Fighting in Cuban Waters Part 27

Following this attack came one upon Guantanamo and the other settlements cl.u.s.tered around the sh.o.r.es of the bay of that name. Here the fighting was as fierce as before, but before it was over a body of marines from the _Oregon_ were landed, and later on came six hundred marines from the _Panther_. The Spaniards stood their ground for only a short while and then fled to the mountains, and the American flag was hoisted amid a wild cheering from the troops at hand and those on the wars.h.i.+ps. No sooner had the landing-places at Guantanamo, Baiquiri, and Aguadores been secured than the army of invasion under General Shafter left Key West for these points, the particulars of which expedition have already been related in "A Young Volunteer in Cuba."

Walter slept "like a rock" during the first night in the cave, being thoroughly exhausted by his long ride. He did not awaken until long after the sun had come up, and for the moment could not realize where he was.

A scanty breakfast was speedily despatched, and he walked out to inspect his surroundings. Mindful of what Gilberto had told him about the enemy, he was careful how he exposed himself, and at the first sign of anything suspicious he ran to cover.

Thus the day pa.s.sed away slowly. In vain he tried to make out some of the wars.h.i.+ps far out at sea. To his naked eye they were but specks on that ceaseless tide which glared like molten lead in the fierce rays of the sun.

On the following night the youth underwent a curious experience. He had just thrown himself down to rest when, without warning, the cave was filled with a light that was dazzling. Thinking a fire must have suddenly descended upon him, he leaped up, when, as silently as it had come, the light disappeared.

"Now, what in the world does that mean?" he asked himself, and started for the cave opening, when, swis.h.!.+ the light came back, almost blinding him. Then he understood it all.

"It's a searchlight from one of our s.h.i.+ps!" he cried, half aloud. "If only they could see me and take me on board!" He watched for the light to reappear, but it never showed itself again, being trained upon Morro Castle and the entrance to Santiago Harbor.

On the third day in the cave Walter's stock of provisions gave out. No one had come near him, and the loneliness of his situation was maddening.

"I can't stand this any longer," he mused. "I must get out, if only to hunt for something to eat."

Fortunately for him, Gilberto had left him a pistol and several rounds of cartridges. To be sure, the weapon was an old-fas.h.i.+oned affair, but it was better than nothing, and soon the youth was out in the woods to the rear of the rocks trying to scare up something to shoot.

The woods had been well ransacked by both Spaniards and Cubans, but several hours' hunt yielded two birds, besides some half-ripe plantains and some nuts. Walter was about to return to the cave to cook the birds when from a distance he heard loud shouting, and presently came the rapid discharge of firearms.

"A battle of some kind is on," he thought, and ran to where he had discovered an ox-cart trail. He had scarcely reached the shelter of a clump of bushes, when a detachment of Cubans, closely followed by two companies of Spanish cavalrymen, rushed past, both parties firing as they moved.

"This is getting hot," thought the youth, and started to retreat, when he heard more soldiers coming from the direction of the cave. As there now seemed no help for it, he crossed the trail and plunged along a side path, leading eastward,--a trail running directly to Guantanamo.

Walter felt that the best thing to be done was to put distance between himself and his enemies, and he did not stop running until several miles had been covered. He had, meanwhile, crossed one small mountain stream, and now he found himself on the bank of another. There was no bridge, and the watercourse looked rather dangerous to ford.

"I might as well follow the bank down to the ocean," he reasoned. "But I must have something to eat first." And finding a secluded nook, he built a tiny fire and broiled his two little birds, both of which made hardly a meal. Then, obtaining the purest drink possible from the river, he continued his journey.

By nightfall Walter had covered many miles, yet no ocean came to view, and now he felt that he must be lost in the wilds of the island. As this conclusion forced itself home to him he smiled grimly.

"Lost in Cuba, and I came down here to help man a gun on the _Brooklyn_," he muttered. "Was there ever such a turning-around before!

I wonder what I had best do next."

This was not an easy question to answer. It was already dark under the thick trees, and to spend the night in such a spot was not pleasant to contemplate.

At last he came to a clearing. Here he was about to settle down, under the shelter of a small cliff of rocks, when something appeared that caused him to yell with all the strength of his lungs. It was a snake, five feet long, and it advanced rapidly, hissing as it came.

Walter had met snakes before, harmless reptiles not half as big as the present one. But he did not know but that this reptile might be poisonous, and gaining the top of the rocks he blazed away with the pistol, not once, but several times. The last shot hit the snake in the tail, and away it darted, out of sight and into the river.

"Ugh! what a horrible creature!" he murmured, as he stood still, watching for the possible reappearance of the reptile. "I wish I was out of this. I'd give a year's wages to be safe on board of the _Brooklyn_ once more."

The words had just left Walter's lips, when he heard a movement behind him. Turning swiftly, he beheld a Spanish soldier gazing at him from a distance of less than fifty feet. The soldier had his rifle, and now the weapon was aimed at the boy's head.

"_Alto!_" came the Spanish command to halt. "_Americano!_"

Walter's surprise was complete, yet he kept his wits about him. As the Spaniard raised his gun, the youth made a quick leap for the shelter of a near-by tree.

Bang! went the Mauser, and the bullet clipped the tree bark. Then Walter took aim, and trembling in spite of himself, pulled the trigger of his pistol. The enemy was. .h.i.t in the shoulder, and uttered a deep cry of pain.

"If there are others with him I'm in for it now!" thought the boy, and took to his heels along the bank of the watercourse. From behind came a cry for help and another to arms, and in less than a minute a whole company of Spaniards were in wild pursuit. A dozen shots rang out, but Walter was not hit, and plunged on. But he was no match for his pursuers, and they gradually drew closer and closer. Then the youth stumbled and fell, and ere he could arise he found himself surrounded.

CHAPTER XXIII

IN A SPANISH PRISON

The Spaniards who had taken Walter a prisoner were the most villanous the youth had ever beheld. They were all short, thin, and exceedingly yellow, as though suffering from tropical complaints, and looked more than half starved. Their clothing was in rags, for they had been in the wilds of the island, thousands of miles from home, for nearly two years, and a heartless, or poverty-stricken, military department had failed to supply them with what they absolutely needed.

None of them could speak English, and several talked volubly in Spanish, at which Walter could do nothing but shake his head and shrug his shoulders. He was motioned to arise, and as he did so his pistol was taken from him, and presently his hands were fastened tightly behind his back.

The course of the party was along the river to a rude bridge, over which Walter was marched in double-quick time. They emerged upon a narrow highway, along which they encountered half a dozen detached Spanish companies, some moving eastward and others in the opposite direction.

"I'm in for it now," thought the youth. "Escaping from this crowd will be out of the question."

Night was well advanced when they turned into a small settlement fronting Guantanamo Bay. Here were half a dozen log houses thatched with palm, while not far off was the office of a mineral company, now deserted by the proprietors, for business in this section of Cuba had long since come to a standstill.

Without ceremony Walter was taken to one of the log huts and thrust inside. The place was scarcely twenty feet square and was crowded with fifteen or sixteen insurgents, whites and negroes, who huddled on the floor, making themselves as comfortable as possible in their miserable surroundings. On the outside of the hut eight Spanish soldiers stood on guard, with rifles ready to shoot down the first prisoner that attempted to escape.

"_Un Americano!_" exclaimed one of the prisoners, a bright looking Cuban, as he edged his way to Walter's side. "You are in a sorry plight, boy."

"What a vile-smelling place!" murmured Walter. "How long have you been here?"

"Two days and nights, with only some stale bread and soup to eat,--and the soup was made of mouldy meat. Oh, that we were free!"

"_Silencio!_" roared one of the guards, and poked his rifle end into the doorway. "I will shoot the first prisoner who dares to speak again!" he added in Spanish.

Walter wished to question him, but did not dare, and so remained silent.

It was past midnight, and presently most of the prisoners went to sleep.

Huddled in a corner, the lad gave himself up to his dismal reflections.

Daybreak found the Spanish soldiers very active, and catching a glimpse of them through the open doorway, Walter felt that some important movement was contemplated. As a matter of fact the marines from the _Panther_ had landed, and the Spaniards were going to do their best to either capture them or drive them back to our wars.h.i.+ps.

Before noon the firing in the distance was heavy, and the Spaniards could be seen rus.h.i.+ng their commands. .h.i.ther and thither, as though hardly knowing how to conduct the campaign which had been thrust upon them. Evidently they realized that landing force was too large for them, for they gradually fell back, occupying that night the settlement where the prison was located.

On the day following, the attack upon both sides was renewed. The rattle of musketry was almost constant, and before long several bullets. .h.i.t the prison itself. The prisoners were about to remonstrate at this when, on looking out, they discovered that their late guards had fled, leaving them to do as they pleased.

"_Cuba libre!_" yelled the insurgents and lost no time in piling into the open air. Not far away lay several dead Spaniards, and rus.h.i.+ng up to the corpses they stripped them of their arms, after which they disappeared into the brush.

"I wonder if the army of invasion has come," was Walter's thought, as he, too, sought the open air. A short sword lay beside a writing-table under a near-by shelter, and he appropriated the weapon. "I'm going to join our men or know the reason why!" And away he went toward the water, which could now be seen quite plainly between the rocks and hills.

The marines, after fighting from early afternoon until the following morning, were now intrenched on a small hill, protected in front by a dense chaparral. They were utterly worn out, and it was found necessary to reenforce them by men from the _Marblehead_ and other vessels.

Several field-guns had been brought ash.o.r.e, and although the firing from the Spaniards was heavy, our gallant men held the ground they had first claimed.

"Halt! Who comes there?" came the command, from a thicket, and Walter stopped short, although the words, spoken in true English, filled him with joy.

"Are you an American?" questioned the youth, eagerly.