CHAPTER XI
THE DESPERATE DEFENCE
Ned's report created some alarm among the defenders of the Alamo, but itpassed quickly.
"I don't see just how it can help 'em," said Crockett. "He's found outthat we're few in number. They already knew that. He's learned that theAlamo is made up of a church an' other buildings with walls 'roun' them.They already knew that, too, an' so here we all are, Texans an'Mexicans, just where we stood before."
Nevertheless, the bombardment rose to a fiercer pitch of intensity thenext day. The Mexicans seemed to have an unlimited supply of ammunition,and they rained balls and shells on the Alamo. Many of the shells didnot burst, and the damage done was small. The Texans did not reply fromthe shelter of their walls for a long time. At last the Mexicans camecloser, emboldened perhaps by the thought that resistance was crushed,and then the Texan sharpshooters opened fire with their long-barreledrifles.
The Texans had two or three rifles apiece, and they poured in a fast anddeadly fire. So many of the Mexicans fell that the remainder retreatedwith speed, leaving the fallen behind them. But when the smoke liftedothers came forward under a white flag, and the Texans allowed them totake away their dead.
The cannonade now became spasmodic. All the Mexican cannon would firecontinuously for a half hour or so, and then would ensue a silence ofperhaps an hour.
In the afternoon Bowie was taken very ill, owing to his great exertions,and a bed was made for him in the hospital. Ned sat there with him awhile. The gentle mood that had distinguished the Georgian throughoutthe siege was even more marked now.
"Ned," he said, "you ought to have gone out the other night when wewanted you to go. Fannin may come to our help or he may not, but even ifhe should come I don't think his force is sufficient. It would merelyincrease the number of Texans in the trap."
"I've quite made up my mind that I won't go," said Ned.
"I'm sorry," said Bowie. "As for me, it's different. I'm a man ofviolence, Ned. I don't deny it. There's human blood on my hands, andsome of it is that of my own countrymen. I've done things that I'd liketo call back, and so I'm glad to be here, one of a forlorn hope,fighting for Texas. It's a sort of atonement, and if I fall I think itwill be remembered in my favor."
Ned was singularly impressed. Crockett had talked in much the same way.Could these men, heroes of a thousand dangers, have really given up? Notto give up in the sense of surrender, but to expect death fighting? Butfor himself he could not believe such a thing possible. Youth was toostrong in him.
He was on the watch again for part of the next night, and he andCrockett were together. They heard sounds made by the besiegers on everyside of them. Mexicans were calling to Mexicans. Bridle bits rattled,and metal clanked against metal.
"I suppose the circle is complete," said Ned.
"Looks like it," said Crockett, "but we've got our cattle to eat an'water to drink an' only a direct attack in force can take us. They canbang away with their cannon till next Christmas an' they won't shake ourgrip on the Alamo."
The night was fairly dark, and an hour later Ned heard a whistle.Crockett heard it, too, and stiffened instantly into attention.
"Did that sound to you like a Mexican whistling?" he asked.
"No, I'd say it came from American lips, and I'd take it also for asignal."
"An' so it is. It's just such a whistle as hunters use when they want totalk to one another without words. I've whistled to my pardners that wayin the woods hundreds of times. I think, Ned, that some Texans are athand waitin' a chance to slip in."
Crockett emitted a whistle, low but clear and penetrating, almost likethe song of a night bird, and in a half minute came the rejoinder. Hereplied to it briefly, and then they waited. Others had gathered at thelow plaza wall with them. Hidden to the eyes, they peered over theparapet.
They heard soft footsteps in the darkness, and then dim forms emerged.Despite the darkness they knew them to be Texans, and Crockett spokelow:
"Here we are, boys, waitin' for you! This way an' in a half minuteyou're in the Alamo!"
The men ran forward, scaled the wall and were quickly inside. They wereonly thirty-two. Ned had thought that the Panther, Obed, and Will Allenmight be among them, but they were not there. The new men were shakinghands with the others and were explaining that they had come fromGonzales with Captain Smith at their head. They were all well armed,carried much ammunition, and were sure that other parties would arrivefrom different points.
The thirty-two were full of rejoicings over their successful entry, butthey were worn, nevertheless, and they were taken into one of thebuildings, where food and water were set before them. Ned stood by, aneager auditor, as they told of their adventures.
"We had a hard time to get in here to you," said Captain Smith, "andfrom the looks of things I reckon we'll have as hard a time to get out.There must be a million Mexicans around the Alamo. We tried to get up abigger force, but we couldn't gather any more without waiting, and wethought if you needed us at all you needed us in a hurry."
"Reckon you're right about the need of bein' in a hurry," said Crockett."When you want help you want it right then an' there."
"So you do," said Smith, as he took a fresh piece or steak, "and we hadit in mind all the time. The wind was blowing our way, and in theafternoon we heard the roaring of cannon a long distance off. Then as wecame closer we heard Mexicans buzzing all around the main swarm, scoutsand skirmishers everywhere.
"We hid in an arroyo and waited until dark. Then we rode closer andfound that there would never be any chance to get into the Alamo onhorseback. We took the saddles and bridles off our horses, and turnedthem loose on the prairie. Then we undertook to get in here, but it wastouch and go. I tell you it was touch and go. We wheeled and twisted andcurved and doubled, until our heads got dizzy. Wherever we went we foundMexicans, thousands of 'em."
"We've noticed a few ourselves," said Crockett.
"It was pretty late when we struck an opening, and then not being surewe whistled. When we heard you whistle back we made straight for thewall, and here we are."
"We're mighty glad to see you," said Crockett, "but we ain't welcomin'you to no picnic, I reckon you understand that, don't you, Jim Smith?"
"We understand it, every one of us," replied Smith gravely. "We heardbefore we started, and now we've seen. We know that Santa Anna himselfis out there, and that the Mexicans have got a big army. That's thereason we came, Davy Crockett, because the odds are so heavy againstyou."
"You're a true man," said Crockett, "and so is every one of these withyou."
The new force was small--merely a few more for the trap--but theybrought with them encouragement. Ned shared in the general mentaluplift. These new faces were very welcome, indeed. They gave fresh vigorto the little garrison, and they brought news of that outside world fromwhich he seemed to have been shut off so long. They told of numerousparties sure to come to their relief, but he soon noticed that they didnot particularize. He felt with certainty that the Alamo now had all thedefenders that it would ever have.
Repeated examinations from the walls of the church confirmed Ned in hisbelief. The Mexican circle was complete, and their sheltered batterieswere so near that they dropped balls and shells whenever they pleasedinside the Alamo. Duels between the cannon and the Texan sharpshooterswere frequent. The gunners as they worked their guns were forced to showthemselves at times, and every exposure was instantly the signal for aTexan bullet which rarely missed. But the Mexicans kept on. It seemedthat they intended to wear out the defenders by the sheer persistencyof their cannon fire.
Ned became so hardened to the bombardment that he paid little attentionto it. Even when a ball fell inside the Alamo the chances were severalhundred to one that it would not hit him. He had amused himself with amathematical calculation of the amount of space he occupied comparedwith the amount of space in the Alamo. Thus he arrived at the result,which indicated comparatively little risk for himself.
The shrewdest c
alculations are often wrong. As he passed through theconvent yard he met Crockett, and the two walked on together. But beforethey had gone half a dozen steps a bomb hissed through the air, fell androlled to their feet. It was still hissing and smoking, but Ned, drivenby some unknown impulse, seized it and with a mighty effort hurled itover the wall, where it burst. Then he stood licking his burned fingersand looking rather confusedly at Crockett. He felt a certain shynessover what he had done.
The veteran frontiersman had already formed a great affection for theboy. He knew that Ned's impulse had come from a brave heart and a quickmind, and that he had probably saved both their lives. He took a greatresolution that this boy, the youngest of all the defenders, should besaved.
"That was done well, Ned," he said quietly. "I'm glad, boy, that I'veknown you. I'd be proud if you were a son of mine. We can talk plainlyhere with death all around us. You've got a lot in that head of yours.You ought to make a great man, a great man for Texas. Won't you do whatI say and slip out of the Alamo while there's still a chance?"
Ned was much moved, but he kept his resolution as he had kept it before.He shook his head.
"You are all very good to me here," he said. "Mr. Bowie, too, has askedme to go, but if I should do so and the rest of you were to fall I'd beashamed of myself all the rest of my life. I'm a Texan now, and I'mgoing to see it through with the rest of you."
"All right," said Crockett lightly. "I've heard that you can lead ahorse to the water, but you can't make him drink, an' if a boy don'twant to go you can't make him go. So we'll just go into this littleimprovised armory of ours, an' you an' I will put in our time moldin'bullets."
They entered one of the adobe buildings. A fire had been built on thehearth, and a half dozen Texans were already busy there. But theyquickly made room for Crockett and Ned. Crockett did not tell Ned thattheir supplies of powder and lead were running low, and that they mustreduce their fire from the walls in order that they might havesufficient to meet an attack in force.
But it was a cheerful little party that occupied itself with moldingbullets. Ned put a bar of lead into a ladle, and held it over the fireuntil the bar became molten. Then he poured it into the mold until itwas full, closed it, and when he opened it again a shining bulletdropped out. He worked hour after hour. His face became flushed with theheat, but with pride he watched his heap of bullets grow.
Crockett at last said they had done enough for one day, and Ned was gladwhen they went outside and breathed the fresh air again. There was nofiring at that time, and they climbed once more upon the church wall.Ned looked out upon the scene, every detail of which was so familiar tohim now. But conspicuous, and seeming to dominate all, was the blood-redflag of no quarter floating from the tower of the church of SanFernando. Wind and rain had not dimmed its bright color. The menace inits most vivid hue was always there.
Travis, who was further along the wall with a pair of strong fieldglasses, came back and joined Ned and Crockett.
"If you would like to see Santa Anna you can," he said to Ned. "He is onthe church of San Fernando now with his generals looking at us. Takethese glasses and your gaze may meet his."
Ned took the glasses, and there was Santa Anna standing directly underthe folds of the banner with his own glasses to his eyes, studying theAlamo and its defenders. About him stood a half dozen generals. Ned'sheart swelled with anger. The charm and genius of Santa Anna made himall the more repellent now. Ned knew that he would break any promise ifit suited him, and that cunning and treachery were his most potenttools.
Santa Anna, at that very moment, was discussing with Sesma, Cos, Gaonaand others the question of an immediate assault with his whole army uponthe Alamo. They had heard rumors of an advance by Fannin with help forthe Texans, but, while some of the younger spirits wished prompt attack,Santa Anna decided on delay.
The dictator doubted whether Fannin would come up, and if he did hewould merely put so many more rats in the trap. Santa Anna felt securein his vast preponderance of numbers. He would take the Texans in hisown good time, that is, whenever he felt like it. He did not care tohurry, because he was enjoying himself greatly in San Antonio. Capableof tremendous energy at times, he gave himself up at other times toBabylonian revels.
Ned handed the glasses to Crockett, who also took a long look.
"I've heard a lot of Santa Anna," he said, "an' maybe I'll yet meet himeye to eye."
"It's possible," said Travis, "but, Davy, we've got to wait on theMexicans. It's always for them to make the move, and then we'll meet itif we can. I wish we could hear from Bonham. I'm afraid he's beentaken."
"Not likely," said Crockett. "One man, all alone, an' as quick of eyean' foot as Bonham, would be pretty sure to make his way safely."
"I certainly hope so," said Travis. "At any rate, I intend to send outanother letter soon. If the Texans are made to realize our situationthey will surely come, no matter how far away they may be."
"I hope they will," said Crockett. But Ned noticed that he did not seemto speak with any great amount of confidence. Balancing everything aswell as he could, he did not see how much help could be expected. TheTexan towns were tiny. The whole fringe of Texan settlements was small.The Texans were but fifty or sixty thousands against the seven or eightmillions of Mexico, and now that they knew a great Mexican army was inTexas the scattered borderers would be hard put to it to defendthemselves. He did not believe that in any event they could gather aforce great enough to cut its way through the coil of Santa Anna'smultitude.
But Travis' faith in Bonham, at least, was justified. The next night,about halfway between midnight and morning, in the darkest hour, a manscaled the wall and dropped inside the plaza. It proved to be Bonhamhimself, pale, worn, covered with mud and dust, but bringing gladtidings. Ned was present when he came into the church and was met byTravis. Bowie, Crockett and Smith. Only a single torch lighted up thegrim little group.
"Fannin has left Goliad with 300 men and four cannon to join us," Bonhamsaid. "He started five days ago, and he should be here soon. With hisrifles and big guns he'll be able to cut his way through the Mexicansand enter the Alamo."
"I think so, too," said Travis, with enthusiasm.
But Ned steadily watched Bowie and Crockett. They were the men ofexperience, and in matters such as these they had minds of uncommonpenetration. He noticed that neither of them said anything, and thatthey showed no elation.
Everybody in the Alamo knew the next day that Bonham had come fromFannin, and the whole place was filled with new hope. As Ned reckoned,it was about one hundred and fifty miles from San Antonio de Bexar toGoliad; but, according to Bonham, Fannin had already been five days onthe way, and they should hear soon the welcome thunder of his guns. Heeagerly scanned the southeast, in which direction lay Goliad, but theonly human beings he saw were Mexicans. No sound came to his ears butthe note of a Mexican trumpet or the crack of a vaquero's whip.
He was not the only one who looked and listened. They watched that dayand the next through all the bombardment and the more dangerous riflefire. But they never saw on the horizon the welcome flash from any ofFannin's guns. No sound that was made by a friend reached their ears.The only flashes of fire they saw outside were those that came from themouths of Mexican cannon, and the only sounds they heard beyond theAlamo were made by the foe. The sun, huge, red and vivid, sank in theprairie and, as the shadows thickened over the Alamo, Ned was sure inhis heart that Fannin would never come.
* * * * *
A few days before the defenders of the Alamo had begun to scan thesoutheast for help a body of 300 men were marching toward San Antonio deBexar. They were clad in buckskin and they were on horseback. Theirfaces were tanned and bore all the signs of hardship. Near the middle ofthe column four cannon drawn by oxen rumbled along, and behind them camea heavy wagon loaded with ammunition.
It was raining, and the rain was the raw cold rain of early spring inthe southwest. The men, protecting themselves as well as the
y could withcloaks and serapes, rarely spoke. The wheels of the cannon cut greatruts in the prairie, and the feet of the horses sank deep in the mud.
Two men and a boy rode near the head of the column. One of these wouldhave attracted attention anywhere by his gigantic size. He was dressedcompletely in buckskin, save for the raccoon skin cap that crowned histhick black hair. The rider on his right hand was long and thin with thecalm countenance of a philosopher, and the one on his left was an eagerand impatient boy.
"I wish this rain would stop," said the Panther, his ensanguined eyeexpressing impatience and anger. "I don't mind gettin' cold an' I don'tmind gettin' wet, but there is nothin' stickier or harder to ploughthrough than the Texas mud. An' every minute counts. Them boys in thatAlamo can't fight off thousands of Mexicans forever. Look at themsteers! Did you ever see anything go as slow as they do?"
"I'd like to see Ned again," said Will Allen. "I'd be willing to take mychance with him there."
"That boy of ours is surely with Crockett and Bowie and Travis and theothers, helping to fight off Santa Anna and his horde," said Obed White."Bonham couldn't have made any mistake about him. If we had seen Bonhamhimself we could have gone with him to the Alamo."
"But he gave Ned's name to Colonel Fannin," said Will, "and so it's sureto be he."
"Our comrade is certainly there," said Obed White, "and we've got tohelp rescue him as well as help rescue the others. It's hard not tohurry on by ourselves, but we can be of most help by trying to push onthis force, although it seems as if everything had conspired againstus."
"It shorely looks as if things was tryin' to keep us back," exclaimedthe Panther angrily. "We've had such a hard time gettin' these mentogether, an' look at this rain an' this mud! We ought to be at Bexarright now, a-roarin', an' a-t'arin', an' a-rippin', an' a-chawin' amongthem Mexicans!"
"Patience! Patience!" said Obed White soothingly. "Sometimes the morehaste the oftener you trip."
"Patience on our part ain't much good to men sixty or eighty miles away,who need us yelling' an' shootin' for them this very minute."
"I'm bound to own that what you say is so," said Obed White.
They relapsed into silence. The pace of the column grew slower. The menwere compelled to adapt themselves to the cannon and ammunition wagon,which were now almost mired. The face of the Panther grew black asthunder with impatience and anger, but he forced himself into silence.
They stopped a little while at noon and scanty rations were doled out.They had started in such haste that they had only a little rice anddried beef, and there was no time to hunt game.
They started again in a half hour, creeping along through the mud, andthe Panther was not the only man who uttered hot words of impatienceunder his breath. They were nearing the San Antonio River now, andFannin began to show anxiety about the fort. But the Panther waswatching the ammunition wagon, which was sinking deeper and deeper intothe mire. It seemed to him that it was groaning and creaking too mucheven for the deep mud through which it was passing.
The driver of the ammunition wagon cracked his long whip over the oxenand they tugged at the yoke. The wheels were now down to the hub, andthe wagon ceased to move. The driver cracked his whip again and again,and the oxen threw their full weight into the effort. The wheels slowlyrose from their sticky bed, but then something cracked with a reportlike a pistol shot. The Panther groaned aloud, because he knew what hadhappened.
The axle of the wagon had broken, and it was useless. They distributedthe ammunition, including the cannon balls, which they put in sacks, aswell as they could, among the horsemen, and went on. They did notcomplain, but every one knew that it was a heavy blow. In two more hoursthey came to the banks of the muddy San Antonio, and stared in dismay atthe swollen current. It was evident at once to everybody that thepassage would be most difficult for the cannon, which, like theammunition wagon, were drawn by oxen.
The river was running deep, with muddy banks, and a muddy bottom, and,taking the lightest of the guns, they tried first to get it across. Manyof the men waded neck deep into the water and strove at the wheels. Butthe stream went completely over the cannon, which also sank deeper anddeeper in the oozy bottom. It then became an effort to save the gun. ThePanther put all his strength at the wheel, and, a dozen others helping,they at last got it back to the bank from which they had started.
Fannin, not a man of great decision, looked deeply discouraged, but thePanther and others urged him on to new attempts. The Panther, himself,as he talked, bore the aspect of a huge river god. Yellow water streamedfrom his hair, beard, and clothing, and formed a little pool about him.But he noticed it not at all, urging the men on with all the fieryenergy which a dauntless mind had stored in a frame so great andcapable.
"If it can be done the Panther will get the guns across," said Will toObed.
"That's so," said Obed, "but who'd have thought of this? When we startedout we expected to have our big fight with an army and not with ariver."
They took the cannon into the water a second time, but the result wasthe same. They could not get it across, and with infinite exertion theydragged it back to the bank. Then they looked at one another in despair.They could ford the river, but it seemed madness to go on without thecannon. While they debated there, a messenger came with news that theinvestment of the Alamo by Santa Anna was now complete. He gave whatrumor said, and rumor told that the Mexican army numbered ten or twelvethousand men with fifty or sixty guns. Santa Anna's force was so greatthat already he was sending off large bodies to the eastward to attackTexan detachments wherever they could be found.
Fannin held an anxious council with his officers. It was an open talk onthe open prairie, and anybody who chose could listen. Will Allen andObed White said nothing, but the Panther was vehement.
"We've got to get there!" he exclaimed. "We can't leave our people todie in the Alamo! We've got to cut our way through, an', if the worstcomes to the worst, die with them!"
"That would benefit nobody," said Fannin. "We've made every human effortto get our cannon across the river, and we have failed. It would notprofit Texas for us to ride on with our rifles merely to be slaughtered.There will be other battles and other sieges, and we shall be needed."
"Does that mean we're not goin' on?" asked the Panther.
"We can't go on."
Fannin waved his hand at the yellow and swollen river.
"We must return to Goliad," he said, "I have decided. Besides, there isnothing else for us to do. About face, men, and take up the march."
The men turned slowly and reluctantly, and the cannon began to ploughthe mud on the road to Goliad, from which they had come.
The Panther had remounted, and he drew to one side with Will and Obed,who were also on their horses. His face was glowing with anger. Neverhad he looked more tremendous as he sat on his horse, with the waterstill flowing from him.
"Colonel Fannin," he called out, "you can go back to Goliad, but as forme an' my pardners, Obed White an' Will Allen, we're goin' to Bexar, an'the Alamo."
"I have no control over you," said Fannin, "but it would be much betterfor you three to keep with us."
"No," said the Panther firmly. "We hear the Alamo callin'. Into theriver, boys, but keep your weapons an' ammunition dry."
Their horses, urged into the water, swam to the other bank, and, withoutlooking back the three rode for San Antonio de Bexar.
* * * * *
While the Panther, Obed White and Will Allen were riding over theprairie, Ned Fulton sat once more with his friend. Davy Crockett, in oneof the adobe buildings. Night had come, and they heard outside thefitful crackle of rifle fire, but they paid no attention to it. Travis,at a table with a small tallow candle at his elbow, was writing his lastmessage.
Ned was watching the commander as he wrote. But he saw no expression ofdespair or even discouragement on Travis' fine face. The letter, which amessenger succeeded in carrying through the lines that night, breathed anoble and loft
y courage. He was telling again how few were his men, andhow the balls and bombs had rained almost continuously for days upon theAlamo. Even as his pen was poised they heard the heavy thud of a cannon,but the pen descended steadily and he wrote:
"I shall continue to hold it until I get relief from my countrymen, orperish in its defence."
He wrote on a little longer and once more came the heavy thud of a greatgun. Then the pen wrote:
"Again I feel confident that the determined spirit and desperate courageheretofore 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 that enemy so dear that it will be worse than adefeat."
"Worse than a defeat!" Travis never knew how significant were the wordsthat he penned then. A minute or two later the sharp crack of a halfdozen rifles came to them, and Travis wrote:
"A blood-red flag waves from the church of Bexar and in the camp aboveus, in token that the war is one of vengeance against rebels."
They heard the third heavy thud of a cannon, and a shell, falling in thecourt outside, burst with a great crash. Ned went out and returned witha report of no damage. Travis had continued his letter, and now hewrote:
"These threats have no influence upon my men, but to make all fight withdesperation, and with that high-souled courage which characterizes thepatriot who is willing to die in defence of his country, liberty and hisown honor, God and Texas.
"Victory or death."
He closed the letter and addressed it. An hour later the messenger wasbeyond the Mexican lines with it, but Travis sat for a long time at thetable, unmoving and silent. Perhaps he was blaming himself for nothaving been more watchful, for not having discovered the advance ofSanta Anna. But he was neither a soldier nor a frontiersman, and sincethe retreat into the Alamo he had done all that man could do.
He rose at last and went out. Then Crockett said to Ned, knowing that itwas now time to speak the full truth:
"He has given up all hope of help."
"So have I," said Ned.
"But we can still fight," said Crockett.
The day that followed was always like a dream to Ned, vivid in someways, and vague in others. He felt that the coil around the Alamo hadtightened. Neither he nor any one else expected aid now, and they spokeof it freely one to another. Several who could obtain paper wrote, asNed had done, brief wills, which they put in the inside pockets of theircoats. Always they spoke very gently to one another, these wild spiritsof the border. The strange and softening shadow which Ned had noticedbefore was deepening over them all.
Bowie was again in the hospital, having been bruised severely in a fallfrom one of the walls, but his spirit was as dauntless as ever.
"The assault by the Mexicans in full force cannot be delayed muchlonger," he said to Ned. "Santa Anna is impatient and energetic, and hesurely has brought up all his forces by this time."
"Do you think we can beat them off?" asked Ned.
Bowie hesitated a little, and then he replied frankly:
"I do not. We have only one hundred and seventy or eighty men to guardthe great space that we have here. But in falling we will light such aflame that it will never go out until Texas is free."
Ned talked with him a little longer, and always Bowie spoke as if thetime were at hand when he should die for Texas. The man of wild anddesperate life seemed at this moment to be clothed about with the mantleof the seer.
The Mexican batteries fired very little that day, and Santa Anna'ssoldiers kept well out of range. They had learned a deep and lastingrespect for the Texan rifles. Hundreds had fallen already before them,and now they kept under cover.
The silence seemed ominous and brooding to Ned. The day was bright, andthe flag of no quarter burned a spot of blood-red against the blue sky.Ned saw Mexican officers occasionally on the roofs of the higherbuildings, but he took little notice of them. He felt instinctivelythat the supreme crisis had not yet come. They were all waiting,waiting.
The afternoon drew its slow length away in almost dead silence, and thenight came on rather blacker than usual. Then the word was passed forall to assemble in the courtyard. They gathered there, Bowie dragginghis sick body with the rest. Every defender of the Alamo was present.The cannon and the walls were for a moment deserted, but the Mexicanswithout did not know it.
There are ineffaceable scenes in the life of every one, scenes which,after the lapse of many years, are as vivid as of yesterday. Such, thelast meeting of the Texans, always remained in the mind of Ned. Theystood in a group, strong, wiry men, but worn now by the eternalvigilance and danger of the siege. One man held a small torch, whichcast but a dim light over the brown faces.
Travis stood before them and spoke to them.
"Men," he said, "all of you know what I know, that we stand alone. Nohelp is coming for us. The Texans cannot send it or it would have come.For ten days we have beaten off every attack of a large army. Butanother assault in much greater force is at hand. It is not likely thatwe can repel it. You have seen the red flag of no quarter flying dayafter day over the church, and you know what it means. Santa Anna nevergives mercy. It is likely that we shall all fall, but, if any man wishesto go, I, your leader, do not order him to stay. You have all done yourduty ten times over. There is just a chance to escape over the walls andin the darkness. Now go and save your lives if you can."
"We stay," came the deep rumble of many voices together. One man slippedquietly away a little later, but he was the only one. Save for him,there was no thought of flight in the minds of that heroic band.
Ned's heart thrilled and the blood pounded in his ears. Life wasprecious, doubly so, because he was so young, but he felt a strangeexaltation in the face of death, an exaltation that left no room forfear.
The eyes of Travis glistened when he heard the reply.
"It is what I expected," he said. "I knew that every one of you waswilling to die for Texas. Now, lads, we will go back to the walls andwait for Santa Anna."
The Texan Scouts: A Story of the Alamo and Goliad Page 11