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

"Get where?" asked the other, sharply.

"To the place we start for."

"Oh yes, you get there, in some shape, though perhaps sorry that you have done so. In the present campaign, for instance, I have no doubt that the very first Americans landed will make a dash for Santiago, without waiting for artillery or even provisions. If they win a victory, it will be by the good fortune that often attends fools; but the chances are that when they enter Santiago it will be as prisoners of war."

"Sir!" cried Ridge, "I am an American, and an officer in the American army."

"Pardon, señor; I forgot," replied the General. "I was allowing myself to utter aloud my thoughts, a thing extremely wrong and ill-advised. I have really no doubt in the world that your gallant countrymen will conduct themselves most admirably. Now if you will come to my poor camp I will make you as comfortable as possible for the night, and in the morning we will decide what is best for you to do."

"Thank you, sir," said our young trooper, "but with your permission I should prefer to make a start at once, with the hope of reaching Enramada before my comrade, and thus preventing a sad mistake on the part of your troops."

"But, my young friend, you have already travelled far to-day and are exhausted."

"I still have some strength left."

"Night is upon us, and the trails are very dangerous."

"There is a young moon, and you will furnish reliable guides," replied Ridge, smiling.

"If I should not furnish them?"

"Then I would set forth alone."

"You are determined, then, to proceed at once?"

"I am, sir, unless detained by force."

"Ah, heavens! These Americans!" cried the General, with an air of resignation. "They will leave nothing for to-morrow that may be squeezed into to-day. They know not the meaning of 'mañana.' Ever impatient, ever careless of consequences, and yet they succeed. Can it be that theirs is the way of wisdom? But no, it is their good fortune, what they call 'luck.' Yes, señor, it shall be as you desire. In an hour all shall be in readiness for your departure."

"Couldn't you make it half an hour, General?" asked Ridge, with an audacity that drew forth only a grunt from the Cuban leader.

So it happened that in something less than an hour from the time of this important interview our young American, well fed, and provided with a pass through the Cuban lines for himself and one friend, was retracing his steps down the northern slope of the Sierra Maestra. He was mounted on a raw-backed but sure-footed Cuban pony, and escorted by half a dozen ragged cavalrymen. They had barely started before he was thankful that he had not attempted to make the journey unguided; nor had they gone a mile before he knew that he could never have accomplished it alone. Often he found himself traversing narrow trails on the brink of black space where a single misstep would have brought his career to a sudden termination. Again he passed through gloomy tunnels of dense foliage, slid down precipitous banks, only to plunge into rushing, bowlder-strewn torrents at the bottom, and scramble up slopes of slippery clay on the farther side, All this was done by the feeble and ever-lessening light of a moon in its first quarter, and as it finally sank out of sight the leader of the escort called a halt, declaring that they could not move another rod before daybreak.

Thus Ridge was forced to take a few hours of rest, and so exhausted was he that his companions had difficulty in rousing him at dawn. Again they pushed forward, shivering in the chill of early morning, and blistered by the sun's fervent heat a few hours later, until ten o'clock found them on the grass-grown highway leading from Santiago to Bayamo, and a few miles west of Enramada. Here, as Ridge believed himself to be well in advance of his comrade, he decided to await his coming. At the same time he sent one of his escort into Enramada to discover if Lieutenant Navarro had by any chance reached that place, and to arrange for fresh mounts. Then he threw himself down in the scant shadow of a thorny bush for a nap.

Apparently his companions, who had promised to keep a close watch of the highway, did the same thing, for when he next awoke it was with a start and the consciousness that a horseman was dashing past at full speed on the road to Enramada.

In less than a minute the shamefaced squad was in hot pursuit, but though they strove to atone for their neglect of duty by furious riding, they did not overtake the horseman until they discovered him halted by an outpost, who allowed him to pass as they came in sight. When they in turn were halted they learned that the man whom they had followed so briskly was a Cuban scout just in from a tour of observation.

So Ridge rode slowly into Enramada, reported to the officer in command, and remained in that wretched village until nightfall in a state of nervous impatience. He was most anxious to push forward, since every minute was now of value, but could not desert the friend whom he had promised to meet at this place. He feared that without his protection Navarro would come to grief among the Cubans, and also he was depending upon the young Spaniard for a safe entry into Santiago.

At length dusk had fallen. The impatient young trooper had eaten a supper of tough bull-beef and "those everlasting yams," as he called them, with his Cuban friends, and was pacing restlessly to and fro a short distance beyond a camp-fire, about which they smoked their cigarettes, when a ragged, slouch-hatted figure approached him.

"Señor Americano."

"Well, what do you want?"

"If Don José Remelios desires the company of Ramon Navarro into Santiago, I am ready."

"Good Heavens, man!"

"Hush! Tell them you can wait no longer. Set forth alone, follow the railroad, and I will meet you."

Then, before Ridge could reply, the figure darted away and was lost in the night shadows.

Fifteen minutes later the young American, despite the polite protests of his entertainers, had left Enramada, dismissed the escort who had passed him through the Cuban pickets, declined further guidance, on the plea that he could not get lost while following the railway, and was watching anxiously for the appearance of his friend.

Suddenly he was confronted by a motionless horseman dimly seen on the embankment ahead of him, and in another minute the comrades were exchanging greetings.

"How did you reach Enramada without my knowledge?" asked Ridge, finally. "I have watched every moving creature in the place since noon."

"Slipped in, disguised by this horrible Cuban costume, after dark," laughed Navarro. "Shouldn't have come at all but for my promise, and a recollection that I was a prisoner of war on parole, since I learned at Jiguani that Enramada was occupied by the insurgents."

"But I have a pass for you from Garcia himself."

"Even had I known it I should not have ventured among those who might have recognized me; for where a Spaniard is concerned, any Cuban will kill him first and examine his pass afterwards."

"I suppose that is so," replied Ridge, with a memory of del Concha. "Anyhow, I am mighty glad everything is turning out so well. Now, hurrah for Santiago, and the American army that is to capture it!"

"Do you believe they can do it?"

"Of course I do," was the confident answer. But a few hours later, when from a wooded hilltop he looked down, upon the widespread city in which were quartered 10,000 veteran troops, protected by strong intrenchments, formidable batteries, and by Admiral Cervera's powerful squadron, he wondered if, after all, his countrymen had not undertaken a task far more difficult than they imagined.

CHAPTER XX

THE TWO ADMIRALS

It was a glorious morning, and a glorious sight was disclosed by the rising sun–a palm-shaded city of red-tiled roofs, dominated by a fine, double-towered cathedral, and a broad, land-locked bay set in a circle of rounded hills and rugged mountains. On the placid bosom of the bay rode Cervera's proud squadron of war-ships–five mighty cruisers, four of which were of the latest model and most approved armament; two wicked-looking torpedo-boat destroyers, each claimed to be more than a match for any battle-ship afloat, and a few gunboats that had been used for coast patrol. From the war-ships came the cherry notes of bugles, and from the Plaza de Armas, in which a regiment was passing in review, swelled the inspiring music of a full military band. Beyond the city every near-by elevation was occupied by a stout block-house, each displaying the red and yellow flag of Spain, and forming the nucleus for radiating lines of rifle-pits. Far down at the entrance to the bay rose the grim walls of Santiago's Morro Castle, and beyond it floated against the blue sky soft smoke clouds that Ridge felt sure must come from the American ships on blockade.

This was Santiago. This the peaceful scene that was soon to be transformed into a battle-field. Here, within a few days, victory and defeat would meet face to face. Which side would claim the former? Until this moment Ridge had never doubted. He had often heard the boast that his own regiment could drive every Spaniard out of Cuba, and had believed it. Now he knew that here alone was work cut out for an army.

These reflections of our young trooper were interrupted by his companion, who said, "It is a wonderful picture; but I am too hungry to gaze on it any longer; so let us hasten into the city, with the hope of finding a breakfast."

Both the young men wore Spanish uniforms that Navarro had brought with him, and, protected by these, they rode boldly down to the nearest outpost. Here the lieutenant demanded that they be conducted to headquarters, to which they were accordingly sent under guard.

Many of the narrow streets through which they passed were indescribably filthy, but these became cleaner as they neared the Casa Municipal. Here they were graciously received by General Linares, to whom they were presented by one of his staff, who recognized Navarro as a friend. The General complimented them on having eluded the Cubans, and was much gratified to learn that Pando's army was on its way from Holguin to reinforce him. After a few minutes of conversation, during which he promised to give both of them details for field duty, he dismissed them, and they were at liberty to accept an invitation to breakfast at the San Carlos Club.

In the cool club-house, which faces the Plaza de Armas, where the band plays in the evening and fountains plash softly amid blossoming shrubbery, Ridge and his companion were introduced to many officers, a number of whom were from the warships.

Santiago was very dull just then; its communication with the outside world was cut off. No ships could enter its beautiful harbor, business was almost at a standstill, and there was little to talk about. So the advent of two strangers into the club was hailed with joy, and they were plied with questions. No one seemed to suspect that our young American was other than what he professed to be, though his answers to many of their questions were necessarily vague and unsatisfactory. In order to entertain them, the resident officers proposed various trips to places of near-by interest, such as the fortifications, the barracks where Lieutenant Hobson of the American navy was confined, the Morro, from which a view of the blockading squadron could be had, or to the Spanish war-ships lying in the harbor, the last of which was accepted for that morning.

As soon, therefore, as breakfast was over, the new-comers were escorted to the water-front, where lay several steam-launches. As they reached the landing-place a fine-looking man, white bearded, with twinkling eyes and kindly features, drove up in a carriage, and alighting with springy step, was instantly saluted by every officer present. He acknowledged the courtesy by lifting his hat and speaking to several of them, whom he called by name. Emboldened by his kindness, these ventured to present the new arrivals and mention their desire to visit the Spanish ships; whereupon Admiral Cervera, bravest and most chivalrous of Spain's commanders, promptly invited them to accompany him to the flag-ship.

As they steamed down the bay in the superbly appointed launch flying an Admiral's flag and manned by a picked crew in snowy duck, Ridge sat silent, in a very confused frame of mind, and paying scant attention to the gay conversation carried on by the other members of the party. He had been overcome by the courtesy of his reception in Santiago, and was feeling keenly the meanness of his position.

"I'll be shot for disobedience of orders before I ever again undertake to act the low-down part of a spy," he reflected, bitterly. At the same time he was wondering how he should manage to escape the kindly but embarrassing attentions of these new-found friends, and reach Daiquiri in time to communicate with General Shafter upon his arrival.

In spite of these thoughts, he did not fail to admire the beauty and massive symmetry of the ships they were approaching. There lay the Cristobal Colon, latest product of Italian skill; the splendid Vizcaya, that had recently attracted the admiration of all who saw her in New York Harbor; the Almirante Oquendo, that had been received with such wild enthusiasm in Havana; the Maria Teresa, famed for the richness of her interior fittings; the Reina Mercedes, used as a hospital-ship; the Pluton and the Furor, low, black, and ugly to look upon, both holding records for enormous speed, and more dreaded as engines of destruction than all the others put together. Stripped to fighting trim, these ships were the very embodiment of modern sea-power, and in his ignorance Ridge wondered if anything afloat could resist them. From them his attention was at length attracted to the Admiral, who was saying:

"I am about to send this launch, under a flag of truce, out to the American flag-ship to procure some supplies for our prisoners, the Señor Hobson and his men. So if you have a desire to view the Yankee ships at close range I shall be pleased to have you accompany it. Possibly you speak the English, in which case you might prove of use as interpreter."

"I do not speak it so well as does my friend the Señor Remelios," replied Lieutenant Navarro, to whom this invitation had been extended.

"Then it may be that he will do me the favor to accompany the launch," suggested the Admiral, and of course Ridge gladly embraced the opportunity thus offered.

"Perhaps I can stay on board the American ship," he said to himself, "and not be compelled to revisit Santiago until I can do so as an honest fighter, instead of as a contemptible spy. And what a chance it will be for Navarro to escape from the Spaniards!"

Half an hour later the trim launch, now displaying a large white flag forward, had passed the masts of the sunken Merrimac, the frowning Morro on its lofty headland, and, standing out to sea, was drawing near the superb cruiser New York, flag-ship of Admiral Sampson's fleet. On either side of her, in imposing array, lay the great battle-ships Iowa, Massachusetts, Texas, and Oregon, the last of which had recently hurried to the scene of conflict from San Francisco, making a record voyage of 13,000 miles by way of Cape Horn. Besides these there was the Brooklyn, swiftest of American cruisers, together with half a dozen more–cruisers, gunboats, yachts, and torpedo-boats–all in war-paint, all ready for instant action, and all flying the banner of stars and stripes. At the wonderful sight Ridge's heart glowed with patriotism and a new courage. How impregnable looked the huge battle-ships!–how terrible! Nothing could withstand them! He felt sure of that.

The young Spaniard who sat beside him gazed on the outspread American fleet in silent amazement. He had thought Cervera's ships formidable, but now it seemed to him they would be but playthings for these modern leviathans.

As the Spanish launch ranged alongside the flagship, an object of curious attention to all on board, it was courteously received; but, to Ridge's disappointment, only the officer in charge was permitted to leave it. A few minutes later, however, a cadet tripped lightly down the side ladder to say that the gentleman who spoke English was requested to report on deck. As in obedience to this order our young trooper followed him up the ladder, he found opportunity to say in a low but earnest voice:

"I must see the Admiral, alone if possible. Have important communication for him. Try and arrange an interview."

The cadet looked back in surprise, and then nodded his head. The next moment they were on deck, when the "Señor Remelios" could barely control his joyful emotions at finding himself once more among his countrymen and beneath his country's flag.

After a brief transaction of business the guests were invited into the ward-room, which they had scarcely entered when word was passed that the one speaking English was again wanted on deck. Promptly obeying this summons, Ridge was conducted to a large after-cabin which he found occupied by two officers. One, with stern features, iron-gray beard, deeply lined forehead, and piercing eyes, he instantly recognized as Admiral Sampson. The other he guessed to be Captain Chadwick, commander of the ship.

"Well, sir," began the former, sharply, as the new-comer was left standing, cap in hand, before them, "I understand that you wish to make a private communication of importance. What is it? Are you desirous of deserting your countrymen and joining us? If so, I would advise you to go elsewhere before declaring your intention, because on board this ship we have very little sympathy for deserters."

"Seeing that I am an American soldier, sir, belonging to Colonel Wood's First Volunteer Cavalry, and am here by special order from General Miles, I don't think there is much danger that I shall desert," replied Ridge.

Both of his hearers uttered exclamations as he announced his nationality, and Captain Chadwick muttered, "I should never have suspected it."

At that moment Ridge caught sight of his own face in a mirror, the first he had seen in two weeks, and was startled to note how very Spanish he looked.

In a few minutes he had explained the situation, and given General Garcia's message appointing Aserraderos as a meeting-place to the American commander. When his report was finished, he added: "Now, sir, can't I remain here until the army arrives? I never realized until to-day how humiliating it is to be a spy."

"I wish I might say yes," replied Admiral Sampson, meditatively, "but fear I cannot. According to your own account, you have not completed your mission by making a study of the condition and defences of Santiago, upon which you are to report to the commander of the first American force that lands. Also, I could not detain one who comes as a Spanish officer under flag of truce, without making things very unpleasant for such of our men as are held prisoners by the enemy. You must not think of your position as humiliating, but as one of great importance and responsibility, as well as of great danger. You say, too, that you have a Spanish friend in the launch who wishes to remain here with you, and whom you cannot desert, but I certainly could not receive him under the circumstances. Therefore, much as I regret to say so, it seems to me that both my duty and yours point to your return by the way you came."

As Ridge, admitting the justice of this decision, was about to take his leave, the executive officer of the ship entered hastily and reported:

"A heavy smoke to the eastward, sir, believed to be that of the transports bringing General Shafter's army."

CHAPTER XXI

A SPANIARD'S LOYALTY

Both officers sprang to their feet at the startling announcement that the eagerly awaited but long delayed transports were in sight, and Admiral Sampson extended his hand to Ridge, saying:

"Go back to Santiago and your duty, my boy. I will convey your report concerning the meeting with Garcia to General Shafter."

Then all hurried to the deck, and in another minute the great war-ship had started eastward to welcome the troops, while the Spanish launch, which had been hastily dismissed, was heading towards Santiago Bay with every member of the party she had brought out still on board.

"What is about to happen?" asked one of the Spanish officers, in bewilderment.

"The ships bringing the American army have been sighted," replied Ridge, who saw no reason for withholding information that must soon be known to every one.

Upon this there was great excitement in the launch, which was pressed to its utmost speed, that the news might be carried to Admiral Cervera and General Linares as quickly as possible.

At his own request, Ridge, in company with Lieutenant Navarro, was permitted to carry it to the General, who said, quietly:

"Very good, gentlemen; and now, since the time for action has arrived, I will assign you to the important duty of patrolling the coast, from which you will bring to me, at Sevilla, earliest word of any attempted landing by the enemy. You will act independently, but in co-operation with Captain del Rey, who is already scouting in the neighborhood of Guantanamo with his company of cavalry. It is supposed that the landing will be made there, but–as Heaven only knows what these Yankees may do–we must watch every possible point."

Nothing could have suited Ridge better than this; and a few minutes later, with Santiago left behind, he and his companion were galloping in the direction of the Morro, from whose lofty walls they would be able to command a vast sweep of ocean and coast. Already were its garrison crowding tower and battlement to gaze wonderingly at the American fleet coming from the eastward. A double column eight miles long of ships, crowded to their utmost capacity with armed men, was advancing under low-trailing banners of black smoke, like a resistless fate. As they neared the war-ships, that had for a month impatiently awaited them, these thundered forth a welcome from their big guns. Bands played, swift steam-launches darted to and fro, and a mighty volume of cheering from twice ten thousand throats was borne to those who listened on land like the roar of a breaking tempest. The American army and navy had met at last, and were joined in a common cause.

For an hour our young trooper watched with swelling heart this wonderful meeting of his countrymen. Then he had the satisfaction of seeing one of the transports steam away to the westward in the direction of Aserraderos. While his companions asked one another the meaning of this manoeuvre, he believed it to indicate that the meeting between Generals Shafter and Garcia, for which he had arranged, was about to be effected.

As it was evident that no landing was to be attempted that day, the young men so reported to General Linares at Sevilla, where they also spent the night. Another day of suspense and anxious waiting was passed, with the American transports rolling idly in the offing, and making no effort to discharge their human freight. At the same time the war-ships kept the Spaniards in a state of feverish excitement by shelling every place along twenty miles of coast where a landing might be made.

A swarm of Spanish scouts watched these operations from the hill-tops, and at short intervals during the day reported the enemy's movements to General Linares; but of them all none was so active as Ridge and his companion. From earliest dawn until dark they scoured the country lying adjacent to the coast, gaining a complete knowledge of its so-called roads, which were but the roughest of trails, only intended for saddle or pack animals, and of its defences. They also made such full reports to headquarters of everything that was going on as to completely win the confidence of the Spanish commander. Consequently he was not prepared to accept, without further proof, the abrupt statement made by a major of his staff, that one of his favorite scouts was an American, and probably a spy.

It was the second day after the arrival of the transports. The two officers were alone in the room occupied by General Linares as an office, and from it Ridge had just departed after making a report to the effect that he had not yet seen anything indicating the selection of a landing-place on the part of the enemy.