At last we reached the camp. We were seated on the ground, by twos, as we had marched. On the bay shore our thirst had been quenched with an abundance of water, which Allen and others allowed to pass from hand to hand until all of us were satisfied. A crowd gathered around us, asking, with persistent impertinence, "General Santa Anna? General Cos?" We knew not the fate of these gentlemen; but, to rid ourselves of their repeated questions, we answered: "Dead! dead!" I still wore my embroidered shoulder-straps on my jacke ; they attracted their attention, and one after another would say: "You General?" "Me no General!" would I answer, until one of the indefatigable questioners tore off my shoulder-straps angrily. I was glad of it, as they ceased importuning me with their questions.
After having kept us sitting about an hour and a half, they marched us into the woods, where we saw an immense fire, made up of a huge pile of wood, even whole trees being used. I and several of my companions were silly enough to believe that we were about to be burnt alive, in retaliation for those who had been burnt in the Alamo. We should have considered it an act of mercy to be shot first. Oh ! the bitter and cruel moment! However, we felt considerably relieved when they placed us around the fire to warm ourselves and to dry our wet clothes. We were surrounded by twenty-five or thirty sentinels. You should have seen those men, or rather phantoms, converted into moving armories; some wore two, three, and even four brace of pistols; a cloth bag, of very respectable size, filled with bullets; a powder horn; a sabre, or a bowie knife, besides a rifle, musket, or carbine. Every one of them had in his hand a burning candle. I wonder where they obtained so many of them, for the heat of their hands and the breeze melted them very fast, and yet that illumination was kept up the whole night. Was this display of light intended to prevent us from attempting an escape? The fools! where could we go in that vast country, unknown to us, intersected by large rivers and forests, where wild beasts and hunger, and where they themselves, would destroy us?
Early on the 22d our camp was visited by the so-called Secretary of War, Mr. Rusk, who asked us endless questions upon the grand topic of the day — our defeat and their unexpected success. Colonel Juan N. Almonte, the only one of us who spoke English, answered his questions. That gentleman renewed his visits. Once he asked for a list of the names, surnames, and rank of the captured officers, which list was promptly made up by Almonte, with a pen or pencil, I do not remember which,, and handed over immediately.
There were not wanting among us officers sufficiently forgetful of duty and of the dignity and decorum of their rank to mingle with the enlisted men, because it was rumored that from sergeant down would be spared, and from lieutenant upward would be shot. What a shame that such contemptible beings, destitute of honor, should still associate with those who have always proudly borne, and gloried in, their noble badges of office.
Some Americans would come and tell us, in broken Spanish, what was going on amongst their leaders, stating that the officers and the people — that is, the soldiery — were holding a meeting to consider the question whether we should be shot before notifying it to their Government, or
