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| San Jacinto Monument Almost twenty feet taller than the Washington Monument. |
On April 20th, when Santa Anna decided to camp his men on the plains of San Jacinto, he had already provided for himself the most important facet of the upcoming battle, at least to his way of thinking. The fact is, he may have hurried his decision in anticipation of the creature comforts he was about to receive. He had selected a mulatto girl named Emily Morgan to provide that precious commodity. She had been pressed into service and was travelling with a young officer, a not unusual circumstance in those days. Santa Anna simply had her moved to his tent. Rank has its privileges.
Emily Morgan was an indentured servant to James Morgan, the founder of Morgan’s Point, Texas, called New Washington back then and a few miles south of San Jacinto. Morgan evidently hired Emily in New Haven, Connecticut, for a one year term. She was to be a house maid in a hotel Morgan planned to build. By all accounts, she was a lovely young lady with light skin, a very desirable trait for female slaves, or, in this case, indentured servants. As was the practice, she took her master’s last name.
Nineteen years of age, Emily was much admired by the menfolk around Morgan’s Point. Her beauty and her liberal attitude toward copulation did nothing to hurt her popularity. Some historians have supposed she was a spy for Sam Houston’s army, with orders to distract Santa Anna. I think that is the wildest imaginable speculation. I believe she was simply a good looking, well endowed, fairly intelligent, high-yellow house maid, in the service of James Morgan and blissfully unaware of politics, morality, revolution, or war. She did, however, seem to comprehend economics.
Consider the idea that Emily had been the main source of the precious commodity for the hired hands around New Haven, and now Morgan’s Point, for as long as she could remember. She slept on a corn shuck mattress in the corner of a feed bin and wore scratchy homespun underwear. Not allowed in the white man’s privy, she used the bathroom in a cornfield. Emily had one dress, which had grown too small in the bust, and a cotton shift that she wore while she worked. She was “used” all too often by a whole crew of stinky, sweaty field hands, who paid for her charms with a chew of tobacco, if they paid at all.
A handsome, forty-two year old Mexican General comes into her life and provides her with a warm bath, scented soap, silk panties, French perfume, champagne, chocolates, and a bit of dope. All she has to do is provide the general with a little creature comfort. What do you think she would do?
A few miles to the north, Sam Houston and his ragged little army reached the “Which Way Oak.” Houston chose south, toward Harrisburg instead of east toward Nacogdoches and Louisiana. His men were elated. Finally, they would get to stand and fight. Their running was over.
They found Harrisburg burned out by Santa Anna and his troops, but set up a field hospital there, to give a safe place for their sick and wounded. The impaired troops were slowing down the column and would be no good in the coming battle. Two hundred seventy-one soldiers, all told, were left in Harrrisburg. Among them, one William Henry McLaughlin, who had dysentery. His younger brother, James, volunteered to stay and, with his squad, help provide security for the hospital.
James’s son, James Edward, fought for Texas in the Civil War, and lived to sire my grandfather. But, that’s another story.
The Texians literally dragged themselves and two little cannons—the Twin Sisters, given to Texas by the city of Cincinnati---through the mud and into a grove of oak trees at the plain of San Jacinto, directly in the path of Santa Anna’s army. Houston’s troops, 750 or so unkempt but able-bodied men, settled down out of sight in the woods.
Santa Anna, seeing his way to Lynch’s Ferry blocked by Houston’s forces, chose to camp almost a mile south, with his back to Peggy Lake. Buffalo Bayou was on one side and the San Jacinto River on the other. The whole area was a swamp. His senior officers were uniformly distressed by this choice of campsite, but Santa Anna could care less. He was not concerned about Houston and his rabble army. He was certain they would not attack, so he decided to rest his troops for a couple of days and have his staff plan an attack for the morning of the 22nd. In the meantime, he would be closeted in his silk tent, drinking champagne, smoking dope and getting acquainted with sweet Emily.
Regardless of Santa Anna’s opinion, the exhausted Mexican army expected a dawn attack on the 21st and spent the night trying to fortify their camp. They finished a barricade, installed their only cannon, a nine pounder, and waited for the Texians to attack. The morning was quiet. The Texian army was tired and Sam Houston had decided to sleep in. The battle would come soon enough.
About nine am, there was a commotion in the Mexican camp. General Cos arrived with four hundred reinforcements, bringing the total Mexican force to something over fifteen hundred men. Houston ordered Deaf Smith to take a squad and destroy the bridge over Vince’s Bayou to prevent any more reinforcements. This action also cut off the only path of retreat---for either army.
There were a few skirmishes during the morning as both sides tried to gather intelligence, but everything quieted by noon. The Mexicans were exhausted---most of the veterans had been up all night building fortifications and General Cos and the new arrivals had travelled through the night. Everyone was allowed to rest. They stacked their weapons and went to sleep, as did their officers.
Santa Anna didn’t bother to check his army’s state of readiness. He had people to take care of those details. He was busy checking an intriguing mole just to the left of Emily’s navel and otherwise wearing himself to a frazzle. He probably had a little toke of opium (he was addicted) and by three o’clock, he was sound asleep, as were most of his soldiers. In one of those unexplained military quirks which alter history, the Mexicans posted not a single sentry.
Sam Houston's troops had been near mutiny for weeks and he decided at three o’clock that he could no longer hold them back. “Fight and be damned,” he said.
Even though an afternoon attack was unheard of in those days, Houston prepared his men for battle. At three thirty, they started across the grassy prairie, walking almost a mile, completely exposed. The Texians had no way of knowing, but most of the worn-out Mexican army was sound asleep.
Only two hundred yards from the Mexican lines, and still undetected, Houston had the Twin Sisters fired into the hastily constructed breastworks. The Mexican cannon crew managed to wake up and fire a round of grapeshot, but most of the Mexican soldiers were sleepy, dazed and confused. The Texians fired a round from their long rifles, reloaded and fired again.
The Twin Sisters breeched the makeshift wall and the Texians streamed unrestrained into Santa Anna’s camp. The Mexican cannon crew continued to fire until they were overrun and a few soldiers managed to fire their muskets, but the sudden violent attack pushed the sleepy Mexican army into utter panic. The Mexicans threw down their arms and fled. Mexican resistance lasted eighteen minutes by Houston’s watch. After that, the grizzly Texians spent the next few hours killing helpless, trapped and drowning Mexicans. Houston and his senior officers tried to stop the slaughter, but to no avail. The Texians remembered the Alamo, remembered Goliad, and remembered months of hiding and sloshing through the mud. They were going to get even.
One Mexican survivor said the Texians fought with “drunken abandon,” and attributed the violence of the attack to whiskey. I suspect many of those ole boys might have had a little drink or two before the battle.
Sam Houston rode in front of his men during the entire battle. He made himself a singular target, being the only mounted officer in the center of the fray. His cavalry was on the left flank, next to the river. Houston’s magnificent white horse, Saracen, was shot from beneath him, as was a second mount. Houston’s ankle was shattered by a musket ball, but he mounted and rode his third horse into the thick of the battle. Santa Anna, by contrast, grabbed a Colonel’s horse and dashed away to temporary safety.
History shows that there were 630 Mexicans killed, 208 wounded, and 730 captured, including Santa Anna. The Texians lost 9 dead and 30 wounded, including Sam Houston. Uncle Henry McLaughlin recovered and ended up down south in Beeville, where I lost track of him. We'll get to know his older brother, James McLaughlin, a lot better in later editions.Next time, we'll explore the aftermath of the battle, tie up some loose ends, and see what finally became of sweet Emily.
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