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YOUNG GLORY.
Patriotic War Stories.
_Issued Semi-Monthly--By Subscription $1.25 per year. Entered as Second
Class Matter at the New York, N. Y., Post Office, March 26, 1898._
_Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1898, in the office of
the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C., by Frank Tousey, 29 West
26th Street, New York._
No. 3. New York, April 22, 1898. Price 5 Cents.
Young Glory and the Spanish Cruiser;
--OR--
A BRAVE FIGHT AGAINST ODDS.
BY AUTHOR OF YOUNG GLORY.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
SHOOTING A PRISONER OF WAR--A COMRADE TO THE
RESCUE.
CHAPTER II.
FLYING FOR THEIR LIVES--A BOLD EXPEDIENT.
CHAPTER III.
MORE VISITORS TO THE HUT--DAN DALY ROWS DOWN
THE CREEK.
CHAPTER IV.
YOUNG GLORY AND CAPTAIN RUIZ CALDERON--IN THE
CAMP OF THE PATRIOTS.
CHAPTER V.
AT VALMOSA--YOUNG GLORY DENOUNCED.
CHAPTER VI.
FIGHTING IN THE BOATS--DAN DALY ARRIVES.
CHAPTER VII.
ARRIVAL AT THE BROOKLYN--DISCOVERING A RAFT.
CHAPTER VIII.
YOUNG GLORY ON THE NASHVILLE--AT SAN JUAN DE
PORTO RICO.
CHAPTER IX.
THE FIRST SHOT--A HOT FIGHT.
CHAPTER X.
BOARDING THE CRUISER--THE LAST STAND.
CHAPTER XI.
YOUNG GLORY TO THE RESCUE--A SURPRISE FOR THE
BROOKLYN.
CHAPTER XII.
THE SPANISH PLOT--YOUNG GLORY'S DANGER.
CHAPTER XIII.
FORTUNE FAVORS YOUNG GLORY--CAPTURE OF THE
MAGAZINE.
CHAPTER XIV.
JUAN AND LIEUT. TYLER--WHAT YOUNG GLORY DID.
CHAPTER XV.
THE CRUISER IN DANGER--A PRICE ON YOUNG
GLORY'S HEAD.
CHAPTER XVI.
CONCLUSION.
CHAPTER I.
SHOOTING A PRISONER OF WAR--A COMRADE TO THE
RESCUE.
"Sorry to keep you waiting, senor."
"Faith, an' it's a polite nation I always said ye were."
The first speaker, a Spanish officer, laughed mockingly as he uttered
this apology.
The man to whom he addressed his words was Dan Daly.
Dan had been a boatswain's mate on the battle ship Indiana, then on the
Cruiser Columbia, and he was now filling a similar position on the
Cruiser Brooklyn. Dan Daly was Young Glory's bosom friend, and the
Irishman had been the companion of the gallant young hero in many of the
daring exploits that had given him world-wide fame.
Dan's position now appeared desperate.
A landing party from the Brooklyn had been surprised by a body of
Spaniards in a small village, not many miles from Matanzas, an important
town on the north coast of Cuba.
After a short but desperate encounter, the American sailors, overwhelmed
by numbers had retired to their boats, leaving Dan Daly behind, a
prisoner in the hands of the Spaniards.
A short, quick trial took place. Dan was denounced as a spy, and
instantly sentenced to death. It was ordered that the sentence should be
carried out at once. So now Dan stood looking death calmly in the face
as he had so often done before.
A file of soldiers was rapidly marching to the place of execution, and
their heavy tread could be plainly heard as each moment they drew
nearer.
The prisoner was standing against a wall, and immediately behind him was
a closed door, which was the rear entrance to a large house in the
village.
The house itself was at least fifty yards from this wall.
"Ah! how are the men?" said the Spanish officer. "So your waiting days
are over."
The file of soldiers drew up about thirty yards from the doomed man, and
as they grounded arms the sound sent a sickening sensation through the
brave Irishman's heart.
"Shure, it's not war, but murther's your trade," said Dan. "It's the
haythins thimselves wouldn't be afther tratin' me this way."
"Talk on," said the Spaniard, coolly, "if it does you any good. It won't
alter matters. You have been condemned, and must die."
"Ah, but it's revenged I'll be."
"How?"
"You won't ask when you see the Stars an' Stripes, the flag of the free,
floatin' over this island."
The Spaniard laughed contemptuously.
"That day will never come. Bah!" he added, stamping on the ground, "why
do I waste time talking to a miserable Yankee spy?"
The man turned away. But in an instant he came back to the prisoner.
"Spy or not," he growled, rather than spoke, "I suppose you're a human
being."
"Faith, an' if you are, I'm not."
The Spaniard's face grew dark with passion.
"Silence! I ask you if you have any request to make. If possible, it
shall be carried out."
"Shure, an' I have, then."
"Quick! my men are waiting. Speak!"
"It's Young Glory I'd like to spake to. I'd like to shake his hand--"
Dan's voice faltered here--"before I die."
"That young wretch!" cried the Spaniard, savagely. "So you're his
friend?"
"The truest he iver had."
"Then, as Young Glory is not yet in our hands, your request is denied."
Dan's eyes twinkled with fun. The nearness of death could not depress
him.
"Shure, it's in no hurry I am. I can wait till you catch him."
The Spanish captain glared fiercely at Dan. Then he faced round towards
his men.
"Are your rifles loaded?" he cried.
"Yes, yes, senor capitan!"
"Shoulder arms, then. Wait for the word."
Dan stared round, taking his last look of the earth.
The brave fellow had refused to have his eyes bandaged, and now he was
staring defiantly at the men who were to be his executioners.
"They may miss you, senor, the first time," said the Spaniard. "Our men
can't fire as straight as you Yankees."
Dan Daly understood what this speech meant. It was virtually a command
to the firing party not to kill at the first volley. They intended to
prolong Dan's agony.
"Ah! you tremble," cried the Spaniard, gleefully.
Dan held out his hand.
"Faith, it's not you can make my hand shake. It's firm as a rock."
The Spaniard bit his lips with passion. He saw that he could not subdue
the proud spirit of the American sailor, and he had hoped to see him
writhing on the ground with fear, begging for mercy.
"Yankees are animals, not men," he said, savagely. "No matter, the world
is about to be rid of one of them."
"We shall see."
The words were not spoken by Dan, yet they seemed to come from the spot
where he was standing.
Instantly the door in the wall was thrown open, and a man dashed
through. He seemed to be a Spaniard, for he was wearing the Spanish
costume.
Before the officer could raise a hand to defend himself, the stranger
was within a yard of him, holding a six-shooter at his head.
Dan was paralyzed with astonishment.
The firing party had lowered their rifles. They had broken their ranks,
and were talking together excitedly and rapidly.
By this time the Spanish officer had somewhat recovered from his
surprise, and the color which had left his cheeks began to return.
"Who are you?" he demanded, sternly.
"Speak lower, senor, a little lower. I allow no one to address me thus."
"Address you! Caramba! I speak as I please. I am master here!"
The stranger laughed mockingly.
"We won't discuss that point, for I see we shall not agree."
"What do you want?"
"Ah! That's a different question, and I'll give you an answer. You have
a prisoner here, an American sailor."
"What of it?"
"He is your prisoner no longer. He is mine."
"You dare to interfere between me and an enemy of your country!"
"I dare do even more than that, senor capitan."
"I will soon put an end to this farce. Hold!"
The officer called to his men, and instantly they were all attention.
"Put a bullet into this impudent rascal."
Quick as lightning the rifles went to the shoulders of the soldiers.
But the stranger was quite prepared for this maneuver.
Like lightning he grasped the Spanish officer and drew him towards
himself.
"Now, senor capitan, you are between me and your soldiers. Your late
prisoner is behind me. If your men fire, whom will they hit?"
The officer trembled. He saw that it was impossible for his assailant to
receive one bullet. The soldiers were also aware of this fact, and so
they stood motionless, not daring to fire.
The Spaniard then assumed an air of bravado.
"This is all childish," he said.
"You think so?"
"I know it. You have, by a trick, got me in your power, but for how
long?"
"For a sufficient time."
"You are foolish. You have sacrificed your life without helping the
prisoner."
"We shall see."
"Yes, and quickly. Supposing you kill me. What follows?"
"Faith, you're dead!"
It was the first word the Irishman had spoken.
The Spaniard glanced ferociously at him.
"I was not speaking to that fool, but to you. I ask, supposing you kill
me, what follows?"
"Senor capitan, that won't happen, so we'll not talk of it. Come!"
"Come!"
"You heard me. Walk steadily forward. I'll step backwards keeping my eye
fixed on your soldiers. I don't want any harm to happen to you, and they
may fire without thinking."
The stranger made a sign to Dan to go before him, so now the prisoner,
the stranger and the captain stood in single file, the last named being
nearest the soldiers and thus acting as a perfect shield.
"Oh, you won't stir. Very well!"
With these words, finding the officer did not move, the stranger held
his six-shooter a little nearer to him, and gave the Spaniard a
threatening look.
"Ah, I thought so. Now you walk."
"You have me in your power. I must, but I will have a bitter revenge.
Senor, you are cowardly!"
"Cowardly! Ha! Ha! a pretty accusation from you. What! you talk about
cowardice! You, who don't know how to treat a brave enemy as a prisoner
of war, but place him up against a wall to have him shot down as if he
was a dog. Senor capitan," continued the stranger, speaking very
sternly, "you have excited my hatred. Another such speech as your last
and you will earn my contempt."
Dan Daly was moving along like one in a dream.
By this time he had reached the door which still stood open.
"Pass through," cried the stranger in a commanding tone.
Instantly Dan did so.
"And me?" asked the officer.
"You will stay where you are."
"And yourself, senor, where shall I find you?" asked the officer,
sarcastically.
"That you will know when you discover me!" answered the stranger,
defiantly.
With these words he grasped the Spanish officer by the shoulders, and
using all his strength to throw him backwards, sending him with such
force to the ground that he rolled many yards.
Then like lightning he dashed through the doorway, closing the door
behind him, instantly.
Bang! Bang!
A volley of bullets came, burying themselves in the wood.
They were too late to do any damage, for the door was closed before the
soldiers fired.
"Now, Dan Daly," said the stranger, "if you value your life, follow me."
"Young Glory!" cried the Irishman, astounded.
"And who else did you think it was?" retorted Young Glory, as he led the
way through the garden.