The city of San Antonio de Bejar—The crumbling monuments of Spanish supremacy—A place of surpassing interest to travellers—The spirit of revenge—The morning of Washington’s Birthday, 1836—Davy, the scout once more, watches the coming of Santa Anna and four thousand men—The Alamo prepares for the last struggle—The Bee-Hunter salutes the Lone Star flag—The Pirate goes for help to Goliad—But one man deserts the garrison of the Alamo—The beginning of the siege on February 24th—Thimblerig is struck by a bullet, and takes revenge—The Pirate is seen returning, pursued by Mexicans, and the Bee-Hunter leads a party to his relief—The Pirate dies of a bullet wound at the gates of the fort, and the Bee-Hunter is fatally injured—The Bee-Hunter’s death—Farewell to Kate of Nacogdoches!—The Red Flag on the walls of the San Fernando church—Orders to the Mexican Army for the assault.

It is not possible here to repeat the history of San Antonio de Bejar. As the site of crumbling monuments of early American history, it has no rival. The Alamo, last remnant of the Mission that was at one time at San Ildefonso, near Santa FÉ, is the restored chapel of its Brotherhood. Its massive walls are the same that have met the many shocks of battle for two hundred years. There the wild Apaches and Comanches found a stronghold to check their ravages, and there the equally savage men of fairer skins slaughtered each other with grim delight. When the Missions of the Concepcion, of San JosÉ, of San Juan, of San Francis of the Sword, now crumbling to inevitable decay, shall be only mounds in the midst of stunted trees and matted vines, when the exquisite carvings of their broad faÇades shall have turned to dust again, the traveller will stand before the Alamo with reverence, and enter, with uncovered head, the dim recesses of this altar-place of liberty.

When Davy Crockett and his recruits first saw its walls, the spirit of revenge was rife. The butchery at Tampico of thirty American adventurers, captured in the schooner Mary Jane, in spite of the one hundred thousand dollar ransom offered, and the murder of Governor Salcedo, two other Mexican Governors, and a dozen officers and hidalgos, by Gutierrez and Delgado, Mexican rebels who were allied with a force of Americans camped about the Alamo, had wrought the racial hatred to a frenzy. Every man longed for battle, and the extinction of the last vestige of the power of the enemy. When news came that Santa Anna and four thousand Mexicans were on the way, the cowards faded from sight, knowing that war was to be under the Red Flag, and without quarter.

On the morning of Washington’s Birthday, 1836, Davy and the Bee-Hunter, with a dozen of the roughest riders that ever fought Apaches on the plains, sat their saddles upon a mesquite-covered hill a few miles south of the twin towers of the Mission de La Concepcion, watching a blur of dust that lay upon the hills. Suddenly there flashed upon their sight the glitter of bayonets and of silver eagles perched above waving flags. As they stood intent, the roll of drums came to their ears, and over the winding river rang the bugle calls of the hurrying hosts. Santa Anna was within twenty miles of the Alamo, and the Americans’ horses were put to their utmost speed as they raced towards the town with the long-expected tidings.

As the scouting party clattered through the crooked streets, hundreds of the inhabitants followed to hear the news they brought. At the gates of the fortress were Bowie, Travis, and more than one hundred and fifty others whose names are on the roll of “the Battle Dead.” Every preparation had been made for the struggle, but both ammunition and food were scarce. Their hopes were placed upon the expected relief by the forces under command of Colonel Fannin at Goliad.

In the bright morning light every man stood with uncovered head as the flag bearing one great star with the name “TEXAS” between its points went bravely to the top of the garrison staff. As its colors rippled in beauty overhead, the voice of the Bee-Hunter broke into song, thrilling with new courage the souls of the devoted band:

During the afternoon of this day, or perhaps after dark, the Pirate, the Indian Hunter, and two others volunteered to carry an urgent appeal to Fannin, who was supposed to be about one hundred miles away. They had scarcely made their way out of the fort when thirty men from Gonzales came in, tired and dusty, after eluding the rapidly concentrating forces of Santa Anna.

There were now in the garrison one hundred and eighty-seven men and a few women and children, among them the wife of Lieutenant Dickinson. When Davy and his party arrived with the news of Santa Anna’s approach, there was not a man who could not have escaped; yet when Travis asked who would stand by him to the last, only one man turned away. His name is known, but it has been borne by braver men, so let us judge him with what leniency we may. The others awaited the supreme hour of battle with a courage that can only animate the defenders of their faith in a righteous cause.

On the 24th, having invested the fortress, the Mexicans planted a battery near the San Antonio River, three hundred and fifty yards away, and began a cannonade. Occasionally a bit of the parapet would be clipped, but most of the shots were stopped by the thick adobe walls. The riflemen in the fort now began their deadly work, and one by one the gunners fell beside their pieces. At one of the batteries, placed where it commanded the gates of the Alamo, a score of Mexicans lay dead and dying before the position was abandoned. The Americans wasted little powder in working the fourteen small cannon about the fort. The scanty supply could be used to better advantage in their long rifles. The Mexicans fired continually from behind every house and tree, and it was dangerous to be seen above the walls.

During the afternoon of the 24th, Thimblerig was struck by a three-ounce leaden ball, after it had glanced from the parapet. It was a painful but not dangerous wound, and Davy dressed it as best he could. When he advised Thimblerig to keep the missile as a souvenir, the latter said that he hoped to be shot again if he did. He proceeded to cut it up into slugs, wherewith to pay his debts to the enemy.

Before daylight of the 25th two more batteries were planted about the Alamo, and the situation grew serious. In spite of the deadly aim with which the defenders killed or wounded the men who served the pieces, their places were immediately filled by others, for there were thousands at Santa Anna’s command. During the 25th, Thimblerig is said to have paid his debts, with interest, by dropping four Mexicans with the slugs he had made from the bullet which had struck him.

On the 26th Colonel Bowie fell ill with typhoid, and was unable to leave his bed. He is said to have been badly injured from a fall just before this, but even in his delirium he seems to have had no thought but to direct and cheer the smoke-grimed garrison. The Bee-Hunter kept every one in good heart with his jests and songs and his unfailing spirits. If he thought of Kate, so far away, he gave no sign. During the afternoon he led a sortie from the rear stockade about the fort, for the purpose of obtaining wood and water. Before they could return they were seen by some of General Sesma’s men, and a running fight followed. The Bible in the Bee-Hunter’s pocket, which had been Kate’s last gift, was struck by a bullet, but it glanced away without harming him. As he fell asleep, Davy heard the girl’s name upon his lips.

The appeal to the inhabitants of San Antonio for assistance, issued by Travis upon the 24th, had not brought any volunteers, but food and other supplies were promised. To obtain these it was necessary to send out picked men after dark, and considerable forage and grain was brought in during the 28th and 29th. There took place among the enemy about this time certain movements that might have been caused by the approach of Colonel Fannin’s command. For awhile, the slightest hope was enough to raise the spirits of the garrison. Every day gained made the possibility of relief seem more probable. But as night after night fell about the city, with the enemy’s lines drawing ever closer, it was hard to fight with a cheerful faith.

On the 4th of March, when the sun was low, a man was seen to the westward of the fort, running towards the gate of the stockade, and pursued by several Mexicans. He was almost at once recognized as the Pirate, who had been one of the men sent in search of relief from Goliad. Crockett, Thimblerig, and the Indian were the first to rush to his aid. As they opened the gate of the stockade a dozen men followed them, and a fierce hand-to-hand fight took place. Another sortie was made from the stockade, and with the help of the men in this party, they were able at last to repulse the enemy. Eight Mexicans were killed, but the Americans had also fared badly. The Pirate and the Bee-Hunter were mortally wounded, and Davy had a terrible sabre-cut across his forehead.

The old Pirate died without a word, just as they entered the gate. His story was never known. Davy saw the young Bee-Hunter laid carefully in his bed, and helped to dress the wound in his side. Until midnight he lay without signs of the pain he endured, and then he called for Colonel Crockett. Davy asked if there was anything he could do for him. He shook his head with a sigh that was like a sob. “Poor Kate! Poor Kate!” he exclaimed. “Her words were only too true.” For a moment he was silent, and then in a low, clear voice he sang the last words he had heard from her lips:

He spoke no more, and a few minutes afterwards breathed his last.

In the morning light of the 5th of March the Red Flag fluttered in silence above the old San Fernando church. No quarter was to be expected, and there was little hope of relief, but there was still a chance to escape. Travis again asked if there were any who wished to go, but not a man showed the white feather. Every possible preparation was made for the expected assault. During the afternoon a Comanche arrow was sent into the fort by some friendly person in the city, with a copy of the following proclamation attached. This proclamation had just been issued to the army, and is a matter of record: