William Johnstone - Eyes of Eagles

Cloud turned and walked away, the others quickly following him. Louis Moses Rose was left alone in the plaza.

Jamie had listened to the debate, squatting by the well. He harbored no ill will toward Rose. If the man wished to flee, then let him go. To go or to stay was a decision that each man had to make for himself. Jamie had heard others speak of Rose — the man had proven himself in combat more times than any of them. He was no coward. Perhaps, Jamie thought, the man was simply weary of it all.

But then, he silently added, who among us isn’t?

The Mexican cannons began booming after a short respite. Jamie moved closer to the wall, next to the low barracks, and waited. Shot and shell dropped into the plaza, crashed against the walls, and the ground trembled beneath Jamie’s moccasins. How many hundreds of rounds had been fired at the Alamo to date? With, so far, little effect.

His eyes found Louis Moses Rose, squatting with his back to a wall. He was alone, with not a man near him. The word had gone out quickly and the other men had chosen not to have anything to do with him.

Staying close to the walls, Jamie made his way over to the ostracized man. Rose looked up at Jamie’s approach, surprise in his eyes.

“Ain’t you afraid you’ll catch something, moving so close to me?” Rose asked.

Jamie ignored that. “Look, Rose. Whether you stay or go is your choice and your choice alone.”

“I ain’t made it yet,” Rose said. “You seen them ladders the Mexicans is building?”

“Yes.”

“Won’t be long now. They’ll be crawling over the walls like ants to honey.”

“Probably,” Jamie replied, after the cannon barrage had momentarily ceased.

“They’re all going to die here.”

“They know that.”

“It just don’t make no sense to me.”

Jamie knew then the man had made up his mind. He was going over the walls. The cannons began roaring again, and any further conversation was impossible.

Rose stood up and looked down at Jamie. “You had your decision handed you, MacCallister.”

Anger filled Jamie and he stood up, towering over the man. “You think I asked for it?”

“No,” Rose said, his voice just audible over the booming of cannon. “That ain’t what I meant.”

Jamie’s anger faded and he put a hand on the much older man’s shoulder. “I know it isn’t. Sorry, Louis. Whatever decision you choose to make, Louis, I’m still your friend.”

The man smiled. “I can use one about now,” he admitted. And then further conversation was impossible as the cannons boomed. During an abatement, Louis said, “They have to be the worst goddamn gunners I have ever seen. They don’t appear to know anything about elevation. If they did, there wouldn’t be a platform or parapet left intact.” He shook his head and walked off.

Jamie squatted back down against the trembling walls and waited. There just wasn’t a whole hell of a lot else to do.

An hour later, just about an hour before sunset, the Mexican cannons fell silent. Jamie was eating a piece of bread and drinking coffee when Travis walked slowly out of his quarters and into the center of the plaza. He called for the men to assemble in front of him. All but Jamie.

“Scout MacCallister!” Travis called. “Stand lookout, please.”

Jamie wondered what in the world was going on. Was Travis thinking of surrender? No. He immediately dismissed that. On his way to the parapet, Crockett stopped him and said, “You’re out of this, lad. You just get them messages through. I done spoke to Travis. He’s gonna give the men a choice. You stay up yonder on the platform.”

Jim Bowie was carried out into the windy plaza, on his cot. He was lucid and feeling somewhat better. Sam put several pillows behind his head so he could see better.

Travis said, “I take full responsibility for our situation. And from the very depths of my heart, I apologize to you all. I did not even entertain the thought that we would be abandoned. That was, to me, unthinkable. But obviously, we have been forgotten. I was promised that help would come. It has not. It will not.” He paused to let that sink in. “We alone stand in the way of Santa Anna’s mighty army. We... alone! ” No one there missed the emphasis on that last word. And no one there missed the true meaning of it. To a man, they knew that Travis was saying farewell to them all, in the only way he knew how.

“We have bought precious time for those delegates meeting at Washington-on-the-Brazos. Precious time for Austin and Houston to mount an army. Precious time for our allies on the outside to lay in powder and shot. Now I’m asking you to help me buy them more time. Two days; three days. Maybe longer. I will not surrender. If I must, alone, stand on those parapets and swab and load and fire the cannon, I by God will. Surrender is not a word I will ever let pass my tongue again.”

The men cheered loudly at that.

“To give up would be far worse than dying,” Travis continued. He shook his head. “I could not live with that in my heart. I could not look another man in the eyes with that in my past. No. I am staying. Alone if I must. But I will never give up. I want the world to know that this old mission, soon to be stained with the blood of its defenders, was the young beating heart of what shall surely be the Republic of Texas. I intend to die right in it, within these walls. But I shall, with the help of God and this sword,” he jerked his saber from its scabbard, “be surrounded by the bodies of my enemies.”

The men went wild. Coonskin caps, sombreros, and battered old hats were slung into the air at Travis’s words.

The Mexicans, now about two hundred and fifty yards away, must have wondered what in the world those beleaguered men inside the battered and crumbling walls had to cheer about. “Crazy gringos,” must have been uttered a hundred times from the Mexican lines.

The men stood silent now, as Travis took his sword and started tracing a long line in the dirt, just in front of the row of men. That done, he walked back to the center of the line. Not a man there did not know what that line meant. But they waited for Travis to speak the words.

Travis, dressed in full uniform, held his sword into the air, at arm’s length. “I say I shall stand and die!” he thundered. He pointed the tip of his sword at the battle flag the men from Gonzales had brought, now fluttering in the cold winds. “For liberty, for freedom, for true justice, and for the Republic of Texas! Who will stand with me?”

There was no hesitation among the men. Several did standing jumps to be the first over the line. The others surged across. Only Moses Rose, Bowie, and Sam were left standing on the other side of the line.

“You stay here, Sam,” Bowie said. “Don’t you even think of crossing that line. Oh, boys!” Bowie raised his voice. “Some of you come over here and carry me across the line, will you?”

A half dozen men quickly ran to Bowie’s side and lifted the cot, carrying Jim Bowie over the line Travis had drawn with the sword.

Louis Moses Rose now stood alone. He had made his choice and was not about to change his mind.

“It’s your choice to make, Louis,” Bowie called to his old friend. “Are you sure this is the way you want it?”

“I’m sure, Jim.”

“God bless you, then,” Bowie replied in a surprisingly strong voice. “Tell all our friends we died for Texas.”

“I’ll do that, Jim.”

“How are you goin’ to get out, man?” another asked. “You know damn well some of them Mex bodies out yonder past the walls is playin’ possum, just waitin’ to use gun or knife.”

“I’ll get out,” the old soldier said. “You just watch me.” Rose looked squarely at each man standing behind Travis. The eyeballing took several minutes. To Rose’s surprise, he found little animosity staring back at him. Most of the returning looks were friendly, curious, or a mixture of both. The defenders leaned on their rifles and watched him.