Part 14

Finally dusk settled, and the constant fire slackened. Henry Karnes and a force with the crowbars and with picks and spades that had been found were set to work, after dark, at digging a trench across the street; and made one deep enough so that men could dodge through, out of sight, by stooping. Word was received that the Johnson division was all right; had only one killed. The Milam division had nobody killed, as yet. But Deaf Smith had been wounded, on the Veramendi roof, and the firing had been so severe there that nobody had been able to stay up long. Dr. Grant had been wounded, too.

Yes, Sion was alright. He sent word through the trench.

The digging of the trench had made the Mexicans very angry, and throughout the night they hurled grape and canister at it. In the morning the roof-tops fairly bristled with their musketeers; they had cut many more loopholes, during the night, in the parapets, and had transferred their artillery to better positions. The Alamo, also, was hammering away with solid shot, bombarding the Texan end of the town and the trail between town and camp.

Something must be done; unless the main plaza was won and the Mexicans driven from this central stronghold, the Texans would soon be trapped in crumbling walls. The main streets and the cross-streets were being raked by the cannon; the only way to advance was through the houses. Lieutenant Bill McDonald volunteered to lead a squad and break into a small house, just across a narrow little street and kitty-corner to the right. This he did, and lost not a man. Colonel Milam promptly sent reinforcements to him, and thus the column was a step nearer to the plazas.

The trench to the Veramendi house was dug deeper and longer; and the six-pounder and twelve-pounder were mounted behind barricades and used. So the day passed.

The next day, in a lull at noon, Henry Karnes did a brave act. Straight beyond the de la Garza house, and flanked on the right by the house which Lieutenant McDonald had captured, was another small house that ought to be taken. Henry Karnes the red-head dashed out, from the door in the middle of the Garza house, into the yard of the small house, drove the door from its hinges with his crowbar, and Captain John York’s company of East Texans thronged in after him. The house was exposed in a large yard; but now only a block, occupied by the great Priest’s House, as it was called, lay between the column and main plaza. The red flag flapping in the heavy, murky air, from the tower of San Fernando church, was closer.

So far, so good; and hot work had it been, for the Mexican soldiers shot shrewdly, battering every loophole in wall and parapet with their musket balls and thundering away with their cannon. This day, December 7, had been cold and rainy; dusk settled early. The trench, connecting the de la Garza house and the Veramendi house, was to the rear; directly across Soledad Street, from the small house, was a large green door, of planks, into the court of the Veramendi house. Chancing to peep out of the window where he was stationed, Ernest saw a figure spring boldly from the trench, and lay hand upon the door to push it back and enter. ’Twas Colonel Milam, himself, going over to confer with General Johnson. But even as his hand touched the planks, there was a volley of musket shots, and down plunged Ben Milam, in a crumpled, motionless heap. The door swung in, but too late, and other hands quickly dragged the colonel inside.

“Milam’s killed!” gasped Jim, at Ernest’s side. “They got him!”

“Did _you_ see it?” stammered Ernest. “Is he killed? Do you think he is, Jim?”

“He’s gone! What’d he try that for, anyway?” wailed Jim. And he added, furiously: “We’ll make those _hombres_ suffer for that!”

“They’ve been watching that door. They knew that was our way in,” reasoned Ernest.

Milam killed! Ben Milam killed! Gallant Ben Milam! The word spread amidst angry murmurs and threats. Soon, by the trench, arrived word that dead he was――slain instantly by a musket ball through the head. He was buried in the courtyard of the Veramendi house; and a council of officers chose Adjutant-General Johnson to succeed him as the commander.

“Angel Navarro’s house! Now for Navarro the political chief’s house! Let’s avenge Milam!” rose the cry.

The house of Jose Angel Navarro was across Acequia Street, on the right, and so far toward the plaza that one corner, the southwest, gave a view of the northeast corner of the military plaza itself. Volunteers were picked from the companies of Captains York, Crane, English and Llewyllen; into the darkness they bolted, crossed the street, and broke through the house walls of Angel Navarro, the political chief who had demanded the Gonzales six-pounder last September.

The Navarro house joined, behind, at the right, a row of single rooms that fronted on the street running into the plaza. Zambrano Row, was it styled, divided from the Navarro home by a solid partition. Zambrano Row was full of Mexican soldiers; from the roof they crept to the Navarro roof, and digging holes through shot down upon the Texans in the Navarro rooms underneath. But this did not work well, for the replies from the Texas guns were so sharp, that the soldiers scurried back.

“Clean out Zambrano Row, next. Then the Priest’s House,” remarked Dick Carroll, grimly.

The first column had been doing most of the advancing, for the second column, in the Veramendi House, were as far forward as they could get. However, in the drizzle of the morning the New Orleans Grays filed through the trench, eager to help, and joined with the Navarro garrison, to take Zambrano Row.

What a tumult of shouts and cheers and groans and shots pealed through doors and windows, as from within the Navarro house Henry Karnes and his sappers plied their crowbars on the dividing wall, and made their breaches into the rooms where awaited the Mexicans. Covered by the rifles behind them, the Texans burst through the breaches, with their knives and pistols drove the Mexicans out headlong; and clearing one room, proceeded, by crowbar and battering-ram, into the next. Nothing could stand before them. Right speedily Zambrano Row had fallen.

From the small house which had been taken by Henry Karnes alone, Ernest and Jim and their comrades had listened with beating hearts. Suddenly there ensued a lull, of only spattering shots――and rang a Texas cheer.

“One more step,” commented Jim, turning powder-grimed face upon Ernest. “I don’t reckon there’s much furniture left over yonder, though.”

Fresh reinforcements were rushed across from the Veramendi House. Sion was among them at last. At sight of him, peering about in the dimness, the two boys rushed upon him, and shook hands vigorously.

“How are you? All right?”

“Up and coming, but my shoulder’s plumb sore from dad’s rifle,” panted Sion. “This is toler’ble fighting, isn’t it! Four days! That was too bad about Milam, though. Where’s Leo? Seen him?”

“No.”

“He’s here. Followed right behind us, with some reinforcements from Burleson.”

“There he is!” cried Ernest. “Oh, Leo! Whoopee!”

They shook hands with Leo. He was more excited than they, although he had the only clean face among them.

“What you-all been doing?” he demanded, eagerly. “You look like wrecks. Where we going next? Am I too late for the fun? I came as quick as I could. The general sent three more companies and I got in on one of them――Captain Cheshire’s.”

“You’re just in time, boy,” vaunted Sion. “We’re going to take the Priest’s House. Ugartechea’s slipped through you fellows scouts with six hundred more soldiers, from down on the Rio Grande, and we’ve got to finish up quick. Once we take the Priest’s House, we’ll be right on the main plaza――and then watch those Mexican cannoneers hop!”

The Priest’s House occupied the block which, bounded on the right by the Navarro House and Zambrano Row, on the left by part of the Veramendi House and some smaller buildings, and behind by the Henry Karnes house and yard and an intersecting street, fronted along the middle of the main plaza.

“I’m in on that, then,” announced Leo. “If they call for volunteers you’ll see me jump.”

“Same here,” proclaimed they all.

The great Priest’s House, the last stepping stone, was to be stormed at ten o’clock this night, December 8. One hundred volunteers were asked for by General Johnson. There were a few smiles and jokes when the four boys boldly crowded forward――but, as Jim said, they hadn’t had a single good chance yet in any of the special assaults, and they could “wiggle through awful small holes.”

“Let ’em come,” spoke somebody; and they went.

Out from the Navarro house into the wet night they all plunged, across the slippery stone pavement, and hurled themselves at the windows, door and walls of the Priest’s House. This was the biggest fight of all. The muskets of the Mexican soldiers belched a storm of fire and lead from roof top and from windows; and the plaza cannon thundered fiercely.

Shoulder to shoulder the four pressed against the wall――fairly held there by the streams of lead hissing past――while the crowbars and picks and logs hammered at every fissure. Ernest felt a sudden shock, followed by a sharp sting in his left arm; he staggered for an instant――but Jim’s arm gripped his waist, and Sion and Leo yelled, above the tumult:

“Ernest’s hit. Cover him. Don’t let him drop, Jim.”

“Never mind me. I can stand. Go ahead,” pleaded Ernest. The blood was oozing through his coat, and running down his skin, inside.

“Here we go!” called Jim. “Hoist him in, quick!” The wooden shutter in front of them had been splintered and torn open; and following the heels of the first men, they scrambled through, half lifting, half dragging Ernest.

In through door and windows and embrasures where the stones had been unseated, piled all――all the 100. The Mexicans fled again, and at the hearty cheers of victory reinforcements were immediately sent from the Navarro House.

“Let’s see that arm,” bade Jim, of Ernest, as they paused, panting, while shutters and door were being secured, and loopholes made.

“Huh! Only a flesh wound,” commented Sion, in tone of great relief. “Who’s got a handkerchief?”

The Mexican ball had cut through the muscles, on the outside where the arm joined the shoulder. It really did not leave much damage, but the place hurt like sixty. Anyway, a wound it was, received in battle; and while the boys were tying it up, with Jim’s handkerchief, over Leo’s handkerchief as a pad, Ernest viewed it with considerable pride. Now he was a veteran indeed.

“You can hold that little gun of yours with your right arm and pull trigger,” advised Sion. “But if you had my old pea-shooter or Leo’s scatter-gun, you’d be out of action. You’re lucky.”

However, for an hour or two yet the Mexican cannon boomed and the muskets banged; but the noise gradually died away. When morning dawned, and the Texan rifles attempted to search the exposed plaza, it was empty save for the dead and the wounded. General Cos had retired all his troops to the Alamo; only the red flag still flapped defiance.

About half-past six there was a great cheering; a Mexican officer had come in with a white flag, to ask for terms. He said that the soldiers, and the refugees from the town, in the Alamo, had mutinied; there were not enough provisions; and 500 of the reinforcements under General Ugartechea were convicts, chained together so that they would not run away! In fact, he was rather disgusted.

“Haul down that no-quarter flag, then!” swelled the cry. Out into the street fronting the two plazas darted volunteers, mounted into the tower of San Fernando church, which stood between the plazas, tore the red flag from its staff, and floated the Dodson “Lone Star” flag of the Harrisburg company.

Word of the surrender was sent back to General Burleson. Now everybody might lounge at ease, while keeping a careful watch upon any movement in the Alamo. General Burleson and his staff and an escort of cavalry rode into town; and by two o’clock in the morning of the next day, December 10, the articles of surrender were completed and signed.

General Cos and his officers gave their parole or word of honor not to engage again in any struggle to oppose the constitution of 1824, and they were permitted to retain their arms and personal belongings. The convicts of General Ugartechea were to be removed beyond the Rio Grande River. All the army, except the wounded and such soldiers as wished to remain as private citizens, in Texas, were to be marched away within six days.

In the fighting the two Texas columns had suffered only two killed and twenty-six (including Ernest) wounded. General Cos was said to have lost 100, 200, perhaps 300 men, by bullets, and others by desertion. At any rate, out of the 1400 soldiers gathered in the Alamo, only 1105 left with him. And he surrendered twenty-one cannon, 500 muskets, and much ammunition.

“Whew!” sighed Sion. “That certainly was a beautiful time! How’s your arm, Ernest?”

“All right,” declared Ernest, proudly.

XIII

GENERAL HOUSTON DESPAIRS

So on December 14 General Cos and Colonel Ugartechea, with their 1105 soldiers including the 500 convicts, took the one four-pounder that was allowed them and marched south, for Laredo across the Rio Grande, there to send their reports to Santa Anna.

Now there was not a Mexican soldier left in Texas, and things looked pretty good. All the settler volunteers were anxious to go home, to spend Christmas with their families and friends, and to attend to their business. Santa Anna, the reports said, was still down in the interior of Mexico, at San Luis Potosi, a thousand miles away, preparing for a campaign in person; but he could not arrive for several weeks, at the least, and the news of how General Cos had been wiped out ought to make him yet more cautious. All the south border and the west border of Texas were held against him. Consequently, this was the time for taking a rest at home and for winter ploughing.

To a few of the citizen soldiers the proposed breaking up of the army did not seem wise. Dick Carroll opposed it; Captain Dickinson also was a little dubious――although he much wished to get back to his wife, and a baby that had arrived. Captain Travis, too, thought that the troops should remain under arms, and the enlistments should be pushed, to be ready to oppose the next Mexican force.

But on December 15, the day after Cos marched out. General Burleson himself left for his home in East Texas, and took with him a crowd of other East Texans.

“I’m going,” proclaimed Leo, to his chums. “Aren’t you?”

“Sure, I’m going,” answered Sion. “Got to put in some corn, and help celebrate Christmas.”

“Same here,” announced Leo.

“Guess I will, too. Most the Gonzales men are,” said Ernest. “But if Santa Anna doesn’t wait for us, what’ll we do then? We’ll have to hustle.”

“Shucks!” scoffed Leo. “Santa Anna’ll think twice, now, when he hears how just a few of us licked Cos’s regulars out of Bejar. I reckon after I get home I’ll join that Matamoros expedition. When we’re invading Mexico Santa Anna’ll have all he can do there, without trying to come in here again.”

“Most those United States volunteers are going to stay on the border, anyway,” reasoned Sion. “That’ll give us other fellows a chance to catch up at home.”

“Besides, Sam Houston’s raising a regular army. That’s why he was elected commander-in-chief,” added Jim. “There’ll be five thousand Texan regulars ready for Santa Anna. Somebody’s got to plant corn to feed ’em.”

Immediately after General Burleson left, the army broke up. By companies and by squads the settlers rode and marched for their homes. The New Orleans Grays and the Mississippians and all the other volunteers from the United States, about 400, remained at Bejar; and so did sixty Texans. Acting Adjutant-General Johnson was in command; Colonel Neill was his second.

The home-going of the rest was a free and easy trip. The four boys cantered together (for Sion had picked up a horse, at last); and Ernest, his arm in a sling, felt like a veteran returning from the wars. He not only had fought, but had bled for Texas and liberty.

At Gonzales Ernest stopped; he was home. But the three others would not stop a minute; that is, no longer than to eat, and freshen their horses. So, after dinner, they all shook hands with him.

“If you get down my way, light and come in,” bade Leo, as he swung on his horse. He had the furthest to go. “I reckon we’ll meet up in the spring, anyhow, if those Mexicans get runctious.”

“Oh, well see you before that,” asserted Jim and Sion, in turn, to Ernest. “You’ll be over to the river [by which they meant the Colorado] or we’ll be in here.”

“Next time we’ll all be fighting under Sam Houston, maybe,” hazarded Ernest.

“I certainly’d admire to pitch in and help him lick Santa Anna,” admitted Leo――who of late had appeared to think considerable of the general. “There’d be tall doings. When Houston takes the warpath you’ll know where to find _me_. So long.”

“Same here,” added Jim and Sion. “So long, _amigo_ [friend]. Good luck. See you later.”

“So long, boys,” replied Ernest. “See you later, sure.” And away they galloped, with a whoop of joy. They waved their hats at him, from the trail, and presently they were out of sight. What fine fellows they were! For an instant there rose a little lump in his throat, and he felt lonesome.

However, it was no time to be lonesome. A merry Christmas, of double celebration, was near; crops were to be put in; and here at Gonzales, after the excitement of the campaign, much news was to be gathered, of the progress in forming the state government and the army. As for the arm, it soon healed, leaving a splendid scar for record.

General Houston himself had spread the word for all the returned volunteers to plough their fields and plant their corn, so that there might be an abundant crop for the next year. Texas was liable to need every ounce of food; and to have this food in readiness was a part of the coming campaign. After Christmas Dick Carroll and Ernest cleared and ploughed forty acres, and so did most of the other Gonzales people; “forty acres in corn” was the new war cry.

There arrived in Gonzales a proclamation signed by Sam Houston, major-general of the army of Texas. It was issued, date of December 12, from his headquarters at Washington on the Brazos, fifty miles above San Felipe, and called for the immediate formation of a regular army of 1200 men, and for a larger volunteer army.

To all who will enlist [it said, speaking of the regular army] for two years or during the war, a bounty of twenty-four dollars and eight hundred acres of land will be given. Provision has also been made for raising an auxiliary volunteer corps to constitute part of the army of Texas, which will be placed under the command and subject to the orders of the commander-in-chief. The field for promotion will be open. The terms of service will be various. To those who tender their services for or during the war will be given a bounty of six hundred and forty acres of land; an equal bounty will be given to those who volunteer their services for two years; if for one year a bounty of three hundred and twenty acres.

It promised the rights of citizens to all persons, from the United States and from Mexico, who would “unite with the people in defending the republican principles of the Constitution of 1824”; and it concluded:

The services of five thousand volunteers will be accepted. The 1st of March next, we must meet the enemy with an army worthy of our cause, and which will reflect honor upon freemen. Our habitations must be defended; the sanctity of our hearths and homes must be preserved from pollution. Liberal Mexicans will unite with us. Our countrymen in the field have presented an example worthy of imitation. Generous and brave hearts from a land of freedom have joined our standard before Bexar. They have by their heroism and valor called forth the admiration of their companions in arms, and reflected honor on the land of their birth. Let the brave rally to our standard.

“Sounds just like Houston,” remarked Dick Carroll. “Now if anybody in Texas thinks we’re through with Santa Anna, let him read this hyar proclamation. He says in it that ’cording to dispatches that have been captured, Santa Anna’s assembling ten thousand troops ag’in us. March first? We’re likely to be waked up before March first. And as for that Matamoros expedition, I don’t believe it will work. You can’t depend on the Mexican people helping any invasion. Look what happened down at Tampico.”

For when, this December, one General Jose Antonio Mexia, a Mexican officer opposed to Santa Anna’s rule, had disembarked a company from New Orleans at Tampico, on the Gulf Coast of Mexico, the citizens, instead of helping him, had cried “Hurrah for Santa Anna! Death to the strangers!” and twenty-eight of the party had been imprisoned and shot.

Ernest was very ready to enlist in the army called for by General Houston. Of course, he was only a boy; but he had been a soldier volunteer, and now if they thought he was too young to carry a gun in the regular army, he could at least be a drummer-boy――or something. However, the Gonzales people generally appeared not at all concerned. The men were busy and were enjoying their homes; they had threshed the Mexicans several times and had driven them all out of the country, and upheld the constitution of 1824, and this was enough for the present. So let those fellows who liked army discipline and who were not needed at home, go ahead and enlist; and let the other fellows with crops and families depending on them take things easy until the real call came. In fact, everybody expected somebody else to do the joining.

Nevertheless, at his headquarters in Washington on the Brazos, General Houston was doing the best that he could, to hurry matters along. James W. Fannin, the Georgian, had been appointed by the General Council colonel of the regular artillery. He also was appointed by General Houston inspector-general of the army. Colonel James Neill, and David Macomb, who had been the assistant adjutant-general, were the lieutenant colonels. Captain William Travis was appointed a major. Colonel Philip Sublett, who had commanded one of the divisions at the old mill camp before Bejar, was appointed the colonel of the regular infantry.

Captain Travis preferred not to serve in the artillery, and was made the lieutenant colonel of the cavalry, and Colonel Frank W. Johnson, who had commanded the columns in Bejar after the death of Ben Milam, was put in his place in the artillery. Colonel Sublett resigned, and was succeeded by General Edward Burleson, whom everybody knew.

The regular army was to consist of 1120 men, divided into a regiment of infantry and a regiment of artillery: composed part of actual regulars enlisted for two years, and part of “permanent volunteers” enlisted to serve until the end of the war. All were to be under the regulations and pay adopted by the army of the United States.

There was to be a corps of 168 Rangers, attached to the regular army, but to enlist for one year and to serve only when called upon; a kind of scouts. They were to receive pay, when on duty, of $1.25 a day; to furnish their own horses and arms and supplies, and to be “always ready armed and supplied with one hundred rounds of powder and ball.” Three-legged Williamson was elected major, commanding. This Ranger service looked rather attractive to Ernest.