Recollections of Early Texas Read online

  JOHN HOLMES JENKINS, III

  Beaumont, Texas

  Acknowledgments

  My sincere and grateful thanks are due to many persons throughout the state who assisted me in the preparation of this book. First, I give my most heartfelt thanks to my greataunt, Mrs. W. T. Decherd of Austin. She it was who showed me the Jenkins reminiscences and who, instead of laughing at the thought of a fifteen-year-old writing a book, encouraged me to do so. Fostering the love of Texas and of history in general which I share with her, she gave much of her time telling what she knew of her grandfather and her mother, who copied by hand the original memoirs.

  Next I thank Miss Claire Andrews, Mrs. Harriet L. Willis, and my Grandmother Lila of Beaumont, who helped me make this book a surprise for my mother and father.

  In Bastrop, Texas, Tignal Jones allowed me the use of the probate and deed records, and Hartford Jenkins spent much time showing me the exact location of many of the places mentioned in this book. Misses Grace and Nell Fitzwilliam permitted me to use material belonging to the Bastrop Historical Society, as well as their own personal data on Bastrop County.

  An important necessity in writing a book is a place to work without interruption and where books and papers may be scattered about without danger of their being “straightened” or put in neat little stacks by some helpful elder. For arranging such bachelor quarters for me, my love and thanks go to my Gran and Grandaddy Chalmers of Bastrop.

  Essential material was gathered during two summer vacations at the Archives Collections of the University of Texas Library and the Texas State Library. The Archivists of these two libraries willingly gave me much helpful information. I especially appreciate the trust that they reposed in me and the liberties they granted me in the use of their invaluable source material relating to Texas history.

  I also thank Mrs. Carl Swanson of the Austin Public Library for the use of the Frank Brown papers and for trusting me with other valuable Texas books.

  I received constant encouragement and valuable advice from Mr. J. Frank Dobie, who very graciously wrote the foreword to this book. Words cannot express the deep appreciation I feel for the time he gave to me.

  Contents

  Foreword

  Preface

  Acknowledgments

  I. Austin’s Little Colony

  II. Valuable Additions Arrive

  III. Mexican Invasion

  IV. Brushy Creek and Plum Creek

  V. Comanches, Caddoes, and Cherokees

  VI. More Mexican Trouble

  VII. The Mier Expedition

  VIII. The Texan Santa Fe Expedition

  IX. People of Note

  X. Recollections at Random

  XI. In All Fairness

  XII. Hunting and Social Life

  XIII. From the Sublime to the Ridiculous

  XIV. In Conclusion

  Biographical Notes

  Bibliography

  Notes

  Index

  Illustrations

  John Holland Jenkins, Frontispiece

  Republic of Texas (map)

  Austin’s Little Colony (map)

  Bastrop, Texas (map)

  Indians

  Storming of the Alamo

  Indian horsemen

  Santa Anna

  Felix Huston

  Edward Burleson

  Ben McCulloch

  Sam Highsmith in Santa Anna’s uniform

  R. M. Williamson

  Jack Hays

  John B. Jones

  Caddo chief

  Placido, Chief of the Tonkawas

  Kiowa chief

  The Battle of Plum Creek

  Indian war dance

  Comanche warrior

  Trading with the Indians

  Austin in 1844

  Texas Rangers, Company D, in 1887

  Home of A. Wiley Hill in Bastrop

  The French Embassy in Austin

  Home of Campbell Taylor in Bastrop

  Home of Col. Washington Jones in Bastrop

  Home of John Holland Jenkins in Bastrop

  John Twohig residence in San Antonio

  RECOLLECTIONS

  of Early Texas

  REPUBLIC OF TEXAS. From Stanley Siegel, A Political History of the Texas Republic, 1836–1845, 1956

  CHAPTER I

  Austin’s Little Colony

  About the middle of October in the year 18281 my father left his old home in Alabama and came west, intending to grow up with the new country—at least in a financial point of view.

  I was then a mere child, but the scenes and incidents of those early times are very clear and distinct in my mind even now, although more than fifty years with many and great changes have worked upon my life since then, and I look around me in vain for those who accompanied us on our journey westward.2

  One by one they have tired upon the journey of life and have gone to their long rest, until no signs of the old stirring times are left, except here and there an old man recounts to his children and to his children’s children the many thrilling experiences of the old Texans.

  Standing now and viewing the populous and thriving cities, together with the vast expanses of fields and pastures wrought by man’s hand in this half-century, a description of our State as those early settlers found her seems as a “tale that must be told.”

  The broad prairies covered with rich grass and wild rye and her dense forests teeming with game are indeed a thing of the dead past. Memory recalls her as a proud and happy queen, holding forth her rare treasures of grand and beautiful scenery, and bright prospects to those hardy children who came thus upon her virgin soil, facing so many hardships, deprivations, difficulties, and dangers.

  Surrounding our small band of pioneers was one vast and magnificent solitude with no sight nor sound of human kind, except the wandering tribes of Indians in their raids against each other and against the slow but sure inroads of civilization—which had driven them from their native hunting ground. I can recall many tales of horror concerning Indian cruelty and treachery upon the eastern portions of the Republic of Texas, and as we journeyed we found substantial proof of their truth. Near Captain James Ross’s3 on the Colorado River, thirty-five miles from Bastrop, which was then called “Mina,”4 we found human bones lying “grim and ghastly on the green grass.” Upon inquiry they were found to be the skeletons of Indians who had come to Captain Ross’s, first under pretense of peace and friendliness, then growing more and more aggressive until they gradually revealed false and murderous designs, until at last for self-protection the whites collected and killed them.

  While here, we heard of a murder by Indians of rather recent date. An old man by the name of Tumlinson*5 was at work, tanning or dressing hides some distance from the home. A party of Comanches, finding him there alone and helpless, killed and scalped him with the relentless cruelty which characterized this tribe. Coming on to Woods’ Prairie,6 we found similar bones, bleaching and seeming to point to coming strife, and possible death. Besides, the few families who had preceded us and were in a measure settled there, could give accounts of many deeds of bold and unwarrantable cruelty by the Indians, who were most evidently resenting the coming of white men upon their hunting grounds. All this would naturally fill the minds of the women and children with terror and alarm, which increased as we came farther westward—for we knew full well that the frontier settlers would be most exposed.

  Continuing on in face of all these tales of danger we at last reached our first home, which was situated on Barton’s Creek, about forty miles below Austin. Here we began life in the Republic of Texas, squatting out on the raw prairie, where never a stick of timber had been hewn, and deprived of many things generally regarded as being among the very necessities of life.

  Our absolute need gave birth to invention and energy, however, and all hands—men, women, and children—went to work with a will to make our new quarters as comfortable as possible. When we think of families without houses, wagons, milk, or even
nails, far removed from any communications or exchange with the world—when we think of them thus situated, it is natural to wonder what could be done. But it is surprising how much can be done when bone, sinew, and muscle are used with a will upon any material—however meager and insufficient. The change wrought upon the wilderness and the solitary place would have seemed almost like magic work to one who simply looked upon the scene as we came upon it, and then in a few days upon the huts, which stood ready for us to enter. And very comfortable quarters these were—log cabins covered with pine boards, all of which had to be cut, hewn, brought to hand, and built in shape, without wagons, nails, or any kind of machinery.

  The cedar logs were cut with axes and were dragged up with horses, while the pine boards for the roofs were split about a mile and a half distant and then brought up by the men, who carried them on horseback.

  Having completed and taken possession of the cabins, we settled into habits of life no less primitive and destitute of modern advantages than the cozy little huts that sheltered us, and few people of these modern times can imagine the ten thousand difficulties with which we had to contend. Mother, as well as the other wives of those pioneers, must have possessed rare tact and common sense, however, and been willing and ready to adapt herself to all circumstances, for although our home life was destitute of the most common necessities and conveniences, we never seemed to suffer for anything.

  Beginning with bread, it seems difficult to understand how corn could be ground into meal without machinery of some kind; then we had no sieve, and no oven, but our old mortar and pestle was a first-rate grist mill, though very tedious as compared to present processes. Our sieve consisted of a wooden hoop, over which buckskin was stretched, and this in turn was perforated with a red-hot steel or wire. Upon our “Johnny Cake” boards, as they were called, was baked as good bread as was ever taken from oven or stove. Our coffee was tied in a piece of buckskin and beaten upon a rock with another rock.

  As soon as possible corn was planted, for our bread supply was getting very slim, and neither corn nor salt could be obtained nearer than the Brazos River. Once we were out of both, and we were compelled to live a while on dried turkey breast for bread, while our meat was unsalted venison. Our hard life, as is usually the case, was a very healthy one, and we were quite comfortable in our new home, despite all these hardships, and the prospect of Indian attacks staring us in the face.

  Very soon we received our first visit from Indians, which, by the way, was an entirely new experience in our lives—it being the very first time I had seen one of these red men of the woods. I remember full well what a wild picture the band formed—forty Comanches on the warpath under the leadership of the famous “Buffalo Hump,” who was then young, and a magnificent specimen of savage manhood. The warriors were almost without exception large, fine-looking men, displaying to the very best advantage their erect, graceful, well-knit frames and finely proportioned figures, being entirely naked, with the exception of a small apron attached to a belt or girdle, which was made of cloth of all textures and colors, with fringes and tassels at the ends. They had keen black eyes without lashes, and long plaits of coarse black hair hanging from their bare heads down to the very ground behind them. All this peculiarity of costume, combined with their no less peculiar color, and their arms consisting of bows, arrows, lances, and carbines, made a rare picture of wild, untamed beauty, which could not be viewed without interest, and once seen could never be forgotten.

  They could speak only the Spanish language, which was entirely unknown to our party, except one Mrs. Woods, whose husband had been forced on account of Indian depredations and dangers to take his family from their home in Woods’ Prairie, four miles below us, and had come to us for protection. Though understanding their language, “Mrs. Betsy” was very bitterly opposed to serving as interpreter—regarding the savages with the most intense fear, hatred, and suspicion. Under the circumstances she was obliged to act as interpreter, however, and Buffalo Hump, being chief, was also spokesman.

  He first asked, “Where is your Captain?”

  She answered that he had gone hunting that morning, and would soon be back. He then proceeded to state their business, saying they meant no harm to the whites, were hunting Tonkawa Indians, were in great hurry, were hungry, and must have meat.

  In the few months of our stay here we already had gotten a small start of cattle, so we proposed to let them kill a yearling. To this they cried, “No, must have big beef. If white man come to Indian hungry, Indian kill big mule or horse—have no cows.”

  So, without more ado, they killed one of our finest cows and before it was thoroughly dead were eating its raw liver most ravenously, while the warm, red blood trickled from their mouths and down their chins. Father and Mr. [William] Barton, who, as Mrs. Woods informed them, had gone hunting that morning, now arrived with venison, of which they immediately took possession, eating portions of that raw also.

  There was one warrior among them, the peculiarity of whose appearance and position caused us to especially notice and remember him. He was very slender, indeed was much smaller than the Comanches, as well as different from them in form and feature—besides, he occupied the position of slave to the chief. By their own account he was a captive Tonkawa whom they had raised from infancy. While there he ran a footrace with one of the Comanches, and such running we had never before seen. The Tonkawa came out ahead and was pronounced winner, but both were most wonderfully fleet, nimble, and light, the race being one hundred yards.

  This visitation was the beginning of a long and aggressive series of depredations, which gradually increased in effrontery first—then culminated into theft and murder and brought about fierce struggles and terrible loss of life, which characterized the history of our frontier settlements in their early days. For a time, bands of Indians would be seen passing to and fro in their warfare against other tribes and in search of game; always, however, seeming to assume the most friendly attitude toward us.

  At length, one morning we awoke to find every horse gone, and upon examination there were moccasin tracks and other signs, plainly showing that the Indians had made us a visit during the night and had driven our horses away. The discovery naturally created great excitement, and there was a general uprising and preparation on the part of our men to pursue the thieves, and if possible regain our horses. Upon going a very short distance, however, they were much relieved to find the horses all quietly grazing on the prairie. The Indians had evidently reconsidered the matter, and for some reason had concluded not to take them. We afterward learned that a band of Coushattas in their rovings had mistaken our horses for those of some other Indians, their enemies, and had started off with them, but daylight revealed their mistake, and they turned them loose. This was a kind of initiatory step, however, and seemed to cast a shadow of coming events.

  Very soon other little things of a suspicious character occurred. A band of Caddoes next came constantly in and out, pretending to be hunting and trying to seem friendly and honest; but Messrs. Monte Woods* and John Cooke,* old settlers, who had been here some time before us and had acquired considerable knowledge and experience of Indian treachery and cunning, as well as a personal acquaintance with the various tribes, warned us that their coming and maneuvers meant no good and probable mischief. Of course this warning put our men upon the alert, and careful note was taken of every new or unusual circumstance connected with their visits, which were all the time becoming more frequent.

  Sometimes they would be joined by two or three other tribes, and would linger in the vicinity as if hesitating upon some question or meditating some new project. At last they commenced stealing, going to Woods’ Prairie, where the families had crops growing, and stealing corn until serious damage was done.

  Immediately ten or twelve settlers collected, and arming themselves went into their camps to see about it. The Indians assembled in council, and proceeded to business. Our men informed the Caddoes that the thing must be stopped
, and at the same time let them know that they had come for that purpose—to stop it. The cool bravery and determination of our men had a telling effect upon the thieves, who at once acknowledged the theft and gave us a mule by way of compensation, then made all manner of concessions and promises for the future. One of our party, Mr. Jeff Prior [or Prayor], used every power of effort and persuasion to induce the whites to attack and kill the Caddoes without delay or mercy, but the proposition was overruled by a unanimous vote.

  The apology of the thieves was accepted and a treaty of peace made. But the Indians would not consent to the departure of the whites till all had formed a circle about the campfire and smoked the calumet, or pipe of peace, together. The smell or taste of tobacco always made my father deathly sick, and he tried to be excused from taking part in this ceremony, but they would not be satisfied until all had taken a whiff from the calumet.

  Constantly in the fall and summer of 1829 [1830] we would have additions to our small band of settlers—men, old and young, from all parts of the United States, coming to try, or look at, Texas. These newcomers were very welcome, for we were not only glad to get news direct from the great world of commerce now so remote from us, but we were also glad to be strengthened in numbers, in view of probable assault by the roving bands of savages, whose visits were constantly growing more frequent and more aggressive.

  This summer marked the coming of some of the first settlers of West Texas, now known as Bastrop County. Martin Wells* came from Alabama, and was the first man who settled where the town of Bastrop now stands. Then, too, one Moses Rousseau* stayed a week with us, and then moving on settled first and alone west of the Colorado River on the Old San Antonio Road, opposite Bastrop. But most prominent, as well as most welcome among these newcomers, were old James Burleson and his sons, who came as strangers, but soon were at home with their new-found friends.