DUANE
Duane's take
Here's how the official marker tells it, and I'm going to do it justice. Near the mouth of the Colorado River, twenty miles to the south, sits the town of Matagorda — and the marker wants you to know right away that this was no ordinary coastal settlement. This was the second most important port of entry in early Texas.
That's a title earned, and one that made Matagorda a place worth fighting over. When the Civil War came, Matagorda sat at the center of rich farmlands and found itself counted among eight Texas ports that blockade runners used to keep the Confederacy breathing. Cotton went out by the ton.
In return, ships brought back guns, munitions, clothing, and other vital goods the South could not do without. High stakes on every crossing. Now, the federals declared a blockade and claimed to hold Matagorda.
But here's the thing the marker lays out plain as morning — their own ships had to refuel in New Orleans. Drinking water too. They were holding a port they could not actually stand in.
On November 20, 1862, a blockader's crew made the mistake of going ashore near Matagorda. Confederates captured every last man. Every one.
The federals weren't finished, though. By hit-and-run tactics they destroyed salt works and other property along the way — but the Matagorda Peninsula itself? Impossible to occupy.
They found that out the hard way. Then comes December 30, 1863, and this is where the story takes a turn that no amount of tactics or strategy could have prepared anyone for. Confederate cottonclads — ships bulwarked with cotton bales, guns set right into them — moved men out of Matagorda to expel a federal unit from a beach below Confederate works at Caney Creek.
That was the mission. Simple enough on paper. But when the troops were trying to land, a sudden norther lashed the bay.
The kind of cold that doesn't ask permission. It swamped their skiffs. The ships could not reach them in time.
Twenty-two men died — by drowning or by freezing — in that churning, icy water. And in that tragedy, the troop commander, Captain E. S.
Rugeley, lost his own seventeen-year-old brother. The marker doesn't editorialize on that. It doesn't have to.
Some losses just sit there, heavy and permanent, and that one's been sitting on this stretch of Texas coast for a long time.
What the marker says
Near the mouth of the Colorado River, 20 miles to the south, is the town of Matagorda, the second most important Port of entry in early Texas. In the Civil War, center for rich farmlands and one of 8 Texas ports that blockade runners used for taking out tons of cotton while delivering to the confederacy guns, munitions, clothing and other vital goods. By reason of the declared blackade, the federals claims to hold Matagorda, yet their own ships had to refuel (even to supplies of drinking water) in New Orleans. When a blockader's crew went ashore near Matagorda, on November 20, 1862, confederates captured every man. By hit-and-run tactics, federals destroyed salt works and other propert, but found Matagorda Peninsula impossible to occupy. On December 30, 1863, C.S.A. cottonclads (ships bulwarked with cotton bales in which guns were set) moved men out of Matagorda to expel a federal unit from a beach below confederate works at Caney Creek. When troops were trying to land, a sudden norther lashed the bay and swamped their skiffs. Before the ships could pick them up, 22 men died by drowning or freezing. In the tragedy, the troop commander, Capt. E.S. Rugeley lost his own 17-year-old brother.