There still were some men who feared that the general might wait. Colonel Sherman promised his regiment that if the general would not fight, they could follow him and he’d soon give them enough. But an aide summoned him and Colonel Burleson to headquarters and when Colonel Sherman returned, everything was all right.
The general had asked him and Colonel Burleson if they had beef on hand for three days.
“Yes, sir,” they replied.
“Very well,” had said General Houston. “You will see then that each man is supplied with cooked rations for three days, and hold the camp in readiness to march. We will see if we can find Santa Anna. Good evening, gentlemen.”
The morning dawned for a day of energy. The army ate a hasty breakfast of beef strips wound around green sticks and held in the blaze, and orders were given to fall in. General Houston rode in front of the lines, and from his horse made a speech. It was a short speech, but it was enough.
“The army will cross, and we will meet the enemy,” he declared. “Some of us may be killed, and must be killed. But, soldiers, remember the Alamo, the Alamo, the Alamo!”
“By thunder, after that speech there’ll be mighty few prisoners taken; I know that!” exclaimed Major Somervell.
Colonel Rusk began an address. He had proceeded only a few words, when he stopped, amidst the cheering, and bowed, and said, simply: “I am done.” He evidently saw that no more words were necessary.
First, the bayou was to be crossed. It was fifty yards wide, and running swiftly. The old ferryboat—a scow—had been found, but it was leaky, and the general fumed angrily when he saw that it had not been repaired according to orders. There was no time to repair it now. If Cos or Santa Anna should come while the army were crossing—whew!