“To Bexar. Neill’s asked again for help. He tells headquarters that a thousand Mexicans are coming to attack him. The general’s sent us with orders for him to blow up the place and to pull out with all his artillery. We can’t raise troops enough to defend it. Captain Dimitt has orders to follow us from Goliad with one hundred men if he can get them, but I don’t believe he can. It’s a shame, gentlemen; a shame on Texas.”
And away rode the courtly James Bowie and the gallant James Bonham. Ernest and Gonzales never saw them again.
By courier through Gonzales, Lieutenant-Colonel Neill replied to General Houston that as he had no oxen or mules with which to drag his cannon, he could not obey the orders, and would hold his post, in hopes of reinforcements.
“He’ll stay; so will Bowie and Bonham!” groaned Dick Carroll, who was ill in bed, to Ernest. “And they’ll fight to the death. They’ll never surrender. After winning Bejar, we’ll lose it. If I was only on my feet——! Meanwhile, ’stead of sending reinforcements, Texas is fighting amongst itself, and at the same time depending on Sam Houston. But what can Houston do—a general without an army to obey him, or a government to help him. Travis and Bowie and Bonham and a few others are about all the friends he seems to have, aside from the governor, who’s a governor no longer.”
Ten days passed, marked by more rumors, and by another courier bearing through Gonzales an appeal from Lieutenant-Colonel Neill to the government for help. Then, at the last of January, appeared in Gonzales William Barret Travis, for Bejar with thirty horsemen.
“Who’s for Bexar?” he challenged, hotly. “What’s the matter with you Texans? Are you Gonzales people just as cold-blooded as the rest of the state?”
“Where’s your regular army, colonel?” retorted somebody.
Lieutenant-Colonel Travis threw up his hand with a gesture of despair.
“The regular army!” he cried. “I’ve been on recruiting service for weeks. So has Fannin; so has Rusk. The whole regular army doesn’t number a hundred men. Since I received orders to march to the relief of Bexar I’ve worked day and night to get regulars, volunteers, anybody; and at San Felipe and at Burnam’s on the Colorado I’ve raised only thirty men—twenty-six of ’em regulars, and four of ’em volunteers. I had more, but they deserted, with their horses and outfit. Boys, I’m discouraged. The country seems exhausted, or else won’t fight. We’ve a few patriots, but they’re about worn out. They can’t do everything. I haven’t slept, and I’ve pledged my own money. The governor’s been deposed, and nobody will follow Sam Houston—the best man who’s yet thrown in with Texas. Looks to me as if we were counting on the United States to fight our battles for us. But I’m going to Bexar if I have to go alone. It’s the key to Texas, and I, personally, shall never surrender it.”
He took Captain Dickinson and Captain Albert Martin and two or three other Gonzales men with him among his volunteers, and rode on. He never came back; and came not back Captain Dickinson. Ernest would gladly have gone with his captain, but he could not leave Dick.