Part 15

But there also was the volunteer cavalry, under the gallant Captain, now Lieutenant-Colonel, Travis. Whoever followed William Barret Travis would certainly have excitement. The cavalry were to number 384 men, were to be armed with broad-swords and pistols, and double-barrelled shot-guns and smooth-bore yagers, half and half; and were to be “subject to regular discipline and the rules and articles of war.” For, said Lieutenant-Colonel Travis, “a mob can do wonders in a sudden burst of patriotism or passion, but cannot be depended on as soldiers for a campaign.” The pay was to be the United States cavalry pay, and there was to be a uniform of cadet-gray blouses and trousers, with yellow bullet buttons; fur caps, high black collars, and cowhide boots! This cavalry seemed the best of all.

And there was a corps of 5000 “auxiliary volunteers,” to enlist for three months or more, and be under the army regulations. An “Army of Reserve for the Protection of the Liberties of Texas” also was being talked of, to be recruited in the United States by the patriotic Judge T. J. Chambers, of Texas. Governor Smith advised a corps of engineers. Everybody between the ages of sixteen and fifty was invited to help form companies of home militia.

Colonel Fannin was stationed at Velasco, on the Gulf in Leo’s country, to open a recruiting station and to receive volunteers from the United States. Lieutenant-Colonel Travis was stationed on recruiting service at San Felipe. Colonel Jim Bowie was at Goliad. But out of all these plans very little resulted. General Houston’s proclamation even seemed to have scarcely any effect. The volunteers from the United States――from Kentucky, Alabama, Georgia and Tennessee――continued to arrive; but they said that they had not come to serve in any regular army. They had come to fight and to be subject to their own officers, and the majority opposed enlisting in the Texas army for even three months. By the middle of January, 1836, the regular army numbered scarcely fifty men; and taking volunteers and all, the great majority were from the United States.

Truly, General Houston was having a discouraging time with these independent Texas settlers.

To make matters worse, Colonel Fannin, at Velasco, and Dr. Grant, at Bejar, were determined upon the invasion of Mexico by way of Matamoros. General Houston did not favor this; there were not troops enough, and the Mexican people could not be relied upon, and Texas would do better to protect itself, rather than send all its soldiers into the enemy’s country. But the General Council supported the scheme, the volunteers were eager to be doing something, Dr. Grant promised them much booty, among the Mexican towns and ranches, and Colonel Fannin was authorized by the council to collect men, raise funds, elect officers, and march on Matamoros.

Dr. Grant took all the United States volunteers, including the New Orleans Grays, from Bejar, and most of the supplies, and set out to join Colonel Fannin. This left only sixty men in Bejar――and General Santa Anna, with thousands of Mexican cavalry and artillerymen, was already at Saltillo, and General Cos was awaiting him at the Rio Grande River itself!

General Houston had ordered Colonel Bowie, at Goliad, to lead the expedition against Matamoros, if he thought the scheme was likely to succeed; he felt that he could depend upon Jim Bowie, who knew that country. But the council, by appointing Colonel Fannin, had overruled these orders. Colonel Fannin claimed that the council and not the general of the army was his commander now. So he went ahead with his preparations, and all the impatient volunteers from the United States gathered to his summons. Colonel Frank Johnson, too, was directed by the council to join the expedition and help form it. From Bejar he proceeded through Gonzales to San Felipe; and now Lieutenant-Colonel Neill was left on the frontier with only sixty men and no supplies.

Thus defied by the council and by his own inspector-general and the commander of the artillery, General Houston was in a sad fix. This would never do, in any army. Lieutenant-Colonel Neill wrote a letter protesting alarmedly at the condition in Bejar. And referring the letter to Governor Smith, General Houston likewise protested.

He said that the army was in confusion; the soldiers who had been wounded in the battles were being neglected, while without the authority of the commanding officer supplies were being diverted from them and sent elsewhere. As for himself, he was ready to obey orders, if only Texas might be saved.

Within thirty hours [he said] 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, and, if I have left, that it may pursue me wherever I may be.

No language can express my anguish of soul. Oh, save our poor country!――Send supplies to the wounded, the naked, the sick, and the hungry, for God’s sake! What will the world think of the authorities of Texas? Prompt, decided, and honest independence is all that can save them and redeem the country. I do not fear,――I will do my duty.

I have the honor, etc., SAM HOUSTON.

Governor Smith was angry, too. He ordered General Houston to take command, to locate his headquarters at Bejar or some other post on the western frontier, and to begin a campaign. That would occupy the troops and defend Texas. He wrote a letter to the council also, hotly reproving them for interfering with the commander-in-chief, and for encouraging officers to disobey his instructions.

When General Houston arrived at Goliad, he found that almost the whole of the army, being mainly the volunteers from the United States, were assembled down here on the Gulf Coast, ready for the Matamoros march. Colonel Fannin had been elected their colonel, and Major William Ward, of the Georgia volunteers, their lieutenant colonel. Lieutenant-Colonel Frank Johnson claimed that by the appointment of the council he was the rightful commander. Dr. Grant, another commander, had passed on, after stripping the Goliad post of its horses. But General Houston, in a speech at Goliad and at Refugio nearby, assured the volunteers that by the direction of the governor he himself was here to be the leader in whatever was done――although he was sure that any invasion of Mexico, now, would result in only defeat and death to all concerned.

Listening to the advice of Sam Houston, many of the volunteers decided not to go to Matamoros unless he favored it. Lieutenant-Colonel Johnson’s force for the march overland dropped to only sixty, and he did not go. Colonel Fannin was not able to sail from Velasco, and instead garrisoned Goliad. Dr. Grant remained out on the prairies to the westward, collecting more horses. The soldiers were very discontented, being without money and supplies.

After having done the best that he could, General Houston learned that the council had suspended Governor Smith, on account of the letter that he had written to them, and had appointed Lieutenant-Governor Robinson to serve in his place until the next convention met, on March 1. So back north to Washington on the Brazos hastened Sam Houston, now well discouraged. The army were presumed to make their winter quarters at Refugio, near Goliad in the south.

In the United States Stephen Austin, Dr. Branch T. Archer, and Mr. William H. Wharton, the Texas commissioners appointed by the convention of last November, were busily obtaining loans of money for the Texas government, with which supplies were being bought. This was one bright spot.

* * * * *

Such was the news as received in Gonzales, by the columns of the San Felipe weekly _Telegraph_, and by letters and word of mouth. Indeed, what with the disputes among the army officers, the quarrel between the governor and the council, and the opposition to General Houston himself, as commander-in-chief, things, to Ernest (trying his best to understand), looked black for Texas. He was glad that the Matamoros expedition was given up, for Leo probably would have joined and have been killed. But here was Texas at helpless sixes and sevens――and General Santa Anna, according to reports, was at Saltillo, preparing to march with a great army against the “rebels.”

Bejar surely would be among the first places attacked. Lieutenant-Colonel Neill was there, with scarcely 100 men to man it and the Alamo and to support the twenty-four cannon. He had sent for help. Near the close of the third week of January, this 1836, had ridden into Gonzales, from Goliad sixty miles south, Colonel James Bowie, and Colonel Bonham, the South Carolinan, with a handful of recruits.

“Where you going, Jim?”

“To Bexar. Neill’s asked again for help. He tells headquarters that a thousand Mexicans are coming to attack him. The general’s sent us with orders for him to blow up the place and to pull out with all his artillery. We can’t raise troops enough to defend it. Captain Dimitt has orders to follow us from Goliad with one hundred men if he can get them, but I don’t believe he can. It’s a shame, gentlemen; a shame on Texas.”

And away rode the courtly James Bowie and the gallant James Bonham. Ernest and Gonzales never saw them again.

By courier through Gonzales, Lieutenant-Colonel Neill replied to General Houston that as he had no oxen or mules with which to drag his cannon, he could not obey the orders, and would hold his post, in hopes of reinforcements.

“He’ll stay; so will Bowie and Bonham!” groaned Dick Carroll, who 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.”