The Mexicans had managed at considerable cost to mount a number of artillery batteries beyond rifle range. These had been fired at the Texan position for days without inflicting serious damage or fatalities. The Alamo defenders had used their own cannon to good effect on occasion. But Travis, now in full command because Bowie lay half out of his head from pneumonia, had been sparing in his use of the big guns. Powder was in short supply and must be conserved for whatever urgent need might yet come.

In the early days of the siege there had been the exhilaration of first combat to keep spirits stirred, and the hope of reinforcements. Goliad was considered the most likely source. Travis had sent out couriers like Juan Seguín in the dark of night to try to bring back help. James Butler Bonham had ridden through the Mexican lines to Goliad, only to bring back word—again through Mexican lines—that Fannin had declined. Fannin said he would need all his four hundred men to hold the presidio at Goliad.

At a low point in the garrison’s morale, thirty-two men from the town of Gonzales paraded through the Mexican encampments unscathed and offered their services to the beleaguered defenders. Just thirty-two men, when Santa Anna had thousands massed to storm these walls. But the sight of these new faces brought cheer. If they had made it through, perhaps more would be coming. That, and the fact that the Alamo had lost not a single man despite days of cannonading, lifted spirits for a time.

Now, dog-tired but unable to sleep, Isaac lay with his hat for a pillow upon the bare ground and stared up at a cold, dark sky. He could smell the smoke of the Alamo’s campfires, where men huddled for warmth against the night’s chill, and from Mexican campfires just beyond rifle range. The odor of gunpowder was mixed in it, too. Midnight had passed. The thirteenth day had begun, though it would be hours yet before the sun came up. He wished for sleep but could not find it. His troubled mind ran riot with a hundred images, memories of the past, dreams he had once entertained and none of which had come to pass. That they could ever come to pass for him now he realized was unlikely. The Mexicans had tightened their ring of steel until he knew there was no possibility of reinforcements getting in, even if any were on their way. It seemed no longer a matter of whether the Mexicans would make a frontal assault but simply when. Sentries with spyglasses had seen troops building ladders yesterday, and there had been considerable activity in the Mexican ranks. A fierce bombardment had left a serious breach in the north wall. Then, suddenly, the firing had stopped. After all these noisy days and nights, the Santanista guns stood quiet.

The eerie silence was as nerve-wracking as the cannonade. Isaac wondered if that might also be part of Santa Anna’s strategy, to grind them mentally as well as physically.