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A Prisoner of Morro: In the Hands of the Enemy, a fiction by Upton Sinclair |
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Chapter 24. The Cuban Courier |
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_ CHAPTER XXIV. THE CUBAN COURIER But the explosion never came. The party waited breathlessly, expecting to hear a deafening sound from the shell, and to see the earth thrown up in showers about them. From a safe place of vantage they felt it was a sight worth seeing and felt personally aggrieved when, after waiting an unconscionable time, all was quiet on the other side of the natural rampart of earth. Clif had been surprised and puzzled in the first place to see the ship firing away from its antagonist instead of toward it, and was now more than ever perplexed. To add to the mystery, the ship did not fire another shot, either at its pursuer or in the opposite direction. Its only purpose now seemed to be to get away from the American ship. It seemed to stand a good chance of doing it, too; for it was evidently a very swift boat, and the pursuing vessel was still far away. "That's the queerest thing that ever happened," exclaimed Clif, when a sufficient time had elapsed to enable the shell to explode if it was ever going to. "What possessed them to fire over here, and what's the matter with the shell? I'll investigate the latter, at any rate; it's within easy reach." Though it seemed as though more than enough time had passed to give the shell a good opportunity, still Clif, for reasons of prudence, concluded not to be too exacting on the thing, but to give it a fair chance. He didn't want to crowd it too close. So he waited a while longer, and then cautiously climbed up the side of the embankment and peered over. There in the moonlight he could see the shell lying quietly upon the ground. There was no smoke now rising from it, and the fuse had evidently burned itself out. It seemed a harmless enough piece of steel now. He waited but an instant, and then vaulted over on the other side. His curiosity had been aroused regarding the matter and he for the time being lost all interest in the chase at sea, as well as the appointed meeting under those trees on shore. When he picked up the shell he was more surprised and mystified than ever. "What does this mean?" he exclaimed aloud. "A round shell of the old-fashioned type instead of the conical ones used nowadays! Why, a shell like this has not been used in any navy for ages!" He had been too excited at the moment of picking up the spluttering shell to note its shape or size, but now he saw at a glance that the one he held in his hand was obsolete and out of date. It was well enough for the old-fashioned smooth-bore guns, but those of modern make had no use for them. As he puzzled over the mystery surrounding the projectile he suddenly heard a whistle from the other side of the embankment. He recognized it as the signal from the insurgent courier, and at once was alive to the importance of carrying out the instructions that had been given him. He hastily dropped the shell upon the ground and sprang up and over the ridge of earth. He gave an answering whistle and soon a form cautiously appeared from among some bushes not far away. "Alto quien va?" called Clif before the newcomer had advanced a step. This was the challenge, meaning, "Who goes there?" The response came promptly: "Cuba!" This is the countersign of the insurgents, and Clif knew that it was the courier who had reached the appointed rendezvous. He called out to him to advance, and in the moonlight appeared the figure of an insurgent soldier, a mambis, as he is called in that country, a figure with which American tars were to become more familiar as the war progressed. His equipment was typical of the insurgent soldier. Beside a pair of linen trousers and a knitted woolen shirt, he wore a short blouse, called mambisa. This was a small shirt-like vest, with pockets front and back, opening at the belt, a handy way of carrying their cartridges devised by them through necessity during the previous ten-years war. A panama hat turned up in front and fastened with a silver star, completed his attire; for as to his feet, they were innocent of a covering. "Rather a summery outfit," thought Clif as he took it in with a glance. But he knew that it was sufficient for the needs of the insurgents in that climate, and that brave hearts beat under the unpretentious mambisa, and brave deeds were done by the poorly equipped soldiers of the army of liberation. The newcomer was effusive in his greeting. "I bring you greeting from our brave general, Gomez," he exclaimed in Spanish. "Greetings to our noble friends and allies." Clif received him cordially, but lost little time in preliminaries. Much more time had already been consumed than he had calculated upon, and he was anxious to have his business over with and return to the flagship with the important dispatches for which he had come. "I am honored by your words," he said, in reply to the other. "Cuban liberty is assured by force of American arms, and at the same time we have our own score to settle with Spain." "It will be done," said the Cuban. "But to business," continued Clif. "You have some papers for me, have you not?" "Yes," replied the courier, raising his blouse and drawing forth a package of papers from its place of concealment. "Important dispatches from our general for your gallant rear admiral. Besides much information concerning the Spanish fortifications and troops, there are details of our own plans and preparations which it would be ruinous to have fall into Spanish hands." "I'll see that the Spanish don't get them," he said, with a confident air. "Be cautious," exclaimed the Cuban. "The enemy have made one effort to intercept them. I was pursued a mile back from here, but my knowledge of the country enabled me to give them the slip. It was that encounter that delayed me." This was a danger that had not been reckoned on. Every preparation for the transfer of the papers had been arranged with utmost secrecy. "But did the Spaniards know of your mission here?" asked Clif, in some surprise. "I know not," replied the other. "It is incredible how they could have discovered it, but I do know that I encountered a detachment of their troops and that they pursued me." "Then they may be following you to this point," exclaimed Clif. "I think not," replied the Cuban. "I made a wide detour and know the ways of the land too well to leave any trail." "Nevertheless," said Clif, "our business is transacted, and the sooner we go our respective ways the better. These papers are now in my care, and I shall run no risk of their falling into the hands of our enemies." "You are a wise officer," exclaimed the courier. "And before we part allow me to present you this. It may interest you." With this he drew from his mambisa a paper which he quickly unfolded. It proved to be a sheet about ten by fourteen inches, and Clif could see, as he examined it by what light the moon afforded, that there was printing on both sides. "This," said the courier, somewhat proudly, "is the first copy of 'Las Villas' ever printed. It is set up and printed at General Gomez's headquarters under his own direction. It contains, besides orders, and an address from our beloved general, an account of your intrepid Dewey's victory at Manila. Ah! that was a magnificent victory!" "Yes," assented Clif, "and there will be others." "The American battleships are invincible!" exclaimed the Cuban, with enthusiasm. "With such noble allies we cannot fail to secure our liberty. We are no longer instruments, but members of the regular army of Cuba. God bless America!" The Cuban seemed in a fair way to continue his rhapsodies indefinitely, but Clif, having secured the papers for which he came, was now intent upon delivering them as soon as possible to the rear admiral. He therefore intimated as much to the courier, and the latter took his departure. Clif watched him disappear among the trees in the direction by which he had approached. "Now, men," said he, addressing his companions, "to the boat. The New York will soon be back ready to receive us." But they had not taken more than a few steps toward the shore when Clif suddenly stopped as if remembering something. "Hold on just a minute!" he exclaimed. "That shell! I have special reasons for wanting to carry that along. It will take but a minute to find it." As he started toward the ridge of earth beyond which he had thrown it, they were all startled to hear the sounds of musketry apparently near at hand. One volley was quickly followed by another. Clif sprang upon the embankment for which he had started, and looked off beyond the clump of trees in the direction from which the sounds came. He was in that position but a moment or two. A half-dozen reports in quick succession greeted his appearance--one bullet passing through his cap. He dropped on his feet to the ground beside his companions. "The Spaniards!" he exclaimed, hurriedly. "At least a hundred of them. From what I saw they were hurrying in this direction and not far away." They were on the alert on the instant. The sounds that reached their ears told them unmistakably that the force of the enemy far outnumbered their own, and were rapidly approaching. Should they await an attack or run for the boat? _ |
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