The Lost Gold of the Montezumas Part 28

Open swung the gate, and in rode the very airy captain of lancers who had been sent to demand the surrender of the fort, but who had insolently neglected to acknowledge the military rank of its commander.

[Ill.u.s.tration: IN RODE THE VERY AIRY CAPTAIN OF LANCERS]

That was the sum and substance of the letter he shortly delivered to Travis, after dismounting and exchanging formal compliments. Added to it, however, was the grim a.s.surance that, in case of resistance, the fort would be stormed at once and no quarter whatever would be shown to the garrison.

"Good!" said Travis, smilingly. "No use in my writing. Go back to the general and tell him to come on. We are ready."

"Is that all?" exclaimed the astonished captain. "Are you mad? Do you really intend to resist us?"

"Travis," whispered Crockett, "tell him to say that if they'll march right hum and agree to stay thar, we won't hurt a soul of 'em."

The captain heard him, and his astonishment showed itself more plainly, but the reply of Travis was strictly formal.

"That is all," he said. "He knows me. Tell him I am in command here.

We shall hold the Alamo!"

Low bowed the captain, turning to his horse, and in a moment more he was spurring beyond the gate, and it closed clangingly behind him.

There was really nothing more for the bugler to do, but he blew his horn furiously before he galloped away.

"It'll take something better'n bugle music to get the Greasers over those walls," remarked Crockett; but the long eighteen-pounder was now at one of the southerly embrasures, and, at a signal from Travis, a thunder of defiance rang out.

"That's the last blank cartridge we'll fire," said Travis. "Now let's see what they'll do next. The fools can't really mean to try to storm the works? I almost wish they would."

"If he'd said he'd do it to-day, he'll put it off till to-morrow,"

replied Crockett, sarcastically. "He never kept his word since he was born,--except about throat-cutting."

No other voice responded. Quiet, resolute, cheerful, the picked men who const.i.tuted that heroic garrison were at their stations, and not a quiver of fear showed itself among them. As for the enemy, Crockett had not been far out of the way. Postponement was second nature to Santa Anna. Besides, he was really possessed of considerable military education and ability. He could see that, as the rangers said among themselves, "he had a pretty hard nut to crack." He would therefore think about it during the rest of that day. All he was ready to do at once was to send his heaviest battery into position and order it to blaze away. It was composed of very handsomely polished bra.s.s nine-pounder guns. It swept into its place with a flourish of bra.s.s music from the bands and a sounding of many drums.

"There will be a breach in the wall before sunset," declared the general, confidently. "We can charge in to-morrow."

Loudly roared the guns, and they were good ones, but praise did not await the artillerymen. One shot struck the wall of the church.

Another went over the fort. The remainder fell short and ploughed deep furrows in the sandy soil.

"Santa Maria!" exclaimed the colonel of artillery. "We must do better next time."

The six guns of the battery were reloaded. Every piece was aimed with care, and off they went again.

"How is it, Crockett?" shouted Travis to his friend, for the eccentric satirist was sitting on the wall, his legs dangling outside, and he was leaning forward.

"Two on 'em hit the wall," replied Crockett. "Dented it some. Tell Daly to come around and see the holes."

"Bowie," said Travis, "you and Daly. Don't let another man out. His next battery is nearly ready to open fire."

It was quite ready, but it was composed of lighter pieces. A minute or so later, Bowie and the sergeant were out in front talking to Crockett on the wall.

"They've damaged it a little," said Daly. "I don't like the looks of it."

"Could they punch a hole through," asked Davy, "if they hammered long enough?"

"Reckon they could," remarked Bowie. "I think that's our worst danger.

But I want to hear from those other guns."

Two batteries sounded this time, and the three Texans stood still and watched with deep interest the effect of the shots. It did not seem to occur to either of them that a cannonball might possibly hurt a man.

"Right over my head," said Crockett, quietly. "Hit the roof of the convent."

"Hurrah!" shouted Daly. "Them nine-pound b.a.l.l.s punch, but the sixes don't make a mark worth a cent. They can jest thunder away."

"Come on," said Bowie. "Let's go in. If they had heavier guns there'd be a breach in that wall pretty soon. Anything smaller'n sixes would be like pelting us with apples."

Santa Anna did not seem to be of that opinion. Or else he may have calculated that sharp cannonading would dishearten the garrison. His own troops evidently enjoyed it, but there was a severe shock awaiting the distinguished Mexican. Again and again his heaviest battery had spoken thunderously, and he felt sure that it must have accomplished something, but now before him stood General Castrillon, in command of all the artillery of the invading army. His face was red, his moustaches seemed to curl with wrath, and his first utterances were half choked with furious execrations upon the army commissary at Monterey.

"What is the matter, general?" sternly demanded the commander-in-chief.

"No more nine-pound shot!" roared General Castrillon. "The miscreant has loaded the other wagon with twelve-pound b.a.l.l.s! They are useless!"

"_Caramba!_" almost screamed his chief. "I will have him shot! Let the cannonading cease. The fort must be taken by escalade. Have the ladders ready by nine o'clock to-morrow morning."

The fort was safer, but an admirable example had been given of the inefficiency, indolence, and general worthlessness of the Mexican officials. Not even the probability of being shot for their blunders could induce them to discharge their duties thoroughly.

"That battery's tired out," remarked Crockett, as the pause in the firing grew longer. "Reckon they're holdin' on while they can take a game of seven-up. They haven't hurt us any."

"Yes, they have," said Travis, quietly. "Don't you see? Or haven't you been up the church again? They're swinging their camps around to make a blockade."

"They can't choke us off that way," responded Crockett. "Thar ain't enough of 'em. If they'll string out in as long a line as would go'

round, it 'll be thin all the way. I'd go a-gunning anywhar along that line."

"That isn't the point," said Travis. "He's arranging to cut off reinforcements. He knows how many men we have, you can bet on that.

He doesn't mean to let any more in."

"The kind of men that are coming," growled Crockett, "are likely to find a way in or make one. But it's about time they were here."

"I'm going to send a despatch to Houston," said Travis. "Carson has volunteered to take it."

"Well," returned Crockett, "most likely he'll know without our tellin', but what if Carson doesn't get through?"

"We must take our chances," said Travis. "One man's all we can spare.

I'm almost afraid Houston can't send any more to us just now."

"Every man in Texas owns a rifle!" exclaimed Crockett, with energy.

"Not a livin' soul ought to stay at home."

"Pay and rations," said Travis, calmly. "I'm afraid Bowie's dollars didn't come in time. It isn't any fault of his, but all the gold in Mexico wouldn't save the Alamo."

Bowie was listening, but he turned away without speaking, for he was questioning himself. Was it any fault of his? Had it been his duty to return at once with the cash found in the _adobe_ ruin instead of pus.h.i.+ng on with Tetzcatl? It was a serious question, but at last he put it away.

"Come what may," he told himself, "I could not have done otherwise. I had no choice. I was driven. I was in one of those places where a man cannot decide for himself. The Comanches did it."