Remember the Alamo [83]
daughters could hear
and see; but all else was for twelve days mere surmise. But
only one surmise was possible, when it was known that the
little band of defiant heroes were fighting twenty, times
their own number--that no help could come to them--that the
Mexicans were cutting off their water, and that their
provisions were getting very low. The face of Ortiz grew
constantly more gloomy, and yet there was something of triumph
in his tone as he told the miserably anxious women with what
desperate valor the Americans were fighting; and how fatally
every one of their shots told.
On Saturday night, the fifth of March, he called Antonia
aside, and said, "My Senorita, you have a great heart, and so
I speak to you. The end is close. To-day the Mexicans
succeeded in getting a large cannon within gunshot of the
Alamo, just where it is weakest. Senor Captain Crockett has
stood on the roof all day, and as the gunners have advanced to
fire it he has shot them down. A group of Americans were
around him; they loaded rifles and passed them to him quickly
as he could fire them. Santa Anna was in a fury past
believing. He swore then `by every saint in heaven or hell'
to enter the Alamo to-morrow. Senor Navarro says he is raging
like a tiger, and that none of his officers dare approach him.
The Senor bade me tell you that to-morrow night he will be
here to escort you to Gonzales; for no American will his fury
spare; he knows neither sex nor age in his passions. And when
the Alamo falls, the soldiers will spread themselves around
for plunder, or shelter, and this empty house is sure to
attract them. The Senorita sees with her own intelligence how
things must take place."
"I understand, Captain. Will you go with us?"
"I will have the Jersey wagon ready at midnight. I know the
horses. Before sun-up we shall have made many miles."
That night as Antonia and her sister sat in the dark together,
Antonia said: "Isabel, tomorrow the Alamo will fall. There
is no hope for the poor, brave souls there. Then Santa Anna
will kill every American."
"Oh, dear Antonia, what is to become of us? We shall have no
home, nothing to eat, nowhere to sleep. I think we shall die.
Also, there is mi madre. How I do pity her!"
"She is to be your care, Isabel. I shall rely on you to
comfort and manage her. I will attend to all else. We are
going to our father, and Thomas--and Luis."
Yes, and after all I am very tired of this dreadful life. It
is a kind of convent. One is buried alive here, and still not
safe. Do you really imagine that Luis is with my father and
Thomas?"
"I feel sure of it."
"What a great enjoyment it will be for me to see him again!"
"And how delighted he will be! And as it is necessary that we
go, Isabel, we must make the best of the necessity. Try and
get mi madre to feel this."
"I can do that with a few words, and tears, and kisses. Mi
madre is like one's good angel--very easy to persuade."
"And now we must try and sleep, queridita."
"Are you sure there is no danger to-night, Antonia?"
"Not to-night. Say your prayer, and sleep in God's presence.
There is yet nothing to fear. Ortiz and Lopez Navarro are
watching every movement."
But at three o'clock in the morning, the quiet of their rest
was broken by sharp bugle calls. The stars were yet in the
sky, and all was so still that they thrilled the air like
something unearthly. Antonia started up, and ran to the roof.
Bugle was answering bugle; and their tones were imperative and
cruel, as if they were blown by evil spirits. It was
impossible to avoid the feeling that the call was a
PREDESTINED summons, full of the notes of calamity. She
was weighed down by this sorrowful presentiment, because, as
yet, neither experience nor years had taught her that
PREDESTINED ILLS ARE NEVER LOST.
The unseen moving multitudes troubled the atmosphere between
them. In wild, savage gusts, she heard the military bands
playing the infamous Dequelo, whose notes of blood and fire
commingled,
and see; but all else was for twelve days mere surmise. But
only one surmise was possible, when it was known that the
little band of defiant heroes were fighting twenty, times
their own number--that no help could come to them--that the
Mexicans were cutting off their water, and that their
provisions were getting very low. The face of Ortiz grew
constantly more gloomy, and yet there was something of triumph
in his tone as he told the miserably anxious women with what
desperate valor the Americans were fighting; and how fatally
every one of their shots told.
On Saturday night, the fifth of March, he called Antonia
aside, and said, "My Senorita, you have a great heart, and so
I speak to you. The end is close. To-day the Mexicans
succeeded in getting a large cannon within gunshot of the
Alamo, just where it is weakest. Senor Captain Crockett has
stood on the roof all day, and as the gunners have advanced to
fire it he has shot them down. A group of Americans were
around him; they loaded rifles and passed them to him quickly
as he could fire them. Santa Anna was in a fury past
believing. He swore then `by every saint in heaven or hell'
to enter the Alamo to-morrow. Senor Navarro says he is raging
like a tiger, and that none of his officers dare approach him.
The Senor bade me tell you that to-morrow night he will be
here to escort you to Gonzales; for no American will his fury
spare; he knows neither sex nor age in his passions. And when
the Alamo falls, the soldiers will spread themselves around
for plunder, or shelter, and this empty house is sure to
attract them. The Senorita sees with her own intelligence how
things must take place."
"I understand, Captain. Will you go with us?"
"I will have the Jersey wagon ready at midnight. I know the
horses. Before sun-up we shall have made many miles."
That night as Antonia and her sister sat in the dark together,
Antonia said: "Isabel, tomorrow the Alamo will fall. There
is no hope for the poor, brave souls there. Then Santa Anna
will kill every American."
"Oh, dear Antonia, what is to become of us? We shall have no
home, nothing to eat, nowhere to sleep. I think we shall die.
Also, there is mi madre. How I do pity her!"
"She is to be your care, Isabel. I shall rely on you to
comfort and manage her. I will attend to all else. We are
going to our father, and Thomas--and Luis."
Yes, and after all I am very tired of this dreadful life. It
is a kind of convent. One is buried alive here, and still not
safe. Do you really imagine that Luis is with my father and
Thomas?"
"I feel sure of it."
"What a great enjoyment it will be for me to see him again!"
"And how delighted he will be! And as it is necessary that we
go, Isabel, we must make the best of the necessity. Try and
get mi madre to feel this."
"I can do that with a few words, and tears, and kisses. Mi
madre is like one's good angel--very easy to persuade."
"And now we must try and sleep, queridita."
"Are you sure there is no danger to-night, Antonia?"
"Not to-night. Say your prayer, and sleep in God's presence.
There is yet nothing to fear. Ortiz and Lopez Navarro are
watching every movement."
But at three o'clock in the morning, the quiet of their rest
was broken by sharp bugle calls. The stars were yet in the
sky, and all was so still that they thrilled the air like
something unearthly. Antonia started up, and ran to the roof.
Bugle was answering bugle; and their tones were imperative and
cruel, as if they were blown by evil spirits. It was
impossible to avoid the feeling that the call was a
PREDESTINED summons, full of the notes of calamity. She
was weighed down by this sorrowful presentiment, because, as
yet, neither experience nor years had taught her that
PREDESTINED ILLS ARE NEVER LOST.
The unseen moving multitudes troubled the atmosphere between
them. In wild, savage gusts, she heard the military bands
playing the infamous Dequelo, whose notes of blood and fire
commingled,