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A Prisoner of Morro: In the Hands of the Enemy, a fiction by Upton Sinclair |
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Chapter 23. A Perilous Detail |
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_ CHAPTER XXIII. A PERILOUS DETAIL Clif did not have long to speculate upon the cause of the summons. The ensign led the way to the rear admiral's cabin, knocked, and with Clif closely following, entered. He then saluted and went out again, leaving the cadet alone with the officer. Rear Admiral Sampson noticed the paleness of Clif's face, and thoughtfully directed him to sit down. "I hear that you were wounded while cutting the cable," he said at once. "You were under hot fire while it lasted, and I am proud of the way the men behaved. I am told that you did not give up the tiller in spite of your injuries." Clif, though pleased to receive the praise of the rear admiral, bore himself modestly. It did not seem to him that he had done any brave act. "My wound was slight, sir," he said quickly. "It has been properly dressed, and gives me no trouble." "I am glad to hear that," replied the officer, "for I have an especial mission upon which I desire to send you, but of course would not think of your going if it should endanger your health. Other danger you do not seem to fear." Clif reassured the officer that he was ready and able to undertake any mission intrusted to him. "It is briefly this," continued the rear admiral. "While you were out with the boat, I received a communication by the dispatch boat saying that a courier from the Cuban chief, Gomez, is to be at a certain spot near, the coast to-night, bearing important dispatches from the insurgents. It is necessary that we send some one to meet him, and your previous experience on Cuban soil and your knowledge of the Spanish language recommend you as the leader of the party. Are you prepared to go? There may be danger----" Clif eagerly interrupted him. To his mind it seemed a great honor, as it really was to be placed in command of so important a mission, and he counted no danger great enough to cause him to hesitate. He told the rear admiral as much, forgetting in his eagerness for active service, that he was but a cadet. "Then it is settled," said the rear admiral. "To-night the New York will reach a spot nearly opposite the place of meeting, and you will be ready with a party of ten, whom you may select. Here is a diagram of that part of the coast, indicating the appointed spot where the courier is to be met." He handed Clif a roughly drawn map, which the latter examined curiously. "I know the spot well," he exclaimed, after looking at the diagram for a moment. "All the better," said the rear admiral. Then after some further directions and instructions from the officer, Clif saluted and took his leave, happy in the thought that he had been singled out for such important duty and that he would have this opportunity of active work. He was really glad, though he would hardly admit it to himself, to be permitted to seek some rest during the day, for his wound was painful, if not serious. It was late at night when, with a picked company of ten men, all armed, Clif parted company with the flagship and steered his boat toward the shore. The New York had dropped them near the appointed spot, but it had been deemed prudent not to take the ship near enough to attract attention to the intended destination of Clif and his crew. They therefore had considerable distance yet to row before touching land. "I know the coast pretty well along here," thought Clif, as he set in the stern, tiller ropes in hand. "We'll get there all right." Success depended upon their own efforts, for the New York slowly steamed away along the coast and in the opposite direction. Clif and his party sped along without any uneasiness. It was night and darkness favored them. There was no reason to think that their presence there was suspected or their purpose known. Still, for all this evident security, Clif kept a sharp lookout for any of the enemy who might be prowling along like himself, or, worse still, who might be scouring those waters with one of those silent little terrors, a torpedo boat. All went peacefully until they were within less than half a mile of their destination, and quite near shore. Then suddenly a rifle shot rang out upon the shore, and sounds of voices came to their ears. The Spaniards had discovered them! "Perhaps not," thought Clif, hopefully. "Silence everybody," he said, addressing the men, "and listen." Instantly the men ceased rowing, and every one strained his ears to hear the sounds from shore. That there was a company of the enemy at that point was evident, from the noise of many voices and the confused sounds that were borne to the listeners' ears. "They have discovered us," whispered Clif to the one nearest him. "I caught a few words of Spanish that convinces me that the sentry has heard our oars. Not a sound now! They can't see us in the dark, and will think it all a mistake." It was a waiting game that Clif had set out to play, and it seemed the only thing that could help them under the circumstances. It was out of the question to think of attacking the Spaniards, superior at least in numbers. There was other work for the night. Silently the American crew waited, listening for every sound. Soon these voices died out, and Clif concluded that they could venture to move once more. "Row quietly," was his whispered order. "I'd like to give them a volley, but that would spoil our plans." The men cautiously plied the oars and were soon steering softly toward their appointed place of landing. But quietly as they moved, the sound was borne ashore and they had not proceeded many boat lengths before another shot echoed across the water. "To thunder with the Spaniard," exclaimed Clif, out of patience with the fresh outbreak. "He's firing at random. Go ahead. We'll meet them further down the shore if they're not satisfied." This sentiment met the approval of the men, and they bent to the oars with vigor and spirit. They were gliding swiftly across the water, and had nearly reached their landing place, when Clif heard a noise that put him on the alert. "Do you hear that?" he exclaimed, after hastily stopping the rowers. The men rested on their oars and listened. "Sounds like the throbbing of an engine, sir," at last said one of the men. "It's a boat, sure." "Yes, but friend or foe?" exclaimed Clif. "It's not the New York. She went in the other direction, and I don't know of any more of our boats in this place." "Perhaps the New York is coming back," ventured one of the men. "No," replied Clif. "She's not been here for at least three hours. By that time we will be ready to return to her." "It must be a blockade runner," suggested one of the men. "Well, I don't see as it makes any difference," said Clif, finally. "If it is, we can't stop her. She can't be after us, for I am sure no one of the enemy knows our mission. There is our landing place. We must hurry or we will be late." With this he turned the prow of the boat toward shore, and gave orders to proceed. A few minutes later the boat grated upon the beach and the sailors sprang ashore. There was no one to dispute their landing. The coast at this point was wild and uninhabited, and but a short distance inland was the spot appointed for the meeting with the insurgent courier. Clif hid the boat among some bushes and quickly led the men up the steep bank toward a clump of trees. "This is the spot," he exclaimed as they reached it, "and we are evidently ahead of time." No one was in sight, as far as the eye could penetrate the darkness. There was barely enough light from the moon just emerging from behind a cloud to enable the sailors to take some notice of the surroundings. Where they stood, near the sparse clump of trees, it was smooth and level, but close to one side of them rose a ridge of ground forming a natural rampart. It almost seemed as though Spanish forms might at any instant appear upon it behind threatening guns. Seaward the view was unobstructed, and as Clif turned his gaze in that direction, he could see the moonbeams reflected on the heaving bosom of the waters. He saw another sight an instant after that caused him to utter an exclamation of surprise. Far out to seaward the beam of a searchlight suddenly shot across the water. It swept from side to side in a gradually widening radius, until after a few moments its glare fell upon a steamer whose hulk rose up between it and the shore. "It is one of our ships chasing a blockade runner," cried Clif. "She was trying to sneak out, but is caught in the act." The little party on shore watched with eager eyes the chase as shown by the bright beam from the warship's searchlight. In the excitement of the novel sight that was afforded them they for the moment forgot why they were there. Then a strange and mysterious thing happened. As they watched the pursued vessel they suddenly saw a flash from a gun on the side facing the land. "What fools!" cried Clif. "Firing toward the land instead of at our ship. The fool Spaniards must be rattled worse than usual. That beats----" He did not finish the sentence. As he spoke the shell fired from the ship crashed through the trees and landed almost at his feet. The fuse was burning and spluttering, and it seemed ready to explode on the instant, carrying death and destruction to the little party. It was a perilous moment. Several of the men instinctively dodged and seemed on the point of running away. Clif saw his peril in an instant and the only hope of averting it. Without a moment's hesitation he sprang forward and picked up the shell as it seemed about to burst. With a mighty effort he hurled the spluttering missile over the ridge of earth that he had noticed to one side, and then, with an involuntary sigh of relief, he instinctively huddled with the balance of the party in an expectant attitude, waiting for the explosion on the other side of the rampart. _ |
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