Lone Star Nation (43 page)

Travis and several others climbed to the roof of the San Fernando Church, the highest point in town, to watch the riders depart. For more than a mile the horsemen remained in view, growing smaller but still visible on the prairie. After several hundred yards more they topped a modest elevation and were about to slip from sight when they reined in their horses, apparently spotting something beyond the view of those on the roof of the church. Then, after but a moment, they turned and tore back toward the town, racing as if Satan himself were on their heels.

Travis didn't wait for their report; their haste told him all he needed to know. He ordered the entire garrison to withdraw to the Alamo, to the positions they had been preparing these last weeks. At almost the same time, he dispatched another appeal for help, this time to Gonzales, the garrison closest to Béxar and the one from which reinforcements might arrive soonest. “The enemy in large force is in sight,” Travis wrote. “We want men and provisions. Send them to us. We have 150 men and are determined to defend the Alamo to the last.”

Had the Texans been even slightly less attached to their individualism, the sudden appearance of Santa Anna must have solved the problem of the divided command between Travis and Bowie. Badly outnumbered, the Texans should have realized that their sole hope for survival lay in unity. But the democratic spirit died hard, and Bowie and the volunteers continued to refuse to subordinate themselves to Travis and the regulars.

The split became freshly apparent on the day of Santa Anna's arrival. As the Mexican troops streamed into the undefended town, across the river and several hundred yards from the Alamo, Santa Anna ordered a red flag raised above the San Fernando Church. The Texans interpreted this as a signal that no quarter would be given. Travis responded defiantly, ordering a cannon shot fired in the direction of the church. But Bowie wanted to talk. Pleading confusion, he addressed a letter to Santa Anna (as “Commander of the invading forces below Bejar”). “Because a shot was fired from a cannon of this fort at the time that a red flag was raised over the tower,” Bowie said, “and a little afterward they [some of Bowie's comrades, presumably] told me that a part of your army had sounded a parley, which, however, was not heard before the firing of the said shot, I wish, sir, to ascertain if it be true that a parley was called for.” The letter closed, “God and Texas!” and was signed by Bowie alone, as “Commander of the volunteers of Bexar.” A Bowie aide carried it across the plain and the river to Santa Anna's headquarters.

Santa Anna answered indirectly. “As the Aide-de-camp of his Excellency, the President of the Republic,” José Batres wrote, “I reply to you, according to the order of his Excellency, that the Mexican army cannot come to terms under any conditions with rebellious foreigners to whom there is no other recourse left, if they wish to save their lives, than to place themselves immediately at the disposal of the Supreme Government from whom alone they may expect clemency after some considerations are taken up.” Batres closed: “God and Liberty!”

Actually there was another recourse left to the rebels, although they might not have been fully aware of it. During the first forty-eight hours after the arrival of the Mexican army, Santa Anna made little effort to seal all the exits from the Alamo. José de la Peña believed that the Texans could easily have withdrawn—indeed, de la Peña spoke of “the certainty that Travis could have managed to escape during the first nights”—had the rebels chosen to leave.

Instead they remained. Their decision to do so reflected their confidence in their skill at arms, their ignorance of the opposition they faced, and their trust in their fellow rebels. Before Santa Anna's arrival, Travis and Bowie hardly doubted that they could defend the Alamo against any force the Mexicans might send against them. Bowie, especially, had made a habit of outnumbered victory—over his Louisiana foes at the Sandbar, over the Indians at San Sabá, over the Mexicans at Concepción—and with the walls and cannons of the Alamo on his side, he didn't flinch at a numerical disadvantage of even ten to one. Anyway, he and Travis expected reinforcements: from Goliad, from Gonzales, or from the contingent that had marched off to Matamoros. Santa Anna's arrival evoked a reassessment of what they faced; the sight of the columns pouring into Bexár would have sobered anyone. But from the ramparts of the Alamo, Travis and Bowie couldn't count the Mexican troops, and they had no good idea of what they were up against. They still expected reinforcements, and even if the odds were worse than before, the rebels were sufficiently belligerent to hold their ground.

The decision to stay came more easily on account of a recent addition to the garrison. David Crockett took his time riding across Texas from Nacogdoches; his journey had the air of a political campaign as much as a military march. Young John Swisher encountered the Tennesseean at the Swisher farm above San Felipe and was most impressed. “At the time I saw Colonel Crockett,” Swisher recalled, “I judged him to be about forty years old [Crockett was forty-nine]. He was stout and muscular, about six feet in height, and weighing 180 to 200 pounds. He was of a florid complexion, with intelligent gray eyes. He had small side whiskers, inclining to sandy. His countenance, although firm and determined, wore a pleasant and genial expression. Although his early education had been neglected, he had acquired such a polish from his contact with good society that few men could eclipse him in conversation. He was fond of talking and had an ease and grace about him which, added to his strong natural sense and the fund of anecdotes that he had gathered, rendered him irresistible.” Stopping a few days at the Swisher place, Crockett engaged John in a series of shooting contests, good-naturedly handicapping himself to level the field. “My recollection is that we had a drawn match of it,” Swisher said. At night, Crockett and the elders, with Swisher listening, talked late. “During his stay at my father's, it was a rare occurrence for any of us to go to bed before 12 or 1 o'clock. . . . He told us a great many anecdotes, many of which were common place and amounted to nothing in themselves, but his inimitable way of telling them would convulse one with laughter.”

Crockett learned that action was expected at San Antonio, and he made his way there, arriving during the second week of February. His coming heartened the officers and troops of the garrison, who reasoned that their cause must be just if it could attract such a figure as Crockett. His coming also steeled the resolve of the garrison to stay and fight, for if Crockett, who had no land in Texas, no family in Texas, and no prior connection to Texas, had chosen the moment of maximum danger to enter the Alamo, it must be a mean and cowardly soul who would choose that moment to flee. In addition, Crockett's appearance eased the tension between Travis's regulars and Bowie's volunteers. By virtue of age, military experience, and national prominence, Crockett outranked everyone at the Alamo. Yet he refused to accept a commission, declaring that he would be honored to serve as a private. His goal was not glory but vindication of liberty and the right of common folks to shape their future.

Crockett's presence buoyed the entire garrison. Antonio Menchaca remembered Travis calling a halt to the labors on the fortress specifically to celebrate the arrival of the famous man. “Let us dance tonight, and tomorrow we will make provisions for our defense,” Travis said. Crockett's personality leavened the atmosphere of a company surrounded and outnumbered. He regaled the men with stories, doubtless of his exploits against Indians, against the bear population of Kentucky, and against the ruling classes of Washington City. He challenged his new comrades to contests with the rifle and the fiddle. Travis and Bowie inevitably included him in their strategy sessions; his sense of humor took the edge off the competition between the two younger men.

As the days passed, Crockett's experience assumed added importance. Bowie became ill, mildly at first but then debilitatingly. The source of the illness was some infectious agent, perhaps from the water supply, although this was the wrong season for cholera or typhoid. Other men fell ill, but there was no epidemic, as would have been expected with a water-borne pathogen. The surviving accounts are unclear as to Bowie's symptoms; certain versions suggest pneumonia or tuberculosis. Whatever the nature of his illness, the consequence was that within days after Santa Anna's arrival, he was unable to function in any command capacity. Travis had effective control of the entire garrison, with Crockett assuming the role Bowie had played among the volunteers but clearly and willingly subordinate to Travis.

In one of their last joint statements, written February 23, Travis and Bowie appealed to James Fannin at Goliad for help. “We have removed all our men into the Alamo, where we will make such resistance as is due to our honor, and that of the country, until we can get assistance from you, which we expect you to forward immediately,” they said. “In this extremity, we hope you will send all the men you can spare promptly.” If either Travis or Bowie, upon seeing the size of Santa Anna's force, had had second thoughts about remaining at the Alamo, these were now banished. “We have one hundred and forty-six men, who are determined
never to retreat
. We have but little provisions, but enough to serve us till you and your men arrive. We deem it unnecessary to repeat to a brave officer, who knows his duty, that we call on him for assistance.”

As the burden of command fell on Travis, he grew into his authority in a way that must have surprised those who had known him chiefly as a bellicose young buck. He had been glib; now he became eloquent. He had been headstrong; now he was heroic. A letter written on February 24, just a day after the joint appeal to Fannin, revealed the change that was coming over the beleaguered commandant. Addressed not to his fellow soldiers but to a far broader audience—and, one suspects, to posterity—the frontier lawyer and failed journalist scribbled a message that stirred the heart of everyone who read it.

To the People of Texas and all Americans in the world:

Fellow Citizens and Compatriots—I am besieged by a thousand or more of the Mexicans under Santa Anna. I have sustained a continual bombardment and cannonade for 24 hours and have not lost a man. The enemy has demanded a surrender at discretion; otherwise, the garrison are to be put to the sword, if the fort is taken. I have answered the demand with a cannon shot, and our flag still waves proudly from the walls.
I shall never surrender or retreat.

Then, I call on you in the name of Liberty, of patriotism and every thing dear to the American character, to come to our aid with all dispatch. The enemy is receiving reinforcements daily and will no doubt increase to three or four thousand in four or five days. If this call is neglected, I am determined to sustain myself as long as possible and die like a soldier who never forgets what is due his own honor and that of his country. V
ICTORY
or D
EATH
.

William Barret Travis
Lt. Col. Comdt.

P.S.

The Lord is on our side. When the enemy appeared in sight we had not three bushels of corn. We have since found in deserted houses 80 to 90 bushels and got into the walls 20 or 30 head of beeves.

Travis entrusted this letter to Albert Martin, a volunteer from Gonzales who had taken part in the first battle of the revolution, the fight over the disputed cannon. Martin slipped between the Mexican forces under cover of darkness and galloped the seventy miles to Gonzales, where he relayed Travis's message to the world. While Martin was still on the road, and long before Travis could expect to know whether his plea had any effect, the rebel colonel penned another message, more informative and only slightly less exhortatory, to Sam Houston. Travis explained how he had rejected Santa Anna's surrender demand and how Mexican cannons had begun bombarding the Alamo shortly after that initial parley and continued till the present. He described the latest developments: “Today at 10 o'clock
A.M
., some two or three hundred Mexicans crossed the river below and came up under cover of the houses until they reached point blank range, when we opened a heavy discharge of grape and canister on them, together with a well directed fire from small arms which forced them to halt and take shelter in the houses about 90 or 100 yards from our batteries. The action continued to rage about two hours, when the enemy retreated in confusion, dragging off many of their dead and wounded.”