He finally had to concede that his search for Michael was futile; his brother was not here. He found Isaac Blackwood and decided the company Isaac had affiliated himself with was as good as any. Isaac asked him no foolish questions; James supposed the answer showed in his face. Isaac said only, “Michael has always known how to take care of himself.”

The Reverend Fairweather worked his way from one camp to another, calling men to listen to the Word, offering up prayers for those who felt the need. James had been a disappointment to his mother in the matter of church attendance, but he felt drawn to Fairweather’s service. The man’s message left him with a measure of peace for a little while.

He felt himself as ready as he would ever be for an assault upon the town. The rest of the men seemed equally primed. But the leadership waited, holding the existing positions, hoping the Mexicans could be starved into submission. Days passed, and dragged into weeks. The men had come to do battle but found themselves conducting a siege instead. That siege stretched into winter’s cold. Rations ran short because there was no formal organization to provide for so many men. Volunteers gradually began pulling away to see about their families, left in isolated cabins and tiny settlements all over American Texas. Those who remained grumbled and fretted and shivered against the north winds, for most had left home in warm weather and had no heavy clothing to shelter them from November’s cold.

There was talk about a third Texas consultation back in San Felipe setting up a provisional government. James had little interest in politics and paid but scant attention. He did hear, however, that Stephen Austin and two others had been selected as commissioners to travel to the United States and plead for men, munitions, and money to aid the Texan cause. This was work for which Austin was better fitted than the conduct of a military campaign, though his fading health would make traveling dangerous for him. Austin gave up his command of the shrinking Texan army and took the commission without complaint. He had never hesitated to give his all for Texas, and he did not shirk this final duty. The command at Bexar passed to Edward Burleson. Still, the men waited, for their officers thought the Mexican fortifications appeared too formidable. Wait, they said. When the Mexicans had starved long enough, they would lay down their weapons and abandon the town.

James acknowledged that this was probably the wisest course; it was certainly the safest one, but the inactivity, the cold, and his own hunger caused him to begin considering going home as so many others had already done. He was cheered a little when sixty-four men of the New Orleans Grays marched into the main encampment, fresh from a voyage to the mouth of the Brazos on the schooner Columbus. They brought with them fresh provisions and military stores contributed by the people of New Orleans. It was the first sign James had seen that people elsewhere, outside of Texas, had an interest in what was happening here.