How Houston Won Freedom For Texas
We have told the story of the Alamo. It needs to complete it the story
of how Travis and his band of heroes were avenged. And this is also the
story of how Texas won its independence, and took its place in the
colony of nations as the "Lone Star Republic."
The patriots of Texas had more to avenge than the slaughter at the
Alamo. The defenders of Goliad, over four hundred in number, under
Colonel Fannin, s
rrendered, with a solemn promise of protection from
Santa Anna. After the surrender they were divided into several
companies, marched in different directions out of the town, and there
shot down in cold blood by the Mexican soldiers, not a man of them being
left alive.
Santa Anna now fancied himself the victor. He had killed two hundred men
with arms in their hands, and made himself infamous by the massacre of
four hundred more, and he sent despatches to Mexico to the effect that
he had put down the rebellion and conquered a peace. What he had really
done was to fill the Texans with thirst for revenge as well as love of
independence. He had dealt with Travis and Fannin; he had Sam Houston
still to deal with.
General Houston was the leader of the Texan revolt. While these
murderous events were taking place he had only four hundred men under
his command, and was quite unable to prevent them. Defence now seemed
hopeless; the country was in a state of panic; the settlers were
abandoning their homes and fleeing as the Mexicans advanced; but Sam
Houston kept the field with a spirit like that which had animated the
gallant Travis.
As the Mexicans advanced Houston slowly retreated. He was manoeuvring
for time and place, and seeking to increase his force. Finally, after
having brought up his small army to something over seven hundred men, he
took a stand on Buffalo Bayou, a deep, narrow stream flowing into the
San Jacinto River, resolved there to strike a blow for Texan
independence. It was a forlorn hope, for against him was marshalled the
far greater force of the Mexican army. But Houston gave his men a
watchword that added to their courage the hot fire of revenge. After
making them an eloquent and impassioned address, he fired their souls
with the war-cry of "Remember the Alamo!"
Soon afterward the Mexican bugles rang out over the prairie, announcing
the approach of the vanguard of their army, eighteen hundred strong.
They were well appointed, and made a showy display as they marched
across the plain. Houston grimly watched their approach. Turning to his
own sparse ranks, he said, "Men, there is the enemy; do you wish to
fight?" "We do," came in a fierce shout. "Well, then, remember it is
for liberty or death! Remember the Alamo!"
As they stood behind their light breastworks, ready for an attack, if it
should be made, a lieutenant came galloping up, his horse covered with
foam. As he drew near he shouted along the lines, "I've cut down Vince's
bridge." This was a bridge which both armies had used in coming to the
battle-field. General Houston had ordered its destruction. Its fall left
the vanquished in that day's fight without hope of escape.
Santa Anna evidently was not ready for an immediate assault. His men
halted and intrenched themselves. But Houston did not propose to delay.
At three in the afternoon, while many of the Mexican officers were
enjoying their siesta in perfect confidence, Santa Anna himself being
asleep, the word to charge passed from rank to rank along the Texan
front, and in a moment the whole line advanced at double-quick time,
filling the air with vengeful cries of "Remember the Alamo! Remember
Goliad!"
The Mexican troops sprang to their arms and awaited the attack,
reserving their fire until the patriots were within sixty paces. Then
they poured forth a volley which, fortunately for the Texans, went over
their heads, though a ball struck General Houston's ankle, inflicting a
very painful wound. Yet, though bleeding and suffering, the old hero
kept to his saddle till the action was at an end.
The Texans made no reply to the fire of the foe until within
pistol-shot, and then poured their leaden hail into the very bosoms of
the Mexicans. Hundreds of them fell. There was no time to reload. Having
no bayonets, the Texans clubbed their rifles and rushed in fury upon the
foe, still rending the air with their wild war-cry of "Remember the
Alamo!" The Mexicans were utterly unprepared for this furious
hand-to-hand assault, and quickly broke before the violent onset.
On all sides they gave way. On the left the Texans penetrated the
woodland; the Mexicans fled. On the right their cavalry charged that of
Santa Anna, which quickly broke and sought safety in flight. In the
centre they stormed the breastworks, took the enemy's artillery and
drove them back in dismay. In fifteen minutes after the charge the
Mexicans were in panic flight, the Texans in mad pursuit. Scarce an hour
had passed since the patriots left their works, and the battle was won.
Such was the consternation of the Mexicans, so sudden and utter their
rout, that their cannon were left loaded and their movables untouched.
Those who were asleep awoke only in time to flee; those who were cooking
their dinner left it uneaten; those who were playing their favorite game
of monte left it unfinished. The pursuit was kept up till nightfall, by
which time the bulk of the Mexican army were prisoners of war. The
victory had been won almost without loss. Only seven of the Texans were
killed and twenty-three wounded. The Mexican loss was six hundred and
thirty, while seven hundred and thirty were made prisoners.
But the man they most wanted was still at large. Santa Anna was not
among the captives. On the morning of the following day, April 22, the
Texan cavalry, scouring the country for prisoners, with a sharp eye open
for the hated leader of the foe, saw a Mexican whom they loudly bade to
surrender. At their demand he fell on the grass and threw a blanket over
his head. They had to call on him several times to rise before he slowly
dragged himself to his feet. Then he went up to Sylvester, the leader of
the party, and kissed his hand, asking if he was General Houston.
The man was evidently half beside himself with fright. He was only a
private soldier, he declared; but when his captors pointed to the fine
studs in the bosom of his shirt he burst into tears and declared that he
was an aide to Santa Anna. The truth came out as the captors brought him
back to camp, passing the prisoners, many of whom cried out, "El
Presidente." It was evidently Santa Anna himself. The President of
Mexico was a prisoner and Texas was free! When the trembling captive was
brought before Houston, he said, "General, you can afford to be
generous,--you have conquered the Napoleon of the West." Had Houston
done full justice to this Napoleon of the West he would have hung him on
the spot. As it was, his captors proved generous and his life was
spared.
The victory of San Jacinto struck the fetters from the hands of Texas.
No further attempt was made to conquer it, and General Houston became
the hero and the first president of the new republic. When Texas was
made a part of the United States, Houston was one of its first senators,
and in later years he served as governor of the State. His splendid
victory had made him its favorite son.