Recollections of Early Texas (19 page)

H
OME OF
C
OL.
W
ASHINGTON
J
ONES
in Bastrop built about 1840

H
OME OF
J
OHN
H
OLLAND
J
ENKINS
in Bastrop

J
OHN
T
WOHIG RESIDENCE
in San Antonio before the Civil War. Courtesy Ed Bartholomew, Frontier Pix, Houston, Texas

And now being recognized he felt that his worst fears were about to be realized and determined to make a last desperate effort for his freedom. He found a friend who promised to hide him if he could manage to get away. Morgan and three [?] others made the effort.
¹⁰
They found two houses close together, not more than two feet apart and about ten feet high. Climbing this alley they found another height of ten feet confronted them and no way to climb—no foothold—nothing. They felt that “standing still is childish folly—going backward is a crime,” and soon proved that extreme difficulties vanish before undaunted and determined effort.

See the three men pause in the face of the new obstacle! See them look up at the height that must be reached, then around in vain effort to find some means to climb, and down into the street whence they have fled! What if the guards are already upon their heels! A happy thought comes to their aid. One of the number is tall, over six feet high, and a comrade is helped to his shoulder, on which he stands. From there he can reach the battlements of the roof, then up onto the roof. Here he fastens a rope up which they all climb. And now they are close to an aqueduct. Letting themselves into this they travel down it until they find a low place. Lowering themselves they are soon out. In eager haste they strike out as nearly as they can toward the friend who has promised to hide them.

The three fugitives soon came to a paper mill, where they were invited to take refreshments, after which they were guided two leagues further, where there was another paper mill belonging to an English company. There they were hid
den for about three weeks, thus allowing time for the excitement to subside before again exposing themselves to the danger of arrest. Under cover of darkness they were taken in a carriage to the residence of the English minister, who knew all, but received them by asking, “Where were you shipwrecked?” The Texans stood in silent and puzzled confusion. Then laughing, he said with an oath, “I guess you were shipwrecked on high and dry land, were you not?” He was so generous and kind to the homeless men, that they felt for a little time almost safe, as they were “feasted and wined” under his protection two days, gathering lost strength and courage for their dangerous homeward trip. Then he “capped all” by presenting them with twenty dollars apiece, and had them driven in a carriage out of the City of Mexico after dark. Borne three leagues from this city of terror, they were put out on the road and directed to an English silver mine, still three leagues further on. And now farewell to safety and friends. They are again left to the suspense and danger of their trying situation.

They occasionally meet patrol-guards who question them with evident suspicion, but allow them to pass on when they claim that they are miners—as instructed by the English minister. Near daylight they grew very hungry, and ate at a wayside house, then on to the little mining town. Here they were hidden for three days, when they were appointed to guard a freight of silver destined for Vera Cruz. On to Perote, and here came the greatest trial of all, for here their comrades, the remnant of the Mier prisoners, were in bondage, and the three men were in constant danger of exposing themselves. Morgan, walking along with one of the guards, was strangely startled to hear him observe in passing, “We have a good many Texans confined here!” Of course, he had to ask why and wherefore, but it was somewhat akin to torture for him to quietly listen to a disinterested, cold account of the battle
of Mier and its subsequent results. He says he waxed warm at the guard's expressions of anger and condemnation toward the Texans, trying thereby to conceal the excitement and alarm of his situation. The guard wound up the history with, “Poor fellows! They fought manfully at Mier, and after all had to be brought here and put to work!”

“That is mild punishment,” Mr. Morgan remarked in reply. “They ought to be taken out and shot!”

Meanwhile, their fellow soldiers—that larger body of Mier prisoners—were toiling under insult and persecution almost in a stone's-throw, and these three must hear unfeeling, barren facts, without the simple freedom of being honest and frank. Strange, to think of the power of circumstances! Soldiers with brave hearts, beating in wild, tumultuous rebellion at thought of the outrages upon their comrades—and yet they must seem only English miners, guarding their freight of silver.

They had been instructed to apply to the commander at Vera Cruz to secure his signature for their passport, and with much fear they went before him—two of them. They were kindly received, however, and their papers were fixed and they were soon in search of a conveyance. They were at supper, feeling relieved and to a certain extent safe, when a foreigner, coming in, made a special inquiry concerning “some Texans.” All were mum and busily engaged eating, as the landlord scanned the crowd about the table, and knew nothing about any Texans. As soon as possible, Morgan shoved his plate back, and retreated to the street, followed by the foreigner, who seemed never to dream that Morgan was one of the objects of his search. Morgan cooly inquired of him why he was seeking Texans. “I heard there were some in there, and I wanted to hire them,” he answered, but his manner was noncommunicative and evasive. He was doubtless in search of the three guards from the silver mine, our
three escaped Texans, and did not know that he talked with one of them. Getting together after supper they “concluded to get out of there,” and were soon on board a schooner for New Orleans.

The Yankee skipper, who was commander, “found out their little pile” and charged the very last cent for passage, twenty-one dollars apiece! Few seem as anxious to let live as they are to live, and he was doubtless as happy in the possession of his sixty-three dollars as if our men had been well-supplied. Some souls are too narrow to separate, or to distinguish between the power and the right to do a thing. But we imagine life was not half so sweet to the captain of the schooner, as it was to three Texans, enjoying the rich delights of freedom for the first time in so long. Morgan is eloquent in memory of “the fair weather and pleasant trip,” and how they enjoyed it. At New Orleans, moneyless, friendless, and without clothes, they separated. The mate kindly gave Morgan supper at night, and now he found himself again alone, but this time “alone in a crowd.” After a day's search on the wharf he found one schooner for Galveston, and proceeded to state his case to the captain, asking to be allowed to work his way. “No sail for two or three days, and my crew all made up,” was the discouraging answer. Now came a blank search for work.

In the midst of a busy crowd an idle man is uncomfortable enough, but a suffering, needy man, is most miserable. Like Tantalus of old, who needed most, watched the flow of water as it laughingly eddied past him, almost touching his dry lips, then receding, to leave him dying of thirst. At length, while a steamboat was being loaded, the captain turned and asked Morgan if he “didn't want to work.”

“Yes, and I will be glad.”

“To work then.”

The work was too heavy for the taxed prisoner, and in
three hours he was perfectly exhausted. Receiving three bits (12-1/2 cents an hour) for his work, he wandered forth once more, now only hoping to find somewhere a friend, for his strength had failed him.

Wandering up and down the streets he met a Texas agent and once again submitted his forlorn condition. The man said it was utterly impossible for him to furnish the distressed man any relief, but said, “Meet me at the schooner in a few days and I'll try.”

Arriving at the schooner according to appointment, he did try, and after some parley with the captain received for answer, “I am tired of taking loafers to Galveston, but go to the foremast and stay; we'll see.”

Out in mid-river he was set to work “belaying”—untying and tightening ropes, and work of that sort. It was very trying to stand and work all night in his condition. In three days he landed at Galveston and again wandered out, a friendless stranger, alone and needy. At last he struck an old Santa Fe comrade keeping bar, who said he was “broke” and was working simply for his “grub,” but “Come around at lunch time and I'll give you something to eat, anyhow.” After two days' waiting and wandering and watching, a steamboat landed from Houston. He immediately went on board in hope of securing passage up the river. Luckily, the watchman of the boat was another old Santa Fe comrade, who kindly took him in his berth and as soon as they were under headway brought him a good supper. Ah! indeed, “A fellow feeling makes us wondrous kind.” The old Santa Fe and Mier soldiers learned the value of sympathy and kindness in their hard life among the Mexicans, and could not refuse help, when they thus met, after all the trials and outrages.

At daylight the boat landed at Houston and Morgan set out in search of friends, several of whom he found, all money-less and friendless like himself. Resting one day, he started
afoot for Bastrop County. He was nursed tenderly as a sick child along the road, indeed nothing of interest now came except kindness, but to be treated with consideration and confidence seemed the crowning glory of his regained liberty.

Once more Morgan stopped at his home with Sam Alexander, among old friends. After a short rest he decided to come still further, and resting again a little while at “Aunt Lookie Barton's,” he came on to Wylie Hill's. Thence after another short rest he went to “Mother Barton's.” She knew him afar off and came to meet him, her face aglow with all a mother's love and fear as she asked eagerly, “John, where is Jim?”

He found it hard to tell her the sad truth and the scene of the dying soldier in the hospital at Mier seemed all to harrowing for the poor woman who had been watching so anxiously for her boy to come home.

And now we quote Morgan's closing word, “so ends a trying experience through which I have been safely brought by a kind Providence.”

CHAPTER IX

People of Note

The early circumstances and opportunities of a man's life naturally constitute most important and powerful agents in shaping his future character, forming generally a groove or channel down which his life and habits will unconsciously, if not inevitably, drift. Not only is this true with regard to their power in the formation of human character, but the scenes and condition of boyhood and early manhood form an ideal world that abides in an old man's heart forever, growing nearer, clearer, and dearer. Whatever changes may be wrought upon our country by enterprise and progress, in their might and energy, there are no times like the old times to us, and we linger fondly and constantly amid the scenes and struggles of a past that was full of interest and activity, as well as danger, to the old settlers. Alas! The friends and fellow soldiers of my youth and mature manhood are passing rapidly from earth, and it is truly said that the company of Texas veterans grows smaller day by day.

Amid the struggles and dangers through which the old settlers in Texas passed, no family bore a more heroic part than did the Hornsbys. I often think what an interesting and valuable record would be contained in a detailed account of their thrilling experiences here, but the silence of death and time is fast pushing the old scenes off, till some of the names we should revere and cherish as part of our state's life and
history fall on the ear like an echo of an echo, and too often one might search in vain for grateful mention of them anywhere in the annals of our current histories.

A few words of what I know of this brave family may prove interesting to those who love our large and growing state, and who still find solid food for thought and gratitude in the thrilling scenes of her past history. All the old veterans and all the true young Texans must forever be interested in these things so closely connected with our country's present greatness. Of course, I cannot begin to wander away back into the times of strife and bloodshed and give in detail the many trying scenes through which this brave pioneer family passed.