Part 33 (1/2)
”But then you are not alone in the thought, Lopez. I heard General Sherman say, 'Poor Fannin! He has been blamed for not obeying Houston's orders. I THINK HE OBEYED THEM TO-DAY.' At the moment I did not comprehend; but now it is plain to me. He thought Fannin had been present, and perhaps it was this belief made him so impetuous and invincible. He fought like a spirit; one forgot that he was flesh and blood.”
”Sherman is of a grand stock,” said the doctor; ”descended from the wise Roger Sherman; bred in Ma.s.sachusetts and trained in all the hardy virtues of her sons. It was from his lips the battle-cry of 'REMEMBER THE ALAMO!' sprang.”
”But then, Roberto, nothing shall persuade me that my countrymen are cowards.”
”On the contrary, Maria, they kept their ground with great courage.
They were slain by hundreds just where they stood when the battle began.
Twenty-six officers and nearly seven hundred men were left dead upon the field. But the flight was still more terrible. Into the bayou horses and men rolled down together. The deep black stream became red; it was choked up with their dead bodies, while the mire and water of the mora.s.s was literally bridged with the smothered mules and horses and soldiers.”
”The battle began at three o'clock; but we heard the firing only for a very short time,” said Antonia.
”After we reached their breastworks it lasted just eighteen minutes. At four, the whole Mexican army was dead, or flying in every direction, and the pursuit and slaughter continued until twilight. Truly an unseen power made all our moves for us. It was a military miracle, for our loss was only eight killed and seventeen wounded.”
”I am sorry Houston is among the wounded.”
”His ankle-bone is shattered. He is suffering much. I was with him when he left the field and I was delighted with his patience and dignity. The men crowded around him. They seized his bridle; they clasped his hands.
'Have we done well to-day, General? Are you satisfied with us?' they cried.
”'You have covered yourselves with glory,' he answered. 'You have written a grand page in American history this day, boys. For it was not for fame nor for empire you fought; but for your rights as freemen, for your homes and your faith.'
”The next moment he fell from his horse and we laid him down at the foot of an oak tree. He had fainted from loss of blood and the agony of his wound, combined with the superhuman exertions and anxieties of the past week.”
”But he is better now?”
”Yes; I dressed the wound as well as my appliances permitted; but he will not be able to use his foot for some time. No one slept that night.
Weary as the men were, their excitement and happiness were too great for the bonds of sleep. In the morning the rich spoils of the enemy's camp were divided among them. Houston refused any part in them. 'My share of the honor is sufficient,' he said. Yet the spoils were very valuable ones to men who but a few hours before had nothing but the clothing they wore and the arms they carried. Among them were nearly one thousand stand of English muskets, three hundred valuable mules, one hundred fine horses, provisions, clothing, tents, and at least twelve thousand dollars in silver.”
”Were you on the field all the time, father?”
”I was near Houston from first to last. When he saw the battle was won, he did his best to prevent needless slaughter. But men on a battle-field like San Jacinto cannot be reasoned with; after a certain point, they could not even be commanded. The majority had some private revenge to satisfy after the public welfare had been served. We met one old man in a frenzy, covered with blood from his white beard to his boots, his arms bare to his shoulders, his knife dripping from haft to point.”
”Houston looked at him, and said something about mercy and valor.
'General,' he said, 'they killed two of my boys at Goliad, and my brother at the Alamo. I'll not spare a Mexican while I've the strength to kill one. I'm on the scent for Santa Anna, and, by G--, if I find him, I will spare Texas and you any more trouble with the brute.'”
At this moment Thomas Worth entered the marquee, and, in an excited manner, said:
”Santa Anna is taken! Santa Anna is taken!”
”Taken!” cried the Senora in a pa.s.sion.
”Taken! Is it possible the wretch is yet in this world? I was a.s.suring myself that he was in one not so comfortable. Why is he not killed? It is an inconceivable insult to humanity to let him live. Have you thought of your brother Juan? Give me the knife in your belt, Thomas, if you cannot use it.”
”My dear mother--”
”Maria, my life! Thomas could not wisely kill so important a prisoner.
Texas wants him to secure her peace and independence. The lives of all the Americans in Mexico may depend upon his. Mere personal vengeance on him would be too dear a satisfaction. On the battle-field he might have been lawfully slain--and he was well looked for; but now, No.”