"Now, hearts, Be ribbed with iron for this one attempt:
Set ope' your sluices, send the vigorous blood Through every active limb for our relief."
"Now they begin the tragic play, And with their smoky cannon banish day."
"Endure and conquer. God will soon dispose To future good our past and present woes:
Resume your courage, and dismiss your care;
An hour will come with pleasure to relate Your sorrows past, as benefits of Fate."
The Senora was already dressed. She turned with a face full of fear and anger to her daughters as they entered her room--"These American diablos! They are attacking the city. They will take it--that is to be expected--who can fight diablos?
And what is to become of us? Oh, Antonia! Why did you prevent Fray Ignatius? We might now have been safe in the convent", and Rachela nodded her head in assent, with an insufferable air of reproof and toleration.
Antonia saw that the time had not yet come for pleading her own cause. She left Isabel with her mother. The Senora's breakfast was waiting, and she offered to share it with her youngest daughter. Antonia went downstairs to prepare for herself some coffee. She was surprised and pleased to find it made. For a certain thought had come to Molly in the night and she had acted upon it--"The praist is a strange praist, and almost as black as a nagur; and I'd be a poor body, I think, to let him be meddling wid my work. Shure, I never heard of the like of such interfering in Ireland, nor in the States at all!" Then turning to the Mexican cook, Manuel--"You may lave the fire alone till I bees done wid it."
"Fray Ignatius will not give you absolution if you disobey him."
"He can be kaping the same then. There is an Irish praist at San Patricio, and I'll be going there for my absolution; and I'll be getting none any nearer that an Irish soul will be a pin the better for. I'll say that, standing in the church, to the saints themselves; and so be aff wid you and let the fire alone till I bees done wid it."
But it was not Molly's place to serve the food she cooked, and she did not trouble herself about the serving. When she had asserted her right to control her own work, and do it or neglect it as it seemed good to herself alone, she was satisfied. Over Antonia--who was at least half a Mexican--she acknowledged a Mexican priest to have authority; and she had no intention of interfering between Fray Ignatius and his lawful flock. She was smoking her pipe by the fire when Antonia entered the kitchen, and she neither lifted her eyes nor spoke to her.
Against such unreasonable isolation Antonia could not help a feeling of anger; and she heard with satisfaction the regular crack of the rifles. Her thought was--"They will make these people find their tongues also, very soon." She was exceedingly anxious for information; and, as she ate her roll and drank her coffees she was considering how they could gain it. For even if Fray Ignatius were able to visit them, his report would be colored by his prejudices and his desires, and could not be relied on.
Her heart fluttered and sank; she was hot and cold, sanguine and fearful. She could not endure the idea of a suspense unrelieved by any reliable word. For the siege might be a long one. San Antonio was strongly walled and defended. The Alamo fortress stood in its centre. It had forty-eight cannon, and a garrison of a thousand men. Before it could be reached, the city had to be taken; and the inhabitants would in the main fight desperately for their homes.
As soon as she was alone with her mother, she pointed out these facts to her. "Let me write to Lopez Navarro, mi madre.
He is a friend."
"Of the Americans! Si."
"Of freedom. He will send us word."
"Are you forgetful of what is moral and respectable, Antonia?
That a young lady should write to Lopez Navarro--a man that is unmarried--is such a thing as never before happened! He would think the world had come to an end, or worse."
"Dear mother! In a time of trouble like this, who would think wrong of us? Surely you might write."
"As you say, Antonia. Tell me, then, who will take the letter."
"The peon Ortiz will take it. This morning he brought in wood and kindled the fire, and I saw in his face the kindness of his heart."
After some further persuasion, the Senora agreed to write; and Ortiz undertook the commission, with a nod of understanding.
Then there remained nothing to be done but to listen and to watch. Fortunately, however, Rachela found the centre of interest among the servants in the kitchen; and the Senora and her daughter could converse without espionage.
Just after sunset a letter arrived from Navarro. Rachela lingered in the room to learn its contents. But the Senora, having read them, passed the letter to Antonia and Isabel; and Rachela saw with anger that Antonia, having carefully considered it, threw it into the fire. And yet the news it brought was not unfavorable:
"SENORA MARIA FLORES WORTH:
"I send this on December the fifth, in the year of our Blessed Lord and Lady 1835. It is my honor and pleasure to tell you that the Americans, having performed miracles of valor, reached the Plaza this afternoon. Here the main body of the Mexican troops received them, and there has been severe fighting. At sunset, the Mexicans retreated within the Alamo.
The Texans have taken possession of the Veramendi House, and the portion of the city surrounding it. There has been a great slaughter of our poor countrymen. I charge myself whenever I pass the Plaza, to say a paternoster for the souls who fell there. Senora Maria Flores Worth, I kiss your hands.
I kiss also the hands of the Senorita Antonia, and the hands of the Senorita Isabel, and I make haste to sign myself, "Your servant, "LOPEZ NAVARRO."
This little confidence between mother and daughters restored the tone of feeling between them. They had something to talk of, personal and exclusive. In the fear and uncertainty, they forgot priestly interdiction and clung to each other with that affection which is the strength of danger and the comforter of sorrow.
