CALIXTO GARCIA THE CUBAN
"The thunder of American war-ships!" Instantly, as Ridge learned its
nature, the mighty sound took on a new significance, and seemed like
the voice of his own glorious country demanding freedom for an
oppressed people. Filled with this thought, he turned to the man who
had suggested it, and found himself in the presence of one wearing the
uniform of a Cuban officer. The latter had taken off his hat, and the
young American noted a livid bullet scar in the centre of his broad
white forehead. The man was elderly, fine-looking, and smooth-shaven
except for a heavy white mustache. His picture had been published in
every illustrated paper and magazine in the United States.
Promptly giving a military salute, Ridge said, "I believe I have the
honor of addressing General Garcia."
"Yes, I am Calixto Garcia. But who are you?"
"An officer of the American army, come to you with a message from its
commanding General."
"Have you credentials or despatches by which you may be known?"
"Only this, sir." Here Ridge lowered his voice and gave, for the
second time since landing in Cuba, the secret countersign of the Junta.
"It is sufficient," said the General, smiling and holding out his hand.
"Now what is your message?"
"That the American army of invasion, having sailed from Tampa, is due
within the next two days to arrive off Santiago; and General Shafter,
who commands it, is desirous of an interview with you before landing
his troops. He asks you to name the place of meeting."
"Thank you, sir, for bringing me this great news, and gladly will I
meet your General whenever he may choose to come. Also I will fix the
place of meeting down yonder at Aserraderos. From this station I will
watch day and night for his ships, and when they come will be ready to
receive him."
"Very good, sir. I will so report to my General."
"But how do you expect to communicate with him?" asked Garcia,
curiously.
"I propose to go from here to Enramada, to which place I was about to
ask you to favor me with a mount and a guide. At that point I have
arranged to meet a friend who will give me Spanish protection, and
under whose escort I shall visit Santiago. After that I shall be
guided by circumstances. But if I live I shall certainly be at
Daiquiri in time to meet the American army."
"You have undertaken a difficult task, and I only hope it may be
accomplished," replied the General, thoughtfully. "Of course I will
furnish you with a horse and an escort to Enramada, which place, as you
are doubtless aware, is already occupied by my men."
"By the Cubans?" cried Ridge, in dismay.
"Certainly. We drove out the Spaniards several days ago, and have
advanced our lines to within a few miles of Santiago. At present that
city is surrounded on three sides by the forces of Generals Castillo
and Rabi."
"In that case, sir, I shall ask for protection to the extreme limit of
the Cuban lines, both for myself and my friend."
"Is he a Spaniard?" asked Garcia, suspiciously.
"He is an American citizen," replied Ridge, "though at present
appearing as a Spaniard, and wearing the uniform of a Spanish officer."
"What is his name?"
"He is travelling under the name of Ramon Navarro."
"Very Spanish indeed, and he could not have done a more reckless or
foolish thing than attempt to pass himself off as a Spaniard in this
part of the island. If he is discovered near Enramada he will
undoubtedly be killed without a chance to explain who he really is.
But that is the way with you Americans. Confident in your own
ignorance, you are always pushing ahead without stopping to count the
cost."
"At the same time we generally get there."
"Get where?" asked the other, sharply.
"To the place we start for."
"Oh yes, you get there, in some shape, though perhaps sorry that you
have done so. In the present campaign, for instance, I have no doubt
that the very first Americans landed will make a dash for Santiago,
without waiting for artillery or even provisions. If they win a
victory, it will be by the good fortune that often attends fools; but
the chances are that when they enter Santiago it will be as prisoners
of war."
"Sir!" cried Ridge, "I am an American, and an officer in the American
army."
"Pardon, señor; I forgot," replied the General. "I was allowing myself
to utter aloud my thoughts, a thing extremely wrong and ill-advised. I
have really no doubt in the world that your gallant countrymen will
conduct themselves most admirably. Now if you will come to my poor
camp I will make you as comfortable as possible for the night, and in
the morning we will decide what is best for you to do."
"Thank you, sir," said our young trooper, "but with your permission I
should prefer to make a start at once, with the hope of reaching
Enramada before my comrade, and thus preventing a sad mistake on the
part of your troops."
"But, my young friend, you have already travelled far to-day and are
exhausted."
"I still have some strength left."
"Night is upon us, and the trails are very dangerous."
"There is a young moon, and you will furnish reliable guides," replied
Ridge, smiling.
"If I should not furnish them?"
"Then I would set forth alone."
"You are determined, then, to proceed at once?"
"I am, sir, unless detained by force."
"Ah, heavens! These Americans!" cried the General, with an air of
resignation. "They will leave nothing for to-morrow that may be
squeezed into to-day. They know not the meaning of 'mañana.' Ever
impatient, ever careless of consequences, and yet they succeed. Can it
be that theirs is the way of wisdom? But no, it is their good fortune,
what they call 'luck.' Yes, señor, it shall be as you desire. In an
hour all shall be in readiness for your departure."
"Couldn't you make it half an hour, General?" asked Ridge, with an
audacity that drew forth only a grunt from the Cuban leader.
So it happened that in something less than an hour from the time of
this important interview our young American, well fed, and provided
with a pass through the Cuban lines for himself and one friend, was
retracing his steps down the northern slope of the Sierra Maestra. He
was mounted on a raw-backed but sure-footed Cuban pony, and escorted by
half a dozen ragged cavalrymen. They had barely started before he was
thankful that he had not attempted to make the journey unguided; nor
had they gone a mile before he knew that he could never have
accomplished it alone. Often he found himself traversing narrow trails
on the brink of black space where a single misstep would have brought
his career to a sudden termination. Again he passed through gloomy
tunnels of dense foliage, slid down precipitous banks, only to plunge
into rushing, bowlder-strewn torrents at the bottom, and scramble up
slopes of slippery clay on the farther side, All this was done by the
feeble and ever-lessening light of a moon in its first quarter, and as
it finally sank out of sight the leader of the escort called a halt,
declaring that they could not move another rod before daybreak.
Thus Ridge was forced to take a few hours of rest, and so exhausted was
he that his companions had difficulty in rousing him at dawn. Again
they pushed forward, shivering in the chill of early morning, and
blistered by the sun's fervent heat a few hours later, until ten
o'clock found them on the grass-grown highway leading from Santiago to
Bayamo, and a few miles west of Enramada. Here, as Ridge believed
himself to be well in advance of his comrade, he decided to await his
coming. At the same time he sent one of his escort into Enramada to
discover if Lieutenant Navarro had by any chance reached that place,
and to arrange for fresh mounts. Then he threw himself down in the
scant shadow of a thorny bush for a nap.
Apparently his companions, who had promised to keep a close watch of
the highway, did the same thing, for when he next awoke it was with a
start and the consciousness that a horseman was dashing past at full
speed on the road to Enramada.
In less than a minute the shamefaced squad was in hot pursuit, but
though they strove to atone for their neglect of duty by furious
riding, they did not overtake the horseman until they discovered him
halted by an outpost, who allowed him to pass as they came in sight.
When they in turn were halted they learned that the man whom they had
followed so briskly was a Cuban scout just in from a tour of
observation.
So Ridge rode slowly into Enramada, reported to the officer in command,
and remained in that wretched village until nightfall in a state of
nervous impatience. He was most anxious to push forward, since every
minute was now of value, but could not desert the friend whom he had
promised to meet at this place. He feared that without his protection
Navarro would come to grief among the Cubans, and also he was depending
upon the young Spaniard for a safe entry into Santiago.
At length dusk had fallen. The impatient young trooper had eaten a
supper of tough bull-beef and "those everlasting yams," as he called
them, with his Cuban friends, and was pacing restlessly to and fro a
short distance beyond a camp-fire, about which they smoked their
cigarettes, when a ragged, slouch-hatted figure approached him.
"Señor Americano."
"Well, what do you want?"
"If Don José Remelios desires the company of Ramon Navarro into
Santiago, I am ready."
"Good Heavens, man!"
"Hush! Tell them you can wait no longer. Set forth alone, follow the
railroad, and I will meet you."
Then, before Ridge could reply, the figure darted away and was lost in
the night shadows.
Fifteen minutes later the young American, despite the polite protests
of his entertainers, had left Enramada, dismissed the escort who had
passed him through the Cuban pickets, declined further guidance, on the
plea that he could not get lost while following the railway, and was
watching anxiously for the appearance of his friend.
Suddenly he was confronted by a motionless horseman dimly seen on the
embankment ahead of him, and in another minute the comrades were
exchanging greetings.
"How did you reach Enramada without my knowledge?" asked Ridge,
finally. "I have watched every moving creature in the place since
noon."
"Slipped in, disguised by this horrible Cuban costume, after dark,"
laughed Navarro. "Shouldn't have come at all but for my promise, and a
recollection that I was a prisoner of war on parole, since I learned at
Jiguani that Enramada was occupied by the insurgents."
"But I have a pass for you from Garcia himself."
"Even had I known it I should not have ventured among those who might
have recognized me; for where a Spaniard is concerned, any Cuban will
kill him first and examine his pass afterwards."
"I suppose that is so," replied Ridge, with a memory of del Concha.
"Anyhow, I am mighty glad everything is turning out so well. Now,
hurrah for Santiago, and the American army that is to capture it!"
"Do you believe they can do it?"
"Of course I do," was the confident answer. But a few hours later,
when from a wooded hilltop he looked down, upon the widespread city in
which were quartered 10,000 veteran troops, protected by strong
intrenchments, formidable batteries, and by Admiral Cervera's powerful
squadron, he wondered if, after all, his countrymen had not undertaken
a task far more difficult than they imagined.