Then, on the second of April, came bad news. It permeated the discontented camp like wild-fire. Colonel Fannin and his men had not been paroled, but had been killed: shot down, or bayoneted, on Palm Sunday, March 27, at Goliad, by the Mexican companies! Three hundred and twenty—think of it—320 of the rank and file, marched out upon the prairie, and slain by the Mexican soldiers! Santa Anna himself had sent the orders.
The New Orleans Grays, the Red Rovers of Alabama, the Mustangs of Kentucky, and all—all except twenty-six or twenty-seven who had dodged the bullets and had escaped in the brush. Colonel Fannin and Colonel Ward of the Georgians had been shot separately. It was worse than even the Alamo.
Now news was received, at last, from the Mexican army. The Deaf Smith Spy Company, who had been out on a long scout, returned with the word. The army were coming in three separate columns. Santa Anna was leading the centre column, from Gonzales straight eastward for Beason’s on the Colorado and thence to San Felipe. A southern column under General Urrea was marching from Goliad northeast for the coast. A northern column under General Gaona was marching by way of Bastrop (or Mina), on the Colorado above Moore’s Retreat for Nacogdoches in the far east. Six thousand soldiers in all was given, by the spies, as the number—and they were sweeping Texas with orders to shoot every Texan caught bearing arms. All the country was in full flight; the roads from the Brazos east were crowded with panic-stricken settlers.
Lorenzo de Zavala, the vice-president, joined the camp, with a company of eighty men from the Red Lands. He reported that Thomas J. Rusk, the secretary of war, was on his way to help in the fighting; and that two cannon from Cincinnati had been landed at the coast and were being hurried forward.
The general sent the Redlanders down river to reinforce Captain Baker’s company opposite San Felipe at the San Felipe crossing, and gave strict orders that no man was to leave the camp without permission. Secretary Rusk arrived on April 4; but even he could not calm the discontent. Were the army to stay here while the republic was being ravaged by Santa Anna? What was the matter with that Sam Houston, anyhow? Leo raged, Jim was sarcastic, and even Ernest felt his courage ebbing.
On April 7 the general issued an army order:
The moment for which we have waited with anxiety and interest is fast approaching [he said]. The victims of the Alamo and the spirits of those who were murdered at Goliad call for cool, deliberate vengeance. Strict discipline, order, and subordination will ensure us the victory. The army will be in readiness for action at a moment’s warning. The field officers have the immediate execution of this order in charge for their respective commands.
“Big words,” fumed Jim. “But what do they mean? Here we are, squatting in the mud and growing web feet. Couldn’t get off this island if the Mexicans were right opposite. Oh, yes; we’re safe; but what of the rest of Texas? What of our folks? Next thing, we’ll hear of some more massacres, down the river. I’m sick; I’ve had the measles and now I’ve got a cold. What we need is another general.”
That day cannon shots were heard, from down the river. A battle! The Mexicans were trying to cross at San Felipe. Now the camp was in a fever, indeed. Would Captain Baker and the Redlanders hold the crossing? The three boys listened with anxious hearts, for Sion was there in the fight.