Recollections of Early Texas (13 page)

A march of about a mile brought us in sight of their pickets and we could distinctly hear the yells and cheers of their forces. Now after another halt, Captain Jack Hays was ordered to take his company and make a challenging charge, while Captain William M. Eastland was to support him with one hundred of the best mounted of our force. Eastland formed a line, but was ordered back into ranks, and Hays's company charged upon the yelling Mexican guards alone.

Our delay and unaccountable wavering had given Woll every advantage to be prepared for us, and he had taken the opportunity. In the bend of the road he had planted his artillery and some infantry. Hays, coming suddenly and unexpectedly upon them, received a full volley of shot and was compelled to fall back, not being supported by the main force in time. In this charge one of the men, Kit [Christopher] Achlin,* ran around Woll's cannon, placing his foot upon it. Hays retreated and met us about one hundred and fifty yards from the scene, where again a halt was called and we were ordered to dismount.

We were now certain that a fight was at hand, and already hearts beat fast and eyes brightened in prospect of action and danger. There seemed to be a strange want of discipline or system or harmony among the officers, who could not agree as to the proper line of policy, and stood discussing and debating questions, while the soldiers were all the time growing more perplexed and impatient.

Captain Billingsley, understanding the situation, and knowing the value of prompt action called out to the soldiers, “Boys, do you want to fight?” A loud “Yes” was the instant reply. “Then, follow me!” he called, and marched on at the head of a considerable force. We were already approaching very near the Mexican infantry, and were drawn up in line
of battle. In two minutes the charge would have been made and the fight commenced. But at this juncture superior authority interfered. Colonel Caldwell galloped up and called out to Billingsley, “Where are you going?”

“To fight,” was the answer.

“Countermarch those men back to ranks!” Caldwell commanded, and we were forced to take our places back in the standing army, all worried and disgusted with what seemed to us a cowardly hesitation and a disgraceful and confused proceeding without motive or design. Nearly 600 men standing almost in sight of an invading army, whose guards would sometimes slip in near enough to throw bullets into our midst. There we stood till dark, suffering for water and tantalized almost to madness by the delay and want of harmony among our leaders.

We were at last ordered to mount and march up the creek above the Mexican forces. Thinking that this was done to cut off their retreat, the Mexican guard fired upon us as we got opposite their camps, but still we were ordered to march on. A half-mile farther up the creek we were ordered to halt and dismount and guards were stationed around the horses. Again we waited. In a half-hour Colonel Samuel Walker, raising fifteen or twenty men, went out to investigate. We found no Mexican army! General Woll had retracted and thus ended one of the most disgraceful campaigns of which Texas was ever guilty.

How we needed Burleson! So ready to lead, so prompt to act! But he was out on an Indian campaign when our troops left home. Hearing of fresh trouble with Mexicans, however, he came on to our help, but it was too late. We met him at the Medina, twenty or thirty miles from San Antonio.

And now we found ourselves once more at home, but not safe, for still every now and then we were troubled with Indians and occasionally we went out to bury one of our
citizens who would be surprised by the skulking savages and murdered whenever they could find opportunity to do their dastardly work. It was almost a constant thing to wake and find all our horses stolen and all pursuit or effect to regain them useless.

Sometimes, however, our little runs after the thieves were interesting and exciting, although we might not catch the thieves or regain our horses. I remember one run early in the year 1843, during a very cold spell we had, that was quite amusing.

A lot of horses having been stolen, eighteen or twenty men under Jonathan Burleson went out in pursuit. We trailed them over their same old route to their same old passway. From every sign they had evidently been in a hurry and had a strong force. The first night we camped on Onion Creek very near to where they had camped on their way out only a night or two previously.

As it was severely cold, we built a large bright fire and indulged in the free and easy merrymaking life of camp life until very late. We had a fine singer in our party, James Patton, and his splendid voice entertained us through many a song as we lay basking in the genial light and warmth of the campfire. At last the silence of night pervaded the woods and we slept very soundly.

Meanwhile, we had tied our horses near and guards were stationed around them. Suddenly we were aroused by a struggling and kicking among our horses and then came a scattering and flying of fire around and over us. In an instant we had our guns in hand, thinking the Indians were upon us. The guards soon explained the cause of the disturbance. One of the horses, having been entangled in his rope, had fallen into our campfire.

One of our men was by far the most terribly frightened
man I ever saw. When the excitement first arose he rushed into a nearby thicket, leaving his gun and comrades and lay there afraid to move or speak, until the alarm had subsided. Then we heard moans and groans from the brush, and recognizing his voice, we called to him and assured him the danger and Indians were not near. He was literally scared into a shaking ague, and the next day he candidly confessed himself entirely unfit for Indian campaigning, and very truly said he did not believe he could stand the racket of such a life.

The next morning found us on the plain trail, which we followed easily, constantly finding signs of their camps every ten or fifteen miles. We began to have a strong hope of overtaking them and regaining our horses.

One night we camped with a well-laid plan to make a raid the next morning, feeling confident of speedy and certain success. Half of the company, however, surprised and disconcerted us the next morning by announcing their determination to quit and go home. A serious division and difficulty arose among the men and many “waxed warm and wrathy,” feeling inclined to support their opinions with blows. As is always the case, our divided forces lost both power and design, and abandoning further pursuit we retracted, retracing our steps homeward. Arriving at the scene of our first alarm we again camped and again Mr. Patton sang for us, but just as he was in the midst of a low comic song entitled, “The Cork Leg,” our guards reported a noise like that of moving Indians. The fire was immediately extinguished and we had our guns ready for action. Nothing further being heard, however, we concluded that the men were mistaken and after resting throughout the night in peace we came on home the next morning without even investigating for fresh Indian signs.

This was a piece of criminal carelessness and negligence
which we afterward regretted, for on the following day two of our men were surprised and killed while out hunting by a band of Comanches numbering about thirty, who came along on our immediate trail. Thus, we knew that our guards had doubtless been correct in thinking that they heard the muffled sound of their march somewhere near us.

The two unfortunate men seemed to have fought most desperately, for there were signs of a terrible struggle—a broken gun showing hand-to-hand fighting. They were given time to find shelter under a bluff, and thus protected they were able to prolong their lives, but against such odds they were soon killed. It is presumable that this band expected and desired us to overtake and attack them, judging from their slow march and plain trail, and returned upon our very heels. As it was, no pursuit was made and once more two of our citizens were brutally murdered and buried without one effort to avenge them or punish the murderers.

Of course, Indians grew bolder as we grew more lax and very soon our community was again shocked by their cruelty. Michael Nash,
⁶
a citizen, went out of town a few miles to hunt a while, and when he didn't return when expected, men went out in search of him. He was found dead and scalped about three miles from home. From all indications he had killed a deer and was cleaning it when surprised by a small party of Indians. Blood was found on their trail which led us to believe that he had at least wounded one of his murderers.

From now on these murders and raids in Bastrop County gradually abated. But the incoming Germans who settled New Braunfels and Fredericksburg still suffered a great deal from their persecutions, and along the frontier the savages never lost an opportunity of showing their cruel and vindictive hatred toward the whites.

CHAPTER VII

The Mier Expedition

While it is hard “to lend fresh interest to a twice-told tale,” there is still attached to some of the experiences of individuals and of nations, a deep and abiding interest, which increases as the details are presented from different standpoints; indeed, there is but one way of arriving at the whole truth in any case, and that is by careful collection and examination of
all
the evidence. There are also wayside gleanings as we proceed in our searchings after truth—items of interest and even of importance, at once pleasing and instructive, robbing history of seeming harshness, at the same time impressing its thrilling facts upon mind and memory. Just as genial smiles and kind words sometimes brighten stern faces, inviting us to pleasant acquaintance, where once, by cold reserve and dignity, we were simply repulsed.

We come now to the darkest complication of affairs after 1836. Texas had for six years preserved intact her Declaration of Independence. Mexico seemed to have almost forgotten the very existence of the province which she had striven so hard to retain, at least making no serious interruption to our gradual growth and development; while on the other hand, the United States seemed to be watching or trying the strength and resources of the child republic before resuming the question of annexation.

In 1842, however, the comparative and transient calm was broken. Mexico, awakening to the fact that the prospect of annexation was assuming serious proportions, made two raids into our country—Vasquez in March and Woll in September. Then in December of the same year came the “Archives War,” that bloodless battle wherein Smith, with his twenty men, authorized by President Houston, started to transport the archives of government to the city of Houston, but meeting Captain Lewis
¹
with his cannon at Kenney's Fort, concluded to accompany him back to Austin.

Then came the ill-starred Mier Expedition!

There are only two men now living in Bastrop County who passed through its dangers, horrors, and suffering—William Clopton* and John Morgan—from the former of whom we have lately received the following details, and record them in full, deeming this to be one of the facts in our history which is of an intense and abiding interest—thrilling in its heroism, horrible in its cruelty, and pathetic in its suffering.

In the fall of 1842 the President ordered an invading expedition against Mexico, having probably the twofold design of retaliation and of regaining a few of our Santa Fe men
²
still held by Santa Anna. General [Alexander] Somervell, with about seven hundred men, left the Medina River on the 25th of November, and after a tiresome march over flat, boggy land, severely trying both to men and horses, reached Laredo on the 8th of December. Moving down the Rio Grande, they crossed over near the little town of Guerrero,
without opposition or adventure, although a force of Mexican cavalry under Canales
³
showed themselves and immediately retreated. Here they stayed one night, then recrossed and marched down the river a short distance, when, greatly to their surprise and dissatisfaction, the army was ordered home.

A determined and vindictive spirit against Mexico had been aroused to the utmost among our soldiers, and some of them were loud and earnest in their protests against disbanding. At length, without opposition from Somervell, a force of 290 men seceded from the main command, and, reorganizing, elected William S. Fisher their commander.

They marched down the Rio Grande to a point nearly opposite the little town of Mier,
⁴
then crossing the river went in and made a requisition upon the citizens for supplies. The Alcalde promised provisions next day, and the Texans waited for them in vain, until General Pedro Ampudia, with three thousand Mexicans, took possession of the place.

On the afternoon of Christmas Day, Fisher, leaving thirty men in charge of camp, marched with 260 across the river and on to Mier. They noted a few signs of the impending issue as they advanced, constantly running into Mexican scouts. Pressing forward, they made a straight march for the main plaza, where they were received by a heavy discharge of Mexican artillery.

Now fighting commenced in earnest. The night was dark and drizzly. Some took refuge in the stone houses, where with picks, crow-bars, and anything that could serve their pur
pose, they cut and dug, making port holes, and fighting in every possible way—fighting without pause for seventeen hours! Two hundred and sixty against three thousand: Ah! Fisher's band comprised as good material as ever marched for battle. Some of them had fought under old [Samuel W.] Jordan at Saltillo,
⁵
and all of them had proven that they knew how to fight. “Fine marksmen, with fine rifles, fine nerve and in a fine emergency.” Rocks, rifles, and cannon scattered fatality around, and sometimes men were fighting hand to hand in the street. The full effect of the struggle was a mere matter of conjecture until daylight, and then our men could see how their old rifles “told.” The cannon was silenced until men could slip around behind houses or other refuge, and by throwing ropes at last succeeded in dragging it out of rifle range. The team to the artillery, and entire company of sixty men were killed, except the captain and three privates!