Upon reaching that spot, I saw Colonel Almonte swimming across the bayou with his left hand, and holding up his right, which grasped his sword.
I stated before that I was leading my horse, but, in this critical situation, I vaulted on him, and, with two leaps, he landed me on the opposite bank of the bayou. To my sorrow, I had to leave that noble animal, mired, at that place, and to part with him, probably forever. As I dismounted I sank in the mire waist deep, and I had the greatest trouble to get out of it by taking hold of the grass. Both my shoes remained in the bayou. I made an effort to recover them, but I soon came to the conclusion that, did I tarry there, a rifle shot would certainly make an outlet for my soul, as had happened to many a poor fellow around me. Thus I made for the grove barefooted.
There I met a number of other officers, with whom I wandered at random, buried in gloomy thoughts upon our tragic disaster. We still entertained a hope of rallying some of our men, but it was impossible.
The enemy's cavalry surrounded the grove, while his infantry penetrated it, pursuing us with fierce and bloodthirsty feelings.
There they killed Colonel Batres; and it would have been all over with us had not Providence placed us in the hands of the noble and generous captain of cavalry, Allen, who, by great exertion, saved us repeatedly from being slaughtered by the drunken and infuriated volunteers.
Thence they marched us to their camp. I was barefooted; the prairie had recently been burnt up, and the blades of grass, hardened by fire, penetrated like needles the soles of my feet, so that I could scarcely walk. This did not prevent them from striking me with the butt end of their guns, because I did not walk as fast as they wanted.
These savages struck, with their bayonets, our wounded soldiers lying on the way; others, following them, consummated the sacrifice with a musket or a pistol shot.
I can not forbear mentioning an incident which affected me deeply, and, I believe, had the same effect on my companions. We were about one hundred and fifty officers and men picked up by Allen's party, who marched us to their camp under close guard. I have no doubt that the Americans, amidst the hurrahs and exultation of their triumph, were lavish of insults; however, not understanding their language, we did not feel them. But one of our own countrymen, who had joined the enemy's cause, assailed us, in our own language, with such a volley of threats, insults, and abuse, that the tongue of that vile and recreant Mexican seemed to have been wrought in the very caves of hell, and set in motion by Lucifer himself. "Now, you shall see," he said, "contemptible and faithless assassins, if you do not pay with your vile blood for your murders at the Alamo and La Bahia. The time has come when the just cause we defend triumphs over you; you shall pay with your heads for the arson, robberies, and depredations you have committed in our country," etc., etc.
What a welcome for honorable men, who knew, in the depth of their hearts, that they had acted in accordance with the dictates of duty, when, unfortunate, prostrate, and humbled in the extreme, the fate of war had placed their lives at the mercy of these brigands, and when they were awaiting, with resignation, the consummation of the sacrifice! Can such wicked men exist?
