OFF FOR THE WAR
Of course Ridge had written home and informed his family of his
whereabouts as soon as he found himself regularly enlisted with the
Rough Riders. The news afforded Mr. Norris immense satisfaction, while
Spence Cuthbert declared that if Ridge were her brother she should be
proud of him.
"If that is said for my benefit," remarked Dulce, "you may rest assured
that I am always proud of my brother. I must confess, though, that I
should like it better if he were an officer; for, as I have never known
any private soldiers, I can't imagine what they are like. It must be
very unpleasant, though, to have to associate with them all the time.
I wish Ridge had told us more about that Mr. Van Kyp who owns the car.
Of course, though, one of his wealth and position must be an officer, a
captain at the very least, and perhaps Ridge doesn't see much of him
now."
Mrs. Norris was greatly disappointed to find that all her efforts in
her son's behalf had been wasted That he should have deliberately
chosen to becoming a "common soldier," as she expressed it, instead of
accepting the commission offered him, was beyond her comprehension.
She mourned and puzzled over this until the arrival of Ridge's next
letter, which conveyed the gratifying intelligence that, having been
made a corporal, he was now an officer. She did not know what a
corporal was, but that Ridge had risen above the ranks of "common
soldiers" was sufficient, and from that moment the fond mother began to
speak with pride of her son, who was an officer in the cavalry.
At length the quiet household was thrown into a flutter of excitement
by the receipt of a telegram, which read:
"Have again been promoted. Regiment ordered to Tampa. Leave to-day.
Meet us at Algiers, if possible."
Mr. Norris hurried into the city to consult railway officials
concerning the movements of the regiment, and found that the train
bearing his son's troop would pass through the city on the morrow.
Early the next morning, therefore, he escorted his wife and the girls
across the Mississippi, where, in the forlorn little town of Algiers,
they awaited as patiently as might be the coming of their soldier boy.
The mother's anxiety to meet her son was almost equalled by her desire
to see how handsome he would look in an officer's uniform. Concerning
this she had formed a mental picture of epaulettes, gold lace, brass
buttons, plumes, and a sword; for had she not seen army officers in
Paris?
The two girls discussed as to whether or not Ridge was now travelling
in the same luxurious private car that had borne him to San Antonio.
Spence thought not, but Dulce believed he would be. "Of course if
Ridge was still a private I don't suppose it would be good form for
_Captain_ Van Kyp to invite him," she said; "but now that he is an
officer, and perhaps even of equal rank, I can't imagine any reason why
they should not travel together as they did before."
There was no reason, and the joint proprietors of the little dog-tent,
of which, when in marching order, each carried one-half, were
travelling together on terms of perfect equality, as was discovered a
little later, when the long train, thickly coated with dust and
cinders, rumbled heavily into the station. Heads protruded from every
window of the crowded coaches, and hundreds of eyes gazed approvingly
at the pretty girls who were anxiously looking for a private car, while
trying not to blush at the very audible compliments by which they were
greeted.
Suddenly they heard the familiar voice. "Mother! Father! Girls!" it
called, and turning quickly in that direction, they discovered the
object of their search. Sun-browned and dust-begrimed, his face
streaked by rivulets of perspiration, wearing a disreputable-looking
felt hat and a coarse blue flannel shirt, open at the throat, their
boy, beaming with delight, was eagerly beckoning to them. Two other
cinder-hued faces were attempting to share the window with him, but
with only partial success.
The car doors were guarded, and no one was allowed to pass either in or
out until the train was safely on the great boat that was to transfer
it across the river. There the turbulent stream of humanity was
permitted to burst forth, and in another moment a stalwart young
soldier, who seemed to have broadened by inches since she last saw him,
had flung his arms about Mrs. Norris's neck. Then he shook hands with
his father and kissed both the girls, at which Spence Cuthbert blushed
more furiously than ever.
A score of young fellows, all as grimy as Ridge, and all wearing the
same uniform, watched this performance curiously, and now the latter
began to present them.
"This is First Sergeant Higgins, mother, of our troop, and Mr. Gridley,
and Mr. Pine of North Dakota. Dulce, allow me to introduce my
tentmate, Mr. Van Kyp."
So he rattled off name after name, until the poor girls were thoroughly
bewildered, and could not tell which belonged to whom, especially, as
Dulce said, when they all looked exactly alike in those absurd hats,
horrid flannel shirts, and ridiculous leggings.
Rollo Van Kyp was the only one of whose name and personality she felt
certain, which is probably the reason she allowed that persuasive young
trooper to escort her to the forward deck of the boat, where they
remained until the river was almost crossed. After a while Ridge and
Spence also strolled off together, ostensibly to find Dulce and Rollo,
though they did not succeed until the farther shore was nearly reached,
when all four came back together.
Rollo Van Kip had lost his hat, while Dulce held tightly in one
daintily gloved hand a curious-looking package done up in newspaper.
At the same time Spence Cuthbert blushed whenever something in the
pocket of her gown gave forth a metallic jingle, and glanced furtively
about to see if any one else had heard it.
A few days later Dulce appeared in a new riding-hat, which at once
attracted the admiration and envy of all her girl friends. At the same
time it was a very common affair, exactly like those worn by Uncle
Sam's soldier boys, and on its front was rudely traced in lead pencil
the words, "Troop K, Roosevelt's Rough Riders." In fact, it was one of
the very hats that Dulce herself had recently designated as "absurd."
About the same time that Miss Norris appeared wearing a trooper's hat
her friend Miss Cuthbert decorated the front of her riding-jacket with
brass buttons. When Sergeant Norris sharply reprimanded Private Van
Kyp for losing his hat, Rollo answered that he considered himself
perfectly excusable for so doing, since in a breeze strong enough to
blow the buttons off a sergeant's blouse a hat stood no show to remain
on its owner's head, whereupon the other abruptly changed the subject.
In the mean time Mrs. Norris, who had recognized among the names of the
young men presented to her those of some of the best-known families of
the country, was surrounded by a group of Ridge's friends, who, as they
all wore the same uniform that he did, she imagined must also be
officers. So she delighted their hearts and rose high in their
estimation by treating them with great cordiality, and calling them
indiscriminately major, captain, or whatever military title happened on
the end of her tongue. This she did until her husband appeared on the
scene with Lieutenant-Colonel Roosevelt, whom he had known in
Washington. The moment the fond mother discovered this gentleman to be
her son's superior officer, she neglected every one else to ply him
with questions.
"Did he think her boy would make a fine soldier? Was Ridge really an
officer? If so, what was his rank, and why did he not wear a more
distinctive uniform? Did _General_ Roosevelt believe there would be
any fighting, and if there was, would he not order Ridge to remain in
the safest places?"
To all of these questions the Lieutenant-Colonel managed to return most
satisfactory answers. He thought Ridge was in a fair way to make a
most excellent soldier, seeing that he had already gained the rank of
sergeant, which was very rapid promotion, considering the short time
the young man had been in the service. As to his uniform, he now wore
that especially designed for active campaigning, which Mrs. Norris must
know was much less showy than one that would be donned for dress
parades in time of peace. Yes, he fancied there might be a little
fighting, in which case he meditated giving Ridge a place behind
Sergeant Borrowe's dynamite gun, where he would be as safe as in any
other position on the whole firing line.
Not only was Mrs. Norris greatly comforted by these kindly assurances,
but she received further evidence that her boy was indeed an officer
entitled to command and be obeyed when the troopers were ordered to
re-enter the cars, for she heard him say:
"Come, boys, tumble in lively! Now, Rollo, get a move on."
Certainly an officer to whom even _Captain_ Van Kyp yielded obedience
must be of exalted rank.
There was some delay in starting the train, which was taken advantage
of by Mr. Norris to disappear, only to return a few minutes later,
followed by a porter bearing a great basket of fruit. This was given
to Ridge for distribution among his friends. Spence Cuthbert also
shyly handed him a box of choice candies, which she had carried all
this time; but Dulce, seeing her brother thus well provided, gave her
box to Rollo Van Kyp--a proceeding that filled the young millionaire
with delight, and caused him to be furiously envied by every other man
in the car.
Finally the heavy train began slowly to pull out, its occupants raised
a mighty cheer, the trumpeters sounded their liveliest quickstep, and
those left behind, waving their handkerchiefs and shouting words of
farewell, felt their eyes fill with sudden tears. Until this moment
the war had been merely a subject for careless discussion, a thing
remote from them and only affecting far-away people. Now it was real
and terrible. Their nearest and dearest was concerned in it. They had
witnessed the going of those who might never return. From that moment
it was their war.
On Thursday, June 2d, with their long, dusty journey ended, the last of
the Rough Riders reached Tampa, hot and weary, but in good spirits, and
eager to be sent at once to the front. They found 25,000 troops,
cavalry, infantry, and artillery, most of them regulars, already
encamped in the sandy pine barrens surrounding the little city, and
took their place among them.
At Port Tampa, nine miles away, lay the fleet of transports provided to
carry them to Cuba. Here they had lain for many days. Here the army
had waited for weeks, sweltering in the pitiless heat, suffering the
discomforts of a campaign without its stimulant of excitement,
impatient of delay, and sick with repeated disappointments. The
regulars were ready for service; the volunteers thought they were, but
knew better a few weeks later. Time and again orders for embarkation
were received, only to be revoked upon rumors of ghostly warships
reported off some distant portion of the coast. Spain was playing her
old game of _mañana_ at the expense of the Americans, and inducing her
powerful enemy to refrain from striking a blow by means of terrifying
rumors skilfully circulated through the so-called "yellow journals" of
the great American cities, which readily published any falsehood that
provided a sensation. At length, however, the last bogie appeared to
be laid, and one week after the Riders reached Tampa a rumor of an
immediate departure, more definite than any that had preceded it,
flashed through the great camp: "Everything is ready, and to-morrow we
shall surely embark for Santiago."