CHAPTER XVI
FANNIN'S CAMP
When Ned made his startling announcement he leaped down lightly from the wall.
"If you will look through the loophole there," he said to Colonel Ward, "you will see a great force only a few hundred
yards away. The man on the large horse in front is General Urrea, who commands them. He is one of Santa Anna's most trusted
generals. His nephew, Captain Urrea, led the cavalry who besieged us yesterday and last night."
Captain Ward looked, but the Mexicans turned into the wood and were hidden from sight. Then the belief became strong among
the recruits that Ned was mistaken. This was only a little force that had come, and Ward and King shared their faith. Ward,
against Ned's protest, sent King and thirteen men out to scout.
Ned sadly watched them go. He was one of the youngest present, but he was first in experience, and he knew that he had
seen aright. General Urrea and the main army were certainly at hand. But he deemed it wiser to say nothing more. Instead,
he resumed his place on the wall, and kept sharp watch on the point where he thought the Mexican force lay. King and his scouts
were already out of sight.
Ned suddenly heard the sound of shots, and he saw puffs of smoke from the wood. Then a great shout arose and Mexican cavalry dashed from the edge of the forest. Some of the other watchers thought the mission was about to be attacked,
but the horsemen bore down upon another point to the northward. Ned divined instantly that they had discovered King and his
men and were surrounding them.
He leaped once more from the wall and shouted the alarm to Ward.
"The men out there are surrounded," he cried. "They will have no chance without help!"
Ward was brave enough, and his men, though lacking skill, were brave enough, too. At his command they threw open the gate
of the mission and rushed out to the relief of their comrades. Ned was by the side of Ward, near the front. As they appeared
in the opening they heard a great shouting, and a powerful detachment of cavalry galloped toward their right, while an equally
strong force of infantry moved on their left. The recruits were outnumbered at least five to one, but in such a desperate
situation they did not blench.
"Take good aim with your rifles," shouted Ward. And they did. A shower of bullets cut gaps in the Mexican line, both horse
and foot. Many riderless horses galloped through the ranks of the foe, adding to the confusion. But the Mexican numbers were
so great that they continued to press the Texans. Young Urrea, his head in thick bandages, was again with the cavalry, and
animated by more than one furious impulse he drove them on.
It became evident now even to the rawest that the whole Mexican army was present. It spread out to a great distance, and
enfolded the Texans on three sides, firing hundreds of muskets and keeping up a great shouting, Ned's keen ear also detected
other firing off to the right, and he knew that it was King and his men making a hopeless defence against overpowering numbers.
"We cannot reach King," groaned Ward.
"We have no earthly chance of doing so," said Ned, "and I think, Colonel, that your own force will have a hard fight to
get back inside the mission."
The truth of Ned's words was soon evident to everyone. It was only the deadly Texan rifles that kept the Mexican cavalry
from galloping over them and crushing them at once. The Mexican fire itself, coming from muskets of shorter range, did little
damage. Yet the Texans were compelled to load and pull trigger very fast, as they retreated slowly upon the mission.
At last they reached the great door and began to pass rapidly inside. Now the Mexicans pressed closer, firing heavy volleys.
A score of the best Texan marksmen whirled and sent their bullets at the pursuing Mexicans with such good aim that a dozen
saddles were emptied, and the whole force reeled back. Then all the Texans darted inside, and the great door was closed and
barricaded. Many of the men sank down, breathless from their exertions, regardless of the Mexican bullets that were pattering
upon the church. Ward leaned against the wall, and wiped the perspiration from his face.
"My God!" he exclaimed. "What has become of King?"
There was no answer. The Mexicans ceased to fire and shout, and retreated toward the wood. Ward was destined never to know
what had become of King and his men, but Ned soon learned the terrible facts, and they only hardened him still further. The
thirteen had been compelled to surrender to overwhelming numbers. Then they were immediately tied to trees and killed, where
their skeletons remained upright until the Texans found them.
"You were right, Fulton," said Ward, after a long silence. "The Mexican army was there, as we have plenty of evidence to
show."
He smiled sadly, as he wiped the smoke and perspiration from his face. Ned did not reply, but watched through a loophole.
He had seen a glint of bronze in the wood, and presently he saw the Mexicans pushing a cannon from cover.
"They have artillery," he said to Ward. "See the gun. But I don't think it can damage our walls greatly. They never did
much with the cannon at the Alamo. When they came too close there, we shot down all their cannoneers, and we can do the same
here."
Ward chose the best sharpshooters, posting them at the loopholes and on the walls. They quickly slew the Mexicans who tried
to man the gun, and General Urrea was forced to withdraw it to such a distance that its balls and shells had no effect whatever
upon the strong walls of the church.
There was another period of silence, but the watchers in the old mission saw that much movement was going on in the wood
and presently they beheld the result. The Mexican army charged directly upon the church, carrying in its center men with heavy
bars of wood to be used in smashing in the door. But they yielded once more to the rapid fire of the Texan rifles, and did
not succeed in reaching the building. Those who bore the logs and bars dropped them, and fled out of range.
A great cheer burst from the young recruits. They thought victory complete already, but Ned knew that the Mexicans would
not abandon the enterprise. General Urrea, after another futile charge, repulsed in the same deadly manner, withdrew some distance, but posted a strong line of sentinels about the church.
Having much food and water the recruits rejoiced again and thought themselves secure, but Ned noticed a look of consternation
on the face of Ward, and he divined the cause.
"It must be the ammunition, Colonel," he said in a whisper.
"It is," replied Ward. "We have only three or four rounds left. We could not possibly repel another attack."
"Then," said young Fulton, "there is nothing to do but for us to slip out at night, and try to cut our way through."
"That is so," said Ward. "The Mexican general doubtless will not expect any such move on our part, and we may get away."
He said nothing of his plan to the recruits until the darkness came, and then the state of the powder horns and the bullet
pouches was announced. Most of the men had supposed that they alone were suffering from the shortage, and something like despair
came over them when they found that they were practically without weapons. They were more than willing to leave the church,
as soon as the night deepened, and seek refuge over the prairie.
"You think that we can break through?" said Ward to Ned.
"I have no doubt of it," replied Ned, "but in any event it seems to me, Colonel, that we ought to try it. All the valor
and devotion of the men in the Alamo did not suffice to save them. We cannot hold the place against a determined assault."
"That is undoubtedly true," said Ward, "and flushed by the success that they have had elsewhere it seems likely to me that the Mexicans will make such an attack very soon."
"In any event," said Ned, "we are isolated here, cut off from Fannin, and exposed to imminent destruction."
"We start at midnight," said Ward.
Ned climbed upon the walls, and examined all the surrounding country. He saw lights in the wood, and now and then he discerned
the figures of Mexican horsemen, riding in a circle about the church, members of the patrol that had been left by General
Urrea. He did not think it a difficult thing to cut through this patrol, but the Texans, in their flight, must become disorganized
to a certain extent. Nevertheless it was the only alternative.
The men were drawn up at the appointed time, and Ward told them briefly what they were to do. They must keep as well together
as possible, and the plan was to make their way to Victoria, where they expected to rejoin Fannin. They gave calabashes of
water and provisions to several men too badly wounded to move, and left them to the mercy of the Mexicans, a mercy that did
not exist, as Urrea's troops massacred them the moment they entered the church.
Luckily it was a dark night, and Ned believed that they had more than half a chance of getting away. The great door was
thrown silently open, and, with a moving farewell to their wounded and disabled comrades, they filed silently out, leaving
the door open behind them.
Then the column of nearly one hundred and fifty men slipped away, every man treading softly. They had chosen a course that
lay directly away from the Mexican army, but they did not expect to escape without an alarm, and it came in five minutes.
A Mexican horseman, one of the patrol, saw the dark file, fired a shot and gave an alarm. In an instant all the sentinels were firing and shouting, and Urrea's army in the wood was awakening.
But the Texans now pressed forward rapidly. Their rifles cracked, quickly cutting a path through the patrol, and before
Urrea could get up his main force they were gone through the forest and over the prairie.
Knowing that the whole country was swarming with the Mexican forces, they chose a circuitous course through forests and
swamps and pressed on until daylight. Some of the Mexicans on horseback followed them for a while, but a dozen of the best
Texan shots were told off to halt them. When three or four saddles were emptied the remainder of the Mexicans disappeared
and they pursued their flight in peace.
Morning found them in woods and thickets by the banks of a little creek of clear water. They drank from the stream, ate
of their cold food, and rested. Ned and some others left the wood and scouted upon the prairie. They saw no human being and
returned to their own people, feeling sure that they were safe from pursuit for the present.
Yet the Texans felt no exultation. They had been compelled to retreat before the Mexicans, and they could not forget King
and his men, and those whom they had left behind in the church. Ned, in his heart, knowing the Mexicans so well, did not believe
that a single one of them had been saved.
They walked the whole day, making for the town of Victoria, where they expected to meet Fannin, and shortly before night
they stopped in a wood, footsore and exhausted. Again their camp was pitched on the banks of a little creek and some of the
hunters shot two fine fat deer further up the stream.
Seeking as much cheer as they could they built fires, and roasted the deer. The spirits of the young recruits rose. They would meet Fannin to-morrow or the next day and they would
avenge the insult that the Mexicans had put upon them. They were eager for a new action in which the odds should not be so
great against them, and they felt sure of victory. Then, posting their sentinels, they slept soundly.
But Ned did not feel so confident. Toward morning he rose from his blankets. Yet he saw nothing. The prairie was bare.
There was not a single sign of pursuit. He was surprised. He believed that at least the younger Urrea with the cavalry would
follow.
Ned now surmised the plan that the enemy had carried out. Instead of following the Texans through the forests and swamps
they had gone straight to Victoria, knowing that the fugitives would make for that point. Where Fannin was he could not even
guess, but it was certain that Ward and his men were left practically without ammunition to defend themselves as best they
could against a horde of foes.
The hunted Texans sought the swamps of the Guadalupe, where Mexican cavalry could not follow them, but where they were
soon overtaken by skirmishers. Hope was now oozing from the raw recruits. There seemed to be no place in the world for them.
Hunted here and there they never found rest. But the most terrible fact of all was the lack of ammunition. Only a single round
for every man was left, and they replied sparingly to the Mexican skirmishers.
They lay now in miry woods, and on the other side of them flowed the wide and yellow river. The men sought, often in vain,
for firm spots on which they might rest. The food, like the ammunition, was all gone, and they were famished and weak. The scouts reported that the Mexicans were increasing every hour.
It was obvious to Ned that Ward must surrender. What could men without ammunition do against many times their number, well
armed? He resolved that he would not be taken with them, and shortly before day he pulled through the mud to the edge of the
Guadalupe. He undressed and made his clothes and rifle into a bundle. He had been very careful of his own ammunition, and
he had a half dozen rounds left, which he also tied into the bundle.
Then shoving a fallen log into the water he bestrode it, holding his precious pack high and dry. Paddling with one hand
he was able to direct the log in a diagonal course across the stream. He toiled through another swamp on that shore, and,
coming out upon a little prairie, dressed again.
He looked back toward the swamp in which the Texans lay, but he saw no lights and he heard no sounds there. He knew that
within a short time they would be prisoners of the Mexicans. Everything seemed to be working for the benefit of Santa Anna.
The indecision of the Texans and the scattering of their forces enabled the Mexicans to present overwhelming forces at all
points. It seemed to Ned that fortune, which had worked in their favor until the capture of San Antonio, was now working against
them steadily and with overwhelming power.
He gathered himself together as best he could, and began his journey southward. He believed that Fannin would be at Goliad
or near it. Once more that feeling of vengeance hardened within him. The tremendous impression of the Alamo had not faded
a particle, and now the incident of Ward, Refugio and the swamps of the Guadalupe was cumulative. Remembering what he had
seen he did not believe that a single one of Ward's men would be spared when they were taken as they surely would be. There
were humane men among the Mexicans, like Almonte, but the ruthless policy of Santa Anna was to spare no one, and Santa Anna
held all the power.
He held on toward Goliad, passing through alternate regions of forest and prairie, and he maintained a fair pace until
night. He had not eaten since morning, and all his venison was gone, but strangely enough he was not hungry. When the darkness
was coming he sat down in one of the little groves so frequent in that region, and he was conscious of a great weariness.
His bones ached. But it was not the ache that comes from exertion. It seemed to go to the very marrow. It became a pain rather
than exhaustion.
He noticed that everything about him appeared unreal. The trees and the earth itself wavered. His head began to ache and
his stomach was weak. Had the finest of food been presented to him he could not have eaten it. He had an extraordinary feeling
of depression and despair.
Ned knew what was the matter with him. He was suffering either from overwhelming nervous and physical exhaustion, or he
had contracted malaria in the swamps of the Guadalupe. Despite every effort of the will, he began to shake with cold, and
he knew that a chill was coming. He had retained his blankets, his frontiersman's foresight not deserting him, and now, knowing
that he could not continue his flight for the present, he sought the deepest part of the thicket. He crept into a place so
dense that it would have been suited for an animal's den, and lying down there he wrapped the blankets tightly about himself,
his rifle and his ammunition.
In spite of his clothing and the warm blankets he grew colder and colder. His teeth chattered and he shivered all over. He would not have minded that so much, but his head ached
with great violence, and the least light hurt his eyes. It seemed to him the culmination. Never had he been more miserable,
more lost of both body and soul. The pain in his head was so violent that life was scarcely worth the price.
He sank by and by into a stupor. He was remotely conscious that he was lying in a thicket, somewhere in boundless Texas,
but it did not really matter. Cougars or bears might come there to find him, but he was too sick to raise a hand against them.
Besides, he did not care. A million Mexicans might be beating up those thickets for him, and they would be sure to find him.
Well, what of it? They would shoot him, and he would merely go at once to some other planet, where he would be better off
than he was now.
It seems that fate reserves her severest ordeals for the strong and the daring, as if she would respond to the challenges
they give. It seems also that often she brings them through the test, as if she likes the courage and enterprise that dare
her, the all-powerful, to combat. Ned's intense chill abated. He ceased to shake so violently, and after a while he did not
shake at all. Then fever came. Intolerable heat flowed through every vein, and his head was ready to burst. After a while
violent perspiration broke out all over him, and then he became unconscious.
Ned lay all night in the thicket, wrapped in the blankets, and breathing heavily. Once or twice he half awoke, and remembered
things dimly, but these periods were very brief and he sank back into stupor. When he awoke to stay awake the day was far
advanced, and he felt an overwhelming lassitude. He slowly unwound himself from his blankets and looked at his hand. It was uncommonly white, and it seemed to him to be as weak as that of a
child.
He crept out of the thicket and rose to his feet. He was attacked by dizziness and clutched a bush for support. His head
still ached, though not with the violence of the night before, but he was conscious that he had become a very weak and poor
specimen of the human being. Everything seemed very far away, impossible to be reached.
He gathered strength enough to roll up his blankets and shoulder his rifle. Then he looked about a little. There was the
same alternation of woods and prairie, devoid of any human being. He did not expect to see any Texans, unless, by chance,
Fannin came marching that way, but a detachment of Mexican lancers might stumble upon him at any moment. The thought, however,
caused him no alarm. He felt so much weakness and depression that the possibility of capture or death could not add to it.
Young Fulton was not hungry,—the chill and following fever had taken his appetite away so thoroughly,—but he
felt that he must eat. He found some early berries in the thickets and they restored his strength a little, but the fare was
so thin and unsubstantial that he decided to look for game. He could never reach Fannin or anybody else in his present reduced
condition.
He saw a line of oaks, which he knew indicated the presence of a water-course, probably one of the shallow creeks, so numerous
in Eastern Texas, and he walked toward it, still dizzy and his footsteps dragging. His head was yet aching, and the sun, which
was now out in full brightness, made it worse, but he persisted, and, after an interminable time, he reached the shade of the oaks, which, as he surmised, lined both sides of a creek.
He drank of the water, rested a while, and then began a search of the oaks. He was looking for squirrels, which he knew
abounded in these trees, and, after much slow and painful walking, he shot a fine fat one among the boughs. Then followed
the yet more mighty task of kindling a fire with sticks and tinder, but just when he was completely exhausted, and felt that
he must fail, the spark leaped up, set fire to the white ash that he had scraped with his knife, and in a minute later a good
fire was blazing.
He cooked the tenderest parts of the squirrel and ate, still forcing his appetite. Then he carefully put out the fire and
went a mile further up the creek. He felt stronger, but he knew that he was not yet in any condition for a long journey. He
was most intent now upon guarding against a return of the chill. It was not the right time for one to be ill. Again he sought
a place in a thicket, like an animal going to its den, and, wrapping himself tightly in the blankets, lay down.
He watched with anxiety for the first shiver of the dreaded chill. Once or twice imagination made him feel sure that it
had come, but it always passed quickly. His body remained warm, and, while he was still watching for the chill, he fell asleep,
and slept soundly all through the night.
The break of day aroused him. He felt strong and well, and he was in a pleasant glow, because he knew now that the chill
would not come. It had been due to overtaxed nerves, and there was no malaria in his system.
He hunted again among the big trees until he found a squirrel on one of the high boughs. He fired at it and missed. He found another soon and killed it at the first shot. But the miss had been a grave matter. He had only four bullets
left. He took them out and looked at them, little shining pellets of lead. His life depended upon these four, and he must
not miss again.
It took him an hour to start his fire, and he ate only half of the squirrel, putting the remainder into his bullet pouch
for future needs. Then, much invigorated, he resumed his vague journey. But he was compelled very soon to go slowly and with
the utmost caution. There were even times when he had to stop and hide. Mexican cavalry appeared upon the prairies, first
in small groups and then in a detachment of about three hundred. Their course and Ned's was the same, and he knew then that
he was going in the right direction. Fannin was surely somewhere ahead.
But it was most troublesome traveling for Ned. If they saw him they could easily ride him down, and what chance would he
have with only four bullets in his pouch? Or rather, what chance would he have if the pouch contained a hundred?
The only thing that favored him was the creek which ran in the way that he wanted to go. He kept in the timber that lined
its banks, and, so long as he had this refuge, he felt comparatively safe, since the Mexicans, obviously, were not looking
for him. Yet they often came perilously near. Once, a large band rode down to the creek to water their horses, when Ned was
not fifty feet distant. He instantly lay flat among some bushes, and did not move. He could hear the horses blowing the water
back with their noses, as they drank.
When the horses were satisfied, the cavalrymen turned and rode away, passing so near that it seemed to him they had only
to look down and see him lying among the bushes. But they went on, and, when they were out of sight, he rose and continued his flight through the timber.
But this alternate fleeing and dodging was most exhausting work, and before the day was very old he decided that he would
lie down in a thicket, and postpone further flight until night. Just when he had found such a place he heard the faint sound
of distant firing. He put his ear to the earth, and then the crackle of rifles came more distinctly. His ear, experienced
now, told him that many men must be engaged, and he was sure that Fannin and the Mexican army had come into contact.
Young Fulton's heart began to throb. The dark vision of the Alamo came before him again. All the hate that he felt for
the Mexicans flamed up. He must be there with Fannin, fighting against the hordes of Santa Anna. He rose and ran toward the
firing. He saw from the crest of a hillock a wide plain with timber on one side and a creek on the other. The center of the
plain was a shallow valley, and there the firing was heavy.
Ned saw many flashes and puffs of smoke, and presently he heard the thud of cannon. Then he saw near him Mexican cavalry
galloping through the timber. He could not doubt any longer that a battle was in progress. His excitement increased, and he
ran at full speed through the bushes and grass into the plain, which he now saw took the shape of a shallow saucer. The firing
indicated that the defensive force stood in the center of the saucer, that is, in the lowest and worst place.
A terrible fear assailed young Fulton, as he ran. Could it be possible that Fannin also was caught in a trap, here on the
open prairie, with the Mexicans in vastly superior numbers on the high ground around him? He remembered, too, that Fannin's
men were raw recruits like those with Ward, and his fear, which was not for himself, increased as he ran.
He noticed that there was no firing from one segment of the ring in the saucer, and he directed his course toward it. As
soon as he saw horses and men moving he threw up his hands and cried loudly over and over again: "I'm a friend! Do not shoot!"
He saw a rifle raised and aimed at him, but a hand struck it down. A few minutes later he sprang breathless into the camp,
and friendly hands held him up as he was about to pitch forward with exhaustion.
His breath and poise came back in a few moments, and he looked about him. He had made no mistake. He was with Fannin's
force, and it was already pressed hard by Urrea's army. Even as he drew fresh, deep breaths he saw a heavy mass of Mexican
cavalry gallop from the wood, wheel and form a line between Fannin and the creek, the only place where the besieged force
could obtain water.
"Who are you?" asked an officer, advancing toward Ned.
Young Fulton instantly recognized Fannin.
"My name is Edward Fulton, you will recall me, Colonel," he replied. "I was in the Alamo, but went out the day before it
fell. I was taken by the Mexicans, but escaped, fled across the prairie, and was in the mission at Refugio when some of your
men under Colonel Ward came to the help of King."
"I have heard that the church was abandoned, but where is Ward, and where are his men?"
Ned hesitated and Fannin read the answer in his eyes.
"You cannot tell me so!" he exclaimed.
"I'm afraid that they will all be taken," said Ned. "They had no ammunition when I slipped away, and the Mexicans were following them. There was no possibility of escape."
Fannin paled. But he pressed his lips firmly together for a moment and then said to Ned:
"Keep this to yourself, will you? Our troops are young and without experience. It would discourage them too much."
"Of course," said Ned. "But meanwhile I wish to fight with you."
"There will be plenty of chance," said Fannin. "Hark to it!"
The sound of firing swelled on all sides of them, and above it rose the triumphant shouts of the Mexicans.
