack Gonzales until they’ve taken Bejar.
We can’t believe all the rumors we hear. The whole country’s panicky.
If Fannin marches through and gets in with his men, he and Travis
will hold the Alamo ag’in all Mexico. Reckon, too, by this time the
Brazos and Colorado people are rallying into Gonzales, and Captain
Martin has led a bunch to help Travis. And there are a hundred and more
able-bodied men right here who ought to organize and go.”
“Why don’t they go, then, Dick? Why don’t we all go?”
“Chiefly because we’re sorter at sea, yet. Most of the men have
families at home. Who’d protect _them_? And where are our leaders?
Fannin and Johnson are like as not cut off, down at Goliad. Travis
and Bowie are yonder in the Alamo. And here’s Sam Houston, waiting
instructions.”
“But he signs himself commander-in-chief, Dick.”
“Yes, a commander-in-chief without an army. Besides, he was
commander-in-chief under the old makeshift government, formed to tide
us along. Now we’ve got a new one, a republic, and all officers’ll have
to be sworn in over again. He’ll be appointed, though, as soon as plans
for the army are drawn. You know what day this is, don’t you?”
“Yes. March second.”
“And Sam Houston’s birthday! Declaration of Independence was adopted on
Sam Houston’s birthday, and that’s a good sign.”
The next day dragged, filled with wild rumors, while the convention
still prepared for defense and the operation of the new government. It
seemed to be the great hope of everybody at Washington that Sam Houston
would be reappointed to the head of the army at once; about all the
men appeared to think that he would save Texas from Santa Anna, if
anyone could.
A large crowd were already gathered about the hall when on the next
morning, of Friday, March 4, Ernest hastened to learn what was up. But
the program seemed to be devoted mainly to the report of the military
committee. It recommended a strong militia, and granted 1280 acres of
land to every volunteer who served throughout the war; and there was to
be a major-general in command of the whole army――regulars, volunteers
and militia――when in the field.
This was rather dull reading. General Houston was not present, but
having wormed his way out for a breath of air Ernest saw him on the
tavern porch. A letter had just been handed to him by a horseman, and,
watched by a group of by-standers who had collected, he was reading it.
“Gentlemen, a letter from Colonel Fannin, to a friend, and forwarded,
in a copy, for my perusal,” he announced, as Ernest sidled near. “It
is the last news from Goliad, date of February twenty-eight. I hope
that the news from the Alamo will be no worse. I will read an extract
from it, which indicates the spirit of a brave man. A Mexican force
has already advanced upon him, and it is unlikely that he can effect a
juncture with Travis. However, he says:
“‘I have about four hundred and twenty men here, and if I can
get provisions in to-morrow or next day, can maintain myself
against any force. I will never give up the ship while there
is a pea in the ditch. If I am whipped it will be well done,
and you may never expect to see me. I hope to see all Texans in
arms soon. If not, we shall lose our homes, and must go east of
the Trinity for awhile.’”
“Signed,” continued the general, ‘J. W. Fannin, Jr.’”
“Fannin makes only the one error in that letter,” spoke Colonel George
Hockley, who was the general’s aide. “A man who will ‘never give up
the ship’ can be killed but he can’t be whipped.”
“If the Alamo can hold out until we relieve it, there will be no danger
to Fannin,” mused the general. “And if he will obey the orders of his
superiors, whoever they may be,――――”
But a sudden shout from the convention hall interrupted him. The cries
swelled, spreading to the crowd outside the door.
“Houston! Houston! Speech! Speech!”
A man came running.
“You’re wanted inside the hall, general,” he said. “You’ve been elected
commander-in-chief, on first ballot; fifty-five votes for you, only one
against.”
“I accept,” remarked the general, solemnly. “I will be there directly,
but this is a time for acting, not for talking.”
He strode for the convention hall, and most of the group with him.
Ernest squirmed in. The general appeared on the rude platform, and
spoke briefly, thanking the convention and the people of Texas for the
honor paid to him. Scarcely had he concluded when a delegate arose.
“I move that it be the sense of this convention that Major-General Sam
Houston immediately depart for the army, or resign.”
A storm of cheers and hisses followed. The general waited. He levelled
his finger at the delegate, and answered for himself.
“I trust that the gentleman will withdraw his motion. In that belief
I will state that my purpose is to start for the army on the morrow
morning, and I will be glad _to have the gentleman’s company_!”
What a round of cheers and laughter now resounded!
“I withdraw my motion,” stammered the delegate, much confused by the
unexpected challenge and the uproar, and sat down.
However, the general did not leave on the next day. The convention had
adjourned over Saturday and Sunday, to enable the committees to prepare
further reports. There was much important work yet to be done, ere the
Republic of Texas was organized; a constitution must be adopted, and
the republic’s officers elected. General Houston had his duties to
perform as a delegate; and, besides, he was waiting for instructions.
The delay was exasperating; but it seemed necessary. If the Alamo would
only hold out! Surely the volunteers at Gonzales were marching to help
it!
Sunday morning, which was March 6, Ernest had taken a walk about,
exploring (for it was rather trying, just to lie ’round), when a
commotion in town caught his ear and eye. Men were hurrying to gather
in a crowd on the street, as if surrounding some speaker. So back into
the excitement sped Ernest. News from the Alamo, perhaps! Another
messenger! Or had Colonel Fannin been attacked, too! Or Gonzales taken!
Or perhaps Colonel Travis had driven off the Mexicans!
A weary, drooping horse, dust streaked and sweat stained, stood loosely
tethered to the hitching rail in front of the tavern: the horse of a
dispatch-bearer, surely! Beyond, were the group of men, encircling
close another man, who was answering questions. Ernest lost no time in
worming his way where he could peer and listen.
The man was Captain John W. Smith, of Gonzales. Yes――Captain Smith,
himself, who, when Ernest and Dick Carroll had left ten days ago on
their ride to San Felipe, was collecting a company for the help of
Colonel Travis. Now his beard and all his face were covered with dust
and grime, his eyes were weary, and his boots and clothes likewise
showed long, hard travel.
“I left the Alamo before daybreak of the third,” he was answering to
eager questions. “Thirty of us from Gonzales got in there at three
o’clock on the morning of the first. Travis sent me out with this
dispatch, and I came through, night and day, by the shortest trail;
crossed the Colorado at Moore’s Retreat, north of Burnam’s, and then
through the prairie to Washington. Travis was all right when I left;
still holding out. He had about one hundred eighty men. Bonham managed
to break back from Fannin, and arrived just as I left. He could have
stayed away, but he didn’t. He said he’d bring word from Fannin or die.
He’s a great friend of Travis and Bowie, you know. There were about a
hundred and fifty volunteers at Gonzales when I passed through.”
“Isn’t Fannin going?”
“He sent word by Bonham that he’d try, but we think the Mexicans have
cut him off. He’ll certainly come if he can. There’s no braver man
alive than Jim Fannin.”
“Why don’t the men at Gonzales march?”
“Why don’t _you_ men march? It isn’t a question of a hundred or two,
now. The Mexican lines are drawn too close. I doubt if even another
dispatch will get out; the country around Bejar is thick with Mexican
patrols. Santa Anna’s there, remember; and so is Cos, who broke his
parole just to get a revenge for the licking we gave him.”
“How’s the Alamo? Shot up much? Many killed? What does Travis say now?”
“Nobody’s been hurt, except Mexicans. We were short of ammunition,
though. Bowie’s sick in bed. The men are fighting night and day,
and they’ll never surrender. I fetched two dispatches: one for the
convention, and the other a letter to a friend of Travis. Travis says:
‘Take care of my little boy. If the country should be saved, I may make
him a splendid fortune; but if the country should be lost, and I should
perish, he will have nothing but the proud recollection that he is the
son of a man who died for his country.’ Travis told me to say to the
people that as long as he held out he’d fire a signal gun every morning
at sunrise.”
“Everybody to the convention hall!” was the sudden hail. “Delegates
and everybody to the convention hall. Special meeting.”
Men were already pushing in through the doorway; the group about
Captain Smith dissolved quickly. He staggered stiffly in the rear of
the hurrying procession; Ernest nimbly darted ahead, and squeezed in
with the crowd.
Most of the delegates were in their seats. President Richard Ellis
and Secretary Kimball were in their places, waiting. Mr. Ellis held a
piece of soiled paper in his hand. He arose, and amidst a tense silence
looked over the assemblage. His face was pale and haggard, and Ernest
could barely hear his words.
“I have just received by special courier, who has ridden the one
hundred and eighty miles in less than four days, another message from
Colonel Travis in the Alamo, addressed to this convention,” he said.
“It is of such importance that I feel it should be communicated at
once. The date is March 3――or only last Thursday.”
He proceeded to read; but amidst the confusion of shuffling feet
and twisting bodies, as the listeners strained to hear, and amidst
the interruptions by cheers and other exclamations, Ernest missed a
sentence now and then. But he heard enough.
I am still here in fine spirits and well-to-do [wrote the
gallant Colonel Travis]. With one hundred and forty-five men,
I have held the place against a force variously estimated from
between fifteen hundred to six thousand, and I shall continue
to hold it until I get relief from my countrymen, or I will
perish in its defense. We have had a shower of bombs and cannon
balls continually falling among us the whole time; yet none of
us have fallen. We have been miraculously preserved. [“Hurrah!”
cheered voices, drowning the voice of Mr. Ellis.] Again,
I feel confident that the determined spirit and desperate
courage heretofore exhibited by my men will not fail them in
the last struggle; and although they may be sacrificed to the
vengeance of a Gothic enemy, the victory will cost the enemy
so dear that it will be worse than a defeat. [“Hurrah!”] A
blood-red flag waves from the church of Bexar and in the camp
above us, in token that the war is one of vengeance against
rebels. [“Texas and liberty! Down with tyranny! Hurrah!”] These
threats have had no influence upon my men but to make all
fight with desperation and with that high-souled courage which
characterize the patriot who is willing to die in defense of
his country; liberty and his own honor; God and Texas; victory
or death!
WILLIAM BARRET TRAVIS,
Lt.-Col. Commanding.
President Ellis had finished, and all the hall was in an uproar.
This last despairing but noble appeal from Colonel Travis in the
hard-fighting Alamo, had stirred every heart and rocked every form. Men
were shouting, crying, gesticulating. A score of the delegates were on
their feet. Delegate Robert Potter made himself heard.
“I now move that this convention do immediately adjourn, arm, and march
to the relief of the Alamo,” he excitedly proposed.
“To the Alamo! To the Alamo!” And the crowd began to surge.
“No! No! Wait!” It was the deep, ringing voice of General Houston. He
had risen, his hand extended commandingly; and at the summons of his
powerful tones and his massive figure every eye was turned and every
tongue was stilled. “Hear me,” he bade. “I have gathered that there is
a sentiment we do immediately adjourn and proceed, armed, to the Alamo.
I have heard the gentleman’s motion, and know that it springs from a
natural impulse, common to brave men, to succor one’s fellow patriots
beleaguered by a ruthless enemy. No one would be more prompt to obey
that impulse than I. But I must oppose the motion. Such an adjournment
of this body would be a madness worse than treason to the people.
We are met here to form a government. We must have a government, in
organic form; for without an organized government Mexico would be
entitled to regard us as outlaws, and to the world outside we would
be only rebels, and we would fail to obtain the sympathy and the
respect of mankind. What can fifty, or one hundred men do against six
thousand? The delegates to this convention were elected by the people
of Texas to establish a firm and stable government. We have declared
our independence, but the work must not stop there. The declaration
will be nothing without measures of law that will give it due weight
among the other nations of the world. The perils of the republic
cannot be averted by arms alone――and never has Texas faced a greater
crisis than she faces now. I entreat the convention to be both wise
and patriotic. Let it sit calmly, even amidst war, and with firmness
pursue its deliberations. Feel no alarm, gentlemen. We have already
a small but brave force at Gonzales. I will proceed there at once,
interpose a barrier of patriotic citizens between the enemy and this
hall, and while the convention chooses to sit in session no foreign foe
shall approach except over my dead body. Meanwhile, if mortal power can
avail, our brave countrymen in the Alamo shall be relieved.”
More General Houston said, speaking vehemently. The hall listened
eager and convinced. Never had such an inspiring address been there
delivered, and none to equal it ever followed. Truly, the general was a
great orator.
At the conclusion he bowed, and strode rapidly out. The delegates
remained, and so did most of the crowd; but Dick Carroll clapped Ernest
on the shoulder. Ernest had not known that Dick was so near.
“Come,” said Dick. And Ernest dived through, after him, to the outside.
“Get your horse and fixin’s,” bade Dick. “And meet me yonder as quick
as you can.”
“Where are we going, Dick?”
“We’re going with the general,” and Dick nodded toward the large figure
in the whitish hat, rapidly making his way toward his headquarters.
“When he starts we start――and I reckon ’twon’t be long, either.”
“To Gonzales, Dick?” queried Ernest, over his shoulder as he turned.
“Yes. To Gonzales, and wherever else we’re needed. When Sam Houston
leaves it’s time for us to leave. We aren’t delegates.”
Ernest hastened for his horse and gun and blanket, his heart beating
gladly. Nothing loth was he to go, not even if General Houston led into
the Alamo itself. He could help at Gonzales, anyway. Perhaps Jim and
Sion were there, with the volunteers. And Leo was liable to turn up,
too.
When he had bridled and saddled, and rode back, Dick was ready and
waiting; and several saddled horses had been tethered in front of the
general’s headquarters. Presently the general issued; with him Colonel
Hockley, his chief of staff. They were armed with pistols, and the
general wore a heavy sword, in its scabbard, belted around his buckskin
hunting coat. They stuffed some things into their saddle-bags, and tied
their blanket rolls behind their saddles a little tighter.
Dick pricked his horse, and followed by Ernest rode forward. By this
time two other men had joined, and were sitting their horses near.
“All ready, general?” queried Dick, saluting.
The general glanced up.
“All ready, sir.” He gazed inquiringly about. His eyes rested a moment
upon Ernest (who tried to sit as manlike as he could), and his face
softened into the glimmer of a smile. “This, then, is the force that
proposes to accompany a general to his army?”
“I reckon it is,” answered one of the first two men.
The general climbed into his saddle and gathered the lines; Colonel
Hockley did the same.