"Forward, March": A Tale of the Spanish-American War

"What makes you think him an American?" asked the General.

"Because," replied the Major, "I have recognized him. His face was familiar from the first, and when I saw him ride I knew that I had also seen him ride before, but could not tell where. Only now has it come to me, and I know that in Yokohama I saw him within a year win the great hurdle-race of the English and American residents."

"Even that would not make him an American."

"It was everywhere proclaimed that he was such."

"Are you certain that this is the same man?"

"I am certain. I now also recall his name. It was Norreese–the Señor Norreese."

"But he was introduced by Lieutenant Navarro, who is known to every one, and whose loyalty is beyond question."

"Did Lieutenant Navarro know him in Spain?"

"I will ask him."

So an orderly was despatched to request Lieutenant Navarro to report immediately at headquarters.

The two friends were eating a hasty lunch when this message reached them, and Ridge had just announced his intention to start for Daiquiri as soon as it was finished. He alone knew that the American landing would be made there, and he wished to be on hand when it was effected. Navarro had arranged to go with him, and both were impatient of the delay promised by the General's order.

"It is too bad!" exclaimed Ridge; "for we ought to be there now, since they may already be landing. I hope the General doesn't want to send us off in some other direction."

"For fear that he may," said the other, "you had better start at once towards Daiquiri, and I will follow the moment I am at liberty to do so."

"That's good advice," repeated Ridge, "and I will do as you suggest."

With this understanding, and having arranged a place of meeting, the young trooper set forth on his twelve-mile ride over the narrow trails of the broken and densely wooded hill country lying southeast from Sevilla, while Navarro hastened to obey the summons of the Spanish General.

"How long have you known the Señor Remelios?" was the first question asked of the young Lieutenant.

"Only since meeting him in Holguin, where General Pando introduced us, and ordered me to accompany him."

"Have you noted anything suspicious in his actions–anything that would lead you to suspect him of being other than what he claims?"

"I have not, sir," answered the Lieutenant, calmly, though with inward trepidation, since the question showed that a suspicion of some kind had been directed against his friend.

"Neither have I," said the General; "for he has admirably performed the duties assigned to him. At the same time I am desirous of asking him some questions, and so have sent for him. I will request also that you remain during our interview, and carefully compare his answers with your own knowledge of his recent movements."

Just here the Major who had recognized Ridge, and who had gone to bring him to headquarters, returned with the information that he whom they sought was not to be found.

"Do you know where he is?" asked the General, sharply, of Lieutenant Navarro.

"I do not, sir, though I think it likely that he has started for Siboney, where we had planned to go together to watch the American ships."

"Then you will accompany Major Alvarez to that place, find the Señor Remelios, and use your friendly influence to bring him back here. If for any reason he should refuse to come, he must be compelled by force, for he is suspected of being an American spy. I tell you this, because there is no question of Lieutenant Navarro's loyalty, and I assign you to this duty to show how entirely I trust you."

"I will do my best, sir," replied the young Spaniard, acknowledging this compliment with a bow. Then, wondering in which direction his duty really lay, he departed in company with the Major, who was impatient to make good his charges against the Señor Remelios.

Lieutenant Navarro had been moody and unhappy ever since the coming of the American transports. He had not confided his trouble to his companion, but had performed his duties mechanically, and would not talk of anything else. Ridge noticed this change in his friend, and had formed a shrewd guess as to its cause, but waited for the other to speak first concerning it.

In the mean time, as the young trooper neared Daiquiri, he met scouts from Captain del Rey's detachment hastening towards headquarters with news that the Americans were landing. At this he increased his speed, until he finally reached the hill agreed upon as a place of meeting with Navarro, and then his heart was thrilled with the sight out-spread before him. Half a dozen transports and a few of the smaller war-ships lay in the little harbor. Steam-launches towing strings of boats crowded with troops were plying between the ships and the one small pier that offered a landing-place. The Spaniards had retreated, burning houses and bridges behind them, and already dark masses of American troops were forming on the narrow strip of level land separating the hills from the sea. These were his own people, and Ridge longed to rush forward and join them, but was faced by two obstacles. One was a strong Spanish force concealed in a ravine between him and the Americans as though to dispute their advance at that point, and the other was the memory that he had promised to await at this place the coming of Navarro, whom he expected to see with each minute.

Suddenly, as he impatiently wondered what he ought to do, there came a quick rush of feet, and the young Spaniard, breathless with haste, stood beside him.

"Amigo," he gasped, "you are in great danger. By some mischance the General has discovered that you are an American, and Major Alvarez is charged with your capture. You have been traced to this point, and even now the hill is being surrounded to prevent your escape. Within two minutes soldiers will ascend from all sides, and, until they come, you are my prisoner."

At this Ridge started back and clapped a hand to his pistol.

"But I do not forget," continued the other, "that I am also your prisoner, on parole not to fight against your countrymen, or that to you I owe my life. So I am come to save yours and aid your escape, or die beside you in making the attempt. First, though, let us exchange prisoners, for, amigo, it has come to me within these two days that I cannot desert my own people in this time of their need. Let me then remain with them until all is over, which must be shortly. Then, if I still live, I will return to you and seek my cousin. Oh, my friend, grant me this favor, and with every breath I will thank you! May it be so? Will you do as I ask?"

"Of course I will," answered Ridge, heartily. "I had already guessed your feelings, and made up my mind to give back your parole if you should ask for it. So now you are free to act as seems to you best."

"God bless you, amigo!" cried the young Spaniard, his face radiant with joy. "Now they come! Conceal yourself, while I do what may be done to save you."

CHAPTER XXII

ROLLO IN CUBA

The sound of voices and of men crashing through the underbrush as they advanced up the hill from all sides was distinctly heard, and Ridge realized, with dismay, how completely he was surrounded. It did not seem possible that he could escape, but he mechanically obeyed his friend's instructions, and, diving into a dense thicket, lay flat on the ground beneath its leafy shelter.

At that same moment Navarro raised a great shout of "Here he is! There he goes! Look out for him!" He also fired several shots in rapid succession; and one of these wounding the horse that Ridge had ridden, sent it crashing in terrified flight directly towards the Spanish troops in the ravine. After the flying animal sprang the lieutenant, firing as he ran, and yelling to those on the hill to follow him.

With savage cries, and as eagerly as hounds in sight of a fox, the Spaniards gave over their careful beating of every covert, and rushed from all sides towards the scene of disturbance. Several of them passed so close to Ridge that he could have touched them, but in their blind haste they failed to notice him. In another moment they had swept over the crest of the hill and were plunging down its farther side. Before they reached the bottom, Ridge's wounded and terrified horse burst from cover directly among the ambushed troops in the ravine, by whom it was quickly killed. Then came the pursuers.

"Where is he? What have you done with him?" demanded Lieutenant Navarro, excitedly.

"Who, señor?"

"The spy! The Americano!"

"We have seen no one, only this brute of a horse."

"But he was mounted on it. I saw him and fired. He fled in this direction, and we pursued him."

"He must have been hit and fallen from the saddle."

"Then he is still close at hand," panted Major Alvarez, who had just reached the scene, "and alive or dead we must find him. Scatter, men, and search!" he added, fiercely, turning to the baffled soldiers of his command, who were crowding confusedly behind him.

This command was never obeyed; for at that moment, with a shriek and a roar, a shell from one of the American war-ships dropped into the ravine, and burst among the startled Spaniards. Their presence had been detected by the firing on the hillside, and with the range thus obtained the Yankee gunners sent shell after shell with deadly precision among the ambushed troops.

Completely demoralized by the awful effect of this fire, the Spaniards broke from cover and fled, leaving a score of dead behind, and bearing with them a desperately wounded officer. They carried him as far as Sevilla, which place they did not reach until the following morning, and where General Linares bent pityingly over him.

"Loyal and brave even unto death," he murmured. "For this last faithful service to Spain you shall rank as Captain." Then, as the closed eyes of the wounded man were opened with a look of recognition, the General turned to those who had brought him, and said:

"He is too valuable to our cause, and too brave a Spaniard to die if we can save his life. Therefore carry Captain Navarro to the hospital in Santiago, and deliver my orders that he receive the best of care."

So the painful journey was resumed, but on the crest of San Juan Heights, overlooking the city, the litter-bearers found that they were carrying a dead man. It was useless to convey him farther, and a little later they buried him, with full military honors, on the sunny slope that was shortly destined to become the scene of one of the world's decisive battles.

In the mean time Ridge Norris, snatched from the very jaws of destruction by the prompt devotion of his prisoner-friend, had emerged from his concealment, and hastened down the hill in a direction opposite to that taken by those who sought his life.

After awhile, believing that he had gained a safe distance from them, he paused to consider his situation. A minute later, when he had just planned to make a great circuit that should outflank the Spaniards in the ravine, and bring him to where the Americans were landing, a rush of approaching feet and a medley of voices caused him to plunge into the dense growth bordering the trail. Then catching a glimpse of the retreating Spaniards, whom he imagined to be searching for him, he forced his way still deeper into the tangle, until they were lost to hearing as well as to sight.

Half an hour afterwards, reassured by the unbroken silence of his surroundings, our young American attempted to regain the trail he had left, but, to his dismay, had failed to do so when darkness overtook him. The idea of spending a night in that Cuban jungle was decidedly unpleasant; but as there was nothing else to be done, Ridge quickly made such preparations for it as his limited resources would allow. His knowledge of Cuban woodcraft was much greater now than it had been two weeks earlier, and within fifteen minutes he had constructed a rude hammock of tough vines, over which was laid a great palm-leaf. This would at least swing him clear of the ground, with its pestilent dampness and swarming land-crabs. Although he knew that he should suffer from cold before morning, he dared not light a fire, for it would be almost certain to attract unwelcome attention. So he lined his swinging-bed with such dried grasses as he could find, and nestling in it tried to sleep. For hours this was impossible. The forest about him was filled with strange rattlings, dashings, and other indescribable sounds. He was also cold and hungry. But at length he lost consciousness of his unhappy position, and drifted into troubled dreams.

When next he awoke the sun was shining, and there was a confusion of voices close at hand. He could not catch the drift of conversation; but, as the tongue spoken was Spanish, he lay motionless and listened, expecting each moment to be discovered by some straggler. For several hours his unseen neighbors cooked, ate, smoked cigarettes, laughed, and talked without suspecting his presence within a few yards of them; while he, desperately hungry, cramped, and filled with impatience at this aggravating detention, wondered if they were going to stay there forever.

When, after what seemed an eternity of suspense, those who had unwittingly kept him prisoner took their departure, the sun had passed its meridian, and Ridge, parched with thirst, was suffering as much from the breathless heat as he had with cold a few hours earlier. As he cautiously approached the scene of the recent bivouac he found it to be where a small stream crossed a narrow trail, and, after quenching his thirst, he followed the latter in what he believed to be the direction of Daiquiri. At any rate, it was the opposite one from that taken by his recent unwelcome neighbors. Up hill and down the dim trail led him, across streams and through dark ravines, but always buried in dense foliage, through which he could gain no outlook.

After our young trooper had followed the devious course of this rough pathway for several miles, he suddenly came to a halt, and stood spellbound. From directly ahead of him came a burst of music swelling grandly through the solemn stillness of the forest. A regimental band was playing "The Star-spangled Banner," and never before had such glorious notes been borne to his ears. Tears started to his eyes; but without pausing to brush them away he dashed forward. A minute later he stood on the brow of a declivity looking down upon the sea-coast village of Siboney, which he instantly recognized, though its transformation from what it was when he had last seen it was wonderful. Then it had been a stronghold of Spanish troops. Now the fortifications crowning its encircling hills, abandoned by those who had erected them, stood empty and harmless; while in the village, and on the narrow plain surrounding it, an advance-guard of the American army was pitching its tents. Over a building on a hill-side opposite to where Ridge stood, which he remembered as headquarters of the Spanish Commandant, floated an American flag, evidently just raised, and from that quarter also came the inspiring music that had so quickened his pulses.

Ten minutes later he stood before that very building, having passed through the American lines unquestioned, though stared at curiously by those who noticed him at all. He wore the first Spanish uniform they had ever seen, and, not recognizing it, they took him for a Cuban officer, several of whom had already visited the camp. So the young American, looking in vain for a familiar face among the thousand or so of his busy countrymen, made his way to headquarters, where, for the first time, a sentry halted him and demanded his business. While he was thus detained an officer issued from the building, mounted a horse, and was about to ride away when Ridge sprang forward, calling:

"General! General Lawton!"

The officer halted, looked keenly at the sun-browned young man in Spanish uniform, and, almost without hesitation, said:

"You are Sergeant Norris of the Rough Riders, I believe?"

"Yes, sir," replied Ridge, saluting, and overjoyed at being recognized.

"I looked for you at Daiquiri," continued the General, "and hope you can give good reason for not reporting there as ordered."

"I believe I can, sir."

"Then come in with me and give it to Major-General Wheeler, who is at present in command."

Within half an hour the young scout had been complimented by both Generals on the success of his recent undertaking, and had furnished them with information of the utmost value concerning the obstacles to be encountered between Siboney and Santiago. The first of these he stated would be found at Las Guasimas, where the two trails from Siboney to Sevilla on the Santiago road formed a junction some three miles inland. A little later he had the honor of guiding General Wheeler on a reconnoissance over one of these trails, and pointing out the location of a strongly intrenched Spanish force, posted to oppose the American advance.

When they returned to Siboney the sun had set, and Ridge, faint for the want of food, was wondering where he should find a supper, when a mighty cheering, mingled with wild cowboy yells, rose from a point where the Daiquiri road entered the village.

"It sounds as though your irrepressible comrades had arrived," said the little General, turning to his young guide with a quizzical smile, "though I did not expect them before to-morrow. Perhaps you would like to go and welcome them."

"Thank you, sir. Indeed I should," and in another moment Ridge was hastening in the direction of the familiar sounds.

How his heart swelled with loving pride, as he sighted the red and white guidons of the on-sweeping column; and when the one bearing the magical letter "K" came into view, he could have wept for very joy.

But he didn't weep. There wasn't any time, for in another minute he was among them, proclaiming his identity to incredulous ears.

When the Riders of Troop K were finally forced to acknowledge that he was really their own sergeant whom they believed was left behind in Tampa, all military discipline was for the moment flung to the winds. They yelled and whooped and danced about him, slapping him on the back, wringing his hands, and acting so like madmen, that the rest of the command stared at them in blank amazement.

As for Rollo Van Kyp, he first hugged his recovered tent-mate into breathlessness, and then invited the entire troop to take supper with him at the Waldorf in celebration of the prodigal Sergeant's return. To this invitation a hundred voices answered as one:

"Yes, we will! Yes, we will! Rollo in Cuba, yes, we will!"

CHAPTER XXIII

THE "TERRORS" IN BATTLE

"Couldn't you let me begin that supper with a hardtack right now?" pleaded our hungry young trooper, as soon as he could make himself heard. "It's a day and a half since my last meal, which was only a small ration of boiled rice, and it seems as though a hardtack at this minute would do me more good than the promise of a hundred Waldorf suppers."

The hunger that demanded even a despised hard-tack was at that time so incredible to the well-fed Riders, that at first they could not believe his request to be made in earnest. When, however, they saw the eagerness with which he began to devour one of the iron-clad biscuits, hesitatingly offered by Rollo Van Kyp, they were convinced that he was indeed on the verge of starvation. They were also reminded of their own keen appetites, for, amid the excitement of that day's landing and their forced march from Daiquiri, they had eaten nothing since a daylight breakfast. But each man carried three days' rations, and camp-fires were quickly ablaze in every direction. From these delicious odors of boiling coffee and frizzling bacon so stimulated their hunger, that when, tin cup and plate in hand, they sat down to that first meal on Cuban soil, they pronounced it equal to any ever served in New York City.

While Ridge, sharing his chum's cup and plate, was striving between mouthfuls of this thoroughly enjoyable supper to answer a few of the innumerable questions showered upon him, he suddenly became aware of an officer standing on the edge of the fire-light and regarding him with interest. As our young trooper sprang to his feet with a salute, he was covered with confusion to recognize in the motionless figure his own Lieutenant-Colonel, and to remember that in all this time he had neglected to report his return to the regiment. He began a confused apology, but the other interrupted him, laughing.

"It is all right, Sergeant," he said. "We heard of you from General Wheeler, who, by-the-way, is much pleased with the results of your expedition. So I came to find you, with a reprimand for not having reported at once to Colonel Wood, but when I saw you devouring hardtack, I was quite willing to accept starvation as your excuse. Now, however, the Colonel would be pleased to see you."

After an hour spent at headquarters, where he was honored with an invitation to eat a second supper, during which his apparently unappeasable appetite for hardtack and bacon caused much amusement. Ridge was allowed to return to his comrades. A throng of these gathered about the camp-fire of Rollo Van Kyp's mess, and, unmindful of the showers that fell at short intervals, listened for hours with breathless interest and undisguised envy to the story of his recent adventures. They were happily reassured by his description of the strength of Santiago's fortifications, and his assertion that the Spaniards would put up a good fight before surrendering them; for they had been inclined to think and speak contemptuously of the enemy who they feared would yield without a struggle.

So the greater part of the night was passed. They ought to have been asleep, storing up strength against the morrow; but who could sleep amid the uproar and excitement of that first night at Siboney? Not the Rough Riders, at any rate. Half a dozen transports had come into the little bay; and from them scores of boat-loads of troops and supplies were being landed through the roaring surf on the open beach. A thousand naked figures, screaming, ducking, and splashing one another like so many schoolboys on a frolic, assisted and impeded the landing of their comrades, who, crowded into pontoons and small boats, were pitched, howling with delight, from the crest of each in-rolling breaker. A half-moon and the powerful search-lights of two war-ships flooded the whole extraordinary scene with brightness. On shore the dripping arrivals crowded about the red camp-fires drying their soaking uniforms, cooking, eating, singing, laughing, and filled with irrepressible happiness at having escaped from their "prison hulks" and reached Cuba at last.

Thus, at dead of night, was an army landed on a hostile shore, and by two o'clock in the morning five thousand American troops were crowded in and about the village of Siboney.

Acting on the reports brought him by Ridge Norris and by certain Cubans whom the Spanish rear-guard had driven back the day before, as well as upon the knowledge gained by his own reconnoissance, General Wheeler had determined to attack the enemy, who were strongly posted at the forking of two roads leading from Siboney to Sevilla. The broader of these roads bore to the right through a narrow valley, while the other, merely a rough trail, climbed the hill back of the village and followed the crest of a ridge to the place of intersection. Both passed through an almost impenetrable growth of small trees and underbrush, thickly set with palms, bamboos, Spanish-bayonets, thorn bushes, and cactus, all bound together by a tangle of tough vines, and interspersed with little glades of rank grasses. To the right-hand trail, miscalled the wagon-road, were assigned eight troops from two regiments of dismounted regular cavalry, the First and Tenth (colored), under General Young. With these Colonel Wood and his Rough Riders, advancing over the hill-trail, were to form a junction at the forks, locally known as Las Guasimas, three miles away.

So at earliest dawn the troops detailed for this duty were astir, after but three hours of troubled sleep. The regulars, having the longer route to traverse, were given a half-hour's start of the others, who, in the mean time, made coffee and bolted a few mouthfuls of food. Then troops were formed, First Sergeants called the roll, the order, "Forward march!" was given, and the Riders, burdened with blanket-rolls, haversacks, canteens, tin cups, carbines, and cartridge-belts filled to their utmost capacity, began to scramble up the steep hill-side.