Memoirs of David L. Kokernot

SONS OF DEWITT COLONY TEXAS
© 1997-2001, Wallace L. McKeehan, All Rights Reserved.
DeWitt Colony People & Demographics | Old Texian Memoirs

REMINISCENCES OF EARLY DAYS IN TEXAS
By D. L. Kokernot Founder of the Kokernot Family in Texas
(Gonzales Inquirer of August 17, 1878)

David L. Kokernot I was born in the City of Amsterdam, Holland, in 1805; came to the United States with my father in the year 1817. I was apprenticed at the age of 12 years to Capt. John Summers, as pilot, at the Belize, mouth of the Mississippi River. When I had reached 17 years, my father took me home to New Orleans, where I went to school one year. Then I shipped before the mast on board of the William Tell for Hamburg, Germany; thence to the City of Amsterdam, Holland, and took a cargo of gin and returned. to New York. I then shipped in the brig Boston, Capt. Done, as second mate, for New Orleans. I stayed at home about six months and then got berth of second mate on board the Prince William for Bremen, and thence back to New York. Here I bought a lot of flour, lard and bacon, to the amount of $3000, for a venture to the island of Port au Prince, San Domingo, having sailed for said port some time in September, 1824, in the ship George Washington. The weather was unfavorable and squally. On the 24th of September we encountered a terrific gale which drove us on a reef of rocks off the coast of Haiti and allhands save three were lost. Two others and myself were thrown upon a rock, wellnigh dead; but we held on to the rock until next day, when we were picked up by a revenue cutter belonging to the island. The captain and crew were all black, but they treated us very kindly, giving us something to eat and some good old rum, which refreshed us greatly. In fact, they did all in their power to make us comfortable. After two days they landed us in the town of Port au Prince. Here I was in a strange land, without money or friends, among a nation of free black people. No pen or tongue can describe my feelings as I stood on the wharf in this forlorn situation. At last I went on board a French vessel to try to get employment. They agreed to give me four-bits per day to work in the hot, broiling sun, loading and unloading the vessel; but I felt thankful to God it was no worse. My shipmates fared as I did. After working one month the Lord sent me a friend who took me home to his plantation. His name was Edward Brutus. He was an intelligent, kind, noble man; and besides, one of the finest looking colored men I ever saw. He was six feet in height and formed in proportion. He was born, raised and educated in the City of New York. He lived in a magnificent house built of stone and finely finished. He had a splendid farm and worked some sixty hands cultivating coffee, sugar and tobacco. He offered to furnish me with as much money as I needed, but I declined the proffered benefit. So one day he said to me: "Kokernot, if you will not accept money, you can, if you wish, go into my coffee plantation, gather as much as you wish, sell it to supply yourself with clothing and such other things as you may need."

So I went to work. The first week I gathered three hundred pounds of coffee, I lashed it on the back of a small donkey, walked to town, leading the donkey and sold it at five cents per pound. I bought myself some clothes, boots and a hat which was not a day sooner than I needed them; got on my little donkey and rode home, feeling 100 per cent better than when I landed. During the eleven months I stayed and worked on the island, I was very kindly treated by all the inhabitants. A vessel came in from New Orleans commanded by an old friend, Capt. James Spillman, who afterwards settled on an island at the mouth of San Jacinto Bay, which is now known as Spillman's Island. After bidding my true friend Brutus and his kind wife a regretted adieu, I took passage on this vessel June 21, 1825, for New Orleans, having been absent from my home two years. On arrival I found my mother in deep mourning, for the news had reached the city that the vessel I sailed in and all on board had been lost. But thanks be unto God for sparing me, as I trust, for some good purpose, I now acknowledge that His goodness has followed me, both on sea and on land, all the days of my life, for which I can never sufficiently praise His most Holy name.

Once more there was great rejoicing among my friends, for the dead was alive again, and the lost found. I remained at home a short time, then left for Hamburg, Germany, on business for my mother and to travel through Germany and Holland, in which I spent about twelve months. On this trip I spent much money and enjoyed what the world calls much pleasure. Then I safely returned home and engaged in mercantile pursuits. On the first day of October, 1830, I received a commission from Andrew Jackson, President of the United States, in the revenue cutter service, on board the Ingram for the district of New Orleans. On March 12, 1831, received orders from Marin Gordon, collector of customs for that district, to find a good schooner of light draught and about 150 tons burden and to charter the same and report. Accordingly I chartered the schooner Julius Caesar for a three months? cruise down the coast as far as Galveston Bay. At that time the island and pass Barataria were alive with smugglers, and with the view of discovering their rendevouz and plans, I was sent thither. This pass leads into the Mississippi above New Orleans, through which they carried their goods into the city, and were doing a flourishing business at that time. The previous year we had captured eight or ten sloops and schooners.

On the 18th, after having taken on board twenty passengers and a crew of ten men, for Galveston Bay, we left the city and dropped down to the mouth of the Mississippi River. Here my old friends, the pilots, used every effort to prevent my going to sea; but like a great many young men, I thought I knew more than they did. They said a heavy storm was then brewing. But I could not see it. So on the 20th I set sail under a fine breeze, to the northwest, making a fine run down the coast the first day. At 7 P.M. the wind veered to the northeast, blowing a tremendous tornado. Under close reef, foresail, about 1 o'clock P.M., the vessel sprang a leak. I set both pumps going, all my crew and passengers working for life to keep the water from gaining on us. At daybreak there were two feet of water in the hold, and it was still gaining upon us every moment and the hurricane raging. In all my travels and seafaring life I have never encountered such a storm. The entire coast, even to New Orleans, was lined with wrecks. Our only chance to save our lives was to drive for the shore.

At 7 o'clock A.M. we descried the Sabine Pass, the breakers running mountain high. At the moment I saw two porpoises going for the shore and knowing that they always kept in the deepest water, I ordered all hands to go below, save Mr. Thompson, my mate and two men. We then ran for the shore in the wake of the porpoises. Mr. Thompson and one man lashed to the wheel, myself and one man to the rigging. The vessel was then running at the rate of fifteen knots per hour and we were expecting every moment that she would founder, and our only hope was to make the pass. As we drew nearer the breakers the wind hauled round east northeast, trying itself. When we struck the breakers the deck was swept clean and the last boat taken. But, thanks be unto God, we were all saved. I ran the schooner to the shell bank near the Texas side of the pass, got out an anchor on the reef to keep her from sinking until I could get all hands ashore. We then went to-work cutting down the mast and spars and made a raft and in a short time we all got off safe on the Texas shore. The schooner was a total wreck.

But now comes our suffering. We were on a barren coast, without water or any help; but plenty of mosquitos, snakes and alligators. Two of my men found a small dugout while rambling in the salt marsh. On the next day two of us started up the Sabine Bay in search of water or assistance from any quarter. After toiling all day we found the Neches and Sabine Rivers. We pulled up the Sabine some thirty miles without finding a living soul. We then came down, filling two kegs with water, and returned to camp. It was indeed a large camp, there being some thirty men, women and children. They had gotten all the sails ashore and made good tents for the families. Mr. R. Morris, wife and three children, John W. Brown, Redman and M. Gill, were among the passengers. After having rested one day we started the second time to try the Neches River, still in hopes of finding some assistance. But after having pulled up the river some twenty-five miles we saw no sign of any human foot upon the soil. Down-hearted and wearied out, we returned to camp, having filled our kegs with water.

After two days' rest we started south down the beach towards Galveston, each taking a bottle and some provisions. At the end of two days we came to an old deserted hut called the High Islands. Here we dug a hole and found fresh water and also killed a poor wild suckling sow. Finding an old broken salt kettle, we cooked part of our pork. The but had been the abode of one of Lafitte's pirates. The last one who had dwelt there was named Burrel Franks, one of Lafitte's huntsmen. Here we reposed in the shade one day.

On the day following, we started down the beach, hoping to find some human being who could help us in this time of need; but night came on and no help was found. At this juncture, Mr. Redman said that if we would strike across the salt marsh to Redfish Bar we could wade across to the mainland to Mr. Edward's house. This was the father of Monroe Edwards who afterwards became one of the most noted counterfeiters in the United States, and died in Sing Sing Prison. After no little wading and bogging we got across Galveston Bay near the mouth of Doubly Bayou on the east side of the bay. Our water was all out and we were very faint and exhausted. One of the men had a little water in a bottle for which I offered him $500 in gold. He refused. During the time Mr. Gill had drank so much brackish water that he became sick and died in my arms in great agony. I rolled the poor fellow up in my mosquito bar and laid him down in the marsh to sleep that sleep that knows no waking. The bay was high, the wind blowing from the, southeast and the bar being under water, there was not the least chance to cross over to Mr. Edwards on the west side of Redfish Bar. We were all well nigh dead, but after much toil and fatigue we reached the gulf shore.

Here, for the first time, we gave up all hope, and laid down in the surf to die. But Mr. Morris was not so exhausted as the rest of us, so he managed by dint of great tact and perseverance to make his way back to High Island, fill all the bottles with water, and return about midnight. He pulled us out of the surf, poured some water down our throats and brought us to life, for we were well nigh dead.

On the next day none of us could move. Being some what strengthened, I started alone, along the gulf shore to see if I could not find some help; but I had not the least thought that we should ever see each other in this world. After walking down the beach some five miles, hungry, sick, tired, without water and food, I thought of home, of my dear wife and mother, and that I must die alone on this barren shore. But the thought came into my mind; make another effort---go on. I picked up my gun, which contained the last load of powder and shot, and started on, almost in despair. I soon saw ahead of me a large gang of cranes. Now was my time. Life or death depended on that shot. I crawled up behind some drift wood and, taking good aim, fired, bringing down one of the birds. I ran up caught it, cut its throat and sucked the blood, tore it asunder and ate one-half of it raw. Rest assured it tasted extraordinarily well. The repast revived and strengthened me very much.

Taking up my gun. I traveled on. In a short time I saw a small house to the southwest, which was Bolivar Point. I then left the beach and took a straight course for the house, going through the salt marsh, which was quite muddy. Covered with mud, I reached the house and found three small children, the oldest being twelve years. There were two boys and one little girl seven or eight years old. They were the children of Burrell Franks, the great hunter. The names of those children I shall never forget, for they saved our lives in the following manner: When I reached the house they came to see a sight - a man covered from head to foot with black mud. But they were not afraid of me and brought a stool for me to sit on. I asked them where their parents were. They replied that they had gone up the Trinity River to see some friends and purchase supplies. I then asked if they had anything to eat. "Yes, plenty-" I think I told them about our shipwreck, and that six of my men were dying for want of water and food. The eldest, Elijah, went and caught his pony, got some bread, some beef and a jug of water, and went to hunt the whereabouts of my famishing men, according to the description I had given him. The dear little girl gave me a large bowl of milk, which I greedily devoured. It tasted more delicious than anything I had ever tasted, but in a short time it made me very sick, throwing me into a burning fever. While I lay there scorched with fever, suffering intensely, this little girl sat by me and gave me water to cool my parched lips. At last she said to herself.

"I will make him well."

It I looked at the child in surprise. She seemed more like an angel than a frail child of sorrow. Soon she ran out into the prairie and gathered a handful of a weed they call the Golden Rod. She took a quart of sweet milk, put the weeds into the milk, put the weeds into the milk and boiled them. Then, having sweetened it with sugar, she brought the concoction and brought it to me. I had watched the child in all her movements.

"Drink it," she said. "It will make you well."

In less than an hour it threw me into a profuse perspiration, the sweat exuding from every pore. Next morning I was quite well. This dear little girl still lives in Corpus Christi. Her name is Mrs. Bloodworth. Elijah Franks also lives in that city. His brother William lives somewhere on the coast. If either of them sees these lines they will know that I have neither forgotten them nor their deeds of kindness, and we may be certain the great God has not. On the second day after Elijah went in search of the men, all returned safe to Point Bolivar, yet weak and feeble. We remained one week, and as Providence ordered, a small schooner, Captain Lovejoy, came to the Point. I made a bargain with him at $400.00 to go to Sabine Pass and bring the passengers and crew to Anahuac, situated near the mouth of the Trinity River, but first to take my comrades and myself up to the town. We arrived at that place on the 23rd of April, 1831, and were kindly received by all the inhabitants. Among them were W. B. Travis, Charles Wilcox,, Col. James Morgan, William Harden, and others who were willing and ready to do anything in their power to make us comfortable. We stayed in this town until the 20th of July. My old friend Captain James Spillman, who took me from the Island of San Domingo in November, 1825, came in and I engaged passage for myself and men to New Orleans. On the 30th we landed in the city and found all my friends in great trouble on my account, supposing that I had been lost with my schooner. When they saw me they were rejoiced indeed.

Now, my friends, at that time I was lost indeed, but, thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ, now I am found.

(As copied from the Gonzales Inquirer of June 22, 1878) (As copied from the Inquirer, May 4, 1878)

The Battle of Anahuac. According to my promise, I send you some reminiscences of what is called the "Anahuac Scrape", or the Battle of Anahuac) which took place in June, 1832; also of the first Texas Navy, and my second trip to Texas, as no account of this memorable event has ever been published, and as a part of the history of Texas, I think it should be published, though it might seem insignificant in the view of some persons. If you think it of sufficient interest, you are at liberty to give it a place in your columns.

I left New Orleans March 28, 1832, in the Schooner Flash, Captain Falwell, for the town of Anahuac on the head of Galveston Bay, near the mouth of the Trinity River. After a very pleasant trip we landed in the place on the 6th of April, 1832, with my wife and one child, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Julia Ann Maley, and her two sons, George and William. I brought with me a few thousand dollars' worth of merchandise, and opened a store. The town contained a large Mexican garrison, commanded by Col. David Bradburn, who was a Kentuckian in the Mexican service, and withal a notorious tyrant, together with some seventy-five or one hundred Americans, among whom I found some kind and noble people, who did all in their power to help me along. I will here mention the names of a few of those persons whom I hold in grateful remembrance, viz: Robert Wiseman,, WM.. B. Travis (afterwards the hero and martyr of the Alamo), P. C. Jack, Robert Williamson (better known as "Threelegged Willie"). The last three were then promising young lawyers. Also my friends Theodore Dorsett and George M. Patrick.

Some time in June, Col. Bradburn and some of our young lawyers, on account of the bad conduct of the former, fell out. The Colonel sent a squad of soldiers and arrested Travis, Jack and Monroe Edwards, and threw them into a dungeon, or calaboose, in the fort, and placed a heavy guard over them, with the full determination to send them as prisoners to Mexico. But the brave and noble Willie went to work to raise a company to liberate our friends, we having first gone to Bradburn to see if he would release them; but he told us that he had chartered a schooner to send them as prisoners to Matamoros; whereupon a company of about forty was organized, under the command of Willie. That night Bradburn put these men aboard of a schooner to send them off, as he had threatened to do, but Willie, with his command of brave men, was out on the morning following determined to rescue our friends.

In a few days help came, among whom were some of the noblest and bravest of the land, as William H. Jack, brother of Pat Jack; Francis W. Johnson, who after the death of Col. Milam commanded at the taking of the Alamo in 1835, John Austin, Col. Warren, D. C. Hall, and Wiley Martin, and about one hundred brave Texans. Col. F. W. Johnson was chosen to command, and a better choice could not have been made. He asked me if we had any boats. I told him we had three fine small schooners--the "Stephen F. Austin", the "Water Witch", and the "Red RoverRover. He then ordered us to fit them out with men, arms and provisions, for the purpose of blockading the town. The "Stephen F. Austin" was commanded by Capt. William Scott. She was of five tons burden, and carried five guns and five men. The "Water Witch" was commanded by Capt. James Spillman; was of four and one-half tons burden, carrying four men and four guns. The "Red Rover" was commanded by Capt. D. L. Kokernot; was of five tons, with five men and five guns. Now, this was our first Texas Navy.

Our cruising stations were as follows: Capt. Scott, from Double Bayou to Anahuac; Capt. Spillman, off Cedar Point; Capt. Kokernot, from the mouth of the Trinity River along the bay shore. Thus we had them perfectly blockaded, so that none of the tories could carry provisions. Our little army beseiged the fort by land and had several skirmishes, while our navy had no little sport by running near enough to provoke the fire of the enemy's guns, but received no damage thereby. We captured three boats as prizes loaded with provisions, such as butter, eggs, chickens, beef -and pork, besides all sorts of dainties; and you may besure we lived high on Tory provisions. After some fighting, the enemy surrendered, the redoubtable Bradburn making his escape by night and fleeing into Louisiana. Then we had great pleasure in liberating our friends from the prison.

Our fleet then sailed for Galveston Island to capture the customs house, with its officers and 'stores. We ran in after dark and captured everything without sustaining the slightest loss. Having loaded our vessels we set sail for Anahuac and home. The movements of our army I knew little about, my place being on the water. I saw our noble chief, F. W. Johnson, last fall at Austin and had a pleasant interview with him. Now, after forty years, and passing through many perils and fighting, thanks be to God for His goodness in blessing me with health and strength, I am seventy-three years old, still enjoying excellent health. "Oh! that men would praise the Lord for His goodness, and for His wonderful works to the children of men!" (As printed in the Gonzales Inquirer, August 17, 1878)

My first acquaintance with Sam Houston was in the year 1834. My friend, George M. Patrick, employed me to go to Nacogdoches for him in order to get land titles from the Empressario for different persons and myself, for whom he had surveyed. At that time a trip through the wilderness from the Trinity River to the above place was considered a long and perilous journey, being without settlers or roads, nothing but a small Indian trail through an Indian country. On the 15th of May I arrived at the town, and as I walked up the street I noticed the finest looking man I ever saw, seated on the steps of Col. Thorn's storehouse. He was dressed in a complete Indian costume made of buckskin and ornamented with a profuse variety of beads, and his massive head was covered with a line broad beaver hat. When he arose I stopped and looked at him with both surprise and admiration and bid him good morning. He asked me whence I had come. I told him from Galveston Bay, Middle Texas. Then he invited me to sit down and have a chat with him in reference to land matters, which I did for a considerable time. Our conversation ended, he invited me into the store to take a glass of wine with him, which I readily accepted. He then told me he owned some land on Cedar Point, Galveston Bay, as also on Goose Creek. I remarked that the Goose Creek land was located by one Dr. Wight, and that I had the field notes with me with a view to getting a patent on the land. He said: "All right, if you can get it." But, sure enough, I never did, as a patent had already been issued to the General. "Now, my friend," said the General, "tell me the news." I replied the news is war; that it was rumored that Santa Anna was gathering troops to send into Texas to disarm the inhabitants. "But," said I, "we are determined not to surrender our arms". "Well, my friend," said he, "how will you act in that case?" I replied: "We will fight them to the last, or die in the attempt." "That is right," said he; "they shall never drive us out so long as we can fight them." As he made this remark his eyes sparkled with lightning, and another bottle of wine was ordered on the strength of it.

"Now," said he, "the people ought to organize and get ready to meet him." I told him I was of the same opinion. "Who will command the army?" he asked. I replied: "My dear sir, if I had the authority to make the appointment you are the man; for you are the finest looking man I ever laid eyes on." He immediately replied, "Well, my dear sir, if I get the appointment of commander I will give you a commission." Then he pulled out a small pocketbook and asked my name, which he wrote in his book, and then wrote his own name and handed it to me. After talking a while longer we shook hands and bade each other farewell. From that day I loved Sam Houston. He proved a friend indeed in times of need, as many letters in my possession will show. The next morning I started for home. After crossing the Natchez River I was taken very sick with burning fever, being about twenty-five miles from any house, and lost at that, and to render my situation still more uncomfortable, a severe thunder storm came up. The lightning was very heavy, striking the trees all around me and filling my mind with consternation and gloomy forebodings. I reached a small prairie and took up my solitary lodging for the night. The storm continued to rage during the entire night. On the following morning, I found that I was lost, and traveling up the river to the north. I mounted my horse and took the trail I had been traveling knowing it would lead somewhere. And sure enough, after having traveled about three miles I found myself in the middle of a large Indian village. I rode up to a large log house, which proved to be the residence of the big chief. He came out and invited me to alight. I told him I was sick and lost. He looked at me, felt my pulse, gave a grunt and left the hut, but returned in a few minutes witil a small gourd containing some kind of stuff which he told me to drink. I obeyed, but desired a cup of good strong coffee more than the medicine. I accordingly got some ground coffee out of my saddlebags, gave it to the old squaw and she soon prepared a good cup which I drank, greatly to my benefit. She also brought in some nice venison and some sort of bread, and the king and I took breakfast together. After breakfast I asked him if there was a white man in the vicinity. He said there was, and caught his horse and led the way to the other end of the village to the house of one Mr. Roberts. He then left, with the promise that he would come and see me again. Mr. Roberts told me that he was king of the Billoxi Indians, a brave, good man, which I found to be the truth.

The next day I saw the old king and told him I wished a pilot to conduct me through the wilderness. He told me his son would conduct me to the village of the Long King on the Trinity. In the meantime, I remained about a week with the old king, and had a fine;time bear hunting, attending a wedding and a regular Indian dance. I enjoyed myself hugely. The morning after the wedding the young prince came to lead me through the wilderness to the village of the Long King. Shaking hands with the old king and Mr. Roberts, we set out, and that night reached the Village. The king and the royal family came out and gave us a cordial welcome, inviting us into the royal castle. In a short time the old squaws prepared us a good supper, consisting of broiled venison and corn bread. The Long King was a fine looking man, six feet, six inches high, well formed and straight as an arrow. Next morning, having breakfasted on broiled venison and bear meat (a repast worthy of a king) I took leave of my hospitable friends and turned my face homewards, where I arrived in two days, safe and sound, without any further mishap.

In the year 1832 1 bought a tract of land on the San Jacinto Bay, situated one mile above Capt. William Scott's place, and about one and a half miles from the battlefield of San Jacinto, where I resided for several years after the battle was fought which gained the independence of Texas. In the fall of 1835 a call came for men to march to the field of conflict and repel the invading army of Mexico, under the command of General Cos, who was a brother-in-law of Santa Anna. Having mustered ten men, I set off post haste for Gonzales, where we were to rendezvous. We found all the settlers along the route ready to aid by furnishing provisions and whatever else was necessary and in their power to bestow. After a perilous ride across the country from the Colorado to Peach Creek, we reached the house of Judge McClure, where we stopped to get refreshments. The Judge gave us a hearty welcome, furnishing corn for our horses, as well as an excellent repast for ourselves. His wife treated us most kindly, as if we were her brothers. This estimable lady displayed all the noble qualities of woman in aid of the struggle for liberty. She also was called upon to endure many dangers and hardships incident to the Texas revolution. Her name ought to be inscribed on the immortal roll of the veterans of the Lone Star Republic. She still lives on the old homestead on Peach Creek, Gonzales County, as the wife of Hon. Charles Braches, who is one of our best citizens. On that day we reached Gonzales and were greatly rejoiced to meet Stephen F. Austin, the Father of Texas, who had made his escape from a Mexican dungeon and reached Texas in safety at this critical moment in her history.

During our stay in Gonzales a battle was fought at La Bahia, or old Goliad, in which the Texans were victorious. Preparations were now made in earnest for war, which we felt was already upon us. In the meantime a large party of Comanche Indians came near the town and committed some depredations. Col. Ed. Burleson with a party of men went in pursuit, attacked the Indians and routed them, taking one prisoner and killing some, thzugh the number is not known as the savages carried off their dead and wounded. After receiving reinforcements, preparations were made for active service. The men were addressed in earnest and eloquent terms by Col. Wallace, Robert Williamson, our three-legged champion of Anahuac, and the Rev. Dr. W. P. Smith, and by acclamation Stephen F. Austin was elected commmander-in-chief of the little army of patriots, numbering about 100 men. The necessary preparations were made; we crossed the Guadalupe and took up the line of march for San Antonio, and camped that night on the Cibolo. A spy came in and reported that some two hundred Mexicans were encamped near the powder house, a short distance from the city. Gen. Austin ordered Cal. Burleson to call for volunteers to attack the enemy that night. Seventy-five of us responded to the call, and by 10 o'clock were mounted and ready to take up the line of march. About 2 o'clock next morning we had surrounded the Mexicans, but they came up missing; the camp was deserted. We returned to camp on the Salado. That night the Comanches stampeded all our horses and left us without anything to eat save parched corn. During our stay here two fine young men whose names are not remembered, killed themselves by eating pecans. Notwithstanding pickets were stationed and charged to be very vigilant, an Indian crawled up within fifty yards of me and fired, the ball whistling near my head. I returned his fire, and as he gave a yell I am inclined to think the ball took effect, though I did not take time to look after him. This alarm placed the army in motion in a few moments.

On the following morning, the army took up the line of march for the Mission Las Pados [Espada], on the San Antonio River, about ten miles below the city, where we arrived some time in the afternoon. During the night Deaf Smith, who had been sent to the city to spy out the number and situation of the enemy, returned, and but for my intervention would have been shot by one of our pickets who had hailed him three times to no purpose. Seeing Smith's movements, I surmised that it might be our faithful spy, and stopped the picket just as he put his hand on the trigger to fire at the deaf man. The morning following, Gen. Austin ordered Capt. Fannin and Capt. James Bowie to call for volunteers to select a camp near the city for our army. About eighty-two stepped out. Among them a few names are remembered, as follows: Charles Mason, A. H. Jones, A. Turner, John and Charles Dorsett and also Col. Richard Andrews, who lost his life at the Battle of Concepcion. We went up the river to the Mission Concepcion, which is some two miles below the city, in the bend of the river. Here we found a number of Mexicans gathering pecans, but they fled instanter. This was selected as the site for our encampment.

About 2 o'clock a Mexican came into camp with a bag of "bolonces," which he sold to us at 25 cents apiece. After taking a good look at our camp he left, doubtless well satisfied. Capt. Bowie then remarked: "Now, boys, we will have some fun." The Mexican was an officer in disguise, which Bowie was aware of, but let him return to his command because he wanted the Mexicans to make the attack. Capt. Bowie said: "We will get a fight tonight or in the morning." Accordingly a strong guard was stationed. About daylight the Mexican cavalry made a dash upon our pickets and captured seventeen of our -horses. Then they came from every direction infantry, cavalry and artillery. Our camp was in the bend of the river, in the shape of a horseshoe. The second bank of the river was six feet high, in which we cut deep steps in order to make the ascent. Our position was an admirable one for defense. The Mexicans were stationed in the open prairie. The attack was made on us at sunrise, by at least one thousand against eighty-two. We reserved our fire until the enemy came within forty yards of us. Then we let fly at them, and, as the Kentuckian said, it would have done you good to have seen us drop them. Our officers, Bowie and Fannin, exhibited the utmost coolness and bravery by going up and down the lines and exhorting us to keep cool and not to fire until we saw the eyes of the enemy. About half past two the last Mexican was killed around the cannon and the gun was seized and turned upon the enemy. At 3 o'clock the enemy retreated, leaving one hundred and twenty dead on the field, besides many that were thrown into the river. Our loss amounted in round numbers to one man the brave Col. Andrews---who was killed by a grapeshot.

About this time the main army came up and encamped on the victorious battlefield. The next day a Mexican priest came and asked the privilege of removing the bodies of the dead Mexicans. He was told that he could take them and welcome. I shall here relate an incident which evinced the coolest bravery. Capt. Carnes who at the time the battle began was up in the steeple of the Mission making observations on the enemy, was cut off. In the midst of the battle he resolved to make his way through the cavalry of the enemy to our lines. With no weapon save a long shotgun he undertook the perilous task of cutting his way through three hundred cavalry. His great coolness and and expertness in the use of the old gun enabled him to keep the enemy at a proper distance, and though his shotpouch was torn from side and his clothes riddled with bullets, he reached our camp without a scratch. Such deliberate bravery was never witnessed on the plains of Texas. At this juncture our noble commander, Gen. Austin, informed us that business of importance required him to resign and return to his colony. We parted with him with great regret. Col. Ed Burleson was elected to fill his place as commander of our patriotic army. In a few days the army marched toward the city and encamped some two miles above at San Pedro Springs. Here, under the command of Col. W. B. Travis, we had a jolly time, chasing the Mexican cavalry over the plains of San Antonio, with whom we had seven skirmishes, though neither of them proved very serious, except the "grass light," in which a goodly number of Mexicans were killed and seven or eight of our men wounded. From this time until the capture of the Alamo, skirmishes were frequent.

On the 5th of December, Col. Milam and Col. Francis W. Johnson called for volunteers to take the city and capture the Alamo. Some 250 or 300 voluntered. That night we took possession of the Veramendi house, situated in the northern part of the place. This gave us a fair chance to fire upon the Mexicans as they came to the cannon, which were placed across the street. From this house we broke through one house after another until we reached the Plaza. In this movement no little work and much hard fighting was done. Col. Milam, one of the noblest and bravest officers, fell in this heroic struggle, greatly lamented by all. The battle raged during four days, when Gen. Cos surrendered himself and army to Gen. Burleson. Thus some four hundred Texans had fought and vanquished fifteen hundred Mexicans in their fortified city. Our loss was comparatively small, while the enemy's was considerable. Every Texan was a sharpshooter, whose rusty Kentucky rifle seldom failed to bring down the game, while the enemy shot at random. Thus ended the campaign of 1835. We now began to think of home. Our clothes were well worn; we were barefooted, and winter had set in. Traveling through some severe weather, rain and northers, we reached home in safety, and had some time in which to rest and recuperate for the severer campaign of 1836.

THE CAMPAIGN OF 1836

On the 5th of March I received a proclamation of which the following is a copy:

Convention Hall. Washington, March 2, 1836. War is raging on our frontiers. Bexar is besieged by two thousand of the enemy under the command of Gen. Siesmo. Reinforcements are on their march to unite with the beseiging army. By the last report our force in Bexar was only one hundred fifty men strong. The citizens ofTexas must rally to the aid of our army or it will perish. Let the citizens of the east march to the combat. The enemy must be driven from our soil or desolation will accompany this march upon us. Independence is declared! It must be maintained! Immediate action, united with valor, alone can achieve the great work. The services of all are forthwith required in the field. (Signed) SAM HOUSTON. P.S. It is rumored that the enemy are on their march to Gonzales and that they have entered the Colonies; the fate of Bexar is unknown. The country must and shall be defended. The patriots are appealed to in behalf of their bleeding country. S.H.

On the 6th of March we mounted our mustangs, armed and equipped for war. My little squad of brave comrades consisted of the following names: Andrew Robeson, D. Johnson, James Spielman, Atkison, John Dorsett, T. W. Smith and James Ferguson. On the 8th, greatly to my surprise, I received a captain's commission in the regular army of the Republic of Texas from Gen. Sam Houston, commander-in-chief of the army. Having forgotten the promise of the general to send me a commission, this brought back our first acquaintance and conversation vividly to mind.

After four days' hard riding, we arrived in the town of Gonzales and were kindly received by the commander-in-chief. Orders were issued to get ready to cross the Guadalupe and march to the assistance of Col. Travis. During the time of preparation, Mrs. Dickenson and child and a negro boy belonging to Col. Travis arrived in camp and gave a melancholy account of the Battle of the Alamo and the death of the brave band of heroes who sacrificed their lives on the altar of Texas liberty and independence. Every man was a hero, and their names are immortal. All was now dark and gloomy but every man was armed with the full determination to venge their deaths.

Gen. Houston, not wishing to jeopardize the country by engaging the enemy with the small force under his command at Gonzales, ordered a retreat to the Colorado River. All the families led eastward across the Colorado. The army reached Peach Creek at dark. An explosion was heard, which we supposed to be the enemy's cannon bombarding Gonzales, but we afterwards learned that it was caused by the explosion of some barrels of whiskey which were in a house that was set on fire by some unknown person. It was a sad thing to see the women and children plodding their way across the prairie, some on foot, some in oxcarts, and others on sleds, especially as the country was covered with water, making travel extremely difficult and unpleasant. No tongue can express the sufferings those fleeing families were called upon to endure. This was called the "Runaway Scrapers, and indeed it was a runaway. Arriving near Columbus, the army fixed their encampment on the east bank of the Colorado. Part of the army under Col. Sherman went up the river to Davist Ford and there encamped.

Here I received orders from Gen. Houston to collect all the provisions which could be procured and store then in Mosley's gin house, which I at once proceeded to have done. About this time the Mexican army, under the command of Gen. Filisiola, encamped on Matlettts Creek, about one and a half miles from Columbus. Opposite Gen. Sherman's camp stood a large double log house belonging to W. B. Deweese, which could have afforded the enemy a good fortification for their cannon and enabled them to drive us out of the bottom. Gen. Sherman ordered the house to be burned. Not expecting any danger, another man and myself got into a small dugout, crossed the river and set fire to the house and some corn and cotton pens. We had just pushed off on our return when about one hundred Mexican muskets were let loose at us, riddling the boat with holes, but we escaped unhurt, with a tight squeeze, the bushes being alive with the enemy.