Rosalie Hart Priour Autobiography "Adventures of a Family of Emigrants" with notes and commentary by historian Frank Wagner (indicated in green).
Chapter 11 On the third day after the departure of my cousin, we sailed on board of two schooners that we had chartered for Aransas Pass, from thence we were to proceed on lighters to Copano. Before sailing the Captain agreed that the one who arrived first should make signals to the other to tell him how to cross the bar. The schooner "Wildcat" was worthy of her name; she made the trip in forty-eight hours and was wrecked on the end of St. Joseph's Island, outside of the bar. When the Captain of our schooner saw her, he was going to run into her but Colonel Powers took out his pistol and taking aim, told him that he gave him so many minutes to return the schooner around and take her across the bar. When we were safely across the bar, Colonel Powers went into the cabin and the Captain, seeing no one was watching him, turned the vessel around and wrecked her just inside the bar. He ordered all the passengers to go into the cabin and the hold and shut all the hatches and we were so crowded that two passengers were smothered before the hatches were opened.
The next day the cholera broke out on the schooner and during the two weeks that we were compelled to remain on the wreck, the passengers died so fast that they could hardly throw them over as fast as they died. There was a family on board by the name St. John, of whom my father thought a great deal. One of the children died and it caused him so much suffering to throw it -- the child -- into the bay that Father borrowed a small yawl that was on the wreck and in company with three men, took the child ashore and buried it on the island.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - There is a letter in the Bexar Archives from Mariano Costa to Severo Ruiz reporting the temporary absence of the Copano Commandant to examine a ship arriving there, dated April 18, 1834.
From Matamoros, Pedro Lerma wrote on May 25, 1834, to the Military Commandant at Goliad enclosing a list of passengers on the schooners Herolina and Filadelfia, which arrived at Copano. The passenger list seems to have been lost. The passenger list for schooner Sabina from New Orleans was mentioned in a document dated June 8, 1834, but it was not preserved. The circumstances of the cholera epidemic are mentioned in the letter of Ramon Musquiz July 1, 1834 to Ayuntamientos on use of municipal funds for its control, a circular letter to Gonzales, Libertad, San Felipe and Matagord, July 1, 1834, alerting them to the risk of cholera, and to the Sindico of La Bahia, July 2, 1834, regarding combating the disease. From Libertad, Placido Benavides wrote Musquiz, July 4, 1834, on attempts of and English physician (possibly Mertha Cullen) to control the epidemic. July 5, 1834, Lorenzo Cruz reported to Musquiz on the terrible conditions of the cholera epidemic at La Bahia. Termination of the epidemic was recorded in a letter of Antonio Salinas to J.N. Seguin, the new governor, dated August 28, 1834. It noted that the last death was on July 30, 1834, and that there were 153 deaths experienced during that year. Evidently, the colonists who died on St. Joseph's Island and at Copano were not included.
Answering the Second Direct Interrogatory, Rosalie B. Priour said, February 13, 1891,
"...we chartered a vessel to bring us to Texas, but as I understand there were 350 passengers with provisions for a year for each person, and farming utensils, the vessel was too large to cross Aransas Bar, consequently we had to go to New Orleans and charter two schooners there. There we made an agreement with the schooners officers that if they landed us safely over Aransas Bar the first crossing the Bar should give a signal to the other.
The Wild Cat was the first to reach the Bar and was wrecked on the outside before she could enter. When we arrived there our Captain saw that the Wild Cat was wrecked and wanted to go to her assistance, but Col. Powers forced him to cross the Bar, and after getting on the inside we were wrecked.
The cholera then broke out on board of the two vessels and the people died so fast they couldn't throw them overboard as fast as they died. We had to remain there for two weeks before we could get lighters to take us up to Copano. About two hours after we landed at Copano, my father died of cholera. We were forced to remain there two weeks, guarded by Mexican soldiers to keep us from carrying the disease up into the country."
The Interrogatories completed on February 7, 1896 before J.C. Crisp have some additional details,
"After reaching New Orleans, all the passengers remained, or had their belongings on the big ship where we had to wait, to the best of my recollection, two or three weeks (a part of which time I was sick) before we were transferred to the two schooners that brought us to Aransas Pass. One of them named the Wild Cat made the trip in 24 hours. I cannot remember the name of the schooner which my father's family came on, but it was about 48 hours making the trip.
On nearing Aransas Pass, we could see the schooner The Wild Cat where it had run ashore. Col. Power ordered the Captain of our schooner, in my hearing, at the point of a pistol, to change his course and avoid running his vessel aground. After casting anchor for the night, the captain of our schooner weighed anchor and, in the night, also ran our schooner ashore. My understanding at the time, of the grounding of both schooners, was that because since the both of them were unseaworthy and heavily insured and their owners had arranged with the captains to wreck them in order to obtain the insurance money. Luckily no lives were lost by the grounding of the two schooners.
The remainder of the colonists were transferred by lighter to Copano, where the Mexican Customs house then stood. It was a small brick house near the shore of Copano bay but the building has since been destroyed. My impression is that this building stood near the mouth of the Mission river.
After the grounding of the two schooners off Aransas Pass, an epidemic of cholera supposed to have been contracted in New Orleans, broke out among the Colonists. My recollection is that about 250 persons died and that many were buried at sea.
A child of Mr. St. John's brother, Mr. Wm. St. John, now at the Mission, died and through sympathy for the grief stricken parents and their horror of burying their child at sea, I remember seeing my father and Mr. Paul Keogh, take the child in a little boat to St. Joseph's Island where they buried it. After burying the child, Mr. Paul Keogh fell sick with the cholera and died on St. Joseph's Island and was buried there also by my father who remained with him to his death.
After the absence of about 48 hours from the schooner my father returned. As soon as my mother and I saw him, we were frightened by his gaunt and distressed appearance and we could see that he was seriously ill, but, he told us he was only weak from hunger, that he had had no nourishment except water which he found by digging with his spade on St. Joseph's Island. After my mother and I ministered to my father's wants, giving him food to eat, he was taken suddenly very ill and died about 24 hours afterwards, and one hour of our landing from the lighter at Copano where he was buried by my mother and a Mr. Hart (no relation to my parents) who was already living in Texas and happened to be at Copano. I saw them wrap my father in a blanket and bury him. I was sick and lying on the pallet with him when he died."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - St. Joseph is a long narrow island, one of a chain that separates the Gulf of Mexico from the bays that separate the mainland from the islands. This chain begins at or near the Rio Grande and extends to Pass Caballo near Indianola.
After having buried the child, he [father] was coming down to the yawl when he saw one of the emigrants lying on the sand. Going up to him, he asked him if he would not go aboard the vessel. He answered that he was too weak to move, and said all he wanted was a drink of water. The island was uninhabited, but father dug down in the sand until he came to water. He had learned that fresh water could be obtained any place on the shore by digging down four or five feet deep. He carried water to Mr. Paul Kion [Kehoe or Keogh] and told him he would stay with him until he could go on board.
Mr. Kion answered, "Tom, there is no use in remaining. I am going to die, and no one can save me. You have a family, and I beg of you to take care of yourself for their sake. Do not remain here. It is almost certain death."
He said, "Paul, I cannot leave you in your present condition. I will remain and do all I can for you. If I die, it must be in performing my duty. God is capable of taking care of me here, as well as anywhere else, and I will have the satisfaction of knowing that I did not abandon my friend through cowardice."
He could say nothing more, and father remained with him until he died. He then buried him, and returned to the ship.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The correct spelling of "Kion" is probably Keogh, as attested by the Interrogatories, or Kehoe as attested by the land grand records of J.J. Vidaurri. But Hobart Huson in Refugio, vol. 1, p. 170, has noted:
"Mrs. Priour must be mistaken as to Paul Keogh dying on St. Joseph's Island, as among the Milford P. Norton papers is a letter written by Keogh's attorney to Norton in regard to the colonial grant which Keogh was supposed to get. At the time in the 1850s, Keogh was living in Virginia." There may have been a Paul Keogh and a Paul Kehoe, and the latter died on St. Joseph's Island, but definitive evidence is lacking. the Milford P. No
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - As soon as mother saw him, she said, "Tom, you are sick!"
He answered, "No, Elisabeth. I do not feel sick, but I am very weak. I have had no kind of nourishment for forty-eight hours. Please get me a cup of tea and a piece of toast, and I will be all right."
She hurried to comply with his request as quickly as possible, but before the refreshments were ready, he was taken with cramps. She warmed salt, and applied it as soon as she could, and after wrapping him up, gave him warm drinks. Father and mother had saved two or three persons with this treatment, and they were the only one who had the cholera that lived.
She worked all night trying to relieve him, and when morning came had the satisfaction of seeing him free from cramps, but he still complained of a lump in his stomach. After sunrise, he was so much better, mother wanted to change his clothes as those ha had on were wet with perspiration, but the chest containing his wearing apparel had been sent on board the lighter that was to take up to Copano, and the sailors would not allow mother to get it. They said it was in the hold and they could not get it before they unloaded the vessel. Two men took hold of the feather bed on which father was lying and lowered it into the boat. He was compelled to remain in his damp clothes until we landed on the beach, and the boat was unloaded before we could get clean clothes to change him. By the time we were able to get them, the clothes he had on were dry, and I think that was the cause of his death. We were landed on a sand beach without even a tree to shade us from the sun. Mother got some spades and hayforks and stuck them in the ground and made a tent with bedclothes to protect father from the sun, but it was a poor protection. On the fifteenth of May, in a country where at that season of the year the sun is so hot that the ground would burn the feet in the middle of the day, if you happened to have shoes on with thin soles.
Soon after landing father asked mother to take him out walking and let him see what kind of country he was in. He had not gone far when he begged to return as he felt too weak to go any farther. We then went back to the tent, and I lay down on the bed by his side. He appeared to be asleep and I remained very quiet for fear of disturbing him.
After sleeping a short time, he awoke and called mother. "Elisabeth" he said. "I am going to die and I want you to promise me to keep my children from bad company, and take good care of Bridget -- never whip her, or allow her to be treated with injustice. If you treat her kindly, she will be a good woman, but if the opposite course if pursued she will be a very bad one. Another promise I want you to make is that you will give her a good education and then let her learn a trade, so that she can make a living by teaching school, she will have a trade to fall back upon. She is too delicate ever to do hard work. Mary Ann is strong and healthy, and I know the love you have for her will induce you to do all you can for her. But above all things, teach them to love God, and keep good company." These were his last words. He closed his eyes, and rested as quietly as if he was going to sleep. But it proved to be "a sleep that knows no waking." We could procure no lumber of any kind, and were compelled to bury him wrapped up in a blanket.
Chapter 10 - Chapter 12