CAPTURED BY SPANIARDS
The party, after breaking their fast, packed up their rations and
started on again. The tangled forest of low growth through which they
struggled began to thin out, and they found themselves in an almost open
country at the foot of a range of mountains. Before they left the
shelter of the bushes, Washington motioned the boys back, and dropping
on his stomach, wriggled to the edge of the woods, where he made a long
survey of the country. Seemingly satisfied, he beckoned to the others to
come on, and they all cautiously crept out into the open country.
"Must keep eyes peeled now for Spaniards," said Washington. "Plenty of
'em 'tween here'n Cubitas."
"Which way now, Washington?" asked Harry.
The negro pointed straight ahead.
"Over that mountain?" queried Mason, in dismay.
"Suah--and then another--but that's Cubitas."
They toiled on while the hot sun began to mount high in the sky. The
perspiration dripped from their faces as they walked. The mountain was
thickly wooded to its very base and they made as rapid progress as
possible in the wake of the doggedly plodding negro in the effort to
gain the shade and the security of the trees.
"Half hour more and we find good place for siesta. Can't go on 'til sun
goes down," said Washington, who had noticed the boys' fatigue.
When they reached the foot of the mountain the negro struck off into the
thick woods, and after a long climb they came out into a small glade,
through which trickled a tiny stream. The boys drank greedily of the
cool water, and Washington gathered boughs and leaves and soon rigged up
a temporary shelter under the trees. Throwing themselves down beneath
this, with their coats for pillows, all hands dropped off into a deep
sleep.
When Harry awoke it was late afternoon. Bert was sitting up rubbing his
eyes. Washington and Mason still slept on.
"I'm getting very tired of this sort of thing, Hal," whispered Bert, "I
am afraid I was not cut out for a strenuous life. Do you think there are
any Spaniards loafing around in this neighborhood?"
"Let's take a look while the others finish their nap," suggested Harry.
The boys picked up their rifles and cautiously entered the woods,
moving from tree to tree and dodging around rocks and boulders in true
Indian fashion. The excitement of thus picking their way through the
woods caused them to forget that they were proceeding in anything but a
direct line, and when they at last bethought themselves, neither could
tell in which direction the camp lay behind them.
They dared not shout, and they looked at each other in dismay.
"We are a brilliant pair," said Bert in disgust. "Now what are we to do?
Have you any idea how far we have come, or in what direction?"
"I think I have a general notion. Let's work back anyway."
They faced about and began to make their way as rapidly as possible in
the direction from which they believed they had come. Both were pretty
well frightened for they realized the danger of becoming separated from
their guide in that wild country, aside from the possibility of falling
into the hands of Spaniards. In their nervous scare they hurried
recklessly on, tripping now and then over trailing vines and plunging
head on into thickets. Still they did not come upon the glade from which
they had so unwisely strayed.
At last, convinced that they were not proceeding in the right direction,
they stopped and tried again to figure out the position of the camp. It
was useless. They were now hopelessly lost. Harry looked up at the sun
anxiously. It was getting low.
"It looks as if you and I were in another scrape, Bert," he said, trying
to smile.
"We might wander for days without getting out of this labyrinth."
"It's not so bad as that. We can get into the open all right by simply
following the mountain down. But I do not know what good that would do
us, for we could never find the pass through which we came."
"No, and then there are the Spaniards."
"Well, I suppose the Spaniards are a pretty serious proposition to
Washington, who is their natural enemy, but I do not think they would do
us much harm. We're American citizens, you know."
"They are not looking for American citizens out here, and we should have
a hard time explaining. We couldn't say we came on the _Mariella_."
"No, that would hardly do. Still, we have not done anything to injure
Spain, and we were certainly unwilling passengers on the _Mariella_. I
do not see how they can do anything very disagreeable."
"Judging from what Captain Dynamite says, they are inclined to consider
every one except a Spaniard as an enemy and a Cuban sympathizer."
"Well, we've got to take some sort of a chance, so we might as well
shout."
"All right, both together."
They sent up a "holloa" that rang through the trees.
"Mason--Washington," they shouted. "Answer. We have lost you."
Away in the distance they heard a faint answering call. In their efforts
to retrace their steps they had wandered still further from their
companions. They could not distinguish the words of the reply, but the
sound gave them the direction, and with glad hearts they set off.
Suddenly they heard a crackling in the bushes behind them.
"Quien Vio?" called a voice. Their hearts sank within them. Turning
quickly, they looked into the muzzles of four rifles.
"Gee, it's the Spaniards at last," whispered Bert. "Still I don't know
but I had rather see them than no one. It was getting mighty lonesome."
"They may be more of Morgan's men," said Harry.
"By jove, that's so. Let's try the countersign on them."
"Don't," commanded Harry, quickly, catching his arm. "Suppose they were
not. The word would convict us at once."
"You're right."
Had Washington been with them he would have recognized the Spanish
challenge.
In the meantime the men had advanced, keeping the boys covered with
their guns as if they were a pair of desperadoes who might attack them
at any moment. They wore old and dirty uniforms, but it was plain that
they had once been of regulation color and pattern.
"They are Spaniards fast enough," whispered Harry, as the men
approached. "Cubans have no regular uniform." Then to the men he said:
"Good afternoon, gentlemen. We are glad to see you. We are lost out here
on your mountain. They are your mountains, I believe. We're Americans,
you know."
"Ah, Americanos," said one of the men. "Surrend."
"Yes, Americanos if you prefer it so, but what do you want us to
surrender?"
"Surrend," repeated the man, laying his hand roughly on Harry's rifle.
"O, the guns? Certainly. They are of no use to us, apparently."
Harry and Bert believing it to be the best policy to be tractable, held
out their guns with amiable smiles. They were snatched rudely from them.
When the rifles were safely in the hands of the soldiers, a little fat
man whom they had not seen before stepped out of the bushes, where he
had evidently intended to remain until the prisoners were disarmed. He
was an officer, judging from his side arms, and with great pomposity he
now advanced, puffing and blowing, toward the boys. He said something in
Spanish to one of the men, who replied: "Americanos."
"Who you are doing here?" he demanded of Harry.
"O, sir," said Harry, "it is an agreeable surprise to find a gentleman
who speaks our language so fluently," and he advanced with hand
extended. The little man jumped back as if he feared the boy was about
to strike and dodged behind his men, jabbering rapidly in Spanish.
Evidently in response to some command, the four men rushed upon the boys
and pinioned their hands behind their backs, tying them with gun straps.
"Look here," said Harry, indignantly. "I don't know who you are, but
this is an outrage on two American citizens--do you understand?" He
walked boldly up to the fat officer as he spoke and notwithstanding the
boy's hands were now tied, the man backed away from him in fright.
"You will have to answer for this to the United States--do you
understand that?" continued Harry.
"Poof to United States," said the little man, snapping his fingers. He
then gave another order in Spanish, and two of the men took up a
position in front of the boys and two behind. The men in front began to
march and those behind prodded the prisoners in the back with their
guns, to indicate that they were to go on. There was nothing for the
boys to do but submit, and slowly they began the descent of the
mountain, the valorous commander keeping well to the rear.
"These are your gentle Spaniards who wouldn't do a thing to you," said
Bert, as they marched unwillingly along between their guards.
"O, this pompous little fat man is some subordinate officer who is
puffed up with his own importance. We will be all right when we get to
headquarters and can see the commanding officer."
"I'm not so sure of that. They do not seem to be bubbling over with
kindly respect for the United States."
"Wait till we see the consul. You know O'Connor told us to call for our
consul if we got into trouble."
"They may not let us see him."
"Then we'll--what will we do then, Bert?"
"Then it will be a case of measuring our wits against these fellows',
and trying to make our escape. We may be able to get word to Captain
Dynamite. Anyway Mason and Washington will probably discover that we
have been captured and will go on to the captain."
"Yes, but he has troubles of his own now to attend to."
"Still I do not think he is the man to desert us entirely. He might get
his friend Gomez to do something for us."
"Well, a great deal depends on whether we have fallen into the hands of
a small or large detachment of Spaniards. If it is only a skirmishing
party, Gomez or Morgan might rescue us."
"Let us hope it is a small outfit. I don't like the spirit these chaps
show, nor the contempt in which their fat commander seems to hold the
United States."
They were now getting near the foot of the mountain. Suddenly Harry
clutched Bert's arm.
"What is it?" asked Bert, startled by Harry's movement.
"Don't look to right or left. I just saw the Midget's white face peeking
out at us as we passed that last clump of bushes. It's all right now.
They know we are prisoners and you can trust Mason for getting a move
on." The boys tramped along with lighter hearts now that they were
confident that their companion knew of their predicament.
"I hope they will not get pinched too," said Bert.
"Don't always look on the dark side of things, old chap," said Harry, a
little testily. "Cheer up."
They were now in the open country again and made more rapid progress.
The Spaniards moved along without any attempt at caution now. They well
knew the Cuban methods of warfare, and did not fear an attack in the
open. Opposed always by much superior numbers, the insurgents had
learned that the only way to successfully cope with their enemy was to
keep under cover and prosecute a guerilla warfare.
As they climbed the top of a small hill the boys were surprised to see
in front of them the outlying buildings of what seemed to be a town or
city of some size and importance. When they approached nearer they found
that these buildings were but poor huts or cabins, and formed a sort of
irregular, narrow street that led into the town, which was situated
about a mile beyond. As they entered the street the character of these
shed-like habitations flashed upon the boys. They were the homes of the
"reconcentrados" of whom O'Connor had told them. The boys shuddered as
they passed them and for a time scarcely dared to look to one side or
the other for fear that they might see some horrible sight, so forcibly
had O'Connor's description impressed them. Most of the huts were without
doors and the interiors were open to a passing view. So hopeless were
the miserable inmates that they did not even care to hide their
suffering from the heartless eyes of the curious. The men laughed and
joked as they passed on and Harry could not but feel that their jests
were pointed by the misery of the reconcentrados.
Finally a horrible curiosity turned their heads and they saw in front of
one of the huts a group of four persons. They were a man, a woman, a
child of perhaps fourteen, and a babe in its mother's arms. The man lay
stretched at full length on his back at the roadside. His eyes, which
were open, were turned upward to the sky. The woman sat with her back to
the mud wall of the hut. Her eyes were fixed on the man at her feet. The
child stood in the doorway looking with expressionless eyes out into
space. The few rags that covered them only served to emphasize the
emaciation of their bodies and limbs. It needed no trained eye to tell
that they were starving. As the party passed, not one of the four
changed position or once turned their eyes. In their mute suffering they
seemed unconscious of their surroundings.
One of the guards looked and laughed brutally.
Harry tugged at his bonds. In his fierce indignation he would have
struck down the man.
Finally they passed out of this street of misery and entered the town.
The boys had forgotten their own troubles in the contemplation of the
suffering of the unhappy creatures behind them. The guards who had been
slouching along at a swinging gait now straightened up and assumed a
more soldierly air. At a word of command from their fat commander they
halted before a building which was more imposing in appearance than its
neighbors, and looked to be a public edifice of some sort. They marched,
with their prisoners still between them, up the few steps that led to a
wide doorway and into a large room on the right, where an officer was
reclining in a lounging chair, lazily puffing a cigarette. It was now
growing dark outside and the room was dimly lighted by a lamp that stood
on the flat desk in front of the only occupant.
The man straightened himself up as the squad entered, and the little
commander saluted with great deference.
"I told you so," said Harry, who noticed the air of deep respect that
now marked their captor. "The little fat man is only an understrapper.
Now we shall have a hearing."
While the little officer reported to his superior, the latter looked the
boys over with some apparent curiosity. He asked a few questions and
then uttering something that sounded like a judicial decision, he sank
back in his chair again and lighted another cigarette.
The guard faced about, prodded the boys in the back again with their
guns to indicate that they were to move on, and the procession filed out
into the street again. For a moment the boys could scarcely realize that
they were to have no hearing, and then Harry turned to the fat man
indignantly.
"Are we not to be permitted to tell our story?" he demanded. "Where are
you taking us? I demand a hearing as an American citizen in the presence
of the American consul."
The little man, who evidently understood much of what he said, chuckled,
and the men, taking their cue from their commander, jabbed the boys once
more in the back.
"It's no use, Hal," said Bert. "We might as well wait and see what they
intend to do with us."
They passed from one narrow street to another until they again halted
in front of a building whose narrow windows were closely barred.
"Looks uncomfortably like a jail," said Harry, as he surveyed the white
front of the gloomy structure. A door on the level with the street
opened, the guns prodded the boys in the back again, and they entered
through the low portal into a dark corridor. The door closed behind them
and they found they were alone with a black-bearded man who carried a
bunch of large keys that jangled unpleasantly.
He motioned silently for the boys to follow him, and as they had no
choice in the matter, they did so. At the end of the corridor the man
opened a door and pointed in. The boys entered and the door swung to
behind them silently.
It was almost dark, but through the barred window of the room just
enough twilight crept to show the boys that they were in a room that
contained only a wooden table, two chairs, and two low wooden beds.