Ole Devil at San Jacinto (Old Devil Hardin Western Book 4) (2 page)

Conceding that the stand at the Alamo
Mission would be helpful to his strategy, Houston had agreed to it.
He had also offered to send in more men who might even turn the
tide in the Texians’ favor.

For thirteen days, until
the
final
mass assault on March 6, 1836, the band of greatly outnumbered
defenders continued to hold the Alamo Mission. Nor were they
deterred by the fact that, through no fault of their commanding
general, the promised reinforcements failed to arrive. At last,
inevitably, Santa Anna’s force had breached the walls. Once inside
they had carried out his threat that no quarter would be given. It
was believed that every male survivor of the bitter and bloody
fighting had been slaughtered.
^vii
Yet, in dying, the gallant little
party had gone far towards doing what they had intended. They had
inflicted so many casualties upon their assailants during the siege
that one very senior Mexican officer was said to have announced at
the conclusion of the fighting, ‘Another
victory
like this will defeat us.’

No such noble ideals, nor any useful
motives, had been responsible for the fate of the third and by far
largest group of dissidents.

Under the ineffectual command of
Colonel James Walker Fannin, over four hundred of the colonists’
best armed and equipped men had been stationed in the
grandiloquently named
‘Fort Defiance’ at Goliad. Having failed to supply
the promised reinforcements for the defenders of the Alamo Mission,
using Johnson’s defeat at San Patricio as an excuse, Fannin finally
attempted to carry out an order from Houston. Destroying the Fort
on March 9, he and his men set out to join the main body of the
Army.

Not far from Goliad they were
surrounded by the Tamaulipa Brigade
—which was moving westwards in a leisurely
fashion, looting and destroying property in passing. Fannin ordered
his men to surrender after only a token resistance. Their lack of
aggression did not produce the dividends which Fannin had hoped
for. Although their captors told them that they would be free to go
provided they gave their parole to quit Texas forever, they were
marched from the town on Palm Sunday, March 27. Apart from a few
who contrived to escape, they were massacred in cold blood.
^viii

While these
events
—which,
for the sake of convenience, have been dealt with as separate
episodes—were taking place, there were other developments occurring
elsewhere.

On March 2, a Convention had
assembled at Washington-On-The-Brazos and Texas was formally
declared to be a free and independent Republic under the Lone Star
flag. A provisional Government was established, with Henry Smith
and James W. Robinson appointed respectively Governor and
Lieutenant Governor. However, in
a short while, Smith was replaced by David
G. Burnet, who adopted the title ‘President
⁵
. None of these activities made any noticeable
change in the conduct of the campaign. The professional politicians
in what was announced would be the Republic’s Capital city played
no part in the military operations beyond offering advice to
Houston which would have been either impossible or disastrous to
put into effect.

One thing the hard pressed General had not
needed from the provisional Government was the kind of advice it
and its opposition was showering upon him. He had sufficient
problems of his own without needing such ‘help’. He was already
having to contend with the type of men who formed the bulk of his
command.

In spite of the propaganda put
out by Benjamin Lundy and the Anti-Slavery faction in the United
States, only a small proportion of the colonists had ‘gone to
Texas’. The majority were decent, honest, law abiding and hard
working. However, a man had to be endowed with considerable
feelings of self sufficiency before embarking upon such a daring
project as migrating with his family to the vast and hostile Texas
of that period. Skilled in the use of weapons, the average colonist
tended to be a rugged individualist who preferred to rely upon his
own judgment. Taking orders, or accepting
discipline
,
was foreign to his nature. In general, he knew nothing of team work
and less about strategy.

Unless one remembered these points, it was
difficult to understand their forces’ fiascos during the early
months of 1836, considering their courage and proven fighting
ability.

It said much for Houston’s
personality
—aided by the backing of loyal supporters with the wisdom
to see he was adopting the only possible tactics under the
circumstances—that he had contrived to hold together so large a
proportion of the Army. He had needed all of his persuasive powers
to have his suggestions accepted. Even so, when the main body had
reached Gonzales on the eastern bank of the Guadalupe River, he was
compelled by the weight of public opinion to halt in the hope that
some definite action could be taken.

Feelings had been running high
among the General’s force all through the days of the siege at the
Alamo Mission. There were many demands for an attempt to be made to
relieve their embattled comrades-in-arms. However, the evening of
March 12 brought confirmation of the terrible
news that the Alamo had fallen.
As no help would be needed, Houston had ordered the withdrawal to
be resumed. To reduce the protests, he had promised that he would
consider making a stand on the Colorado River provided Fannin and
the Fort Defiance contingent joined them.

With the General and his Army
once again retiring, the politicians did nothing to
impr
ove the
situation. On March 18, in what was to become known as the ‘Runaway
Scrape’, they fled from Washington-On-The-Brazos to set up what
they referred to as a ‘temporary Capital’ at the little town of
Harrisburg. Once there, they gave Houston a respite from their
attentions. According to the reports he received, they were more
concerned with obtaining stationery, accommodation, furniture and
other such vital necessities for the correct functioning of a
Government including ‘liquors suitable for genteel men to
drink.’

Left to his devices by the politicians,
although their behavior did nothing to improve the Army’s morale,
the General was still experiencing the gravest difficulties with
the men under his command. News of Fannin’s surrender arrived on
March 25 and ended any hope of making a stand on the Colorado
River. The General’s new argument, against which not even the most
irresponsible of the hot-heads who were clamoring for a fight could
disagree, was that the Army must continue to escort the ever
growing number of refugees who were fleeing to the east. As he
stated (and he was backed by Colonel Edward Fog of the Texas Light
Cavalry and the aged but very capable chief of scouts, ‘Deaf’
Smith), not until the now homeless women and children were safely
beyond the reach of Santa Anna’s main force and the Tamaulipa
Brigade could any confrontation be considered.

Amidst all of the General’s
trials and tribulations, he had one thing in his favor. Having
reduced the Alamo Mission, Santa Anna did not immediately continue
his pursuit of the ‘foreign land thieves’. Instead, perhaps wishing
to give his men time to forget how they had suffered over six
hundred casualties
—close to a third of his main force—during the thirteen
days’ fighting, he had spent a fortnight celebrating his ‘victory’
in and around San Antonio de Bexar. Nor, when the pursuit was
resumed, did his Army show any sign of being in a hurry to catch up
with their departing foes. In fact, believing that he had crushed
the colonists’ will to resist,
el Presidente
was considering returning to Mexico City and
leaving his subordinates to drive them out of Texas.

Houston was finding that Santa
Anna’s lack of activity had its disadvantages as well as its
blessings. Shepherding along the refugees, the Republic of Texas’s
Army reached San Felipe on the western shore
of the Brazos River on March 31.
Again yielding to the pressure from his men and encouraged by his
scouts’ reports regarding the behavior of their pursuers, Houston
halted to re-assess the situation.

It was then that the news of how Fannin and
his men had been massacred by Urrea was delivered.

There was serious unrest over the
tidings!

Houston knew that some action must be
taken!

What follows is the story of the action
decided upon by the General and how it turned out.

Captain Jackson Baines Hardin’s face was
like a thundercloud as he strode along the main street of San
Felipe. In every direction, there were signs that the Republic of
Texas’s small Army and a large number of refugees were encamped
just beyond the civic limits. However, glaring straight ahead, he
seemed to have eyes for nothing that was going on around him.

A few members of the Texas Light
Cavalry’s Company ‘C
’ were among the enlisted men of various regiments who were
taking their ease on either side of the street. They watched with
interest as their young commanding officer stalked—there was no
better way of describing his mode of progression—towards them.
Then, before he arrived, they began to exchange glances.

‘
I don’t know what’s
riling him,’ commented a leathery old timer. ‘But Cap’n
Devil’
s on the warpath.’

‘
Only thing
I
know,’ went on the
youngest member of the trio, studying the approaching figure and
sounding slightly relieved, ‘is that I’m sure’s hell’s for sinners
pleased it’s not
me’s
he’s riled at.’

‘
Would the captain have
any reason to be after
your
hide, Stepin?’ inquired the tall, well built,
blond man whose bearing was suggestive of military training and who
exuded an aura of authority despite the fact that his attire bore
no conventional insignia to denote that he was superior in rank to
his companions.
^ix

‘
Me?’
the youngest soldier yelped, his voice and attitude
earnestly denying the accusation. ‘No sir, sergeant, I’ve done
learned my lesson. So I’ve not done a single, solitary thing wrong
at all.’ Then he let out a sigh as the captain went by without
showing the slightest awareness of the trio’s presence. ‘Well, it
looks like it isn’t us he’s after at all.’

There was something Satanic
about the appearance of the young man who was the subject of the
soldiers’ conversation. It was that which, in part at least, had
been responsible for his nickname, ‘Ole Devil’.
^x

A wide brimmed, low crowned
black hat
—of
a style that had grown popular when the behavior of the successive
leaders in their adopted country made the Anglo-Saxon colonists
develop an ever growing antipathy towards everything of Mexican
origin, including the
sombrero—
hung by its
barbiquejo
chinstrap on the captain’s squarely set shoulders.
It left bare black hair which was combed above his temples to
convey an impression of a pair of small horns. The lines of his
tanned face were enhanced by somewhat prominent cheekbones, an
aquiline nose, eyebrows like inverted V’s and a neatly trimmed
mustache, and a short, sharp pointed chin beard. Combined they
created a Mephistophelian effect which resembled the way artists
generally depicted the physiognomy of the Devil.

Just over six foot in height,
twenty-five years of age, Ole Devil was slender without being puny
or skinny. In fact, his erect posture and swiftly striding gait
were suggestive of a whipcord strength. He wore the type of uniform
supplied by the Hardin, Fog and Blaze clan for the members of their
regiment.
^xi
Around his throat was knotted a tight
rolled silk bandana that was a riot of brilliantly clashing colors.
His fringed buckskin shirt was tucked into tight legged fawn riding
breeches which ended neatly in the tops of his well polished
Hessian boots.
^xii
A broad black belt around his waist
supported an ivory hiked James Black bowie knife. However, for some
reason, he had left off the percussion-fired Manton pistol which
usually rode—butt forward so as to be accessible to either hand—in
the wide, slanting leather loop at the right.

‘
Seems
to poor li’l old me that Cap’n Devil’s been more’n a mite edgy
since him, Mr. Blaze ’n’ Tommy Okasi brought back that young
lieutenant’s got away when Fannin got all them good old boys
“mass-ee-creed” by Urrea,’ the elderly soldier remarked. ‘Which I
don’t blame him none at all. It’s not a thing a man likes to think
on when he can’t do nothing about it.’

‘
Huh!’ Stepin sniffed,
oozing truculence. ‘
I can’t see why we don’t just head on down Goliad
way and hand Urrea his needings.’

‘
That’s why General Sam, Colonel Fog
and Cap’n Hardin’re officers and you’re not,’ Sergeant Smith said
drily, while the old timer turned a sardonic gaze at the youngster.
‘They’ve got enough sense to know we haven’t enough men to do
it.’