Kirk Munroe - Forward, March

K >> Kirk Munroe >> Forward, March

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14

From here it was eighty-five miles in a straight line to Havana, and
within five hours Ridge was thrilled by the sight of a cloud-like speck
that he knew marked the highlands of Cuba. Gradually the coast was
revealed, then came the low-trailing smoke of ships on blockade as they
patrolled wearily before the entrance to Havana Harbor, and after
awhile the outlined cathedral spires of the city itself. There lay the
wreck of the _Maine_, and there waited the Spanish army that
Captain-General Blanco had sworn should yield its last drop of blood in
resisting an invasion by the hated Yankees. There also the guns of
time-blackened Morro sullenly faced the floating fortresses that only
awaited a signal to engage them in deadly conflict.

Running close to Commodore Watson's flag-ship, the _San Francisco_, the
_Speedy_ broke the tedious monotony of blockade by delivering an
eagerly welcomed mail, with its wealth of news from the outside world.
Then the saucy craft was off again, headed to the eastward. Matanzas
and Cardenas, both under blockade, were passed during the night, and
while off the latter place Dick Comly told Ridge the story of his
classmate, Ensign Worth Bagley, who lost his life on board the
torpedo-boat _Winslow_, in Cardenas Bay, on May 11th, or less than one
month before, and who was the first American officer killed in the war.

"They only went in to find out who was there," began Comly, "the
_Wilmington_, _Hudson_, and _Winslow_. The last, being of least
draught, ran ahead, and got within range of some hidden batteries
before she discovered them. She was turning to go out when they opened
fire. In a minute the little ship was riddled by shot and shell. Her
commander was wounded, her steering-gear had gone wrong, her engines
were crippled, and she lay helpless. The _Hudson_ ran up to tow her
out of range, and poor old Bagley had just sung out for them to heave
him a line, as the situation was getting rather too warm for comfort,
when a bursting shell instantly killed him, together with four of the
crew. In spite of the hot fire, the _Hudson_ ran a line and brought
out what was left of the _Winslow_ and her company; but you'd better
believe the little craft was a mighty sad-looking wreck. Hello!
What's that?"

A string of colored signal-lights had flashed out for a moment directly
ahead of the _Speedy_, and then disappeared. The strangest thing about
them was that they had been shown just above the surface of the water,
instead of from a masthead, as would usually be the case on a war-ship.
The _Speedy_ had been slipping quietly along, showing her regular side
lights, which, as she was of low freeboard, must also have appeared
close to the water from a short distance, and might have been mistaken
for a signal. Now she quickly displayed the night-signal of the
American blockading fleet, as well as her own private number, but no
answer came to either. By the time the _Speedy's_ crew were at
quarters it was evident, from muffled sounds borne down the wind, that
the stranger was a steamer in full retreat.

"Give her a blank shot," ordered Captain Boldwood, and the words had
barely left his mouth before the forward six-pounder gun had roared out
its summons to halt; but the stranger paid no heed.

A solid shot, well elevated, had as little effect. By this time the
despatch-boat was rushing ahead at full speed in the direction the
unknown steamer was supposed to have taken. Suddenly her search-light,
sweeping the black waters with a broad arc of silver, disclosed a
shadowy bulk moving swiftly at right angles to the course they were
taking, and heading for a beacon blaze that had sprung up on the
starboard or in-shore hand.

"Port your helm!" cried Captain Boldwood. "Mr. Comly, try to disable
her. Make every shot tell if possible."

Again and again the six-pounder hurled its messenger of destruction,
but apparently without effect.

"Looks as though I couldn't hit the side of a barn at a hundred feet,"
muttered the Ensign to Ridge, who stood beside him, thrilled by the
novel experience. Then he sighted his gun for a third shot, sprang
back, and jerked the lanyard. A flash, a roar, a choking cloud of
smoke, and then a yell from the _Speedy's_ crew. In the glare of the
search-light the fugitive steamer was seen to take a sudden sheer, that
a minute later was followed by a crash, and then she remained
motionless.

Instantly the _Speedy_ was slowed down and moved cautiously towards the
wreck, with busy lead marking soundings every few seconds. The beacon
for which the chase had steered no longer blazed; but in a few minutes
the search-light disclosed a wooded shore.

"Have a boat ready, Mr. Comly, and prepare to go on board with half a
dozen men."

"Ay, ay, sir."

"May I go with you?" asked Ridge, eagerly.

"Certainly, if the Captain says so."

But, to the young trooper's disappointment, Captain Boldwood refused
permission. "Your business is of too important a nature for you to
assume any needless risks outside of it," he said.

So Ridge could only watch enviously the departure of the boat with its
crew of armed men. It had not been gone two minutes when a bright
flame shot from the steamer's deck.

"They have set her on fire and abandoned her!" exclaimed the Captain.
"I pray to God, Comly may be cautious. Quartermaster, show the recall."

The words were hardly spoken when there came a great blinding flash, an
awful roar, and the _Speedy_ listed to her beam ends. A vast pillar of
flame leaped a hundred feet into the air, a huge foam-crested wave
rolled out to sea, and then all space seemed full of flying fragments.
The wreck had been destroyed by an explosion of her own cargo.

"Lower away the yawl! Quick, men! There may be some left to pick up.
Yes, Mr. Norris, you may go now."

They rescued Comly, bleeding from a wound in the head, and three of his
crew, all more or less injured, but the others had gone down with their
boat, crushed beneath a hurtling deck beam.

The _Speedy_ stood off and on until daylight enabled her commander to
locate the scene of catastrophe and examine what was left of the
shattered steamer. He found that she had been run ashore on one of the
small outlying cays that are numerous off Cardenas Bay, and with other
floating wreckage he picked up a life-preserver on which was painted,
"_Manuel Ros_, Barcelona."

"How strangely and unexpectedly things turn out," he said to Ridge as
he turned from examining this telltale relic. "Our Government learned
some time ago that the _Manuel Ros_ was taking on board at Cadiz a
cargo of improved mines, submarine torpedoes, and high explosives for
use in Puerto-Rican harbors. It was positively stated that she would
not attempt to run the Cuban blockade. Nevertheless, we were all
notified to keep a sharp lookout for her, especially around Santiago
and Cienfuegos. She was reported to be very fast, and I can well
credit it, for there are few ships in these waters can show their heels
as she did to the _Speedy_. As it is, I am afraid she would have
gained Cardenas Harbor in safety if it had not been for Mr. Comly's
last lucky shot, which must have crippled her steering-gear. And to
think that a ship which would have been considered a handsome prize by
any cruiser should be destroyed by the little _Speedy_. I wonder,
though, where the _Wilmington_ that generally patrols this vicinity
could have been?"

This mystery was explained a little later when the cruiser in question
hove in sight, having been lured from her station by a small Spanish
gunboat the evening before.

After making his report of what happened, the commander of the _Speedy_
again headed his craft to the eastward, and ran all that day, together
with most of the following night, within sight of the Cuban coast.

It wanted but an hour of daylight, when Ridge, who was sleeping on
deck, was aroused and told that the place of his landing was at hand.
A pot of coffee together with a substantial lunch had been prepared for
him, and Ensign Comly, whose wound had proved to be slight, was waiting
in a boat manned by four sailors.

Senorita was hoisted in a sling and dropped overboard to swim ashore in
tow of the boat, and at the very last the _Speedy's_ commander
whispered the countersign of the Junta that was to open a way through
the Cuban lines.

Then the boat was noiselessly shoved off, and slipped away through the
chill darkness towards the denser shadow of the land that waited with
manifold perils to test the courage of our young trooper.

CHAPTER XI

A LIVELY EXPERIENCE OF CUBAN HOSPITALITY

"Good-bye, old man! Good luck, and hope we shall meet again soon."

With these words, accompanied by a warm hand-clasp, Ensign Dick Comly
stepped into his boat, and it was shoved off from the bit of Cuban
beach on which Ridge Norris had just been landed. For a couple of
minutes the young trooper stood motionless, listening with strained
ears to the lessening sound of muffled oars. It was the last link
connecting him with home, country, and safety. For a moment he was
possessed of such a panic that he was on the point of shouting for
Comly to come back and take him away. It did not seem as though he
could be left there alone in the dark, and amid all the crowding
terrors of that unknown land.

Just then Senorita, who stood dripping and shivering beside him, rubbed
her wet nose softly against his cheek, as though begging for sympathy,
and in an instant his courage was restored. It was enough that another
creature more helpless than he was dependent upon him for guidance and
protection.

"It's all right, girl," he whispered, throwing an arm about the mare's
neck. "We'll stick to each other and pull through somehow." Then
plucking a handful of dried grass, he gave the animal a brisk rubbing
that warmed them both. By the time it was finished, birds were
twittering in the dense growth behind them, and the eastern sky was
suffused with the glow of coming day.

Knowing nothing of his surroundings, nor what eyes might in a few
minutes more discover these new features of the beach, Ridge now
removed his slender belongings to a hiding-place behind some bushes,
where he also fastened Senorita. Then he set forth to explore the
shore with the hope of finding a path into the interior; for to force a
way through the tangled chaparral that everywhere approached close to
the water's edge seemed hopeless.

He had not gone a dozen paces when Senorita uttered a shrill neigh of
distress at being thus deserted, and began a noisy struggle to break
loose. With a muttered exclamation of dismay Ridge ran back. It was
evident that the mare would not consent to be left.

"Very well," said the young man. "If you can't be reasonable and
remain quietly behind for a few minutes, we must make our exploration
in company. Perhaps it is better so, after all, for when I do discover
a trail we shall be ready to take instant advantage of it, and get the
more quickly away from this unpleasantly conspicuous place."

While thus talking in a low tone to the mare, Ridge was also equipping
her for the road. He had just finished tightening the saddle-girth and
was about to mount, when Senorita uttered a snort indicative of some
strange presence. Turning quickly, her master was confronted by a
sight that caused his heart to sink like lead. Only a few paces away
stood a young man of dark but handsome features, clad in a well-worn
suit of linen and a broad-brimmed palmetto hat. A military belt filled
with cartridges encircled his waist, and from it hung an empty scabbard
of untanned cowhide, designed to carry a machete. With that weapon
held in one hand and a cocked pistol levelled full at Ridge in the
other, he presented the appearance of a first-class brigand.

The young trooper made a movement towards his own revolver, but it was
instantly checked by the stranger, who said, sternly, in Spanish:

"Hold there! If you but touch a weapon I shall shoot you dead! You
are my prisoner, and will obey my commands. That I am prepared to
enforce them I will show you."

With this he sounded a low whistle that was answered by a rustle in the
bushes, from which half a dozen armed ragamuffins of all shades of
swarthiness, from jet black to light chocolate, appeared as though by
magic. All were provided with machetes, some carried rifles, and each
looked as though it would afford him the greatest pleasure to cut into
small pieces the stranger who had invaded their territory.

"You see," said their leader, with a smile, "that you are hopelessly
surrounded, and that with a nod I can have you killed."

"Yes, I see," replied Ridge, "and I should be pleased to know into
whose hands I have fallen. Are you Cubano or a Spaniard?"

"And I will ask if you are American or Spaniard?"

"But my question came first," insisted Ridge.

"While I am in a position to have mine answered," replied the other,
again smiling. "But I will not press it at this moment. We will first
seek a place better suited to conversation, since here we are liable to
be interrupted. The American gunboats have an unpleasant habit of
dropping shells among any party whom they may discover on the beach.
Then, too, many Cubanos have been seen about here lately, and they
might molest us, while it is also nearly time for the Spanish _lancha_
that patrols this coast at sunrise and sunset. So you see-- Disarm
him!"

This last was an order to two men who had moved noiselessly up behind
Ridge while his attention was diverted by their leader. Now they
seized our young trooper, took his weapons, and marched him away,
though allowing him to retain his hold on Senorita's bridle. For a few
paces they crashed through the underbrush, hacking a rude path for the
mare with their machetes as they went. Then they struck a dim trail
that ended at a grass-grown and little-used road. Crossing this, they
entered the grounds of what had evidently been a fine plantation,
though a young forest growth was now rapidly spreading over its once
well-cultivated fields. A weedy approach between rows of noble trees
led to the blackened ruins of a large house and outlying buildings.
The stone walls were already over-run with a tangle of vines from which
flamed blood-red blossoms. Several horses cropped the rank grass about
these ruins, and into one of them, which had been given a temporary
thatch of palm leaves, the prisoner was led.

"Here we had begun to break our fast when your mare notified us of your
proximity," said the leader, who had already motioned to his men to
loose their hold on the young American. "Now if you will honor us with
your company, we will resume that interrupted pleasure. Manuel, we
wait to be served."

Upon this a grinning negro brought in a basketful of yams that had
evidently been roasted among the ashes of an open fire, and set it on a
rude table. Beside it he placed a calabash containing a drink mixed of
water, lime-juice, and brown sugar. "Let us eat," said the host,
reaching for one of the ash-encoated yams. "But hold," he added, as
though with a sudden thought. "Excuse me for a moment." Thus saying,
he stepped outside, only to return with Ridge's saddle-bags, which he
coolly opened. "Coffee, as I live!" he cried, "and hard biscuit, the
first bread I have seen in many a month! Senor, we are under
obligations to you for these welcome additions to our _menu_. Manuel,
hast thou forgotten how to make coffee, strong, and black as thine own
ebony face? Waste thou not one precious grain, or, by holy St. Jago, I
will blow out thy meagre brains."

Provoked as Ridge was at seeing his entire stock of provisions thus
appropriated to be expended on a single meal, he was not in a position
to remonstrate. So, a little later, when a revised edition of
breakfast was pronounced ready, he sat down with the host whom he did
not yet know whether to consider as friend or foe, and ate heartily of
the food thus provided.

The furnishing of that rude table was unique, for, mingled with shells
from the beach and those of cocoanuts, both of which were used in place
of cups, gourds, plantain-leaves, and wooden trays, appeared several
dishes of cut glass and dainty china, generally cracked or chipped, and
looking wofully out of place.

Seeing that Ridge noticed these, the host said, carelessly:

"Ah yes, senor, we have seen better days!" Then, lighting a cigarette,
he continued, more sternly, "Now, sir, can you give any reason why I
should not have you led out and shot as a spy?"

"You would not dare do such a thing!" replied Ridge, indignantly.

"Oh! wouldn't I? My friend, you do not realize into whose hands you
have fallen. Now, merely to prove that I have both the inclination and
power to carry out my threat, I will have you shot. Lope! Garzo!"

Two of the ragged bandits immediately appeared.

"Bind me the arms of this man and blindfold him."

The order was deftly obeyed.

"Now take him from my sight and shoot him."

Seizing Ridge by the shoulders, the men began to drag him away.

Until this moment he had not known whether to acknowledge himself an
American or claim to be a Spaniard, nor had he believed that the
extremely courteous leader of bandits with whom he had just
breakfasted, and who might be either a Cuban patriot or a Spanish
guerilla, would do him serious injury. Now, moved by an agony of
terror, he shouted out the word whispered to him a few hours before by
the commander of the _Speedy_, the secret countersign of the Cuban
Junta.

Its effect was magical. The men who were dragging him to a summary
execution loosed their hold and stared at him in amazement, while the
young leader sprang to where Ridge stood, tore the bandages from his
eyes, severed his bonds, and embraced him.

"Why, my brother, did you not disclose your identity long ago?" he said.

"Because," replied Ridge, in a voice that still trembled from his
recent fright, "I knew not to which side you belonged."

"What! Did you for a moment think that I might be a vile Spaniard? I,
Enrico del Concha, a Cuban of the Cubans? Alas! that such a suspicion
should fall upon one of my name."

"And what," inquired Ridge, "did you take me for?"

"A Spanish spy, of course. Do you not speak the language without even
a Cuban accent? Did you not decline to tell me how or what you were?
Above all, did you not carry on your person despatches addressed to
certain Spanish generals?"

Ridge clapped a hand to his breast pocket.

"Yes, senor, they are gone," laughed the other.

"My rogues are clever thieves, and took them from you when we first
met, together with your money, for which they were searching.
Hereafter you must provide for your private papers a place of greater
safety. Now let us have one more cup of that delicious coffee while
you confide to me who you are and why you are here."

CHAPTER XII

DENOUNCED BY A FRIEND

Under the circumstances, Ridge felt that a frank avowal of his
personality and present plans would be wiser than any attempt at
deception, and this he proceeded to make. To all that he had to tell
the bandit leader paid closest attention, and listened without a word
of interruption until the narrative was finished. Then he said:

"It is indeed great news that the Americans are about to invade Cuba.
Until now they have promised much and done worse than nothing, since,
by their blockade of Cuban ports, they have only starved to death
thousands of miserable reconcentrados. Now if they will proceed with
judgment and are not swept off by fevers, something may be
accomplished. At the same time, from the ignorance displayed in
sending on so important a mission as yours one so ill equipped for it,
I cannot hope for much from them."

Ridge flushed hotly. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean," replied the other, coolly rolling a cigarette as he spoke,
"that you have shown yourself to be about as fit for the duty you have
undertaken as a babe in arms. Did you not, upon landing, waste a whole
hour of precious darkness during which you might have gained a safe
distance from the always-guarded coast? Did you not allow yourself to
be betrayed by your horse, and captured without resistance? Did you
not lose your despatches at the outset, and almost your life as well?
Are you not at this moment densely ignorant of the route you are to
travel, and of how to meet the enemies you will encounter on every hand?

"Yes, my friend, brave and resolute as you may be, you are also but a
babe in your undertaking. Your only forethought lay in securing the
countersign of the Junta, which has for the moment saved your life,
since I should certainly have caused you to be shot but for it. Also,
if I had not discovered you, the Spanish hawks who patrol the coast
would have had you in their clutches a few minutes later. Nor do you
at this moment know how to find your way to Holguin, much less to
Santiago."

"But," argued Ridge, whose self-conceit and confidence in his own
ability to carry out the mission he had so bravely undertaken were
rapidly oozing away, "I have a good map of the country, a good horse,
plenty of money with which to hire guides, am well armed, and could
make a good fight if necessary. I speak Spanish perfectly, am dark of
complexion, possess the countersign of the Junta for Cubans, and
letters from the chief of the Spanish secret service for Spaniards.
Why, then, may I not succeed as well as another?"

"You _had_ those things; but, with the exception of your ability to
speak Spanish, your darkness of skin, and the countersign, all of them
have been taken from you."

"But you will restore them?"

"And if I should, would they serve you? Do you imagine that any true
Cuban would disclose to an utter stranger the military secrets of his
country for money? If you do, you are sadly mistaken. Could you fight
an enemy who would lie in ambush and shoot you in the back, reserving
the examination of your despatches until you were dead? Even should
you succeed in presenting those same despatches to a Spanish general,
do you not know that he would hold you prisoner, or at least delay your
departure until he had transmitted them to Havana for verification?
Yet you hope to gain a complete knowledge of the military situation in
this great province, and rejoin your friends more than a hundred miles
away within a week. Amigo, you are very ignorant."

"Possibly I am," admitted Ridge, "but I have learned much from you
within a short time; and if you will let me go, I will still undertake
to accomplish my task within the time allotted to me."

"I admire your spirit," replied del Concha, "and will gladly release
you, with all your property restored; but before so doing I wish to
make some suggestions. In the first place, your people should have
chosen an intelligent Cuban for this work--a man like myself, for
instance."

Ridge was on the point of saying that his superior officers had feared
to trust a Cuban, but prudently refrained from so doing.

"As they did not have the sense for that," continued the speaker, "it
is most fortunate that you have met me, for I can give you, in a few
words, the position and strength of every Spanish force in the
province, as well as the location and condition of the Cuban armies, to
which I will also gladly forward news of the anticipated American
landing. Thus you will be free to make your way, directed by guides
whom I will furnish, straight to Santiago without encountering any
dangers other than those incident to travel through a rough country."

"While thanking you for your kind offer," replied Ridge, "I must still
decline it. My orders are to communicate directly with the Spanish
commanders at Holguin and Jiguani, and I shall certainly attempt to
carry them out, since the first lesson taught every American soldier is
that of absolute and unquestioning obedience to orders."

"My dear Lieutenant!" exclaimed del Concha--for this was the rank that
Ridge had seen fit to assume--"I begin to perceive why you were chosen
for this hopeless task, and though I utterly disapprove your proposed
course of action, I cannot but admire your resolution. Also I cannot
find it in my heart to leave you to your own helpless devices.
Therefore I shall accompany you to the vicinity of Holguin. Then I
shall at least be on hand to learn your fate as soon as it is decided."

Willing as he would have been to set forth alone, Ridge was glad to
have the company of one so familiar with the country as del Concha
appeared, and one also whom he believed he might trust. His confidence
in the acquaintance thus strangely made was strengthened a little later
as they rode together, and the latter, in answer to his questions,
disclosed a portion of his own history.

"I came to this place last evening," he said, "in the hope of getting a
few shots at the Spanish lancha, which, as I told you, patrols the
coast twice daily; for Spaniards have become so scarce of late, and
confine themselves so closely to the larger towns, that it is sometimes
difficult to maintain my record of one for each day."

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14