Remember the Alamo [100]
the agony of his wound, combined with the superhuman
exertions and anxieties of the past week."
"But he is better now?"
"Yes; I dressed the wound as well as my appliances permitted;
but he will not be able to use his foot for some time. No one
slept that night. Weary as the men were, their excitement and
happiness were too great for the bonds of sleep. In the
morning the rich spoils of the enemy's camp were divided among
them. Houston refused any part in them. `My share of the
honor is sufficient,' he said. Yet the spoils were very
valuable ones to men who but a few hours before had nothing
but the clothing they wore and the arms they carried. Among
them were nearly one thousand stand of English muskets, three
hundred valuable mules, one hundred fine horses, provisions,
clothing, tents, and at least twelve thousand dollars in
silver."
"Were you on the field all the time, father?"
"I was near Houston from first to last. When he saw the
battle was won, he did his best to prevent needless slaughter.
But men on a battle-field like San Jacinto cannot be reasoned
with; after a certain point, they could not even be commanded.
The majority had some private revenge to satisfy after the
public welfare had been served. We met one old man in a
frenzy, covered with blood from his white beard to his boots,
his arms bare to his shoulders, his knife dripping from haft
to point."
"Houston looked at him, and said something about mercy and
valor. `General,' he said, `they killed two of my boys at
Goliad, and my brother at the Alamo. I'll not spare a Mexican
while I've the strength to kill one. I'm on the scent for
Santa Anna, and, by G--, if I find him, I will spare Texas and
you any more trouble with the brute.'"
At this moment Thomas Worth entered the marquee, and, in an
excited manner, said:
"Santa Anna is taken! Santa Anna is taken! "
"Taken!" cried the Senora in a passion.
"Taken! Is it possible the wretch is yet in this world? I
was assuring myself that he was in one not so comfortable.
Why is he not killed? It is an inconceivable insult to
humanity to let him live. Have you thought of your brother
Juan? Give me the knife in your belt, Thomas, if you cannot
use it."
"My dear mother--"
"Maria, my life! Thomas could not wisely kill so important a
prisoner. Texas wants him to secure her peace and
independence. The lives of all the Americans in Mexico may
depend upon his. Mere personal vengeance on him would be too
dear a satisfaction. On the battle-field he might have been
lawfully slain--and he was well looked for; but now, No."
"Holy Mary! might have been slain! He ought to have been
slain, a thousand times over."
"Luis, I wish that you had been a hero, and killed him. Then
all our life long, if you had said, `Isabel, I slew Santa
Anna,' I should have given you honor for it. I should be
obedient to your wishes for that deed."
"But my charming one, I prefer to be obedient to your wish.
Let us not think of the creature; he is but a dead dog."
The doctor turned to his son. "Thomas, tell us about the
capture."
"I was riding with a young lieutenant, called Sylvester, from
Cincinnati, and he saw a man hiding in the grass. He was in
coarsest clothing, but Sylvester noticed under it linen of
fine cambric. He said: `You are an officer, I perceive,
sir.' The man denied it, but when he could not escape, he
asked to be taken to General Houston. Sylvester tied him to
his bridle-rein, and we soon learned the truth; for as we
passed the Mexican prisoners they lifted their hats and said,
with a murmur of amazement, `El Presidente!'
"The news spread like wildfire. As we took him through the
camp he trembled at the looks and words that assailed him, and
prayed us continually, `for the love of God and the saints,'
not to let him be slain. We took him to Houston in safety.
Houston was resting on the ground, having had, as my father
knows, a night of great suffering. Santa Anna approached
him, and, laying his
exertions and anxieties of the past week."
"But he is better now?"
"Yes; I dressed the wound as well as my appliances permitted;
but he will not be able to use his foot for some time. No one
slept that night. Weary as the men were, their excitement and
happiness were too great for the bonds of sleep. In the
morning the rich spoils of the enemy's camp were divided among
them. Houston refused any part in them. `My share of the
honor is sufficient,' he said. Yet the spoils were very
valuable ones to men who but a few hours before had nothing
but the clothing they wore and the arms they carried. Among
them were nearly one thousand stand of English muskets, three
hundred valuable mules, one hundred fine horses, provisions,
clothing, tents, and at least twelve thousand dollars in
silver."
"Were you on the field all the time, father?"
"I was near Houston from first to last. When he saw the
battle was won, he did his best to prevent needless slaughter.
But men on a battle-field like San Jacinto cannot be reasoned
with; after a certain point, they could not even be commanded.
The majority had some private revenge to satisfy after the
public welfare had been served. We met one old man in a
frenzy, covered with blood from his white beard to his boots,
his arms bare to his shoulders, his knife dripping from haft
to point."
"Houston looked at him, and said something about mercy and
valor. `General,' he said, `they killed two of my boys at
Goliad, and my brother at the Alamo. I'll not spare a Mexican
while I've the strength to kill one. I'm on the scent for
Santa Anna, and, by G--, if I find him, I will spare Texas and
you any more trouble with the brute.'"
At this moment Thomas Worth entered the marquee, and, in an
excited manner, said:
"Santa Anna is taken! Santa Anna is taken! "
"Taken!" cried the Senora in a passion.
"Taken! Is it possible the wretch is yet in this world? I
was assuring myself that he was in one not so comfortable.
Why is he not killed? It is an inconceivable insult to
humanity to let him live. Have you thought of your brother
Juan? Give me the knife in your belt, Thomas, if you cannot
use it."
"My dear mother--"
"Maria, my life! Thomas could not wisely kill so important a
prisoner. Texas wants him to secure her peace and
independence. The lives of all the Americans in Mexico may
depend upon his. Mere personal vengeance on him would be too
dear a satisfaction. On the battle-field he might have been
lawfully slain--and he was well looked for; but now, No."
"Holy Mary! might have been slain! He ought to have been
slain, a thousand times over."
"Luis, I wish that you had been a hero, and killed him. Then
all our life long, if you had said, `Isabel, I slew Santa
Anna,' I should have given you honor for it. I should be
obedient to your wishes for that deed."
"But my charming one, I prefer to be obedient to your wish.
Let us not think of the creature; he is but a dead dog."
The doctor turned to his son. "Thomas, tell us about the
capture."
"I was riding with a young lieutenant, called Sylvester, from
Cincinnati, and he saw a man hiding in the grass. He was in
coarsest clothing, but Sylvester noticed under it linen of
fine cambric. He said: `You are an officer, I perceive,
sir.' The man denied it, but when he could not escape, he
asked to be taken to General Houston. Sylvester tied him to
his bridle-rein, and we soon learned the truth; for as we
passed the Mexican prisoners they lifted their hats and said,
with a murmur of amazement, `El Presidente!'
"The news spread like wildfire. As we took him through the
camp he trembled at the looks and words that assailed him, and
prayed us continually, `for the love of God and the saints,'
not to let him be slain. We took him to Houston in safety.
Houston was resting on the ground, having had, as my father
knows, a night of great suffering. Santa Anna approached
him, and, laying his