This was the 30th. Now there were some 200 volunteers, all told, in Gonzales. Mr. Chisholm and Mr. Sowell were working hard, cutting ox chains into short pieces, for the cannon, and welding iron scraps into balls. The cannon itself was mounted and ready.
Accordingly, at four that afternoon, Regidor Clements reported to Lieutenant Castañeda. He stood on the Gonzales side of the river, and yelled across to the lieutenant on the other side. Gonzales was not very hospitable; but Mr. Clements had too much sense to trust himself on the dragoons’ side.
Everybody present could hear the message.
“The alcalde is still absent,” shouted Mr. Clements, in very good Spanish. “And in his absence it has fallen to my lot to reply to the communication sent to him asking a second time for the cannon. The right of consulting with our own political chief of the department of the Brazos seems to be denied us. Therefore my reply reduces itself to this: I cannot, nor do I desire to, deliver up the cannon; it was given to us for our defense; and this is the sentiment of all the members of the council now here present. The cannon is in the town, and only through force will we yield. We are weak and few in number, nevertheless we are contending for what we believe to be just principles.”
When Regidor Clements finished reading aloud the paper that he had drawn up, the lieutenant replied. He said that the cannon had only been loaned, and had not been a gift; and that by making prisoners of the corporal and party the town had committed a crime against the dignity of the Mexican republic.
Regidor Clements stood firm, and said that the answer was what he had just read; but if Lieutenant Castañeda really desired the cannon, he might come over and get it. At that the lieutenant shrugged his shoulders, and rather comically replied:
“Many thanks, señor. I suppose I need not come if I don’t want to.” Then he saluted and retired to his troop. Ernest and Jim and all the other Texans cheered. Thus the matter rested.
“Cracky!” blurted Jim. “Wish they would try to cross. Wouldn’t we pepper ’em!”
“There comes the ferry,” informed Ernest “Maybe we’ll cross, ourselves.”
And sure enough, the ferry was being poled down from the mouth of the slough and was tied on the Gonzales side, ready for business.