Kirk Munroe - Forward, March
K >>
Kirk Munroe >> Forward, March
Pages:
1 |
2 | 3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14
At the moment our young trooper was passing headquarters, and even as
this thought came into his mind, he was bidden by Colonel Wood to
deliver a written order to the corporal of the guard. "It is for the
release from arrest of your friend Van Kyp," explained the colonel,
kindly, "and you may tell him that it was obtained through the
intercession of Lieutenant-Colonel Roosevelt."
With a light heart Ridge hastened to perform this first act of his
military service; and not long afterwards he and Rollo were happily
engaged, under the supervision of Sergeant Higgins, in erecting the
little dog-tent that they were to occupy in company, and settling their
scanty belongings within its narrow limits. When this was finally
accomplished to their satisfaction, they went to the picket-line to
visit the pretty and high-spirited mare that had been the immediate
cause of Ridge's good fortune.
"Isn't she a beauty?" he exclaimed, walking directly up to the mare,
and throwing an arm about her neck, a caress to which the animal
submitted with evident pleasure.
"Yes," admitted Rollo, hesitatingly, as he stepped nimbly aside to
avoid a snap of white teeth. "I suppose she is, but she seems awfully
vicious, and I can't say that she is exactly the style of horse that I
most admire. Tell you what I'll do, Norris. I'll give her to you,
seeing that you and she seem to hit it off so well. You've won her by
rights, anyhow."
Ridge's face flushed. He already loved the mare, and longed to own
her, but his pride forbade him to accept so valuable a gift from one
who was but little more than a stranger. So he said;
"Oh no! Thanks, awfully, old man, but I couldn't think of taking her
in that way. If you don't mind, though, I'll buy the mare of you,
gladly paying whatever you gave for her."
"Very good," replied Rollo, who imagined Ridge to be quite well off,
and to whom any question of money was of slight consequence. "I paid
an even hundred dollars for her with saddle and bridle thrown in, and
if you won't accept her as a gift, you may have her for that sum."
"Done," said Ridge, "and here's your money." With this he pulled from
his pocket the roll of bills that his father, bidding him not to spend
them recklessly, had thrust into his hand on parting, and which until
now he had not found occasion to touch.
Although this left our young soldier penniless, he did not for a moment
regret the transaction by which he had gained possession of what he
considered the very best mount in the whole regiment. He at once named
the beautiful mare "Senorita," and upon her he lavished a wealth of
affection that seemed to be fully reciprocated. While no one else
could do anything with her, in Ridge's hands she gained a knowledge of
cavalry tactics as readily as did her young master, and by her quick
precision of movement when on drill or parade she was instrumental in
raising him first to the grade of corporal, and then to that of
sergeant, which was the rank he held three weeks later, on the eve of
the Rough Riders' departure for Tampa.
In the mean time the days spent at San Antonio were full of active
interest and hard work from morning reveille until the mellow
trumpet-notes of taps. At the same time it was work mixed with a vast
amount of harmless skylarking, in which both Ridge and Rollo took such
active part as to win the liking of every member of their troop.
Each day heard the same anxious inquiry from a thousand tongues: "When
shall we go to the front? Is the navy going to fight out this war
without the army getting a show?"
"Be patient," counselled the wiser men, "and our chance will come. The
powerful Spanish fleet under Admiral Cervera must first be located and
rendered harmless, while the army must be licked into effective shape
before it is allowed to fight."
They heard of the blockade by the navy of Havana and other Cuban ports,
of the apparently fruitless bombardment of San Juan in Porto Rico, and
of the great gathering of troops and transports at Tampa. Finally came
the welcome news that the dreaded Spanish fleet was safely bottled by
Admiral Sampson in the narrow harbor of Santiago.
Then on the 29th of May, only a little more than one month after the
declaration of war, came the welcome order to move to Tampa and the
front. Instantly the camp presented a scene of wildest bustle and
excitement. One hundred railway cars, in six long trains, awaited the
Riders. The regiment was drawn up as if for parade.
"Forward, march!" ordered Colonel Wood.
"On to Cuba!" sang the trumpets.
And the "Terrors" yelled themselves hoarse at the prospect of being let
loose.
CHAPTER VI
OFF FOR THE WAR
Of course Ridge had written home and informed his family of his
whereabouts as soon as he found himself regularly enlisted with the
Rough Riders. The news afforded Mr. Norris immense satisfaction, while
Spence Cuthbert declared that if Ridge were her brother she should be
proud of him.
"If that is said for my benefit," remarked Dulce, "you may rest assured
that I am always proud of my brother. I must confess, though, that I
should like it better if he were an officer; for, as I have never known
any private soldiers, I can't imagine what they are like. It must be
very unpleasant, though, to have to associate with them all the time.
I wish Ridge had told us more about that Mr. Van Kyp who owns the car.
Of course, though, one of his wealth and position must be an officer, a
captain at the very least, and perhaps Ridge doesn't see much of him
now."
Mrs. Norris was greatly disappointed to find that all her efforts in
her son's behalf had been wasted That he should have deliberately
chosen to becoming a "common soldier," as she expressed it, instead of
accepting the commission offered him, was beyond her comprehension.
She mourned and puzzled over this until the arrival of Ridge's next
letter, which conveyed the gratifying intelligence that, having been
made a corporal, he was now an officer. She did not know what a
corporal was, but that Ridge had risen above the ranks of "common
soldiers" was sufficient, and from that moment the fond mother began to
speak with pride of her son, who was an officer in the cavalry.
At length the quiet household was thrown into a flutter of excitement
by the receipt of a telegram, which read:
"Have again been promoted. Regiment ordered to Tampa. Leave to-day.
Meet us at Algiers, if possible."
Mr. Norris hurried into the city to consult railway officials
concerning the movements of the regiment, and found that the train
bearing his son's troop would pass through the city on the morrow.
Early the next morning, therefore, he escorted his wife and the girls
across the Mississippi, where, in the forlorn little town of Algiers,
they awaited as patiently as might be the coming of their soldier boy.
The mother's anxiety to meet her son was almost equalled by her desire
to see how handsome he would look in an officer's uniform. Concerning
this she had formed a mental picture of epaulettes, gold lace, brass
buttons, plumes, and a sword; for had she not seen army officers in
Paris?
The two girls discussed as to whether or not Ridge was now travelling
in the same luxurious private car that had borne him to San Antonio.
Spence thought not, but Dulce believed he would be. "Of course if
Ridge was still a private I don't suppose it would be good form for
_Captain_ Van Kyp to invite him," she said; "but now that he is an
officer, and perhaps even of equal rank, I can't imagine any reason why
they should not travel together as they did before."
There was no reason, and the joint proprietors of the little dog-tent,
of which, when in marching order, each carried one-half, were
travelling together on terms of perfect equality, as was discovered a
little later, when the long train, thickly coated with dust and
cinders, rumbled heavily into the station. Heads protruded from every
window of the crowded coaches, and hundreds of eyes gazed approvingly
at the pretty girls who were anxiously looking for a private car, while
trying not to blush at the very audible compliments by which they were
greeted.
Suddenly they heard the familiar voice. "Mother! Father! Girls!" it
called, and turning quickly in that direction, they discovered the
object of their search. Sun-browned and dust-begrimed, his face
streaked by rivulets of perspiration, wearing a disreputable-looking
felt hat and a coarse blue flannel shirt, open at the throat, their
boy, beaming with delight, was eagerly beckoning to them. Two other
cinder-hued faces were attempting to share the window with him, but
with only partial success.
The car doors were guarded, and no one was allowed to pass either in or
out until the train was safely on the great boat that was to transfer
it across the river. There the turbulent stream of humanity was
permitted to burst forth, and in another moment a stalwart young
soldier, who seemed to have broadened by inches since she last saw him,
had flung his arms about Mrs. Norris's neck. Then he shook hands with
his father and kissed both the girls, at which Spence Cuthbert blushed
more furiously than ever.
A score of young fellows, all as grimy as Ridge, and all wearing the
same uniform, watched this performance curiously, and now the latter
began to present them.
"This is First Sergeant Higgins, mother, of our troop, and Mr. Gridley,
and Mr. Pine of North Dakota. Dulce, allow me to introduce my
tentmate, Mr. Van Kyp."
So he rattled off name after name, until the poor girls were thoroughly
bewildered, and could not tell which belonged to whom, especially, as
Dulce said, when they all looked exactly alike in those absurd hats,
horrid flannel shirts, and ridiculous leggings.
Rollo Van Kyp was the only one of whose name and personality she felt
certain, which is probably the reason she allowed that persuasive young
trooper to escort her to the forward deck of the boat, where they
remained until the river was almost crossed. After a while Ridge and
Spence also strolled off together, ostensibly to find Dulce and Rollo,
though they did not succeed until the farther shore was nearly reached,
when all four came back together.
Rollo Van Kip had lost his hat, while Dulce held tightly in one
daintily gloved hand a curious-looking package done up in newspaper.
At the same time Spence Cuthbert blushed whenever something in the
pocket of her gown gave forth a metallic jingle, and glanced furtively
about to see if any one else had heard it.
A few days later Dulce appeared in a new riding-hat, which at once
attracted the admiration and envy of all her girl friends. At the same
time it was a very common affair, exactly like those worn by Uncle
Sam's soldier boys, and on its front was rudely traced in lead pencil
the words, "Troop K, Roosevelt's Rough Riders." In fact, it was one of
the very hats that Dulce herself had recently designated as "absurd."
About the same time that Miss Norris appeared wearing a trooper's hat
her friend Miss Cuthbert decorated the front of her riding-jacket with
brass buttons. When Sergeant Norris sharply reprimanded Private Van
Kyp for losing his hat, Rollo answered that he considered himself
perfectly excusable for so doing, since in a breeze strong enough to
blow the buttons off a sergeant's blouse a hat stood no show to remain
on its owner's head, whereupon the other abruptly changed the subject.
In the mean time Mrs. Norris, who had recognized among the names of the
young men presented to her those of some of the best-known families of
the country, was surrounded by a group of Ridge's friends, who, as they
all wore the same uniform that he did, she imagined must also be
officers. So she delighted their hearts and rose high in their
estimation by treating them with great cordiality, and calling them
indiscriminately major, captain, or whatever military title happened on
the end of her tongue. This she did until her husband appeared on the
scene with Lieutenant-Colonel Roosevelt, whom he had known in
Washington. The moment the fond mother discovered this gentleman to be
her son's superior officer, she neglected every one else to ply him
with questions.
"Did he think her boy would make a fine soldier? Was Ridge really an
officer? If so, what was his rank, and why did he not wear a more
distinctive uniform? Did _General_ Roosevelt believe there would be
any fighting, and if there was, would he not order Ridge to remain in
the safest places?"
To all of these questions the Lieutenant-Colonel managed to return most
satisfactory answers. He thought Ridge was in a fair way to make a
most excellent soldier, seeing that he had already gained the rank of
sergeant, which was very rapid promotion, considering the short time
the young man had been in the service. As to his uniform, he now wore
that especially designed for active campaigning, which Mrs. Norris must
know was much less showy than one that would be donned for dress
parades in time of peace. Yes, he fancied there might be a little
fighting, in which case he meditated giving Ridge a place behind
Sergeant Borrowe's dynamite gun, where he would be as safe as in any
other position on the whole firing line.
Not only was Mrs. Norris greatly comforted by these kindly assurances,
but she received further evidence that her boy was indeed an officer
entitled to command and be obeyed when the troopers were ordered to
re-enter the cars, for she heard him say:
"Come, boys, tumble in lively! Now, Rollo, get a move on."
Certainly an officer to whom even _Captain_ Van Kyp yielded obedience
must be of exalted rank.
There was some delay in starting the train, which was taken advantage
of by Mr. Norris to disappear, only to return a few minutes later,
followed by a porter bearing a great basket of fruit. This was given
to Ridge for distribution among his friends. Spence Cuthbert also
shyly handed him a box of choice candies, which she had carried all
this time; but Dulce, seeing her brother thus well provided, gave her
box to Rollo Van Kyp--a proceeding that filled the young millionaire
with delight, and caused him to be furiously envied by every other man
in the car.
Finally the heavy train began slowly to pull out, its occupants raised
a mighty cheer, the trumpeters sounded their liveliest quickstep, and
those left behind, waving their handkerchiefs and shouting words of
farewell, felt their eyes fill with sudden tears. Until this moment
the war had been merely a subject for careless discussion, a thing
remote from them and only affecting far-away people. Now it was real
and terrible. Their nearest and dearest was concerned in it. They had
witnessed the going of those who might never return. From that moment
it was their war.
On Thursday, June 2d, with their long, dusty journey ended, the last of
the Rough Riders reached Tampa, hot and weary, but in good spirits, and
eager to be sent at once to the front. They found 25,000 troops,
cavalry, infantry, and artillery, most of them regulars, already
encamped in the sandy pine barrens surrounding the little city, and
took their place among them.
At Port Tampa, nine miles away, lay the fleet of transports provided to
carry them to Cuba. Here they had lain for many days. Here the army
had waited for weeks, sweltering in the pitiless heat, suffering the
discomforts of a campaign without its stimulant of excitement,
impatient of delay, and sick with repeated disappointments. The
regulars were ready for service; the volunteers thought they were, but
knew better a few weeks later. Time and again orders for embarkation
were received, only to be revoked upon rumors of ghostly warships
reported off some distant portion of the coast. Spain was playing her
old game of _manana_ at the expense of the Americans, and inducing her
powerful enemy to refrain from striking a blow by means of terrifying
rumors skilfully circulated through the so-called "yellow journals" of
the great American cities, which readily published any falsehood that
provided a sensation. At length, however, the last bogie appeared to
be laid, and one week after the Riders reached Tampa a rumor of an
immediate departure, more definite than any that had preceded it,
flashed through the great camp: "Everything is ready, and to-morrow we
shall surely embark for Santiago."
CHAPTER VII
THE STORY OF HOBSON AND THE _MERRIMAC_
Only half the regiment was to go, and no horses could be taken, except
a few belonging to officers. The capacity of the transports was
limited, and though troops were packed into them like sardines into a
can, there was only room for 15,000 men, together with a few horses, a
pack-train of mules, four light batteries, and two of siege-guns. So,
thousands of soldiers, heartbroken by disappointment, and very many
things important to the success of a campaign, were to be left behind.
Two dismounted squadrons of the Rough Riders were chosen to accompany
the expedition, which, with the exception of themselves and two
regiments of volunteer infantry, was composed of regulars; and, to the
great joy of Ridge and his immediate friends, their troop was among
those thus selected. But their joy was dimmed by being dismounted, and
Ridge almost wept when obliged to part with his beloved mare.
However, as Rollo philosophically remarked, "Everything goes in time of
war, or rather most everything does, and what can't go must be left
behind."
So five hundred of the horseless riders were piled into a train of
empty coal-cars, each man carrying on his person in blanket roll and
haversack whatever baggage he was allowed to take, and they were
rattled noisily away to Port Tampa, where, after much vexatious delay,
they finally boarded the transport _Yucatan_, and felt that they were
fairly off for Cuba.
But not yet. Again came a rumor of strange war-ships hovering off the
coast, and with it a frightened but imperative order from Washington to
wait. So they waited in the broiling heat, crowded almost to
suffocation in narrow spaces--men delicately reared and used to every
luxury, men who had never before breathed any but the pure air of
mountain or boundless plain--and their only growl was at the delay that
kept them from going to where conditions would be even worse. They ate
their coarse food whenever and wherever they could get it, drank tepid
water from tin cups that were equally available for soup or coffee, and
laughed at their discomforts. "But why don't they let us go?" was the
constant cry heard on all sides at all hours.
During this most tedious of all their waitings, only one thing of real
interest happened. They had heard of the daring exploit of Naval
Lieutenant Richmond Pearson Hobson, who, on the night of June 3d, had
sunk the big coal-steamer _Merrimac_ in the narrowest part of Santiago
Harbor, in the hope of thus preventing the escape of Admiral Cervera's
bottled fleet, and they had exulted over this latest example of
dauntless American heroism, but none of the details had yet reached
them.
On one of their waiting days a swift steam-yacht, now an armed
government despatch-boat, dashed into Tampa Bay, and dropped anchor
near the _Yucatan_. Rumor immediately had it that she was from the
blockading fleet of Santiago, and every eye was turned upon her with
interest. A small boat carried her commanding officer ashore, and
while he was gone another brought one of her juniors, Ensign Dick
Comly, to visit his only brother, who was a Rough Rider. The _Speedy_
had just come from Santiago, and of course Ensign Comly knew all about
Hobson. Would he tell the story of the _Merrimac_? Certainly he
would, and so a few minutes after his arrival the naval man was
relating the thrilling tale as follows:
"I don't suppose many of you fellows ever heard of Hobson before this,
but every one in the navy knew of him long ago. He is from Alabama,
was the youngest man in the Naval Academy class of '89, graduated
number 2, was sent abroad to study naval architecture, and, upon
returning to this country, was given the rank of Assistant Naval
Constructor. At the beginning of this war he was one of the
instructors at Annapolis, but immediately applied for active duty, and
was assigned to the _New York_.
"When Victor Blue, of the _Suwanee_, had proved beyond a doubt by going
ashore and counting them that all of Cervera's ships were in Santiago
Harbor, Hobson conceived the plan of keeping them there by taking in a
ship and sinking it across the channel. Of course it was a perfectly
useless thing to do, for Sampson's fleet is powerful enough to lick the
stuffing out of the whole Spanish navy, if only it could get the
chance. However, the notion took with the Admiral, and Hobson was told
to go ahead.
"He selected the collier _Merrimac_, a big iron steamer 300 feet long,
stripped her of all valuable movables, and fastened a lot of torpedoes
to her bottom. Each one of these was sufficiently powerful to sink the
ship, and all were connected by wires with a button on the bridge.
Hobson's plan was to steam into the channel at full speed, regardless
of mines or batteries, and anchor his ship across the narrowest part of
the channel. There he proposed to blow her up and sink her. What was
to become of himself and the half dozen men who were to go with him I
don't know, and don't suppose he cared.
"At the same time there was some provision made for escape in case any
of them survived the blowing up of their ship. They carried one small
dingy along, and an old life-raft was left on board. A steam-launch
from the _New York_ was to follow them close in under the batteries,
and lie there so long as there was a chance of picking any of them up,
or until driven off. Cadets Palmer and Powell, each eager to go on
this service, drew lots to see which should command the launch, and
luck favored the latter.
"When it was known that six men were wanted to accompany Hobson to
almost certain death, four thousand volunteered, and three thousand
nine hundred and ninety-four were mightily disappointed when the other
six were chosen."
"I should have felt just as they did if I had been left in camp," said
Ridge, who was following this story with eager interest.
"Me too," replied Rollo Van Kyp, to whom the remark was addressed.
"The worst of it was," continued the Ensign, "that those fellows didn't
get to go, after all, for when they had put in twenty-four hours of
hard work on the _Merrimac_, with no sleep and but little to eat, only
kept up by the keenest kind of excitement, it was decided to postpone
the attempt until the following night. At the same time the Admiral,
fearing the nerve of the men would be shaken by so long a strain,
ordered them back to their ships, with thanks for their devotion to the
service, and selected six others to take their places. The poor
fellows were so broken up by this that some of them cried like babies."
"It was as bad as though we should be ordered to remain behind now,"
said Ridge.
"Yes," answered Rollo. "But that would be more than I could bear. I'd
mutiny and refuse to go ashore. Wouldn't you?"
"I should certainly feel like it," laughed the former. "But orders are
orders, and we have sworn to obey them, you know. At the same time
there's no cause for worry. We are certain to go if any one does."
"Yes, me and Teddy--" began Rollo, but Ridge silenced him that they
might hear the continuation of the Ensign's story.
"At three o'clock on Friday morning, the 3d," resumed Comly, "the
_Merrimac_ left the fleet and steamed in towards Santiago entrance. On
board, besides Hobson and his six chosen men, was one other, a coxswain
of the _New York_, who had helped prepare the collier for her fate, and
at the last moment stowed himself away in her hold for the sake of
sharing it.
"With Hobson on the bridge, two men at the wheel, two in the
engine-room, two stoking, and one forward ready to cut away the anchor,
the doomed ship entered the narrow water-way and passed the outer line
of mines in safety. Then the Spaniards discovered her, and from the
way they let loose they must have thought the whole American fleet was
trying to force the passage. In an instant she was the focus for a
perfect cyclone of shot and shell from every gun that could be brought
to bear, on both sides of the channel.
"It was like rushing into the very jaws of hell, with mines exploding
all about her, solid shot and bursting shells tearing at her vitals,
and a cloud of Mauser bullets buzzing like hornets across her deck.
How she lived to get where she was wanted is a mystery; but she did,
and they sunk her just inside the Estrella battery. At the last they
could not steer her, because her rudder was knocked away. So they
anchored, waited as cool as cucumbers for the tide to swing her into
position, opened all their sea-valves, touched off their torpedoes, and
blew her up.
"So far everything had worked to perfection. The seven men, still
unhurt, were well aft, where Hobson joined them the moment he had
pressed the button; but now their troubles began. The dingy in which
they had hoped to escape had been shot to pieces, and they dared not
try to get their raft overboard, for the growing light would have
revealed their movements, and they would have been a target for every
gunner and rifleman within range. So they could only lie flat on deck
and wait for something to happen. A little after daybreak the ship
sank so low and with such a list that the raft slipped into the water
and floated of its own accord. On this all of them, including two had
been wounded by flying splinters, rolled overboard after it, caught
hold of the clumsy old float, and tried to swim it out to where Powell
could pick them up. They had only gained a few yards when a
steam-launch coming from the harbor bore down on them. Some marines in
the bow were about to open fire, when Hobson sang out, 'Is there any
officer on board that launch entitled to receive the surrender of
prisoners of war?'
Pages:
1 |
2 | 3 |
4 |
5 |
6 |
7 |
8 |
9 |
10 |
11 |
12 |
13 |
14