WE STORM THE FORT.
After a long and patient search, our vigilance was rewarded by
the discovery of the _Flying-fish_, securely moored in an almost
land-locked creek on the southern coast of Cuba. It was impossible for
the _Rattler_ to enter, on account of her draught; nor could she bring
her guns to bear on the merchantman, for that craft was protected by an
outlying spit of land, over which her spars alone were visible.
Under these circumstances there was no alternative but to send in some
of the boats to cut her out; and the pinnace, the first and second
cutters, and the jolly-boat were quickly got in readiness for the
service. As far as we could see with our glasses, there was a battery
on the heights above the creek; but as it was probably garrisoned by
Spanish regulars, Captain Graves refrained from opening fire. We soon,
however, saw the true nature of this work; for, as soon as the crew
of the _Flying-fish_ saw that we were going to push in with our boats,
they abandoned their ship, and putting off to the shore, leisurely
retreated into the fort, where we saw them get into readiness to open
fire as soon as our flotilla should get within range. It was pretty
evident that they were being encouraged in their resistance by bodies
of insurgents, who had apparently seized the battery and killed or
dispersed the Spanish garrison.
Mr. Thompson commanded the flotilla of boats, and took his station in
the pinnace, which carried a nine-pounder Armstrong gun in the bows.
He had previously sent for Charlie Balfour and myself, who were to go
in the first and second cutters, and had given us an outline of the
proposed operations.
“There is little doubt of our success, Mr. Darcy,” he had said
laughingly; “but I must warn you and your brother-midshipman not to
allow your men to waste their ammunition, and mind you attend strictly
to any orders I may issue from the pinnace.”
“Jolly spree this will be, Jack; won’t it?” Charlie had sung out to me
just as we were getting into our respective boats.
“The best lark we’ve had all the commission, I expect,” I had answered
with boyish thoughtlessness.
We had reason to change our minds when we reached the shore and
grappled with our determined foes.
At the last moment the captain sent a sub-lieutenant and the gunner
to assist us in the cutters, and the boatswain and one of the middies
shared the honours of the jolly-boat.
With a cheer we shoved off from the ship, fully expecting to see
jets of flame dart from the embrasures of the fort, and hissing shot
and shell come hurtling through the air in our direction. At first,
however, all was silent in the battery. Not even a cheer or a shout was
audible, and no defiant bunting flew from the flagstaff which occupied
a prominent position on the sea-front.
Mr. Thompson immediately took the offensive, and with his nine-pounder
opened a brisk and well-directed fire upon the mutineers and their
allies. This had the effect of creating some confusion within the fort,
as we were able to observe with our glasses; and this was still further
increased when we began peppering them with rockets from the cutters.
After a time, however, they steadied down and returned our fire with
very indifferent aim from six guns, which appeared to be the armament
of the work. The _Rattler_ now brought some of her guns to bear,
and her heavy shell told with great effect, making a breach in the
sea-front and dismounting two of the guns even before we had reached
the landing-place.
Under cover of this iron hailstorm we got our gallant fellows safely on
shore, formed them up, and charged forward up the hill at the double.
As yet not a man had fallen, though there had been some narrow escapes
which seemed to me almost miraculous. As we swept up the slope to the
assault, the enemy depressed the muzzles of their remaining guns, and
met us with a galling salute of grape-shot. This discharge, at almost
point-blank range, cut up our ranks a little. Undaunted, we gave a loud
cheer and pressed on without a moment’s hesitation—Mr. Thompson waving
his sword well in advance, and shouting words of encouragement.
The frigate was now obliged to suspend her fire, as was also the
pinnace, which latter, in charge of the gunner, had taken up a position
in the creek so as to cover our advance.
In the onward rush, Charlie and I found ourselves advancing side by
side, though we could scarcely identify each other through the cloud of
dun war-smoke that enveloped us as we approached the battery. Now and
again the ruddy jets of flame darted angrily through the vapour, as the
mutineers and insurgents plied their guns; and the hoarse roar of the
artillery and the sharper rattle of the musketry made a terrible din in
our ears as we pressed onwards.
As yet we had not fired a shot in return, as Mr. Thompson’s plan was to
rush the fort and, if possible, carry it at the point of the bayonet in
true British style.
“Well, Jack,” shouted Charlie, “what do you think of this for a nice
little shindy?”
“It’s rather awful,” I replied; “not that I funk it in the least, but
I can’t bear to see our brave fellows knocked over. Lobb, the captain
of the mizzen-top, was killed by a round-shot just now, and you know he
was rather a pal of mine.”
“I’m awfully sorry, I can tell you, old man,” said Charlie in
sympathetic tones; “I didn’t know the poor fellow had lost the number
of his mess. Lobb was such a general favourite that everybody on board
the _Rattler_ will miss him.”
“We’re close to the fort now,” I said, drawing my loaded revolver from
my belt. “Let’s stick to each other, Charlie, and try to be first over
the rampart!”
“We’ll make a dash for it at any rate!” shouted my friend excitedly.
“Come along, Jack; try to think you’re winning a hurdle-race!”
Like an inrushing tide, determined to drive everything before it, our
little naval brigade swept up to the attack, and with a ringing cheer
threw itself, sword and revolver in hand, into the breach which the
frigate had made with her shell.
A more diabolical set of men than those who clustered on the rampart
to meet us I had never before seen. They were not in the least cowed
by our determined attack, and met us with shouts of defiance and rage,
some discharging pistols in our faces, and others pouring in volleys of
musketry, which for a moment checked our advance.
But _only_ for a moment!
Charlie and I did not succeed, much to our disappointment, in being the
first to cross swords with the enemy. However, there was no time to
think about such things at the moment, for our work was cut out for us,
and a foe worthy of our steel, desperate and determined, was lining the
earthworks to dispute our advance inch by inch and foot by foot. All
our energies, and all our dogged British courage and persistence, were
called into play at that supreme crisis in our fortunes; and well and
valorously did our noble blue-jackets respond to our call.
As Charlie and I scrambled upwards, still mercifully unscathed, we
caught sight of Mr. Thompson’s and the boatswain’s forms erect upon the
rampart, looming huge through the smoke, and in a few seconds we had
scrambled up beside them through a storm of bullets. Then was heard the
sharp ringing clash of steel as we crossed swords with the desperadoes.
As we had suspected, they had leagued themselves with a ferocious band
of Creole insurgents, who no doubt anticipated sharing in the plunder
of the _Flying-fish_.
Very soon after the _mêlée_ commenced, I saw Charlie—who had got a
little separated from me—seized by two of the mutineers, and, in
spite of his violent struggles, thrown violently over the wall into
the ditch. Much to the astonishment of an antagonist with whom I was
crossing swords at the time, I disengaged myself from him and darted
to the rear in search of my chum, much fearing that I should find him
badly hurt. No doubt the piratical fellow I had been fighting with
thought that I was fleeing from him in dismay; but fortunately he did
not attempt to follow me. Nor did I meet with any obstruction by the
way; for every moment our brave fellows were pressing forward and
slowly but surely driving the enemy back, though the latter, to do them
full justice, fought most tenaciously, and seemed little inclined to
surrender.
It took me only a few seconds to rush down the embankment, and I at
once caught sight of Charlie’s prostrate form extended motionless in
the ditch. Close beside him lay the dead body of a seaman who had been
shot through the head with a rifle-bullet just as we were about to rush
the fort. In a moment I was at my friend’s side, half dreading that he
might be dead too; for he lay motionless, with his white face upturned
to the sky.
In vivid contrast to all the sounds of battle was the deathlike
stillness of that gloomy ditch, where the two human forms lay inert and
apparently lifeless.
In an agony of apprehension I knelt down at Charlie’s side, and called
him loudly by his name, at the same time placing my hand upon his heart
to feel whether it still throbbed with life. I fancied there was a
faint pulsation, and this gave me hope; but I was alarmed to find that
my friend’s head had been cut and was bleeding rather profusely. This
I quickly bandaged with my pocket-handkerchief; and then, as there
appeared to be no signs of returning consciousness, I looked about
me to see if I could discover any water near. By great good-fortune,
I found a little stream trickling down the hillside not fifty yards
away. Overjoyed at this discovery, I ran quickly across the intervening
space, took up some of the water in my cap, hurried back to Charlie’s
side, and commenced bathing his temples with the refreshing liquid.
To my joy the effect was almost immediate, for after a few moments I
noticed a little colour coming back into his cheeks, and a quivering of
the eyelids. I wetted his lips, and chafed his cold hands with my warm
ones.
“He’s coming round all right,” I muttered. “I must persevere for a few
minutes.”
Presently my friend moved uneasily, and then opened his eyes, which
rested upon me with a frightened expression.
“You’re all right, old chap,” I said reassuringly. “You fell over the
embankment, and were stunned for a few minutes.”
“I recollect something about it now,” he replied faintly, making a
futile attempt to raise his right hand to his head. “A fellow pitched
me over—yes—an awfully strong chap—I’d like—”
“Don’t talk till you’re feeling a bit stronger,” I interrupted. “Try to
take a drink of this water.”
My friend managed to swallow a mouthful or two, and the effect was
almost instantaneous, for he presently sat up and looked about him.
“Damaged about the head,” he observed, his hand straying to the
bandage; “but I don’t believe it’s anything very bad.”
“It’s just cut a little by a stone,” I said; “but I don’t believe
you’ve got any bones broken, Charlie, or you wouldn’t be able to sit up
like that.”
At this moment one of our surgeons who had accompanied the force came
running up at full speed, carrying a case of instruments in one hand.
“I’ve only just caught sight of you fellows,” he exclaimed, as he
arrived breathless on the scene. “What did you stow yourselves away in
this ditch for, I should like to know?”
I hurriedly explained the position of affairs.
“Well, I must just overhaul you, Balfour,” said the surgeon, laying his
case of instruments upon the ground, and turning to examine him. “I
trust, however, that it’s only a case of cuts and bruises, which boys
are pretty well accustomed to.”
“Have a look at that poor fellow first,” said Charlie, pointing to the
body of the poor seaman which lay near him; “I’m afraid he’s much worse
off than I am.”
The surgeon bent down and felt the pulse and heart of the poor fellow,
more as a matter of form than anything else. The bullet-wound in his
forehead told its own tale only too legibly, and that tale was: “Died
for Queen and country.”
The surgeon now again turned his attention to Charlie, and soon
announced, much to my joy, that there was no serious damage done.
“We’ll have you carried on board as soon as possible,” he said, “and
you’ll be as right as a trivet in a few days, if you keep perfectly
quiet in a cot.”
“Do you know if the scrimmage is over?” I asked the doctor.
“Our fellows were driving all before them when I last had a glimpse of
them,” the _medico_ replied.—“Hallo! who are these rascally-looking
villains bearing down upon us?”
Turning in astonishment, I beheld four armed desperadoes swiftly
approaching us from the rear.