Forward, March by Kirk Munroe (bts book recommendations .txt) 📖

present one-sided fight one hundred and seven more fell victims to Spanish bullets; but the trenches had been held, and that day's work settled forever the question of their retention.

In the mean time Lieutenant Norris, who had miraculously escaped unhurt from the very front of two fierce charges, was curious to know whose sword he was carrying; and so, after San Juan Heights had been safely won, he strolled back over the battle-field to try and discover its owner. After a long search he found the little mound of earth over which he had stumbled, and was startled to see it was a recently made grave. Beside it lay an officer in Rough Rider uniform, face down, and wearing an empty scabbard. His, then, was the sword; but who was he? A gentle turning of the still body revealed the placidly handsome features of the young New-Mexican, Arthur Navarro. Near the grave, across which one of his arms had been flung, as though lovingly, lay a wooden cross bearing a rudely cut inscription in Spanish. It had evidently been overthrown by the charging Americans. Now Ridge picked it up, read the inscription, and stared incredulous. "Captain Ramon Navarro, Royal Spanish Guards. Died for his country, June 22, 1898."

"My friend Ramon, killed the very day he saved me from capture!" murmured Ridge. "But how marvellous that they should have buried him here, that his grave should have saved my life by giving me that fall, and that the bullets intended for me should have taken the life of the cousin who was to have been his partner!"

So the two, one from the New World and one from the Old, who loved each other, but had been separated during life by the calls of duty, were united in death; for they buried the young New-Mexican close beside his Spanish cousin, and the grasses of San Juan Hill wave above them both.

Wearing the sword thus intrusted to him, and which he would send to far-away New Mexico at the earliest opportunity, Lieutenant Norris bore his full share of the second day's fighting on San Juan Heights. Late that night, as he was coming in from the trenches, he was called to General Sumner's tent to act as interpreter. A deserter, apparently a Spanish sailor, had just been brought in, and was evidently trying to convey some important information that no one present could understand.

"He says," exclaimed Ridge, after listening intently to the man, "that Admiral Cervera's ships--coaled, provisioned, and under full head of steam--are about to make a dash from the harbor. He thinks they will start soon after sunrise, or when our ships have drawn off to their accustomed day-time distance."

Although the reliability of this startling news was very doubtful, it was deemed of sufficient importance to be immediately transmitted to Admiral Sampson.

"Who is the best rider in your command?" asked the General, turning to Colonel Roosevelt, who had assisted at the examination of the Spanish deserter.

"Lieutenant Norris," was the unhesitating answer.

"Then let Mr. Norris take my orderly's horse, make his way with all speed to Siboney, press into service the first steam craft he comes across, and carry this fellow's statement, with my compliments, to Admiral Sampson."

Five minutes later our young trooper, once more on horseback, and in a blaze of excitement, was galloping for dear life over the rugged road by which the army had come from the coast.

CHAPTER XXVI MUTINY ON A TRANSPORT

On the memorable morning of July 3d the sun had risen from the fog-bank that promised a hot day before our young trooper, wearied and mud-bespattered with his journey, and his face still powder-grimed with the smoke of the day's fighting, rode into the village of Siboney. It no longer presented the scenes of excited bustle and eager enthusiasm that had marked it on the eve of Las Guasimas, for the army had departed long since, and only its shattered wrecks of humanity had drifted back. Now Siboney was a place of suffering and death; for here had been established the hospitals to which wounded men limped painfully from the distant front, or were brought in heavily jolting army wagons.

On this peaceful Sunday morning--for it was Sunday, though Ridge did not know it at the time--a great stillness brooded over Siboney, and almost the only persons visible were medical attendants, who moved quietly about the big hospital tents or the fever-infested buildings that had been pressed into the same service.

In the little harbor lay but a single steam-vessel, a transport, though others could be dimly seen far out at sea, where they spent most of their time, which fact largely accounted for the woful lack of supplies at the front. A boat from the single ship that had ventured into the harbor lay on the beach discharging freight. To it Ridge hurried, and, addressing himself to the man who appeared to be in charge, said:

"I have an important communication for the Captain of your ship. Will you take me off to her?"

With a contemptuous glance at the disreputable-looking young trooper, the man answered:

"See about it when I get ready to go."

"Please make haste, then, for my business is very important, and I am in a great hurry."

"Oh, you be. Reckon you'd better swim out, then, for I've been hurried by you landlubbers 'bout as much as I propose to be on this v'y'ge."

Ridge's face flushed, and he wanted to make an angry retort; but there was no other boat available, and he could not afford to throw away this chance. So he bit his lips and silently watched the deliberate movements of the men, who seemed to find a pleasure in aggravating him by their slowness.

The boat could have been unloaded in five minutes, but the operation was made to consume a half-hour, during which time Ridge stood silent, though with finger-nails digging into the palms of his clinched hands. All at once, without a word of warning, the boat's crew began to shove their craft from the beach.

"Hold on!" cried Ridge, springing forward. "I am going with you."

"Why aren't you aboard, then?" asked the mate, with a grin, as his men gave another shove that launched the boat into deep water.

Leaping into the sea, Ridge barely succeeded in clutching a gunwale and pulling himself aboard, amid chuckles of laughter from the crew. His ducking had not improved his personal appearance, and as he now sat in the bow of the boat dripping water from every point, he formed an object for so much rude wit and coarse merriment, that upon reaching the transport he was furious with pent-up wrath.

On gaining the deck of the ship he hurried forward, and found her Captain smoking an after-breakfast cigar in his comfortably appointed cabin.

"Well, sir, who are you? and what do you want?" demanded this individual, as Ridge presented himself at the door.

"I am an army officer bearing a message of the utmost importance from General Sumner to Admiral Sampson; and as this is the only steam-vessel in the harbor, I have come to ask that you will carry me to the flag-ship."

"If you haven't got cheek!" ejaculated the Captain. "So you are an army officer, are you?"

"That is what I said."

"You don't look it. Are you the Quartermaster-General?"

"Certainly not."

"Thought not. Didn't know but what you'd claim to be, though, since he's the only army officer that I take orders from."

"But I am not giving an order. I am making a request that any American should be glad to grant, seeing that my message concerns the safety of the United States fleet, and may alter the whole course of the war."

"What is it?" demanded the Captain, bluntly.

"You have no business to ask," replied Ridge. "At the same time I will tell you, that you may be induced to get your ship under way the more quickly. The Spanish squadron is about to make a dash from Santiago Harbor with the hope of taking our fleet by surprise and escaping."

"What is that to me?" asked the Captain, coolly.

"What is that to you!" cried Ridge. "Why, some of our ships may be destroyed if they are not warned in time."

"That is their lookout, not mine. Besides, Uncle Sam can afford to pay for them; while if this ship should be injured the loss would fall on the owners, and I should lose my job."

"Do you mean that you refuse to take me out to the flag-ship?"

"Of course I do," responded the Captain; "and not one foot nearer to it, or to any other warship, does my vessel move this day than she is at present."

"Then, sir," said Ridge, still struggling to maintain his calmness, "I will thank you to set me ashore again, as speedily as possible."

"Why should I set you ashore?" asked the Captain, with exasperating indifference. "You came on board without an invitation, and now you may stay here until the next boat is ready to run in, which will be in the course of an hour or two."

"By which time half the American fleet may have been destroyed for lack of warning," groaned Ridge. Then he added, his face blazing with anger: "I hope you are not an American, and I don't believe you can be, for you are a traitor, a coward, and a contemptible cur. I only hope I may meet you again some time when I am off duty, and can give you the thrashing you deserve."

"All right, my young mud-lark," replied the Captain. "I'll give you a dose of medicine whenever you want it. Now clear out of here, and don't let me catch sight of you again!"

Ridge did not hear these last words, for he was already walking rapidly aft, filled with a tumult of rage and perplexity. What ought he to do? What could he do? Was ever any one so utterly helpless in a crisis of such importance? Not until he reached the extreme after part of the ship did a ray of light break upon the situation. Then he caught sight of a yacht steaming swiftly into the harbor. She might be a despatch-boat, or a destroyer, or any one of half a dozen things; but whatever she was, she could help him if she only would.

Close at hand was a jack-staff upholding an American ensign. Acting upon the impulse of his despair. Ridge hauled down this flag, and then half-masted it, union down, thus making a signal of distress that called for prompt aid from any vessel sighting it. Then he gazed eagerly at the swiftly approaching yacht. She must have noticed his signal, for she was now headed directly for the transport, and Ridge, clinging with one hand to an awning stanchion as he stood on the rail, frantically waved his hat.

Suddenly a bellow of rage close at hand caused him to look in-board. The Captain of the transport, his face purple with passion, was rushing towards the jack-staff.

"How dare you hoist the signal of a mutiny?" he howled. "I'll show--"

"Because there is one on board," shouted Ridge, springing in front of the infuriated man, and at the same moment whipping out his revolver. "Halt where you are!" he added, fiercely. "For if you dare touch that flag before I am through with it I will blow out your traitorous brains!"

The Captain, cowed by the steadily levelled muzzle of that pistol, obeyed this order and stood still; but at the same time he yelled for any of the transport's crew who might be within hearing to tumble aft in a hurry.

In another minute they came--mates, deck-hands, engineers, stewards, and stokers--blocking the narrow gangways on either side of the deck-house. But beyond this they dared not go; for they too were confronted by that levelled pistol, and its holder's assurance that he would fire at the first man who advanced another step.

Thus the single figure with a cocked revolver and the unarmed mob that it held at bay faced each other for a full minute,