In November 1831, Jim Bowie and his older brother Rezin P. Bowie set out from San Antonio with about ten other men in search of the supposed silver mine near the San Saba River. The expedition would end in one of the fiercest Indian fights recorded in Texas history.
The party included David Buchanan, Robert Armstrong, Jesse Wallace, Matthew Doyle, Cephas Hamm, James Coryell, Thomas McCaslin, and two servant boys, Charles and Gonzales. They left San Antonio on November 2, 1831, bound for the old silver mines of the San Saba mission.
The journey was uneventful until about 10 a.m. on November 19, when the group was overtaken by two Comanche Indians and a Mexican. The three said they belonged to the party of Isaony, a Comanche chief whose followers numbered about sixteen.
They explained that they were on their way to San Antonio with a drove of horses taken from the Wacos and Tawakonis, and that they intended to return the animals to their owners, citizens of San Antonio. After smoking and talking for about an hour, and after receiving small presents of tobacco, powder, and shot, the visitors returned to their party waiting at the Llano River.
The next morning, between daylight and sunrise, the same Mexican arrived at the Bowie camp on a badly fatigued horse. After eating and smoking, he delivered a warning from Isaony. He said the group was being followed by 124 Tawakona and Waco Indians, joined by 40 others, who were determined to take their scalps at all hazards.
Isaony had spoken with the war party the previous evening and tried without success to dissuade them. As proof of his account, the Mexican produced the chief's silver medal, a common token among the natives in such cases. He added that Isaony had sixteen men, badly armed and without ammunition, but would help if the Bowie party would return and join him.
Knowing the enemy lay between them and the Comanches, the Bowie party decided it was more prudent to continue toward the old fort on the San Saba River, about thirty miles away. The Mexican returned to his people, and the expedition moved on.
The roads were bad and rocky, and the horses' feet were worn. The party failed to reach the fort by evening and had difficulty finding a good campsite. They settled on a cluster of thirty or forty live oak trees, each about the size of a man's body.
To the north was a thicket of live oak bushes about ten feet high, forty yards long, and twenty yards wide. To the west, thirty or forty yards away, ran a stream of water. The surrounding country was open prairie with a few trees, rocks, and broken land. The trail they had followed lay east of the camp.
The men prepared defenses by cutting a road inside the thicket about ten feet from the outer edge all the way around, and by clearing prickly pears from among the bushes. They hobbled their horses and posted sentinels for the night. They were then about six miles from the fort.
Nothing happened overnight, and at first light the men prepared to resume the journey. As they were starting, they spotted three Indians on their trail to the east, about two hundred yards away, with a footman about fifty yards ahead of the main body, face to the ground, tracking them.
The Indian cry went up, and the men prepared for defense. They dismounted and fastened both saddle and pack horses to the trees. Once the Indians saw they had been discovered, they gave the war whoop, halted, and began stripping for action.
A number of mounted Indians reconnoitered the ground, including a few Caddos whom the Bowie party recognized by the cut of their hair. These Caddos had always claimed to be friendly toward the whites.
With the enemy numbering 164 against their eleven, the party agreed that Rezin P. Bowie should go out to talk and try to reach a compromise rather than fight. Accompanied by David Buchanan, he walked to within forty yards of the Indian line and asked in their own tongue that their chief come forward to talk.
The answer was "How do you do? How do you do?" in English, followed by a discharge of twelve shots. One shot broke Buchanan's leg. Bowie returned the salutation with the contents of a double-barreled gun and a pistol.
Bowie then took Buchanan on his shoulder and started back to camp. The Indians opened a heavy fire, wounding Buchanan in two more places and piercing Bowie's hunting shirt in several spots without injuring him. Seeing that the shots had not brought Bowie down, eight Indians on foot chased him with tomahawks. When they closed in, the rest of the Bowie party rushed to his aid, brought down four of the attackers, and drove the other four back to the main body.
The men returned to their position, and all was still for about five minutes. Then they discovered that a hill northeast of them, about sixty yards away, was covered with Indians. The Indians opened a heavy fire with loud yells.
The chief could be heard in a loud, audible voice urging his men to charge. He walked his horse and appeared perfectly composed. The Bowie party's guns were all empty except for Mr. Hamm's. James Bowie called out, "Whose gun is loaded?" Hamm answered, "Mine is." He was told to shoot the Indian on horseback.
Hamm fired, breaking the chief's leg and killing his horse. The chief was seen hopping around his horse with his shield on his arm to keep off the balls. Four of the Bowie party who had reloaded fired at him at once, and all the balls took effect through his hip shield. He fell and was immediately surrounded by his warriors, who picked him up and carried him off. Several of them were shot while carrying away their dead chief.
The whole party then retreated over the hill out of sight, except for a few who dodged from tree to tree to avoid the shots. The Indians soon covered the hill a second time, bringing up bowmen who had not yet been in action, and began a heavy fire of bows and arrows. The defenders returned a well-directed fire from their rifles.
Another chief then appeared on horseback near the spot where the first had fallen. Again the question was asked, "Whose gun is loaded?" and the answer was that nobody's was. Little Charles came running up with Buchanan's rifle, which had not been discharged since Buchanan was wounded, and handed it to James Bowie, who instantly fired and brought the chief from his horse. He too was surrounded by six or eight of his men and carried off under fire.
While the defenders fought the Indians on the hill, some fifteen or twenty Caddos got under the bank in their rear, about forty yards away. From that cover they opened fire, wounding Matthew Doyle, the ball entering his left breast and coming out at his back.
When Doyle cried out that he was wounded, Thomas McCaslin hurried to the spot and called out, "Where is that Indian that shot Doyle?" A more experienced hand told him not to venture there, because from the reports of their guns the attackers must be riflemen.
At that instant an Indian was discovered, and as McCaslin was raising his gun he was shot through the center of his body and died instantly. Robert Armstrong exclaimed, "Where is the Indian that shot McCaslin?" He too was warned not to venture out, as the attackers must be riflemen.
Armstrong discovered an Indian and was raising his gun to shoot when he was fired at. The ball cut off a portion of the stock of his gun and lodged in the barrel.
By this time the enemy had formed a complete circle around the defenders, occupying points of rocks and scattered bushes and trees. The firing became general from all quarters. Finding their position among the trees too exposed, the men were forced to leave them and take to the bushes.
Their first task was to dislodge the riflemen from the bank under the creek, who were now within shooting distance. They soon succeeded, because they could see the Indians when the Indians could not see them.
The road cut around the thicket the night before gave them a great advantage. It allowed a clear view of the enemy in the prairie while the defenders remained completely hidden. They baffled the Indian shots by moving six or eight feet the moment they fired, since the only mark was the smoke of their guns. The Indians would put as many as twenty holes in a place the size of a pocket handkerchief where they had seen the smoke.
In this manner the fight continued for two hours. One more man was wounded: James Coryell, shot through the arm with the ball lodging in his side. The ball had first struck a small bush, which prevented it from penetrating deeper.
The Indians now realized they could not dislodge the defenders from their position. They suffered heavily from the rifle fire, which brought down half a dozen at every round. They resorted to setting the dry grass on fire, both to rout the defenders and to use the smoke as cover to carry off their dead and wounded.
The wind was blowing from the west, and the Indians placed the fire in that quarter. It burned all the grass down to the creek and then bore off to the right, leaving about five acres around the defenders untouched. Under cover of the smoke, the Indians carried away a portion of their dead and wounded.
Meanwhile, the Bowie party scraped away dry grass and leaves from around their wounded men and baggage to keep the fire from reaching them. They also gathered rocks and bushes and made a breastwork.
The Indians saw that the fire had failed to rout the defenders as they had expected. They reoccupied the points of rocks and trees and began another attack. The firing continued until the wind suddenly shifted and blew hard from the north.
The defenders saw that they were in a critical position if the Indians managed to set fire to the small spot around them. They kept a strict watch in all directions and had the servant boys scrape away dry grass and leaves from around the baggage and pile rocks around the wounded men.
With the wind now favorable to burning their position, one Indian succeeded in crawling down the creek and setting fire to grass that had not yet burned. Before he could retreat to his party, Robert Armstrong shot and killed him.
The flames rose about ten feet high and bore directly toward the defenders. It seemed they would either be burned alive or driven out into the prairie among the Indians. The Indians were encouraged and fired volley after volley, shouting and yelling, at times firing about twenty shots a minute.
As soon as the smoke hid them from the Indians' view, the men gathered and held a consultation. Their first thought was that the Indians might charge under cover of the smoke, since the defenders could make only one effective fire. Sparks were flying so thickly that no man could open a powder horn without risking an explosion.
They determined that if the Indians charged, they would give them one fire, then place their backs together, draw their knives, and fight as long as one of them was left alive. If the Indians did not charge, they would hold their position, every man taking care of himself as best he could. When the fire reached the ring around their baggage and wounded men, they would smother it with buffalo robes, deerskins, and blankets.
The Indians did not charge, so the men carried out the second plan and succeeded after great exertion. Their thicket was so burned and scorched that it offered very little shelter. They all moved into the ring made around the wounded men and baggage and began building the breastworks higher, using loose rocks from inside and dirt dug up with knives and sticks.
During this last fire, the Indians succeeded in removing all their dead and wounded. It was now sundown, and the men had been fighting since sunrise. Seeing the defenders still alive and ready to fight, the Indians withdrew about three hundred yards and camped for the night with their dead and wounded.
The Bowie party worked through the night to raise the breastworks higher, and by 10 p.m. they had built it breast high. They filled their vessels with water, expecting another attack in the morning. They could hear the Indians crying nearly all night over their dead, one of their customs.
At daylight, the Indians shot one of their wounded chiefs, also a custom for those mortally wounded. They then took their dead and wounded to a mountain about a mile away and placed them in a cave in the side of the mountain.
At 8 a.m., two of the Bowie party went out to the Indians' camp of the night before and counted forty-eight bloody spots in the grass where the dead and wounded had lain. The defenders had one man killed and three wounded, with five horses killed and three wounded.
The men strengthened their little fort and continued their labors until 1 p.m., when the arrival of thirteen Indians drew them back into position. As soon as the Indians saw that the defenders were fortified and ready for action, they left.
The party remained in the fort for eight days. They then set out for San Antonio, arriving in safety with their wounded after a journey of twelve days.
Up to that time, there had been no encounter between Indians and whites so protracted and desperate. Three tribes had allied, and counting on their numbers, they had expected an easy victory over the handful of whites. The Indians lost three chiefs killed on the ground and probably about a third of their entire number.
The Comanches under Isaony had been friendly toward the white settlers in this case, though they gave no aid beyond the warning. James Coryell, who was wounded in the fight, is the namesake of Coryell County.
Coryell's later life ended tragically. After returning to San Antonio, he went with Andrew Cavett to Sarahville de Viesca, a settlement near Marlin founded by Sterling C. Robertson, impresario of the colony, in 1834. Coryell made his home with the Cavitt family. Sarahville was also the site of Fort Milam, built to protect settlers in the region.
In 1835, Coryell explored the Leon River country with Cavitt and applied for a land grant in what is now Coryell County. In 1836, Robertson became captain of a company of Texas Rangers stationed at Fort Milam. During the spring and summer of 1836, Coryell served as a private in Robertson's Ranger company, and in the fall he joined Captain Thomas H. Barron's Ranger militia to protect the 200 settlers living in Sarahville.
On May 27, 1837, Coryell and two other Rangers, Ezra Webb and Michael Castleman, were raiding a bee tree a short distance from the fort when they were attacked by Caddo Indians. His companions escaped, but Coryell, in poor health and unable to run, was shot and scalped.
A party from the fort returned to the site and found Coryell wounded and bloodied but still alive. He died two days later and was buried nearby. The exact location of the grave was not recorded and was eventually lost. The Caddos who took part in the 1831 attack on Bowie's party would eventually take the scalp of James Coryell.
Jim Bowie had come to Texas from Louisiana in 1828 at age 32. He stood six feet tall and was all muscle. He was pleasing in look, speech, and manner to both men and women, though it was said he seldom smiled. Letters and other writings by him and his brother Rezin are in clear, sinewy English. After he had been in Texas a while, he spoke Spanish as well as French.
Bowie was not a ruffian, though he could be rough. He understood the cutthroats and gamblers of Natchez and was at home both in patrician houses and in the marshes and prairies. In Texas, he fought Indians and Mexicans. He could move as a well-bred gentleman in the best society of New Orleans, Natchez, San Antonio, or Saltillo. He was convivial, loved music, was impetuous and generous, ambitious and scheming, and seems to have been more eager in the game of gaining than for gain itself. He played cards for money and, given the debts of his career, must at times have lost heavily.
Unlike most immigrants from the states, Bowie rode past the Texian settlements along the Brazos River until he reached San Antonio in the Spanish country. In June 1828, he was baptized into the Roman Catholic Church. His sponsors were Don Juan Martín de Veramendi and Doña María Josefa Navarro de Veramendi, who by their marriage had united the chief families of Spanish Texas and were the parents of the lovely Ursula. Don Juan Martín was about to become vice governor of Texas.
Bowie looked toward Ursula, looked over the land situation, and looked for leads to Spanish silver. He rode back east but returned to Texas early in 1830. He rode on to San Antonio and then, in company with Governor Veramendi and family, down into Mexico.
On September 30, 1830, the Coahuila and Texas legislature at Saltillo passed an act making Bowie a Mexican citizen, with the understanding that he would finance a textile mill to be built in Saltillo. Full citizenship gave him the right to buy up to eleven leagues of public land at from one hundred to two hundred fifty dollars per league, a right withheld from colonists.
On April 25, 1831, James Bowie and Maria Ursula de Veramendi were married in the San Fernando Church at San Antonio, where the record of the marriage is preserved. She was 19, and he was 35, though he gave his age as 30. As a married man, he received a headright league and appears to have received a certificate for a labor.
Following the marriage, he made a note to Ursula's grandmother for 750 dollars, borrowed 1,879 dollars from his father-in-law, and took his bride on a honeymoon trip to New Orleans and Natchez. In November, he and Rezin P. Bowie, with seven other Americans and two servants, set out from San Antonio for the fabled Spanish mine on the San Saba River.
Each of the Bowie brothers wrote an account of the fight. Rezin's is the much more detailed and vivid. Each implied in his narrative that he was the leader.
After the battle, back in San Antonio, James Bowie was granted permission to raise an expedition against the Tawakoni Indians. He estimated that they had 2,000 horses worth capturing. A rumor spread that the object of the expedition was to further the views of speculators in mines, and a hot advertisement against the rumor was published. If the expedition was made, notice of it has eluded the searcher.
Bowie kept riding among the Indians, against the Indians, down into Mexico, across the settled parts of Texas, back into Louisiana, and up into Mississippi. He and Ursula lived with her parents in the Veramendi house, later called the palace. There, as witnesses in a lawsuit over a league of land on the Navidad River testified a third of a century later, Bowie was treated as a son and furnished with money and supplies without limit.
While without regular occupation, he hunted for mines of gold or silver. When he made trips east, he lived like a man who had plenty of money, furnished by Governor Veramendi. Bowie was on an extended trip east when, between September 5 and 8, 1833, his wife, their two infants, her father, and her mother all died from cholera at Monclova, where the Veramendis had a summer home.
Bowie was not aware of the catastrophe when he executed his will at Natchez on October 21 that year. In it, he designated as his sole heirs Rezin P. Bowie and their sister Martha Bowie Stirrett and her husband. His wife, he explained, had already been provided for. He stipulated that 4,000 dollars be restored to a friend who had advanced him that amount to invest in lands, and 4,000 more to another friend who had secured a loan for him for that amount.
He must have believed or hoped that his land deals would pay off, for he stipulated that a niece and nephew be educated out of the proceeds of his estate. He was lying ill at the home of Angus McNeil in Mississippi when word of the deaths in his family reached him.
The deaths came in ascending order to Ursula's grandmother, a Navarro who inherited the whole Veramendi estates. She died in 1837, leaving other Navarros to inherit and to make claims against the Bowie estates.
The sentimental habit holds that after the death of his wife and babies, Bowie ceased to find joy in life, and that grief drove him into being dead drunk at San Felipe de Austin while a provisional government for Texas was being formed, and to prolong drunkenness with his partisans at San Antonio, where he turned all military prisoners loose and banged open the doors of the town calaboose. He had never been a total abstainer.
Whatever his feelings, and there can be no doubt that he suffered grief, he was on the go as usual in 1834, now in New Orleans, now at San Antonio, and now down in Mexico. The silver mines near the San Saba River have still not been found to the present day.
Juan Martin de Veramendi, who died with his wife in September 1833, was then the governor of Coahuila and Texas. He died in office at a time when there was contention over whether to locate the state capital in Saltillo or Monclova.