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Dave Darrin at Vera Cruz, a novel by H. Irving Hancock |
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Chapter 8. Disobedience Of Orders |
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_ CHAPTER VIII. DISOBEDIENCE OF ORDERS Outnumbered, the Americans did not falter. Save for Hicks, the guide, and the wounded man, the sailors threw themselves automatically to one knee, bringing their rifles to "ready." For a moment Ensign Darrin felt sick at heart. He was under orders not to fire, to employ no armed force in a way that might be construed as an act of war in the country of another nation. Yet here were his men being fired upon, one already wounded, and American women and children in danger of losing their lives. Perhaps it was against orders, as given, but the real military commander is sometimes justified in disregarding orders. At the first sound of shots all of the sailors, except Hicks, came running back, crouching close to earth. As soon as they reached the thin little line the men knelt and waited breathlessly. Dave's resolution was instantly taken. Though he might hang for his disobedience of orders, he would not tamely submit to seeing his men shot down ruthlessly. Still less would he permit American women and children to be endangered. Orders, or no orders--- "Ready, men!" he shouted, above the sharp reports of the Cosetta rifle fire. "Aim low at the hedge! Fire at will!" Cr-r-r-rack! rang out the American Navy rifles. Filled with the fighting enthusiasm of the moment, Darrin drew his automatic revolver, firing ten shots swiftly at different points along the hedge. From behind that screen came cries of pain, for the Mexican is an excitable individual, who does not take his wounds with the calmness evinced by an American. Another American sailor had dropped. John Carmody, who had remained with the defending party, snatched up one of the rifles. Standing, he rushed in a magazine full of bullets, then bent to help himself to more from the belt of the rifle's former carrier. Fitting his revolver with a fresh load of cartridges, Dave held his fire for any emergency that might arise. A marine dashed up, nearly out of breath. "Sir," panted the marine, "Corporal Ross wants to know if you want to order the Colt gun and the marines up here." "No," Dave decided instantly. "Help one of our wounded men back to the launch and tell Corporal Ross to remain where he is. Is the Colt loaded and ashore?" "Yes, sir; ready for instant action." "Did Hicks get the women and children to the launch?" "No sir; he has hidden them behind the lower end of the sugar mill. The air is too full of bullets to expose the women to them." "Good for Hicks! Tell him I said so. He is to remain where he is until either the Mexicans' fire ceases or he receives different orders from me." "Very good, sir." Stooping, the marine picked up the worse injured of the two wounded sailors and swiftly bore him away in his arms. "Cease firing!" shouted Darrin, running along his valiant little line of sailors. "Load your magazines and let the rifles cool until the Mexicans start up again." For, with the exception of a shot here and there from behind the hedge, the destructive fire had ceased. "We must have hit a few of them," chuckled Darrin to John Carmody, who stood beside him. "I hope you killed them all," replied the planter. "They're brutes, when they have their own way." "Riley!" "Aye, aye, sir." "Pass the word to the men and we'll slip back. I don't like the silence behind the hedge. I suspect that the men have been withdrawn and that we are to be flanked below the sugar mill. Tell the men to fall back by rushes, not returning any fire unless ordered." "Aye, aye, sir." A moment later ten jackies were retreating. They gained the sugar mill, and passed it. "Hicks," called Ensign Darrin, "get your party aboard. Run for it!" "Aye, aye, sir." "And help this wounded man back to the launch." The sailor, who had been carrying the second wounded man, turned him over to Hicks, who carried his burden manfully. Dave continued to retreat more slowly with his fighting force, taking frequent observations rearward. From the hedge a few, sniping shots came now and then, but, as no one was hit, Darrin did not allow the fire to be returned. Suddenly, three hundred yards away, a volley crashed out on the right. "Flanked!" muttered Darrin, grimly, as Riley threw his men into line to meet the new attack. "I expected it. Aim two feet above the ground, men, and fire at will until you have emptied your magazines twice." Down by the launch, and not thirty feet from the wharf, stood Corporal Ross with his marines and the Colt machine gun. The marines were wild to join in the firing, but would not do so until ordered. Darrin was loath to let them draw the enemy's fire until the women had been made as safe as possible on the launch. As the American firing ceased, Dave called the order: "Load magazines, but reserve fire. Rush three hundred feet closer to the wharf and then halt and form again." This move was carried out, but a third sailor dropped wounded. As a lull came in the firing, Ensign Darrin blew a signal on his whistle. In response, two marines came sprinting to the spot. "Take this wounded man to the launch," Darrin ordered. "Corporal Ross hopes, sir, you'll soon give him leave to turn the machine gun loose," one of the marines suggested respectfully. "I'll give the order as soon as the time comes," Darrin promised. "Tell Corporal Ross that one flash from my pocket lamp will mean 'open fire,' and that two flashes will mean 'cease firing.' "Very good, sir." The wounded man was borne away. Again Dave attempted a rush, then reformed his men, this time not more than two hundred and fifty feet from the stern of the launch. "Riley!" "Aye, aye, sir!" "You will take command here. I must see to the safety of our passengers." "Aye, aye, sir." "Fire when you think best, but do not let the men waste ammunition. We have but a hundred rounds apiece." "I know it, sir." Then Dave dashed down to the wharf, just before which stood Corporal Ross looking the picture of disappointment. He had hoped for permission to open fire. Ensign Darrin and John Carmody ran to the launch together. Aided by Coxswain Schmidt, Hicks had done his work well, placing the women and children flat along the bottom of the craft, where they were little likely to be found by flying bullets. Again the fire had slackened. Dave stood with the marines, peering into the blackness beyond. "Can't you call in your party and make a quick dash down the lagoon?" inquired John Carmody, approaching, a rifle still gripped by one hand and a cartridge-belt thrown over one shoulder. "We can't travel fast in the lagoon, sir," Dave answered, "and Cosetta's men can run as fast along the shore, keeping up a fire that would be more deadly when we're crowded together aboard the launch. I want to silence the scoundrel's fire, if possible, before we try the dash out into the Gulf." "You appear to have discouraged the men who flanked you," said Mr. Carmody, looking towards the shore. "Yes, sir; but, judging by the rifle flashes there were not more than twenty men in that flanking party. We still have to hear from another body, and I believe they are hiding in the mill, ready to snipe us from there. Besides, probably a smaller party has been sent from the flankers to lie in wait and get us as we go through the lagoon. It's a bad trap, Mr. Carmody, and we must move slowly, if we wish to get away with our lives." While they stood watching, Riley's handful of men came running to the spot. At the same moment shots rang out from the roof of the sugar mill. "There we are!" Darrin exclaimed. "And men on a roof are the hardest to hit." In a jiffy a yell rose from the flankers, who now rose and came charging forward across some four hundred feet of intervening space. "Give 'em the Colt, Corporal!" Ensign Darrin roared. There was a yell of rage from the Mexicans as the machine gun barked forth. With the muzzle describing an arc of several degrees, many of the flankers were hit. The others threw themselves flat on the ground to escape its destructive fire. From the mill another score of charging Mexicans had started, yelling in Spanish: "Death to the Gringos." Leaping forward, Darrin felt a sudden sting of pain in his right foot. A bullet, sent in low, had ripped the sole of his shoe, inflicting a painful wound. "Cease firing, Corporal!" Dave ordered, hobbling to the machine gun. "Swing her nose around. Now, give it to 'em." As the machine gun barked forth again the raiders from the mill found good excuse for halting. There are times when a machine gun is worth a battalion of infantry. Yet one bullet is enough to kill a man. A marine fell at Dave's feet. The young ensign bent over him; one look was enough to prove that this defender of his countrymen was dead. As the fire from the machine gun ceased, a wild cheer rose on the air. Now, from four different points groups of Mexicans rose and charged, firing as they ran. One desperate dash, and they would overwhelm the crippled little Navy party. Defeat for Dave Darrin's command meant the massacre of all the survivors of his rescue party, and of the American men and women in their care! Ensign Dave Darrin realized this with a sickening heart. _ |
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