by James Haley
“Well,” said Besanson, “this answers that question. It looks like the whole settlement has been put to the torch.” Numerous log cabins now stood as charred shells, each with a curl of smoke rising above it and bending to the north. Of life there was no sign, either civilian or military of either side.
Sam surveyed the destruction sadly. “I’ve heard about Santa Anna’s sort of war, but this is the first time I’ve seen it. What now?”
“I suppose we must continue on to Lynch’s Ferry—it’s another six or seven miles—and see if that is any safer.”
No sooner had he said so than he began directing Sam into a series of twists around marshes and sandbars in the middle of the stream where no main channel was obvious. Sam groused, “I thought you said this was a river.”
“So it is, but it is a devilish slow and sluggish river. It may only be six miles, but we will have to navigate at least double that.”
Halfway there they felt the soft concussion and boom of cannons, not greatly distant, perhaps a mile or two through the trees to their west. The reports came in a curious rhythm—one deep boom followed by two smaller; one deep followed by two smaller—for fifteen or twenty minutes.
“That is good,” said Besanson. “Now we know that the armies are on the left bank. Lynchburg and the ferry are opposite on the right. I feel easier about landing there now.”
“Are you certain of its location? There is no chance we will miss it? The light will fade before too long.”
“No, we cannot miss it. He pulls his ferry across by hand. If nothing else, his rope will block our passage. He was the first settler here; the ferry crossing and the town are both named after him.”
Their skiff emerged from between patches of reeds into open water with a clear view of the eastern bank, with a house, outbuildings, and a substantial flatboat tied to a pier. It was nearly dark as they steered for it and tied up on the other side of the dock.
A man came down from the house. He had iron-gray hair and beard and a small, pinched face with narrow-set eyes. Apparently he had once been quite strong but was in a visible decline. “Are you Mr. Lynch?” called Besanson.
“I am Nathaniel Lynch.”
He saluted. “Lieutenant Alfred Besanson, Texas Army.” They shook hands. “This is Lieutenant Bandy of the navy. He has important intelligence for General Houston. Can you tell us about the situation here and where we can find him?”
Lynch pointed across the river. “Well, he was right over yonder this morning, but as to this evening I cannot say. You heard the firing earlier?”
“Yes. Can you take us across?”
“Not tonight. We can look in the morning and see who is on the opposite bank. You boys may bed down by the barn.”
Lynch’s bearing showed little in common with the hospitality Sam was accustomed to at Velasco. “Is there any chance you can supply us with some grub? I can pay you.”
Lynch squared himself. “Mister, in the last month I have pulled more than five thousand people, by exact count, across this stream, fleeing the Mexicans. Most of them had nothing more than the clothes on their backs. Some of them had some money, and they cleaned me out of every chicken, every ear of corn, and every side of bacon that I had. The only reason my family had any dinner this afternoon was that my son caught a catfish up the creek from here. Now, I am told that some of the public cattle are east of here, and I am going to go hunt one tomorrow, but for tonight I fear that we must all go hungry.”
Sam and Besanson spread their blankets in the grass outside the barnyard, but after midnight Sam awakened from a sudden howl of wind, strong from the north, with a distinct chill that promised unpleasant cold when it took hold, and he pulled the blanket tighter about him.
Lynch was up before them in the morning, waving to men on the opposite bank, and then he came up to the barnyard to wake them. “Boys, you are in luck. The sentries on the other side are ours, so I guess the army survived the artillery duel from yesterday. I can take you across now if you will go.”
Sam strained to orient himself from a sound sleep. “I will cross, thank you. Lieutenant Besanson will return to Galveston.” Each one walked to a different place in the forest undergrowth to relieve himself, then met Lynch at the dock. Sam and Besanson shook hands. “Can you get back in this thing all right?”
“I believe so. With this norther that’s come through, I won’t even have to raise the sail to blow back to Galveston.”
Lynch pulled the ferry slowly across two hundred yards of water. There was so little current that the rope threaded through iron rings was barely strained by any push downstream.
One of the sentries waved at them. “Mr. Lynch, how are you?”
“Good morning, boys. I have a man here with important messages for Houston. Can you take him into camp?”
“Well, I guess we can.”
The flatboat slid onto the bank, and Lynch stepped down. “What was all that firing I heard yesterday?”
“Oh, Lord, you should have seen it.” The sentry grinned. “The Mexican gun started firing at our two guns, but we answered back and got the better of them. Colonel Sherman pestered Houston and pestered Houston to let him go out and take the gun. Houston didn’t want to, but he finally relented rather than face a mutiny, I’ll bet. Sherman made the prettiest little charge you ever saw. Then some Mexican dragoons come out of the trees at them, and Burleson’s regiment ran out to help them, and there was Houston on his horse, standing up in his stirrups, screaming at the men to stop it all and come back.”
“Did they?”
“Hell, no. Captain Billingsley told him to go screw himself, and Houston didn’t say a thing back to him, the damn old Cherokee squaw. All our men made it back, though.”
“Is that how things are now?”
“Yep. We know where they are, and they know where we are. The big fight will surely happen today if we can get Houston to fight, the coward.”
“Well, I have delivered this officer to you, and I have done my duty for the day. I am going back to the other side, and when you see me get there, I want you to cast this rope loose so the Mexicans can’t cross if they force you from the landing. Will you do that?”
“Yes, we will do that.”
“If the battle goes your way, we will hook it up again.”
Sam was led into the Texian camp of several hundred soldiers, some in uniform, others, the volunteers, dressed as they did every day. The camp lay within a grove of large live oaks, good cover from which to repel an attack if it came.
He was led to Houston’s tent and was announced, and was shown in to find Houston lying on his cot. “Have you no blanket, General?”
Houston rubbed his eyes and laughed darkly. “I gave it to the gun crews to cut up for wadding. My reason was, if we lose the day, I will have no more need of a blanket, and if we win the day, I shall have a very fine store of blankets.” He rose, and Sam saw he was clad in fringed buckskin. “Our brothers, the deer, keep me warm enough.”
Sam thought that a curiously Indian thing to say as he accompanied him to the guard fire, Houston rubbing his upper arms vigorously. “God damn, it got colder last night than I was expecting.”
“But what of your brothers, the deer?”
Houston snorted a sudden laugh. “Well, they were not expecting it, either. You have come from Galveston?”
“With a report, yes, sir.”
Houston warmed his hands at the fire. “Will no man give his general a cup of coffee?” In an instant a steaming tin cup was given him and one to Sam. Houston slurped to cool it as he drank and made a blissful face. “God, I hope I am not killed this day. I wish to live long enough to enjoy more good coffee. What is your news, Mr. Bandy?”
“General, what strength of artillery are you facing, do you know?”
“Just one brass twelve-pounder is all they have used. They fired it i
nto our camp yesterday and did some little damage: no one was killed, but Colonel Neill, our artillery commander, was struck squarely in the ass with shrapnel. He is out of the fight.”
“Well, General, just over a week ago your warship Gonzales overtook and boarded a large American brig, called the Five Points, that was attempting to get into the pass to Cópano. We seized thirty new bronze field guns, intended for their army, with powder and solid shot, grape, and canister. It was impossible to transfer to our own ship, so it was all consigned to the deep, except the powder, which we retained for our own use.”
Houston looked at him gravely. “Are you saying that those were the guns meant to be used against me and then used to fortify the Sabine against the United States?”
“We regard it as a virtual certainty.”
Houston took a deep breath. “Then that is very good news. Have you eaten?”
“Not last night or this morning, no, sir.”
“Well, come sit with me by the fire.” There they were given tin plates, each with a chunk of beef cut from a hindquarter roasting over the fire, and two dough cakes made with wheat flour.
“Why, General,” said Sam, “these are good. Where did you get flour? I was told that the army was near to starving. And good coffee.”
“And so we were”—Houston nodded—“until on the day before yesterday, when first we reached the bayou, we came across a flatboat stocked with flour and coffee. It was abandoned, but there was a note in it addressed in bad Spanish to the Mexican army saying that not all Texians were traitors and begging them to show mercy to those who had never been disloyal to Mexico.”
“God damn! Do you know whose it was? They ought to be hanged.”
Houston picked a shred of beef from between his teeth. “No, but the country is full of Tories. I pray that one day they will have good cause to be ashamed of themselves, but until the government is established, and safe, we must accept that we are the insurgents, not they.”
“You have declared independence, I was told in Galveston.”
“That we did. I was at the Convention, in Washington.”
Sam was astonished. “Washington?”
Houston laughed. “Our Washington, a new little town on the Brazos above San Felipe. Not the Washington you are thinking of.”
“Well, I was about to say!”
“It was on March the second.” Houston laughed again. “It was my birthday present, as it were. It was signed by representatives from every district in the country. Then they drafted a constitution, and did so in a mighty hurry, because word came that the Mexicans had massacred the men in the Alamo and were coming for them next. Now let us return to my tent to discuss more.”
They left the guard tent, the morning light now full, when Sam heard a voice behind him, as high-pitched as his own. “Pap?”
He spun around in shock and beheld himself as he appeared twenty years before. “David!”
“Pap, what in—I heard you was in the navy. What in thunder are you doin’ here?” He approached and they shook hands awkwardly. “How’s things at home?”
“They were well when I left, but I’ve been at sea until a few days ago. The Mexicans may have gone through and burned everything; I have no idea.”
David Bandy nodded. “I would be sorry to hear it, but most everybody here has family that has lost everything. Me and my pals”—he gestured behind him with a shy smile—“we all signed up once they called for volunteers.”
Sam studied his face, not sure when he would ever see it again. “I am proud to hear that, David.” He put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “I am very proud to hear it. But now I must go; the general is waiting.”
“Yeah.” He laughed, stepping back. “It is good to see you, Pap.”
Sam heard their voices as they faded. “Your daddy knows the general? Damn, Bandy! That is something!”
At Houston’s tent they sat on stools at a table before the open tent front, in enough privacy to speak freely. “Now, Bandy, as to that part of our plan that only you and Captain Putnam know, it worked well for a while. Santa Anna came after me like a bloodhound, straight toward the Redlands, where I could link up with General Gaines. If we could get him into the fight, he could join Texas to the United States in an afternoon. But then our so-called government broke camp and ran for the coast, so Santa Anna left off following my trail to follow them. He figured that if he could capture and kill the government leaders, the whole revolution would be over at one stroke.”
Houston stopped to chuckle. “It has been the damnedest thing ever. There I was, getting letters from General Gaines in Louisiana telling me not to risk a fight having only these yahoos supposedly under my command. ‘Get Santa Anna into the Redlands,’ he tells me, ‘get me in on it.’ And I’m getting letters from the Texas government ordering me to stand and fight, stand and fight, while their own damn horses are falling down dead from running so fast to get to the coast.”
Sam shook his head.
“But now,” said Houston, “now is the time to fight. When Santa Anna started chasing the government, he ran ahead with fewer than a thousand men as an escort. Just for these few days he is vulnerable, and my farmer boys can whip him. As of yesterday, we have marched fifty-five miles in two and a half days. Now they’ve had some sleep and they are spoiling for a fight. When we attack, they will be as unstoppable as demons from hell.”
“What was the fight yesterday all about?”
“Oh, shht. Revolutions draw ambitious men—men who show up and right away want to take over. Colonel Sherman came down here from Kentucky and he brought those two six-pounders with him, I’ll give him that. But yesterday he tried to provoke the general engagement before we were ready, in order to take some glory and unseat me as commander. Well, today he is Corporal Sherman, his men hate my guts, but I intend to turn that anger against Santa Anna, where it belongs. As to the rest of my officers, you wait a few moments and I will show you something you will never forget. Mr. Hockley!”
As from nowhere, his aide-de-camp appeared. “Mr. Hockley, meet Lieutenant Bandy of our navy, who has arrived with intelligence for me. Hockley, please to call a conference of all my officers here at my tent in ten minutes. Now,” he repeated, “you shall see something. These sons of bitches have been abusing me to the limit of my patience for not engaging in a premature and fatal contest. Unless I guess wrongly, you are about to see how brave they really are.”
As the officers gathered, Houston had more stools brought for them, seating himself at the head of their circle. “Gentlemen, this is the day of the great contest. Every consideration enforces it, no previous occasion would justify it, but today is the day. And now I seek your advice, whether to attack or stay under cover and receive their attack.”
Sam listened attentively to the deliberation, mostly on the topic that to assault an entrenched position when they had no bayonets was unprecedented and foolhardy. Houston made them vote, and it was five to two in favor of receiving the attack.
“Gentlemen,” said Houston, “I thank you for your advice. We shall attack. The front of battle will be over a thousand yards wide. The men will space themselves so thinly that their musket fire will be ineffective. We shall advance quietly and in order. General Hockley, your Twin Sisters will be in the center. At my order you will wheel and fire them to open the engagement. Colonel Burleson, your infantry will be on his left; Sherman’s Kentuckians will be on your left. General Rusk, your infantry will be to the right of the artillery, and Colonel Millard, your infantry will be to Rusk’s right. When we attack, the Mexicans will try to flee to the west, but Colonel Lamar, your cavalry will cover the far right and prevent their escape. The sick and the underage will remain behind to guard the camp. The attack must be made with discipline. There are two other Mexican armies out there, each of them larger than the one we are facing, and we do not know their location. They could well be wi
thin sound of the guns and come upon us at any time. The companies must be able to regroup as soon as you command it. Am I understood? Very well, go and tell your men to prepare for battle.”
The others started to leave but stopped in their tracks and turned as Houston was approached by a medium-sized swarthy man with bronze skin, black hair, who addressed him in a Spanish accent. “General, you did not make an assignment for my company. What would you have us do?”
“Lieutenant Bandy, may I introduce Captain Juan Seguín, commanding our company of Mexican scouts and rangers. A better patriot and better fighter never mastered both the English and Spanish languages.”
“Honored to meet you, Captain,” Sam said, saluting, and they shook hands.
“I am pleased to meet you, señor. Now, General, where shall you position us?”
“Captain Seguín, I am sorry to tell you this, but I have thought hard about it. I am going to keep you out of the fight. You will reinforce the camp guard.”
Seguín’s face was a rolling kaleidoscope of emotion: shock, disbelief, insult, rage. “¿Porqué, señor? General, the sick and the boys must already number two hundred. They can fight to guard the camp if they have to. That is no position of honor for my men!”
“All right, Captain Seguín, I will give it to you straight. You and your company have been brave, and diligent. I could not have asked more of you. But look at this army about you. These men’s blood is up to boiling, and they advance this afternoon to kill Mexicans. Their hatred is blind; they are going to shoot down anyone who is darker than they are. You and your scouts are Mexican, and I cannot risk having you killed by mistake by our own side.”
“Mi General, with respect, I understand and thank you for your concern. However, you omit one consideration that is the most important of all to us. You forget, we hate that man worse than you do. See here. Let us suppose that you lose this battle and your army must flee. Most of your men will find their way home to your other country. We have no other country. We have no homes to go to until this man is destroyed. Señor, you cannot keep us out of this fight!”
