Home > Authors Index > Upton Sinclair > Prisoner of Morro: In the Hands of the Enemy > This page
A Prisoner of Morro: In the Hands of the Enemy, a fiction by Upton Sinclair |
||
Chapter 1. Sighting A Prize |
||
| Table of content |
Next > |
|
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER I. SIGHTING A PRIZE About noon of a day in May during the recent year the converted tug Uncas left Key West to join the blockading squadron off the northern coast of Cuba. Her commander was Lieutenant Raymond, and her junior officer Naval Cadet Clifford Faraday. The regular junior officer was absent on sick leave, and Cadet Faraday had been assigned to his place in recognition of gallant conduct. The ropes were cast off, and slowly the tug glided away from the dock and out toward the open sea. It was not very long before the harbor of Key West was left behind, and then began the long trip to Havana. It was over a hundred miles, and that meant seven or eight hours' journey for the Uncas. But the Uncas was a good, stout vessel, unusually swift for a tug, and she made the water fairly fly when once she got clear of the land. Clif leaned against one of the rapid-firing guns in the bow and gazed longingly ahead; he was anxious to reach his destination. There were wild rumors concerning Spanish fleets, Cadiz squadrons and Cape Verde squadrons and Mediterranean squadrons, which were continually being sighted or heard of nearby; and for all Clif knew the decisive battle of the war might be fought at any time. And he felt that if it took place while he was absent he would never cease to regret it as long as he lived. The Uncas could not do much in such a battle; but she was anxious to do her share. It was possible, also, that Morro might succeed in provoking an attack. The guns of the Havana defenses kept blazing away at anything that came near, and the American sailors were fairly boiling over with impatience to get a whack at them. And at any time Admiral Sampson might give the word. So Clif was restless and impatient as he stood in the bow of the swift tug and gazed southward. It was a rather damp place of observation the cadet had chosen, for it had been blowing quite a gale that day, and the Uncas was plowing her way through a heavy sea. The spray was flying over the decks; but who would have thought of going below at such a time as that? It was not Clif's turn on duty. Lieutenant Raymond seemed to think that after his struggle on board the Spanish monitor the young cadet deserved a rest. But he was too eager and wide awake just then to wish to take it. When the tug was well under way the lieutenant came out of the pilot house and joined Clif again. "Thinking of the weather, Mr. Faraday?" inquired Lieutenant Raymond. "No, sir," replied the cadet, "I was thinking of Ignacio. I don't know how he happened to get into my thoughts, but he did." "Who is Ignacio?" "He's a Spaniard I've had some trouble with," answered Clif. "You may have heard about one of his exploits." "Which one is that?" "He made an attempt to assassinate Rear Admiral Sampson." "Oh, yes, I heard about that," said the officer. "The admiral told me about it himself. I believe you were the person who interfered." "I had the good luck to be standing near," said Clif, modestly. "And of course, I sprang between them." "And the spy stabbed you?" "Yes. In the shoulder, but he did not hurt me very much." "He must be a desperate man." "He is. That stabbing business seems to be a favorite trick of his. I hope I shan't have to face him again." Whether Ignacio was a Spaniard or a traitor Cuban, no one could say. Clif had first met him trying to lead astray an American officer who had been sent with dispatches for Gomez. And Clif had foiled the plot, and had been Ignacio's deadly enemy ever since. Clif had been keeping a careful watch for him. He knew that the vindictive fellow would follow his every move; Ignacio was acting as a spy for the Spaniards, and so must have found it easy to keep track of the cadet's whereabouts. But so far Clif had not met him. "We are likely to have a wild night of it," said Lieutenant Raymond. "The clouds seem to get darker every minute." "It'll be a night for the blockade-runners," was Clif's answer. "We may have some excitement." "We'll have it anyway," said the other. "I don't know of anything I less rather do than weather a storm while in among the vessels of the fleet. It will be necessary to stay on deck every instant of the time keeping watch for our very lives." "I know how it is," the cadet added. "I was on the Porter dining one such night. And we captured a prize coming out of Havana after almost running her down in the darkness." "I heard about it," said Lieutenant Raymond. "You may repeat the performance to-night if you have a chance. We aren't likely to meet with anything till we get there." As the lieutenant said that he turned and gazed ahead; the broad sea stretched out on every side of them, without a sign of smoke or sail to vary the monotony of its tossing waves. "But it always lends zest to a trip like this," the officer added, "to know that it's possible you may run across a stray Spaniard at any moment. It pays to keep one's eyes open." "And then you have the pleasure of chasing two or three and finding they're some other nation's ships," said Clif, with a laugh. "That's about all we've done so far," said the lieutenant. "But we're still hoping perhaps you'll bring us good luck." "I'll do my best," the cadet declared with a smile. "Better get ready for it by resting a bit. Your dinner's ready below." Clif took the hint and went below. The boat was pitching so violently that he found eating a very difficult operation, and it was generally so unpleasant in the little cabin that he was glad to go on deck again. And then later in the afternoon, at four o'clock, it came time for him to go on duty. After that he had to remain outside whether he wanted to or not. The gale grew considerably stronger, and as the darkness came on it got much chillier, but Clif still paced up and down the deck with the glass in his hand watching for a sign of a passing vessel, or of the approaching Cuban coast. He was left almost alone on deck as the weather got rougher; for the crew made themselves comfortable below, knowing what hard work lay before them through the stormy night. It was not the custom on the vessel to keep the whole watch on duty except at night; and Clif had only the two sailors at the wheel and the lookout in the bow for company. But if he felt any jealousy of those who were below out of the cold, he had the grim satisfaction of being able to disturb their comfort before very long. It was about half past four in the afternoon, and suddenly the lookout turned and called to Clif. The eager cadet knew what it meant. He seized the glass and hurried forward. He followed the direction of the man's finger. "I think I see smoke, sir," was what the sailor said. And Clif took a long look and then turned, his face betraying his excitement. An instant later his voice rang through the ship. "Steamer ahoy--off the starboard bow!" _ |
||