Remember the Alamo

by Amelia E. Barr

  CHAPTER XIV. THE FALL OF THE ALAMO.

  "The combat deepens. On, ye brave! Who rush to glory or the grave."

  "To all the sensual world proclaim: One crowded hour of glorious life Is worth an age without a name."

  "Gashed with honorable scars, Low in Glory's lap they lie; Though they fell, they fell like stars, Streaming splendor through the sky."

  The passing-by of Santa Anna and the Mexican army, though it had beenhourly expected for nearly three days, was an event which threw theSenora and her daughters into various conditions of mental excitement.They descended from the roof to the Senora's room, where they could moveabout and converse with more freedom. For the poor lady was quiteunable to control her speech and actions, and was also much irritated byAntonia's more composed manner. She thought it was want of sympathy.

  "How can you take things with such a blessed calmness," she asked,angrily. "But it is the way of the Americans, no doubt, who must haveeverything for prudence. Sensible! Sensible! Sensible! that is the tunethey are forever playing, and you dance to it like a miracle."

  "My dear mother, can we do any good by exclaiming and weeping?"

  "Holy Virgin! Perhaps not; but to have a little human nature is moreagreeable to those who are yet on the earth side of purgatory."

  "Mi madre," said Isabel, "Antonia is our good angel. She thinks for us,and plans for us, and even now has everything ready for us to move ata moment's notice. Our good angels have to be sensible and prudent,madre."

  "To move at a moment's notice! Virgin of Guadalupe! where shall we goto? Could my blessed father and mother see me in this prison, this veryvault, I assure you they would be unhappy even among the angels."

  "Mother, there are hundreds of women today in Texas who would think thishouse a palace of comfort and safety."

  "Saints and angels! Is that my fault? Does it make my condition moreendurable? Ah, my children, I have seen great armies come into SanAntonio, and always before I have been able to make a little pleasure tomyself out of the event. For the Mexicans are not blood-thirsty,though they are very warlike. When Bravo was here, what balls, whatbull-fights, what visiting among the ladies! Indeed there was so muchto tell, the tertulia was as necessary as the dinner. To be sure, theMexicans are not barbarians; they made a war that had some refinement.But the Americans! They are savages. With them it is fight, fight,fight, and if we try to be agreeable, as we were to that outrageous SamHouston, they say thank you, madam, and go on thinking their own cruelthoughts. I wonder the gentle God permits that such men live."

  "Dear mother, refinement in war is not possible. Nothing can make itotherwise than brutal and bloody."

  "Antonia, allow that I, who am your mother, should know what I havesimply seen with my eyes. Salcedo, Bravo, Martinez, Urrea--are they notgreat soldiers? Very well, then, I say they brought some pleasure withtheir armies; and you will see that Santa Anna will do the same. If wewere only in our own home! It must have been the devil who made us leaveit."

  "How truly splendid the officers looked, mi madre. I dare say SenoraValdez will entertain them."

  "That is certain. And as for Dorette Valdez--the coquette--it willcertainly be a great happiness to her."

  Isabel sighed, and the Senora felt a kind of satisfaction in the sigh.It was unendurable to be alone in her regrets and her longings.

  "Yes," she continued, "every night Senora Trespalacios will give atertulia, and the officers will have military balls--the brave youngmen; they will be so gay, so charming, so devoted, and in a fewhours, perhaps, they will go into the other world by the road of thebattlefield. Ah, how pitiful! How interesting! Cannot you imagine it?"

  Isabel sighed again, but the sigh was for the gay, the charming LuisAlveda. And when she thought of him, she forgot in a moment to envyDorette Valdez, or the senoritas of the noble house of Trespalacios. Andsome sudden, swift touch of sympathy, strong as it was occult, madethe Senora at the same moment remember her husband and her sons. A realsorrow and a real anxiety drove out all smaller annoyances. Then bothher daughters wept together, until their community of grief had broughtto each heart the solemn strength of a divine hope and reliance.

  "My children, I will go now and pray," said the sorrowful wifeand mother. "At the foot of the cross I will wait for the hour ofdeliverance;" and casting herself on her knees, with her crucifix inher hand, she appeared in a moment to have forgotten everything buther anguish and her sins, and the Lamb of God upon whom, with childlikefaith, she was endeavoring to cast them. Her tears dropped uponthe ivory image of the Crucified, and sympathetic tears sprung intoAntonia's and Isabel's eyes, as they listened to her imploration.

  That night, when all was dark and still, Ortiz returned with the wagon.In the morning Antonia went to speak to him. He looked worn-out andsorrowful, and she feared to ask him for news. "There is food in thehouse, and I have made you chocolate," she said, as she pitifullyscanned the man's exhausted condition.

  "The Senorita is kind as the angels. I will eat and drink at her order.I am, indeed, faint and hungry."

  She brought him to the table, and when he refused to sit in herpresence, she said frankly, "Captain Ortiz, you are our friend and notour servant. Rest and refresh yourself."

  He bent upon one knee and kissed the hand she offered, and withoutfurther remonstrance obeyed her desire. Isabel came in shortly, and withthe tact of true kindness she made no remark, but simply took the chairbeside Ortiz, and said, in her usual voice and manner: "Good morning,Captain. We are glad to see you. Did you meet my brother Thomas again?"

  "Senorita, God be with you! I have not seen him. I was at Goliad."

  "Then you would see our brother Juan?"

  "Si. The Senor Juan is in good health and great happiness. He sent by mywilling hands a letter."

  "Perhaps also you saw his friend, Senor Grant?"

  "From him, also, I received a letter. Into your gracious care, Senorita,I deliver them."

  "I thank you for your kindness, Captain. Tell us now of the fortress.Are the troops in good spirits?"

  "Allow me to fear that they are in too good assurance of success.The most of the men are very young. They have not yet met our Lady ofSorrows. They have promised to themselves the independence of Texas.They will also conquer Mexico. There are kingdoms in the moon for them.I envy such exaltations--and regret them. GRACE OF GOD, Senorita!My heart ached to see the crowds of bright young faces. With aNapoleon--with a Washington to lead them--they would do miracles."

  "What say you to Houston?"

  "I know him not. At Goliad they are all Houstons. They believe each manin himself. On the contrary, I wish that each man looked to the sameleader."

  "Do you know that Santa Anna is in San Antonio?"

  "I felt it, though I had no certain news. I came far around, and hidmyself from all passers-by, for the sake of the wagon and the horses.I have the happiness to say they are safe. The wagon is within theenclosure, the horses are on the prairie. They have been well trained,and will come to my call. As for me, I will now go into the city, forthere will be much to see and to hear that may be important to us.Senoritas, for all your desires, I am at your service."

  When Ortiz was gone, Isabel had a little fret of disappointment. Luismight have found some messenger to bring her a word of his love andlife. What was love worth that did not annihilate impossibilities!However, it consoled her a little to carry Jack's letter to his mother.The Senora had taken her morning chocolate and fallen asleep. WhenIsabel awakened her, she opened her eyes with a sigh, and a look ofhopeless misery. These pallid depressions attacked her most cruelly inthe morning, when the room, shabby and unfamiliar, gave both her memory,and anticipation a shock.

  But the sight of the letter flushed her face with expectation. She tookit with smiles. She covered it with kisses. When she opened it, a curlfrom Jack's head fell on to her lap. She pressed it to her heart, andthen rose and laid it at the feet of her Madonn
a. "She must share myjoy," she said with a pathetic childishness; "she will understand it."Then, with her arm around Isabel, and the girl's head on his shoulder,they read together Jack's loving words:

  "Mi madre, mi madre, you have Juan's heart in your heart. Believe me,that in all this trouble I sorrow only for you. When victory is won Ishall fly to you. Other young men have other loves; I have only you,sweet mother. There is always the cry in my heart for the kiss I missedwhen I left you. If I could hold your hand to-night, if I could hearyour voice, if I could lay my head on your breast, I would say that theHoly One had given me the best blessings He had in heaven. Send to me aletter, madre--a letter full of love and kisses. Forgive Juan! Think ofthis only: HE IS MY BOY! If I live, it is for you, who are the loveliestand dearest of mothers. If I die, I shall die with your name on my lips.I embrace you with my soul. I kiss your hands, and remember how oftenthey have clasped mine. I kiss your eyes, your cheeks, your dear lips.Mi madre, remember me! In your prayers, remember Juan!"

  With what tears and sobs was this loving letter read by all the women;and the Senora finally laid it where she had laid the precious curl thathad come with it. She wanted "the Woman blessed among women" to sharethe mother joy and the mother anguish in her heart. Besides, she was alittle nervous about Jack's memento of himself. Her superstitious loretaught her that severed hair is a token of severed love. She wished hehad not sent it, and yet she could not bear to have it out of her sight.

  "Gracias a Dios!" she kept ejaculating. "I have one child that loves me,and me only. I shall forgive Juan everything. I shall not forgive Thomasmany things. But Juan! oh! it is impossible not to love him entirely.There is no one like him in the world. If the good God will only givehim back to me, I will say a prayer of thanks every day of my life long.Oh, Juan! Juan! my boy! my dear one!"

  Thus she talked to herself and her daughters continually. She wrote aletter full of motherly affection and loving incoherencies; and if Jackhad ever received it he would doubtless have understood and kissedevery word, and worn the white messenger close to his heart. But betweenwriting letters and sending them, there were in those days intervalsfull of impossibilities. Love then had to be taken on trust. Rarely,indeed, could it send assurances of fidelity and affection.

  Jack's letter brightened the day, and formed a new topic ofconversation, until Ortiz returned in the evening. His disguise hadenabled him to linger about the Plaza and monte table, and to hear andobserve all that was going on.

  "The city is enjoying itself, and making money," he said, in replyto question from the Senora. "Certainly the San Antonians approve ofliberty, but what would you do? In Rome one does not quarrel with thePope; in San Antonio one must approve of despotism, when Santa Annaparades himself there."

  "Has he made any preparations for attacking the Alamo? Will theAmericans resist him?"

  "Senorita Antonia, he is erecting a battery on the river bank, threehundred yards from the Alamo. This morning, ere the ground was touched,he reviewed his men in the Plaza. He stood on an elevation at the churchdoor, surrounded by his officers and the priests, and unfurled theMexican flag."

  "That was about eleven o'clock, Captain?"

  "Si, Senorita. You are precisely exact."

  "I heard at that hour a dull roar of human voices--a roar like nothingon earth but the distant roar of the ocean."

  "To be sure; it was the shouting of the people. When all was still, FrayIgnatius blessed the flag, and sprinkled over it holy water. Then SantaAnna raised it to his lips and kissed it. Holy Maria! another shout.Then he crossed his sword upon the flag, and cried out--'Soldados! youare here to defend this banner, which is the emblem of your holy faithand of your native land, against heretics, infidels and ungratefultraitors. Do you swear to do it?' And the whole army answered 'Si! si!juramos!' (yes, we swear.) Again he kissed the flag, and laid his swordacross it, and, to be sure, then another shout. It was a very cleverthing, I assure you, Senora, and it sent every soldier to the batterywith a great heart."

  The Senora's easily touched feelings were all on fire at thedescription. "I wish I could have seen the blessing of the banner,"she said; "it is a ceremony to fill the soul. I have always wept at it.Mark, Antonia! This confirms what I assured you of--the Mexicans makewar with a religious feeling and a true refinement. And pray, CaptainOrtiz, how will the Americans oppose these magnificent soldiers, full ofpiety and patriotism?"

  "They have the Alamo, and one hundred and eighty-three men in it."

  "And four thousand men against them?"

  "Si. May the Virgin de los Remedios [4] be their help! An urgent appealfor assistance was sent to Fanning at Goliad. Senor Navarre, took it ona horse fleet as the wind. You will see that on the third day he will besmoking in his balcony, in the way which is usual to him."

  "Will Fanning answer the appeal?"

  "If the answer be permitted him. But Urrea may prevent. Also otherthings."

  Santa Anna entered San Antonio on Tuesday the twenty-third of February,1836, and by the twenty-seventh the siege had become a very close one.Entrenched encampments encircled the doomed men in the Alamo, and fromdawn to sunset the bombardment went on. The tumult of the fight--thehurrying in and out of the city--the clashing of church bells betweenthe booming of cannon--these things the Senora and her daughters couldhear and see; but all else was for twelve days mere surmise. But onlyone surmise was possible, when it was known that the little band ofdefiant heroes were fighting twenty, times their own number--that nohelp could come to them--that the Mexicans were cutting off their water,and that their provisions were getting very low. The face of Ortiz grewconstantly more gloomy, and yet there was something of triumph in histone as he told the miserably anxious women with what desperate valorthe Americans were fighting; and how fatally every one of their shotstold.

  On Saturday night, the fifth of March, he called Antonia aside, andsaid, "My Senorita, you have a great heart, and so I speak to you. Theend is close. To-day the Mexicans succeeded in getting a large cannonwithin gunshot of the Alamo, just where it is weakest. Senor CaptainCrockett has stood on the roof all day, and as the gunners have advancedto fire it he has shot them down. A group of Americans were around him;they loaded rifles and passed them to him quickly as he could fire them.Santa Anna was in a fury past believing. He swore then 'by every saintin heaven or hell' to enter the Alamo to-morrow. Senor Navarro says heis raging like a tiger, and that none of his officers dare approachhim. The Senor bade me tell you that to-morrow night he will be here toescort you to Gonzales; for no American will his fury spare; he knowsneither sex nor age in his passions. And when the Alamo falls, thesoldiers will spread themselves around for plunder, or shelter, andthis empty house is sure to attract them. The Senorita sees with her ownintelligence how things must take place."

  "I understand, Captain. Will you go with us?"

  "I will have the Jersey wagon ready at midnight. I know the horses.Before sun-up we shall have made many miles."

  That night as Antonia and her sister sat in the dark together, Antoniasaid: "Isabel, tomorrow the Alamo will fall. There is no hope for thepoor, brave souls there. Then Santa Anna will kill every American."

  "Oh, dear Antonia, what is to become of us? We shall have no home,nothing to eat, nowhere to sleep. I think we shall die. Also, there ismi madre. How I do pity her!"

  "She is to be your care, Isabel. I shall rely on you to comfort andmanage her. I will attend to all else. We are going to our father, andThomas--and Luis."

  Yes, and after all I am very tired of this dreadful life. It is a kindof convent. One is buried alive here, and still not safe. Do you reallyimagine that Luis is with my father and Thomas?"

  "I feel sure of it."

  "What a great enjoyment it will be for me to see him again!"

  "And how delighted he will be! And as it is necessary that we go,Isabel, we must make the best of the necessity. Try and get mi madre tofeel this."

  "I can do that with a few words, and tears, and kisses. Mi madre is like
one's good angel--very easy to persuade."

  "And now we must try and sleep, queridita."

  "Are you sure there is no danger to-night, Antonia?"

  "Not to-night. Say your prayer, and sleep in God's presence. Thereis yet nothing to fear. Ortiz and Lopez Navarro are watching everymovement."

  But at three o'clock in the morning, the quiet of their rest was brokenby sharp bugle calls. The stars were yet in the sky, and all was sostill that they thrilled the air like something unearthly. Antoniastarted up, and ran to the roof. Bugle was answering bugle; and theirtones were imperative and cruel, as if they were blown by evil spirits.It was impossible to avoid the feeling that the call was a PREDESTINEDsummons, full of the notes of calamity. She was weighed down by thissorrowful presentiment, because, as yet, neither experience nor yearshad taught her that PREDESTINED ILLS ARE NEVER LOST.

  The unseen moving multitudes troubled the atmosphere between them. Inwild, savage gusts, she heard the military bands playing the infamousDequelo, whose notes of blood and fire commingled, shrieked in everyear--"NO QUARTER! NO QUARTER!" A prolonged shout, the booming of cannon,an awful murmurous tumult, a sense of horror, of crash and conflict,answered the merciless, frenzied notes, and drowned them in the shrieksand curses they called for.

  It was yet scarcely dawn. Her soul, moved by influences so various andso awful, became almost rebellious. Why did God permit such cruelties?Did He know? Would He allow a handful of men to be overpowered bynumbers? Being omnipotent, would He not in some way, at least, make thefight equal? The instinct of her anglo-American nature revolted at theunfairness of the struggle. Even her ejaculations to heaven were in thisspirit. "It is so unjust," she murmured; "surely the Lord of Hosts willprevent a fight which must be a massacre."

  As she went about the simple preparations for their breakfast, she weptcontinuously--tears of indignation and sorrow--tears coming from thestrength of feeling, rather than its weakness. The Senora could eatnothing. Isabel was white with terror. They wandered from window towindow in the last extremity of anxiety.

  About seven o'clock they saw Ortiz pass the house. There were so manypeople on the road he could not find an opportunity to enter for sometime. He had been in the city all night. He had watched the movement ofthe troops in the starlight. As he drank a cup of chocolate, he said:

  "It was just three o'clock, Senorita, when the Matamoras battalion wasmoved forward. General Cos supported it with two thousand men.

  "But General Cos was paroled by these same Americans who are now in theAlamo; and his life was spared on condition that he would not bear armsagainst them again."

  "It is but one lie, one infamy more. When I left the city, about fourthousand men were attacking the Alamo. The infantry, in columns, weredriven up to the walls by the cavalry which surrounded them."

  "The Americans! Is there any hope for them?"

  "The mercy of God remains, Senorita. That is all. The Alamo is not asthe everlasting hills. What men have made, men can also destroy. SenorNavarro is in the church, praying for the souls that are passing everymoment."

  "He ought to have been fighting. To help the living is better than topray for the dead."

  "Permit me to assure you, Senorita Antonia, that no man has done more forthe living. In time of war, there must be many kinds of soldiers. SenorNavarro has given nearly all, that he possesses for the hope of freedom.He has done secret service of incalculable value."

  "Secret service! I prefer those who have the courage of theirconvictions, and who, stand by them publicly."

  "This is to be considered, Senorita; the man who can be silent can alsospeak when the day for speaking arrives." No one opposed this statement.It did not seem worth while to discuss opinions, while the terriblefacts of the position were appealing to every sense.

  As the day went on, the conflict evidently became closer and fiercer.Ortiz went back to the city, and the three lonely women knelt upon thehouse-top, listening in terror to the tumult of the battle. About noonthe firing ceased, and an awful silence--a silence that made the earsache to be relieved of it--followed.

  "All is over!" moaned Antonia, and she covered her face with her handsand sobbed bitterly. Isabel had already exhausted tears. The Senora,with her crucifix in her hand, was praying for the poor unfortunatesdying without prayer.

  During the afternoon, smoke and flame, and strange and sickening odorswere blown northward of the city, and for some time it seemed probablethat a great conflagration would follow the battle. How they longed forsome one to come! The utmost of their calamity would be better than theintolerable suspense. But hour after hour went past, and not even Ortizarrived. They began to fear that both he and Navarro had been discoveredin some disloyalty and slain, and Antonia was heartsick when sheconsidered the helplessness of their situation.

  Still, in accordance with Navarro's instructions, they dressed forthe contemplated journey, and sat in the dark, anxiously listening forfootsteps. About eleven o'clock Navarro and Ortiz came together. Ortizwent for the horses, and Navarro sat down beside, the Senora. She askedhim, in a low voice, what had taken place, and he answered:

  "Everything dreadful, everything cruel, and monstrous, and inhuman!Among the angels in heaven there is sorrow and anger this night."His voice had in it all the pathos of tears, but tears mingled with aburning indignation.

  "The Alamo has fallen!"

  "Senorita Antonia, I would give my soul to undo this day's work. It is adisgrace to Mexico which centuries cannot wipe out."

  "The Americans?"

  "Are all with the Merciful One."

  "Not one saved?"

  "Not one."

  "Impossible!"

  "I will tell you. It is right to tell the whole world such an infamy.If I had little children I would take them on my knee and teach themthe story. I heard it from the lips of one wet-shod with their blood,dripping crimson from the battle--my own cousin, Xavier. He was withGeneral Castrillon's division. They began their attack at four in themorning, and after two hours' desperate fighting succeeded in reaching acourtyard of the Alamo.

  "They found the windows and doors barricaded with bags of earth. Behindthese the Americans fought hand to hand with despairing valor. Ramires,Siesma and Batres led the columns, and Santa Anna gave the signal ofbattle from a battery near the bridge. When the second charge was drivenback, he became furious. He put himself in front of the men, and withshouts and oaths led them to the third charge. Xavier said that heinspired them with his own frenzy. They reached the foot of the wall,and the ladders were placed in position. The officers fell to the rearand forced the men to ascend them. As they reached the top they werestabbed, and the ladders overturned. Over and over, and over again theseattempts were made, until the garrison in the Alamo were exhausted withthe struggle."

  Navarro paused a few minutes, overpowered by his emotions. No one spoke.He could see Antonia's face, white as a spirit's, in the dim light, andhe knew that Isabel was weeping and that the Senora had taken his hand.

  "At last, at the hour of ten, the outer wall was gained. Then, room byroom was taken with slaughter incredible. There were fourteen Americansin the hospital. They fired their rifles and pistols from their palletswith such deadly aim that Milagros turned a cannon shotted with grapeand canister upon them. They were blown to pieces, but at the entranceof the door they left forty dead Mexicans."

  "Ah Senor, Senor! tell me no more. My heart can not endure it."

  "Mi madre," answered Isabel, "we must hear it all. Without it, onecannot learn to hate Santa Anna sufficiently"; and her small, whiteteeth snapped savagely, as she touched the hand of Lopez with animperative "Proceed."

  "Colonel Bowie was helpless in bed. Two Mexican officers fired at him,and one ran forward to stab him ere he died. The dying man caught hismurderer by the hair of his head, and plunged his knife into his heart.They went to judgment at the same moment."

  "I am glad of it! Glad of it! The American would say to the Almighty:'Thou gavest me life, and thou gavest m
e freedom; freedom, that is thenobler gift of the two. This man robbed me of both.' And God is just.The Judge of the whole earth will do right."

  "At noon, only six of the one hundred and eighty-three were left alive.They were surrounded by Castrillon and his soldiers. Xavier says hisgeneral was penetrated with admiration for these heroes. He spokesympathizingly to Crockett, who stood in an angle of the fort, with hisshattered rifle in his right hand, and his massive knife, dripping withblood, in his left. His face was gashed, his white hair crimson withblood; but a score of Mexicans, dead and dying, were around him. At hisside was Travis, but so exhausted that he was scarcely alive.

  "Castrillon could not kill these heroes. He asked their lives of SantaAnna, who stood with a scowling, savage face in this last citadel ofhis foes. For answer, he turned to the men around him, and said, with amalignant emphasis: 'Fire!' It was the last volley. Of the defenders ofthe Alamo, not one is left."

  A solemn silence followed. For a few minutes it was painful in itsintensity. Isabel broke it. She spoke in a whisper, but her voice wasfull of intense feeling. "I wish indeed the whole city had been burntup. There was a fire this afternoon; I would be glad if it were burningyet."

  "May God pardon us all, Senorita! That was a fire which does not go out.It will burn for ages. I will explain myself. Santa Anna had the deadAmericans put into ox-wagons and carried to an open field outsidethe city. There they were burnt to ashes. The glorious pile was stillcasting lurid flashes and shadows as I passed it."

  "I will hear no more! I will hear no more!" cried the Senora. "And Iwill go away from here. Ah, Senor, why do you not make haste? In a fewhours we shall have daylight again. I am in a terror. Where is Ortiz?"

  "The horses are not caught in a five minutes, Senora. But listen, thereis the roll of the wagon on the flagged court. All, then, is ready.Senora, show now that you are of a noble house, and in this hour ofadversity be brave, as the Flores have always been."

  She was pleased by the entreaty, and took his arm with a composurewhich, though assumed, was a sort of strength. She entered the wagonwith her daughters, and uttered no word of complaint. Then Navarrolocked the gate, and took his seat beside Ortiz. The prairie turfdeadened the beat of their horses' hoofs; they went at a flying pace,and when the first pallid light of morning touched the east, they hadleft San Antonio far behind and were nearing the beautiful banks of theCibolo.