On the 20th of December, 1835, there was a spirited meeting of citizens
and soldiers at the old town of La Bahia (Goliad) on the San Antonio
River.
La Bahia—which means “the bay”—was already old when Austin laid off his
town on the Brazos. Captain Alonzo de Leon, on his way to attack La
Salle at Fort St. Louis in 1689, stopped there; and in 1718 Don Domingo
Ramon with his troopers and friars built there the Mission of Espiritu
Santo (The Holy Ghost) for the benefit of the fierce Carankawae Indians.
The town had seen stirring times during the century and a half of its
existence. There had been many Indian fights in and around the mission
church, when the garrison was weak and the priests could not control
their red-skinned converts; it was in the same church in 1812 that
Magee’s army was besieged, and from its doors his Republicans sallied
forth to their victorious hand-to-hand conflict with the Spaniards.
Here, too, in 1819, General Long surrendered to the Mexicans and was
carried away to a treacherous death.
And here in October, 1835, the Mexican commandant Sandoval had been
surprised in his sleep by the Texans, his soldiers made prisoners, and
the fort and its stores handed over to his captors.
The General Consultation at San Felipe in November, 1835, had thought it
more prudent to declare their adherence to the Mexican republican
constitution than to issue a declaration of independence.
The citizens and soldiers of Goliad, on the 20th of December following,
boldly set their names to a document resolving “that the former state
and department of Texas is and ought to be _a free, sovereign, and
independent state_.”
Among the signers were several boys fifteen and sixteen years of age.
This paper was sent to the governor and his council at San Felipe by
whom it was disapproved and suppressed. They thought it premature. But
it was a straw that showed which way the revolutionary wind was blowing.
Captain Philip Dimitt, who was at the head of this movement, was
commandant at the fortress at Goliad with about eighty men under his
command.
Over at San Antonio at this time, there was much dissatisfaction among
the volunteers remaining there. They were more restless than ever, with
their own flag waving above the Alamo and no enemy in sight. They had
left their homes and firesides for a purpose. It was fighting they were
eager for, not idling around a camp-fire.
They were, therefore, delighted when an expedition was set on foot for
the capture of Matamoras on the Rio Grande River. General Houston, who
had fixed his headquarters at Washington on the Brazos, wished to place
Colonel James Bowie in command of this expedition; but in the confusion
arising from the quarrels between Governor Smith and his council at San
Felipe, an English physician, named Grant, assumed the leadership
(January, 1836).
Dr. Grant had taken part in the storming of San Antonio; he was brave
and gallant, and a favorite with his fellow-soldiers. Two hundred
volunteers gathered under his standard; he helped himself without leave
to arms and ammunition from the fortress stores, took clothing and
provisions from the townspeople, and started for Matamoras.
He halted at Goliad. But only long enough to seize and press into
service Captain Dimitt’s drove of army horses.
Here by order of the council, who had decided to sustain Grant, he was
joined by Colonel Frank W. Johnson, and they marched away, leaving
Captain Dimitt indignant and angry.
The citizens and soldiers at San Antonio were likewise indignant and
angry; and with far better reason. Colonel Neill, left by Johnson in
command of the Alamo with only sixty men, sent to General Houston a
report describing the helpless and suffering condition of that place
after the high-handed raid of Grant and his volunteers.
Houston was much disturbed by this report. He enclosed it to Governor
Smith, requesting him to refer it to the council. The commander-in-chief
denounced the action of Grant in strong terms and added:
“Within thirty hours I shall set out for the army, and repair there with
all possible dispatch. I pray that a confidential dispatch may meet me
at Goliad.... No language can express my anguish of soul. Oh! save my
poor country! Send supplies to the sick and the hungry, for God’s sake!”
He left Washington on the Brazos River on the 8th of January and reached
Goliad on the 16th. On his arrival he sent for Colonel Bowie.
[Illustration: James Bowie.]
James Bowie had come to Texas with Long’s expedition. He was a famous
Indian fighter. In 1831, near the near the old San Saba Mission, with
ten companions, including his brother, Rezin Bowie, he had fought one
hundred and sixty Comanches and Caddoes, armed with bows and arrows, and
guns. The savages surprised and surrounded the little party, discharging
their arrows and firing their guns in true Indian fashion from behind
rocks, trees, and bushes. The fire was returned, and at every crack of a
rifle a redskin bit the dust. The crafty warriors, finding they could
not dislodge the hunters, set fire to the dry prairie grass; then they
renewed the attack, rending the air with shrill yells. “The sparks flew
so thick,” said Rezin Bowie afterward, “that we could not open our
powder-horns without danger of being blown up.” But they held their
ground. The Indians drew off at nightfall, and all night long the
hunters heard them wailing their dead. The next morning the red warriors
had disappeared. Bowie lost but one man in this fight; the Indians had
eighty-two killed and wounded.
Bowie was as noted for his coolness and prudence as for his unflinching
courage. In person he was tall and fair, with soft blue eyes, and a
somewhat careless address. He had married a Mexican lady—the daughter of
Vice-Governor Veramendi of San Antonio—and was devoted to the interests
of Texas. He was the inventor of the deadly knife which bears his name.
The result of the interview between Houston and Bowie was that Bowie
left Goliad the next morning for San Antonio, with a company of thirty
men. He bore orders from Houston to Colonel Neill to leave San Antonio,
blow up the fort, and bring off the artillery.
Colonel Neill found it impossible to get teams to transport the
artillery; he therefore did not carry out any of these instructions.
Bowie remained at San Antonio.
Houston made an effort to concentrate at Goliad and Refugio the slender
force which made up his army. But he was so hampered by the intrigues
and wrangling of the government officials, that early in February he
gave up the command and returned to Washington on the Brazos, leaving
Colonel James W. Fannin in command of Goliad, with four hundred men. On
the 25th of the same month a messenger came into Goliad. His face was
worn with an anxiety which he did not try to conceal; his eyes were
heavy with fatigue. He sought Fannin and had a brief but earnest talk
with him. Then he turned, setting his face in the direction whence he
had come, and went his way.
This messenger was the fearless and courtly South Carolinian, James B.
Bonham. His message was from Colonel Travis, pent up in the fortress of
the Alamo and besieged by the army of Santa Anna. He appealed for help
from Fannin and the army at Goliad.
On the 28th Fannin started with reinforcements of men and artillery to
the relief of Travis; but before he was fairly on the way his wagons
broke down. While he was trying to get them repaired, and at the same
time uncertain as to whether he should go on to San Antonio or not,
Placido Benevidas (Bā-nā-vee′das), one of Grant’s men, came up with
weighty news. The Mexican General Urrea (Ur-rā′a) was marching upon
Goliad with an army of one thousand men. Fannin returned in haste to the
town and began to strengthen his fortifications.
San Patricio, where Grant and Johnson were encamped, was surprised on
the night of the 28th of February by Urrea’s soldiers. The volunteers,
with the exception of Johnson himself and four of his companions who
managed to escape, were all captured or killed. Grant, who was out with
a squad of men collecting horses, was killed some days later and his
body frightfully mutilated.