INTO THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY
Harry called Bert and Mason and explained the situation to them. Both
were eager to accompany the expedition on shore. Washington was busy
forward when the boys joined him. He had gathered and piled up under the
rail a supply of guns and ammunition sufficient to arm a company of men.
He had made good use of the few minutes the boys had occupied in
dressing, for a small boat already lay alongside the steamer. Harry
surmised that the men, who were all exceedingly fond of their commander,
had assisted Washington in order that he might set out to give what aid
he could to Captain Dynamite. There was scarcely a man among them but
had made several voyages with him, and they well knew the danger that
attended a journey through that part of the island, and the fate that
awaited their chief if he should fall into the hands of the Spaniards.
The mate was still in close conference with Captain Morgan, and either
intentionally, or because of his preoccupation, paid no attention to the
preparations of the little expedition.
"What are you going to do with all those guns?" asked Harry, as he
surveyed the pile.
"May be some big shooting," replied Washington, nodding his head,
wisely. "More guns, more shooting."
"But how are we to carry that arsenal? If I am not mistaken travelling
hereabouts is not the easiest thing in the world, and we shall want as
little to hamper as possible."
"I guess young gemman right," said Washington, looking regretfully at
the heap of guns.
"Let us each take a gun and a pistol----"
"And machete--machete," interrupted the negro, his eyes bulging, while
he swung his arm as if wielding one of the short Cuban swords.
"All right, Washington, machete if you choose. They may do to cut our
way through the underbrush."
"Cut way through Spaniard," said Washington, still waving his arm
excitedly.
"You can do all that kind of cutting, George Wash Jenks. Perhaps you
would prefer a razor."
"No, machete."
"All right; machete it is, and I hope you will find something to use it
on and work off some of that cutting energy."
They then each selected from the supply of arms a rifle, pistol, and all
the ammunition they could comfortably carry. They lowered them into the
small boat and were about to climb in when Harry stopped them.
"What about food, Washington?" he asked. "We'd better tote some along, I
think."
With his usual energy, Harry had naturally taken command of the
expedition.
"How much of a tramp is it to where Captain Dynamite is going?"
"Captain Dynamite go to Gomez--Gomez at Cubitas."
"That does not mean anything to us. How far is it from here to Cubitas
and how long will it take us to reach it?"
"'Bout two days."
"All right. Now Washington, you get some ship biscuit, dried beef, and
coffee from your stock in the galley and we will each carry our own
rations. I guess we can get through on that grub for two days."
"And ah guess a leetle lasses for coffee, Misser Harry," pleaded the
negro.
"How under the sun are you going to carry molasses, Washington? I guess
you will have to take your coffee black and without sweetening."
"Never was such a musser at guessing," murmured Washington, as he turned
into the galley. He soon reappeared with the rations, four oilskin
jackets, and a coffee pot. They divided the food and each bundled up
his supply in an oil skin and tied the package on his back. They were
now ready to begin their journey, and one by one they silently slipped
over the side and dropped into the boat below.
"Washington, you take the tiller," said Harry. "You know the way."
"Yas, sah."
"Do you know where to make a landing in the dark?"
"George Wash Jenks knows every inch of the coast hereabouts with him
eyes shut."
"All right then. You get up in the bow, Midget, and keep a lookout
ahead. Bert and I will row. It's not more than three hundred feet to the
shore."
The boys bent to the oars and the little boat shot across the narrow
streak of starlit water into the shadow of the rugged shore.
"Stop!" whispered Mason quickly, when they were within a few feet of the
beach. The boys backed water and brought the boat up within her own
length.
"What is it?" asked Harry, anxiously.
"There's a man on shore with a gun aimed plumb at us," replied Davis,
pointing into the darkness ahead.
"Him one of Misser Morgan's men," said Washington. "Him all right, ah
guess, maybe."
The boys started to row again when a loud command from shore made them
rest on their oars with great dispatch.
"Halt, or I'll fire."
The words came out of the darkness in deep, determined tones. The boys
could dimly distinguish the form of a man standing on a little bluff
above them, with his rifle aimed with disturbing accuracy directly at
their boat.
"We are friends from the _Mariella_," called Harry, "and are on our way
to join Captain Dynamite."
"Captain Dynamite passed through the lines half an hour ago. He said he
was travelling alone."
"Yes, that's right," answered Harry. "He thinks he is, but we want to
help him. Let us come ashore and I will explain to you."
"Halt, or I fire," again came the command.
"Don't you think we better go back, Hal?" whispered Mason, who had
crouched down in the bow out of the way of a stray bullet. "I don't care
much for this real gun business. It's too exciting for my constitution."
"Don't you understand," persisted Harry, "that we are friends of Captain
Dynamite and the cause?"
"Friends of the cause will give the countersign," said the voice in the
same even tone.
"Washington, you ought to know the countersign," whispered Harry to the
negro, who had listened to the conversation with open mouth. He shook
his head as if he did not comprehend.
"You know--the word that tells people that you are a friend of Cuba."
"O, dats de password--suah." Washington grinned with joy.
"Well, the password then; what is it?"
"Ah guess it is 'Independencia.'"
"I hope you have guessed right this time."
"Not such a mucher," murmured Washington, deprecatingly.
"Independencia," repeated Harry, loud enough for the man on shore to
hear.
"Advance friends," said the sentinel, quickly lowering his gun.
The party landed without further opposition and found instead of one
man, whose form they had been able to distinguish from the boat, ten or
a dozen more a few feet back from the shore, squatting around a small
fire, the light of which was masked by a thick growth of underbrush.
They were all dark-skinned men with heavy growths of black beard. They
looked up without displaying any particular interest as the boys
landed, but the sentinel who had challenged them came forward and held
out his hand in greeting. He was undoubtedly an American.
"Glad to see any one who speaks English," he said, as Harry approached
and took his offered hand. "What are you boys doing here?"
"That's a long story," replied Harry, smiling. "Briefly, though, Captain
Dynamite ran down our sail boat while we were sailing off Martha's
Vineyard, picked us out of the water and brought us along whether we
would or no."
"And where are you going now?"
"To join Captain Dynamite. He may need our assistance."
The man smiled.
"I am afraid you will be more likely to need his if you persist in your
purpose," he said.
"That, of course, is a matter of opinion," replied Harry, drawing
himself up indignantly. "And to return the compliment may I ask what you
are doing in Cuba?"
"Certainly," laughed the man. "I came with Morgan. We are soldiers of
fortune."
"Then you are not a patriot?"
"Not exactly. I believe in the cause and I also believe that we will
eventually win."
"And then you expect your reward?"
"That's what we are fighting here for."
"Sort of playing with fortune," chimed in Mason.
"Not exactly--sort of throwing dice with fate."
"Well, come on, fellows," said Harry. "We are losing time and letting
the captain get more of a lead on us."
"So you are determined to go on?"
"I see no reason yet to turn back," replied Harry.
"But you do not know the country and its dangers."
"We have a good guide," said Harry, pointing to Washington.
The man leaned forward and peered in the darkness at the negro.
"Why, it's George Wash Jenks," he said in surprise. "Captain Dynamite's
man. How are you, Wash?"
"Ah guess ah's all right, sah."
"Still guessing I see, Wash."
"Not such a mucher, sah," the negro grinned broadly.
"Well boys, you are right about your guide. You can't go wrong around
here while Wash is with you. Good luck to you. You will have to travel
fast to catch up to Dynamite though. He was making express time and
would not even stop to shake hands. All I could get out of him was:
'Gomez--I must get to Gomez.' Nothing wrong, is there?"
"No, nothing--nothing that concerns the cause. Good-bye. Come on,
Washington."
Harry turned and started into the brush.
"Not that way, Misser Harry," called Washington. "We keep by the shore a
piece yet. Never get no further than six feet in there, ah guess."
He turned along the narrow beach below an overhanging bluff. For half an
hour they hugged the shore.
"Did the captain come this way do you think, Washington?" asked Harry.
"Don't guess this time, Misser Harry. No other way to come."
So far the going had been comparatively easy. They had to now and then
clamber over jagged points of rocks that made out into the sea, and in
the darkness they several times stumbled and fell, but no one was much
hurt. Most of the way, however, had been along the sandy beach. Now
Washington stopped and seemed to be looking for something. He peered out
into the darkness over the sea and then shook his head. Then he stepped
back toward the water and looked up at the skyline of the quickly rising
inland country.
"Lost the trail?" enquired Harry, after he had watched the negro's
movements for some time in silence.
"Not lost 'em, Misser Harry. Tryin' to find 'em. Big tree on leetle
island. Can't see 'em." He pointed out over the sea where he had been
gazing. Then he turned and pointed inland. "Big tree there. Can see him
all right."
The boys looked up to where he pointed over the land and saw a large
palm rising high above its fellows and clearly marked against the sky.
It resembled the two big trees that had guided Captain Dynamite in
making the entrance to the hidden lagoon. Evidently Washington was
searching for some spot that was to be discovered by bringing the big
tree on shore and the now invisible one on the island into line.
"George Wash Jenks, he find 'em. Don't worry 'bout dat," he said, as he
walked about five feet to the right and then faced about and approached
the bluff, which at this point was twenty feet high and thickly grown
with brush and low entangling plants. He fumbled around among the vines
and then turning to the boys called: "All right now."
As Harry came up he pointed at the bluff and then pulling aside the
underbrush began to slowly work his way inward. The boys followed him.
The branches scratched their faces and the ground vines clung to their
feet. They were entering a narrow cleft in the hill which was filled
with rank vegetation.
"Keep a pushin'," said Washington. "Not so bad when we get in leetle
more."
They struggled on for about one hundred feet when the brush became less
thick and finally they reached a narrow lane that had been hewed and
trampled through the high growth. Their progress now became easier and
with Washington in the lead they pushed ahead rapidly. They had made
their way about half a mile inland when out of the brush came a voice
that brought them to a standstill with a start.
"Alto! Quien Va?"
"Dat another Misser Morgan's men," whispered Washington.
"Independencia," said Harry, when he had recovered his breath, for the
challenge coming unexpectedly from one concealed by the darkness and the
bushes was somewhat startling. There was a low reply in Spanish and they
proceeded without molestation.
About every half a mile a mysterious voice challenged them, but the
countersign secured for them uninterrupted progress. Through the waning
night they pushed on, until the light in the sky told them that day was
breaking. Then Washington stopped. He had scarcely spoken since they
took the trail.
"Missers," he said, as they halted, "better have breakfast now."
"Can we light a fire here safely?"
"Yes, now; not bime bye."
They unslung their improvised knapsacks and gathering some dry brush
soon had a small fire burning. Washington made the coffee, procuring
water from a stream that ran through the brush. The boys, thoroughly
tired out, threw themselves down for a brief rest. They munched their
crackers and dried beef with relish and drank coffee in turn from a tin
cup that Washington had had the foresight to provide.
"This seems very much like camping up at school," said Mason.
"Yes, only I would prefer to have the boys in the bushes than a lot of
Spaniards and Cubans with real bullets in their guns," replied Bert.
"You always do look at the unromantic side of things, Bert. We haven't
seen a Spaniard yet."
"Good and plenty when we get in the open," said Washington.
"How do you know this country so well, Washington?" asked Harry.
"Born here, Misser Harry. I'se Cuban nigger."
"I thought you said you were 'George Wash Jenks, New York, U. S. A.?'"
"I suah are now, sah. I was only a picaninny when I ranned away with
Massa Cap'n Dynamite."
"So you ran away with your young master, eh?"
"Yas, sah, dat's it."
"And you've been with him ever since?"
"Him couldn't lose me, sah." George grinned.
"And who is Miss Juanita?"
"Missee Juanita live on next plantation. She and Massa Capt'n Dynamite
goin' to get married bime bye. He tell her so when he ranned away."
"Well Washington, it's sun up now and we better be moving if we expect
to catch up with Massa Captain Dynamite."
"We not catch Cap'n until we get to Cubitas."
"Why not?"
"Cap'n travel through this country faster'n any mule, and he not stop
'til he get there."
"Not stop to sleep?"
"No sleep, no eat. Missee Juanita in danger. I know the Massa Cap'n."