Buccaneers, Bushwhackers, and Other Weird Connections

This is the second in a series of excerpts from Sheer Will: the Story of the Port of Houston and the Houston Ship Channel, highlighting the roles of Gavleston Bay and Buffalo Bayou in the birth of the Texas Republic.

Texas history is an ensemble cast of some really divergent characters. One of them is perhaps the most lovable rogue in all of piracy—Jean Laffite. He came into the Texas epoch as one of many pirates marauding ships in the Gulf of Mexico. Laffite was quite well known in his day, and much to the chagrin of Andrew Jackson, then president of a very young United States avidly defending itself from an England still stinging from an embarrassing defeat by the colonials. Laffite was a crucial ally during the Battle of New Orleans in the War of 1812 when the British tried and end run invasion through Louisiana. Suffice it to say that Laffite helped Jackson backhand the British. But that's not the interesting part.

Lafitte (L) is introduced to President Jackson (R).

Lafitte gets credited with historical dibs on envisioning the commercial benefits of Galveston Bay and its feeder bayous. During the Mexican War of Independence, Laffite acted as a spy for the Spanish government. At least that was his cover story. As such, he headquartered himself on Galveston Island—then little more than the summer home for the native Karankoawa tribe, as well as a camp for Louis-Michel Aury. Aury was Laffite’s pirate competitor and a spy for the embattled Republic of Mexico. Laffite liberated the island from Aury sometime around 1817. Thus Galveston became Laffite’s homebase from which he raided ships in the Gulf and ran a smuggling operation between Galveston and New Orleans.

One historical footnote: Laffite’s smuggling network included the infamous bushwhacker, Jim Bowie. Bowie was a well-known slave trader and Jean Laffite's partner before his martyrdom 18 years later at the Alamo. They used the various bayous, hidden rivers, and streams of East Texas to smuggle slaves into the United States. Laffite eventually left Texas behind for opportunities elsewhere, and less pressure and prying by the United States. But before all that, he'd have a lasting impact on region and all of Texas. 

What makes Laffite’s role so crucial is its timing. Spain and the young American republic were squabbling over territorial boundaries resulting from the Louisiana Purchase—including what are now east Texas and the upper Texas Gulf Coast. In the middle of the whole thing, supporters of the exiled Napoleon decided to colonize the lower banks of the Trinity River that emptied into Galveston Bay. You remember Napoleon—the more than naughty little emperor of France with a penchant for invading everyone around him. Naturally when Napoleonic supporters show up in the backyard, one is apt to raise an eyebrow. 

In response to the perceived French squatters, a skittish United States charged an emissary by the name of George Graham with warning off the trespassers. Spain, in the meantime, ramped up its military force and dispatched troops to the Trinity River. While this set up seems a lit fuse to a powder keg of three opposing parties, it fizzled pretty quickly. By the time Graham and the Spanish troops converged on the bay area, the Napoleonic colonials had already abandoned their plans—actually they seemed to just disappear. It was all much ado about nothing. But, the foray did result in Graham’s fortuitous meeting with Laffite.

An 1827 map illustrates what a mystery the Texas coast was. 

Most of Texas, including the coast, was virtually unknown. Maps were so off the mark that Galveston Bay was represented as barely more than an inlet. Some maps even omitted Galveston Island. Consequently, George Graham got a big surprise during his visit with Lafitte. From their first moments, Graham realized that the entire bay area constituted a potential, if not probable heart for commerce—a large safe harbor with various rivers and bayous offering access to the interior of Texas. In fact, Graham saw that it was a key to Texas. Of course, Galveston Bay and its tributaries were not without their hazards. They were a mix of ever-changing tangles and shifting sandbars, populated by sometimes friendly natives (and other times not so friendly), pirates and privateers, along with intrepid souls willing to make their isolated homesteads in dense thickets and vast prairies. Still, when Graham reported back to Washington D.C., he was emphatic that if pirates and freebooters could overcome such obstacles, imagine what legitimate private enterprise and a free citizenry might accomplish.

So, how does all this factor into the weeks building to the fight for Texas independence? That'll be covered next time.

Breaking Away

This is the first in a series of excerpts from Sheer Will: the Story of the Port of Houston and the Houston Ship Channel, highlighting the role of Buffalo Bayou in the birth of the Texas Republic.

The Texas Revolution “busted” wide open in the fall of 1835. Within the first three months, Texian rebels achieved six victories to their credit. However, the brazen freedom fighters might have taken a lesson from a quote by the great Carthaginian general, Hannibal. He said, “Fortune is the most fickle thing in the world, and inclines with decisive favour now to one side and now to the other on the slightest pretext, treating mankind like young children.”

In other words, things change quickly—and they did. Antonio López de Santa Anna, Mexico’s president and commander-in-chief, implemented a severe and brutal campaign winning all five major engagements between February and April of 1836. The provisional Texas government was scattered and on the run. Pushing eastward ahead of Santa Anna, General Sam Houston, along with his makeshift militia, tried to buy time to ready his troops and maybe find a place to fight—or flee Texas altogether until he could muster a real fighting force.

Things looked bleak for Texas.

While it seemed as if Texians were up a creek without a paddle, victory actually lay along the slow-moving currents of the Buffalo Bayou. It began with the heads of Texas’ provisional government, President David G. Burnet and Vice President Lorenzo de Zavala. Their faith in the Buffalo led the provisional government to take refuge on its banks. In their view, Buffalo Bayou provided an easy escape to the sea and on to New Orleans, if needed. It also afforded a reliable line of communication with the outside world. Conventional wisdom was that the road north to Nacogdoches was the better choice, but a small Mexican force could easily have severed that route. Hordes of refugees must have agreed since they poured over the Brazos heading for Harrisburg so they might catch a steamer, a barge, or even a canoe that headed anywhere but where Santa Anna was going.

The Cayuga depicted as it chugs up Buffalo Bayou.

Moreover, the provisional government decided that if necessary, Galveston Island would be the last stand for a fight with Santa Anna. His army would have to make a beach landing on the island, leaving his forces vulnerable to rebel defenses. Any Mexican ships trying to invade the bay had to pass within spitball distance of Galveston and, thus, were susceptible to its artillery fire. If for some reason things completely fell apart, the island made a perfect jumping off point for an exodus east to New Orleans. Consequently, a small fleet of vessels spent the better parts of March and April making their way up and down Buffalo Bayou. Led by the Cayuga, the cavalcade included two other paddle wheelers, the Laura and the Yellow Stone, as well as the schooners Flash, Kosciusko, and Shenandoah. But it was the paddle wheelers that bore the oxen task of ferrying men, timber, and supplies in order to fortify Galveston. Indeed, later roles played by these paddle wheelers grew ever more important as the early Port of Houston story unfolded. But at the moment, they were the liberty ships of the Texas Revolution.

"Fortune is the most fickle thing in the world..."

Texians were an optimistic bunch despite the dire reality of their situation. Santa Anna’s force of thousands had just levied slaughter at the Alamo and Goliad, and he was sacking every town he came to while chasing Sam Houston. The Mexican dictator was on a bloodthirsty drive to catch Houston so that he could fight the deciding battle that would be his final solution to the rebel problem. Ahead of the Mexican army was a surge of refugees gobbling up the diminishing stores in and around Harrisburg while overloading the ever-dwindling number of transports out of harm’s way. And yet again, fortune was fickle.