CHAPTER XIII. THE ARRIVAL OF SANTA ANNA.
"What thing thou doest, bravely do; When Heaven's clear call hath found thee, Follow--with fervid wheels pursue, Though thousands bray around thee."
"Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, Which his aspiring rider seemed to know; With slow but stately pace kept on his course; You would have thought the very windows spoke, So many greedy looks of young and old, Through casements darted their desiring eyes Upon his visage."
Left to themselves, the two men threw off like a mask the aspect ofcheerfulness they had worn in the presence of the Senora. Thomas Worthate heartily, for he had been without food since morning; but Navarrodid not attempt to join his meal. He sat patiently waiting his sombreeyes fixed upon the mental visions which circled in the enchantedincense of his cigarette.
Presently Thomas Worth turned toward the hearth, pushed the cedar logson it to a focus, and at their leaping blaze lighted the pipe which hetook from his pocket. "Lopez," he said, "it strikes me that I am justin time to prevent some infamous plan of Fray Ignatius and my uncleGonzaga."
"I should not have lost sight of the Senora and your sisters. I havewatched them faithfully, though for many good reasons it has been bestto appear indifferent. Will you now remain in San Antonio?"
"I have come with orders to Travis to blow up the Alamo, and fall backupon Houston, who is at Gonzales. But I do not think the men will permithim to do so."
"You have too many leaders. Also, they undervalue the Mexican soldiers.I assure you they do. They fought Spain for ten years; they do not want,then, the persistence of true valor. The Americans may die in the Alamo,but they cannot hold it against the thousands Santa Anna will bring withhim."
"They will die, then. They have no thought of retreat, nor of any deedthat argues fear. Every man relies on himself, as if in his hand themoment of victory lay."
"Every man will perish."
"They will not perish in vain. Defeat is only a spur to the Americansoldier. Every, one makes him a better fighter. If Santa Anna massacresthe men in the Alamo, he seals the freedom of Texas."
"Houston should have come himself."
"Houston is biding his time. He is doing at present the hardest dutya great man can do: setting an example of obedience to a divided andincompetent government. Lopez, you said rightly that we had too manyleaders. When those appointed for sacrifice have been offered up--whenwe are in the extremity of danger and ruin, then Houston will hear theword he is waiting for."
"And he will lead you on to victory. Indeed, I know it. I have seen him.He has the line--the fortunate line on the forehead. He is the loadstonein the breast of your cause; the magnet who can draw good fortune to it.If fate be against you, he will force fate to change her mind. If fateweave you a common thread, he will change it into purple. Victory, whichshe gives to others reluctantly, he will take like a master from herhand HOUSTON! What essence! What existence! What honor! What hope thereis in those seven letters. Consider this: He will find a way or make away for freedom."
Subsequent events proved the opinion of Thomas Worth correct withregard to the garrison in the Alamo. David Crockett! James Bowie! BarretTravis! The names were a host in themselves; one and all refused tocouple them with retreat.
"Military defeats may be moral victories, young man," said Crockett toThomas Worth; "and moral victories make national greatness. TheRoman that filled the gulf with his own body--the men who died atThermopylae--they live to-day, and they have been talking with us."
"But if you join Houston you will save many lives."
"That isn't always the point, sir. Jim Bowie was saying there was once alover who used to swim two miles every night to see a young woman calledHero. Now, he might have waited for a boat and gone dry-shod to hissweetheart; but if he had, who would have cared whether he lived ordied? The Alamo is our Hero. If we can't keep her, we can die for her."
The same spirit moved every soul at Goliad. Fanning was there withnearly nine hundred men, and he had named the place Fort Defiance, andasserted his determination to hold it. In the mean time, Houston wasusing his great personal influence to collect troops, to make treatieswith the Indians, and to keep together some semblance of a provisionalgovernment.
But it had become evident to all the leading spirits of the revolutionthat no half-way measures would now do. They only produced half-wayenthusiasm. For this end, Houston spoke out with his accustomedboldness:
"Gentlemen, we must declare the independence of Texas, and like ourfore-elders, sink or swim by that declaration. Nothing else, nothingless, can save us. The planters of Texas must feel that they arefighting for their own constitution, and not for Mexican promises madeto them twelve years ago and never yet kept."
The simple proposition roused a new enthusiasm; for while Urrea washastening towards Goliad, and Santa Anna towards San Antonio, andFilisola to Washington, the divided people were becoming more and moreembittered. The American soldiers, who had hitherto gone in and outamong the citizens of San Antonio during the day, and only slept in theAlamo, were conscious of an ominous change in the temper of the city.They gathered their recruits together and shut themselves in thefortress.
Again Thomas Worth urged them to fall back either upon the line ofHouston at Gonzales, or Fanning at Goliad; but in the indecision anduncertainty of all official orders, Crockett thought it best to make thefirst stand at the Mexican city.
"We can, at least," he said, "keep Santa Anna busy long enough to givethe women and children of our own settlements time to escape, and themen time to draw together with a certain purpose."
"The cry of Santa Anna has been like the cry of wolf! wolf!" said Bowie."I hear that great numbers that were under arms have gone home toplant their corn and cotton. Do you want Santa Anna to murder thempiecemeal--house by house, family by family? Great George! Which of uswould accommodate him with a prolonged pleasure like that? No! he shallhave a square fight for every life lie gets"; and the calm, gentlemanlyBowie was suddenly transformed into a flashing, vehement, furiousavenger. He laid his knife and pistols on the table, his steel-blue eyesscintillated as if they were lightning; his handsome mouth, his long,white hands, his whole person radiated wrath and expressed the utmostlengths of invincible courage and insatiable hatred.
"Gentlemen," answered Travis, "I go with Crockett and Bowie. If we holdthe Alamo, it is a deed well done. If we fall with it, it is stilla deed well done. We shall have given to Houston and Fanning time tointerpose themselves between Santa Anna and the settlements."
"We have none of us lived very well," said Bowie, "but we can die well.I say as an American, that Texas is ours by right of natural locality,and by right of treaty; and, as I live, I will do my best to makeit American by right of conquest! Comrades, I do not want a prettierquarrel to die in"--and looking with a brave, unflinching gaze aroundthe grim fortress--"I do not want a better monument than the Alamo!"
The speech was not answered with any noisy hurrahing; but the menaround the bare, long table clasped hands across it, and from that lastinterview with the doomed men Thomas Worth came away with the knowledgethat he had seen the battle begun. He felt now that there was no time todelay longer his plans for the safety of his mother and sisters. Thesewere, indeed, of the simplest and most uncertain character; for thecondition of the country and its few resources were such as to makeflight the only way that promised safety. And yet flight was environedwith dangers of every kind--hunger, thirst, exhaustion, savage beasts,Indians, and the triple armies of Mexico.
The day after his arrival he had begun to prepare, as far as possible,for this last emergency, but the Senora's unconquerable aversion toleave her native city had constantly hampered him. Until Santa Annareally appeared she would not believe in the necessity of such amovement. The proposal of Fray Ignatius, even if it did end in aconvent, did not seem so terrible as to be a wanderer without a roofto cover her. She felt aggrieved and injur
ed by Antonia's and Isabel'spositive refusal to accept sanctuary from the priest, and with theunderhand cunning of a weak woman she had contrived to let Fray Ignatiusknow that SHE was not to blame for the refusal.
All the same the priest hated her in conjunction with her children. Onthe morning after her interview with her uncle, he went to receive hersubmission; for the marquis had informed him of all that had passed, andhe felt the three women and the valuable Worth property already underhis hard hand. He opened the gate with the air of a proprietor. Helooked down the lovely alleys of the garden, and up at the latticedstories of the handsome house, with that solid satisfaction which is thereward of what is acquired by personal effort or wisdom.
When he entered the door and was confronted by Thomas Worth, he wasfor the moment nonplussed. But he did not permit his confusion anddisappointment to appear. He had not seen Thomas for a long time. Headdressed him with suavity and regrets, and yet, "was sure he wouldbe glad to hear that, in the present dangerous crisis, the Marquis deGonzaga had remembered the blood-tie and offered his protection to afamily so desolate."
Thomas Worth leaned upon the balusters, as if guarding the approach tothe Senora's apartments. He answered: "The protection of the marquisis unnecessary. Three ladies are too great a charge for one so aged. Wewill not impose it." The face of the young man was calm and stern, buthe spoke without visible temper, until the priest prepared to pass him.Then he stretched out his arm as a barrier.
"Fray Ignatius, you have already passed beyond the threshold; permit meto remind you of Dr. Worth's words on that subject."
"I put my duty before any man's words."
"Sir, for my mother's sake, I would not be disrespectful; but I assureyou, also, that I will not permit any man, while I live, to disregard myfather's orders regarding his own household."
"I must see the Senora."
"That, I reply, is impossible."
"Presume not--dare not to interfere with a priest in the duty of hisoffice. It is a mortal sin. The curse of the Church will rest upon you.
"The curse of the Church will not trouble me. But to treat my father'sknown wishes with contempt--that is an act of dishonor and disobediencewhich I will not be guilty of."
"Santa Maria! Suffer not my spirit to be moved by this wicked one. Outof my path, Satanas!"
The last word was not one which Thomas Worth had expected. He flushedcrimson at its application, and with a few muttered sentences,intelligible only to the priest, he took him firmly by the shoulder, ledhim outside the door, and closed and barred it.
The expulsion was not accomplished without noisy opposition on the partof Fray Ignatius, and it pained Thomas deeply to hear, in the midst ofthe priest's anathemas, the shrill cries of his mother's distress anddisapproval.
The next domestic movement of Thomas Worth was to rid the house of Mollyand Manuel, and the inferior servants. It was not as easy a task as maybe supposed. They had been ordered by Fray Ignatius to remain, and theorder had not been countermanded. Even if the Senora and her daughterswere going east, and their services were not needed, they had noobjections to remain in the Worth house. They understood that theChurch would take possession, and the housekeeping of the Church wasnotoriously easy and luxurious.
However, after exorbitant compensation had been made, and Molly hadgiven in return "a bit of her mind," she left for the Irish colony ofSan Patricio, and Manuel immediately sought his favorite monte table.When he had doubled his money, he intended to obey Molly's emphaticorders, and go and tell the priest all about it.
"I would rather, face a battery of cannon than Fray Ignatius and theservants again, Antonia." Antonia looked at her brother; he was worriedand weary, and his first action, when he had finally cleared the house,was to walk around it, and bolt every door and window. Antonia followedhim silently. She perceived that the crisis had come, and she was doingas good women in extremity do--trying to find in the darkness the handalways stretched out to guide and strengthen. As yet she had not beenable to grasp it. She followed her brother like one in a troubled dream,whispering faintly, with white lips, "O God, where art Thou? Help andpity us!"
Thomas led her finally to his father's office. He went to a closetfilled with drugs, removed them, and then a certain pressure of his handcaused the back of the closet to disappear in a groove, and a receptaclefull of coin and papers was disclosed.
"We must take with us all the coin we can carry. What you are not likelyto require, is to go to the men in the field. Then, hide in its placethe old silver, and the laces, and the jewels, which came with theFlores from Castile; and any other papers and valuables, which youreceived from our father. I think even Fray Ignatius will not discoverthem here."
"Is there any special need to hurry to-day?
"Santa Anna is within forty-eight hours of San Antonio. He may force amarch, and be here earlier. Travis told me last night that their advancescouts had come in with this intelligence. To-day they will gather everyman they can, and prepare to defend themselves in the Alamo. As soon asSanta Anna arrives, we are in danger. I must leave here to-night. I musteither take you with me or remove you to a place of more safety."
"Let us go with you."
"If my mother is willing."
"If she is not, what then?"
"Lopez has prepared for that emergency. He has an empty house threemiles west of San Antonio. He has had it completely victualled. I willtake you there after dark in the large green chariot. Ortiz will drivethe light Jersey wagon on the Gonzales road. When inquiry is made, theJersey wagon will have attracted the attention of every Mexican, andFray Ignatius will receive positive assurances that you were in it andare beyond his power. And certainly, without definite intelligence, hewould never suspect you of being anywhere on the highway to Mexico."
"Shall we be quite alone?"
"For two or three days you will be quite alone. Ortiz will, however,return with the wagon by a circuitous route; for, sooner or later, youare sure to need it. Fear not to trust him. Only in one respect will youneed to supplement his advice by your own intelligence: he is soeager to fight Santa Anna, he may persuade himself and you that it isnecessary to fly eastward when it is not. In all other points you may beguided by him, and his disguise as a peon is so perfect that it will beeasy for him to gather in the pulquerias all the information requisitefor your direction. I have been out to the house, and I can assure youthat Lopez has considered everything for your comfort."
"However, I would rather go with you, Thomas."
"It must be as mother desires."
When the circumstances were explained to the Senora, she was at firstvery determined to accept neither alternative. "She would remain whereshe was. She was a Flores and a Gonzaga. Santa Anna knew better thanto molest her. She would rather trust to him than to those dreadfulAmericans." Reminded of Fray Ignatius, she shed a few tears overthe poor padrecito, and assured her children they had made a mistakeregarding him, which neither oil nor ointment, nor wit nor wisdom, couldget over.
It was almost impossible to induce her to come to a decision of anykind; and only when she saw Antonia and Isabel were dressed fora journey, and that Thomas had locked up all the rooms and wasextinguishing the fires, could she bring herself to believe that thetrial so long anticipated had really come.
"My dearest mother! My own life and the lives of many others may nowhang upon a few moments. I can remain here no longer. Where shall I takeyou to?"
"I will not leave my home."
"Santa Anna is almost here. As soon as he arrives, Fray Ignatiusand twelve of the Bernardine monks are coming here. I was told thatyesterday."
"Then I will go to the convent. I and my daughters."
"No, mother; if you go to the convent, Antonia and Isabel must go withme."
She prayed, and exclaimed, and appealed to saints and angels, and to theholy Virgin, until Isabel was hysterically weeping, Antonia at a mentaltension almost unendurable, and Thomas on the verge of one of thoseterrifying passions that mark the ext
remity of habitually gentle,patient men.
"My God, mother!" he exclaimed with a stamp of his spurred boot on thestone floor; "if you will go to the devil--to the priests, I mean--youmust go alone. Kiss your mother farewell, girls. I have not anothermoment to wait."
Then, in a passion of angry sobs and reproaches, she decided to go withher daughters, and no saint ever suffered with a more firm conviction oftheir martyrdom to duty than did this poor foolish, affectionate slaveto her emotions and her superstitions. But when Thomas had gone, andnothing was to be gained by a display of her sufferings, she permittedherself to be interested in their hiding-place, and after Antonia hadgiven her a cup of chocolate, and Isabel had petted and soothed her, shebegan gradually to allow them to explain their situation, and even tofeel some interest in its discussion.
They sat in the charmful, dusky glimmer of starlight, for candles andfire were forbidden luxuries. Fortunately, the weather was warm andsunny, and for making chocolate and such simple cookery, Lopez hadprovided a spirit lamp. The Senora was as pleased as a child withthis arrangement. She had never seen anything like it before. She evenimagined the food cooked upon it had some rare and unusual flavor. Shewas quite proud when she had learned its mysteries, and quite sure thatchocolate she made upon it was chocolate of a most superior kind.
The house had been empty for two years, and the great point was topreserve its air of desolation. No outside arrangement was touched; thetorn remnants of some balcony hangings were left fluttering in the wind;the closed windows and the closed doors, the absence of smoke from thechimneys and of lights from the windows, preserved the air of emptinessand loneliness that the passers-by had been accustomed to see. And,as it was on the highway into the city, there were great numbersof passers: mule-trains going to Mexico and Sonora; cavaliers andpedestrians; splendidly-dressed nobles and officials, dusty peonsbringing in wood; ranchmen, peddlers, and the whole long list of a greatcity's purveyors and servants.
But though some of the blinds were half-closed, much could be seen;and Isabel also often took cushions upon the flat roof, and lying down,watched, from between the pilasters of the balustrade surrounding it,the moving panorama.
On the morning of the third day of what the Senora, called theirimprisonment, they went to the roof to sit in the clear sunshine andthe fresh wind. They were weary and depressed with the loneliness anduncertainty of their position, and were almost longing for something tohappen that would push forward the lagging wheels of destiny.
A long fanfare of trumpets, a roll of drums, a stirring march of warlikemelody, startled them out of the lethargic tedium of exhausted hopes andfears. "It is Santa Anna!" said Antonia; and though they durst not standup, they drew closer to the balustrade and watched for the approachingarmy. Is there any woman who can resist that nameless emotion which bothfires and rends the heart in the presence of great military movements?Antonia was still and speechless, and white as death. Isabelwatched with gleaming eyes and set lips. The Senora's excitement wasunmistakably that of exultant national pride.
Santa Anna and his staff-officers were in front. They passed too rapidlyfor individual notice, but it was a grand moving picture of handsomemen in scarlet and gold--of graceful mangas and waving plumes, andbright-colored velvet capes; of high-mettled horses, and richly-adornedMexican saddles, aqueras of black fur, and silver stirrups; of thousandsof common soldiers, in a fine uniform of red and blue; with antiquebrazen helmets gleaming in the sun, and long lances, adorned withtri-colored streamers. They went past like a vivid, wonderfuldream--like the vision of an army of mediaeval knights.
In a few minutes the tumult of the advancing army was increased tenfoldby the clamor of the city pouring out to meet it. The clashing bellsfrom the steeples, the shouting of the populace, the blare of trumpetsand roll of drums, the lines of churchmen and officials in theirgrandest dresses, of citizens of every age,--the indescribable humanmurmur--altogether it was a scene whose sensuous splendor obliteratedfor a time the capacity of impressionable natures to judge rightly.
But Antonia saw beyond all this brave show the ridges of red war, and anoble perversity of soul made her turn her senses inward. Then her eyesgrew dim, and her heart rose in pitying prayer for that small band ofheroes standing together for life and liberty in the grim Alamo. No pompof war was theirs. They were isolated from all their fellows. They weresurrounded by their enemies. No word of sympathy could reach them. Yetshe knew they would stand like lions at bay; that they would give lifeto its last drop for liberty; and rather than be less than freemen, theywould prefer not to be at all.
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