clothes were dry, he hurriedly began to dress himself.
Together, the three men made an investigation of the camp's resources,
only to discover that Branch was right. There was, indeed, but little
food of any kind, and that little was of the coarsest. Ordinarily, such
a condition of affairs would have occasioned them no surprise, for the
men were becoming accustomed to a more or less chronic scarcity of
provisions; but the presence of Norine Evans put quite a different
complexion upon the matter. They were still discussing the situation
when Miss Evans, having finished her afternoon nap, threw open the
flaps of her tent and stepped out.
When she had listened to the account apologetically submitted by her
three friends, she drew her brows together, saying, plaintively: "Oh
dear! We've been going short for a week, and Major Ramos told me we'd
fare better when we got here. I had my mouth all set for a banquet.
Couldn't you even find the poor dog a bone?"
Norine was thinner and browner than when she had come to Cuba, but she
in no way showed the effect of any serious or continued lack of
nourishment. In fact, a simple diet and an outdoor life had agreed with
her amazingly.
"I'm afraid the cupboard is bare," O'Reilly acknowledged.
"They're getting ready to slaughter another guttapercha ox," Branch
said, gloomily. "He's a veteran of the Ten Years' War. That means STEW
again! STEW! One puncture-proof, rubber ox and a bushel of
sweet-potatoes for four hundred men!"
"Do you know what I want for dinner?" Norine inquired. "Lamb chops with
green peas, some nice white bread, a salad, and coffee."
The three men looked at her anxiously. Judson stirred uneasily.
"That's what I want. I don't expect to get it."
With a sigh of relief the captain exclaimed, "I thought you were giving
your order."
"Goodness, no!" With a laugh the girl seated herself upon her one
camp-chair, inviting her callers to dispose themselves on the ground
about her. "If you can stand the food, I dare say I can. Now then, tell
me what you've been doing since you left Cubitas. I've been frightened
to death that some of you would be hurt. That's one reason why I've
been working night and day helping to get the hospitals in shape. I
can't bear to think of our boys being wounded."
"Not much chance of OUR getting shot," O'Reilly told her. "But
Leslie--he needs a good talking to. He has gone into the hero business."
Branch uttered a disdainful grunt. "Nothing of the sort. I'm a sick
man; if I'd rather get shot than suffer a slow death from neglect, it's
my own business, isn't it? Imagine feeding an invalid on boiled bicycle
tires! Gee! I'd like to have a meal of nice nourishing ptomaines for a
change. Hero? Humph!"
Norine eyed the complainant critically, then said: "The diet agrees
with you. You look better than you did."
Branch turned a somber glance upon her and gave vent to a bitter,
sneering laugh. It was plain that he believed she, too, was attempting
to pull the wool over his eyes. "I wish I could find some poisonous
toadstools. I'd eat 'em raw."
"Listen," Norine went on. "Let's play a game. We'll imagine this is
Delmonico's and we'll all take turns ordering the best things to eat
that we can think of. The one who orders best, wins. We'll call the
game--" She frowned thoughtfully.
"Call it 'Vittles,'" O'Reilly suggested.
"'Vittles' it is. Maybe it will give us an appetite for supper. Leslie,
you begin. Come now, hand your hat to the hat-boy, then follow the head
waiter. This way, sir. Table for one? Very good, sir. Here's a cool
one, in front of the electric fan. We have an exceptional selection of
cold dishes to-day, sir. Perhaps you would like a nice halibut salad--"
"No halibut salad," Branch answered, striving valiantly to enter into
the spirit of Norine's pretending. "I had it for breakfast. And say,
turn off that fan; I'm just back from Cuba. Now then, you may bring me
some oysters--"
"Oysters are out of season," O'Reilly murmured, politely, "but our
clams are very fine."
"Some oysters," Branch insisted, stubbornly. "After that, a cup of
chicken broth, a grilled sweetbread, and toast Melba."
Joe Judson put an abrupt end to the invalid's meal by hurling a clod at
him, crying: "You're in Delmonico's, not in Battle Creek. Let somebody
order who knows how. We'll have steak and onions all around."
"I want strawberries!" Norine cried. "They're ripe now. Strawberries
and cream--Oh-h! Think of it!"
There was a tense silence, which O'Reilly broke by saying, "I guess
'Vittles' isn't a very good game, after all."
"It doesn't seem to fill MY wants," the girl acknowledged. "Let's talk
about something else."
Miss Evans did seem truly concerned for the welfare of her "boys," as
she termed the little group of Americans whom she had met, and she
showed, by asking numerous questions, that her interest was keen.
The men were glad to talk and she soon gained an insight into the
peculiar, aimless, unsatisfactory, and yet effective method of warfare
practised by the Insurrecto armies; they told her of the endless
marches and counter-marches, the occasional skirmishes, the feints, the
inconclusive engagements which were all a part of the general
strategy--operations which served to keep the enemy constantly on
guard, like a blind swordsman, and would, it was hoped, eventually wear
down his patience and endurance. In her turn, Norine related something
of what she was doing and how her labor of mercy progressed.
"I'm nearly discouraged," she confessed, finally. "Everything is so
different to what I thought it would be, and I'm so weak and
ineffective. The medical supplies I brought are nearly all gone, and
I've learned what hard work it is fitting up hospitals when there's
nothing to fit them up with. I can't teach these people to take care of
themselves--they seem to consider precautions against disease as a
confession of cowardice. Summer, the yellow-fever season, is here
and--well, I'm getting disheartened. Disheartened and hungry! They're
new sensations to me." She sighed. "I imagined I was going to work
wonders--I thought I was going to be a Florence Nightingale, and the
men were going to idolize me."
"Don't they?" Judson demanded.
"No. That is--not in exactly the way I expected."
"They all want to marry her," O'Reilly explained.
"Insolent bunch!" growled the captain. Then he swallowed hard and said,
"But for that matter, so do I."
"Why, Joe!" Norine cast a startled glance at the big fellow.
"It's a fact," he asserted, doggedly. "I might as well declare myself
here and now. There's always a gang of eavesdroppers hanging around
you."
"He means you, Leslie," O'Reilly said. "Hadn't you better take a walk?"
Branch rolled a hostile eye at the artilleryman, and his lip curled.
"I'll not move. When he gets through, I'll propose."
"How silly you boys can be!" Norine laughed. "I dare say the others are
joking too, but--"
"Joking?" O'Reilly grinned. "Not at all. I'm the only single man in
camp who isn't in love with you. When you arrived this morning there
was a general stampede for the river. I'll bet the fish in this stream
will taste of soap for years to come."
As if to point O'Reilly's words at the moment appeared Colonel Lopez,
shaved blood-raw and clad in a recently laundered uniform which was
still damp. The three Americans rose to salute him, but discipline was
lax and he waved them back to their seats. Other eyes than his, too,
had noted Miss Evans's reappearance after her siesta, for Major Ramos,
Norine's escort from headquarters, soon joined the group, and he was
followed by two Camagueyan lieutenants.
These latter were youths of some family standing. Before the war they
had been dandies, and they still had an excellent opinion of their
physical charms, but, unfortunately, they spoke no English and hence
their attentions to Norine had been somewhat vague and pointless. They
possessed eloquent eyes, however, and now they languished melting
glances upon her, the meaning of which she had no difficulty in
translating.
"We've been talking about food," Leslie Branch advised his commanding
officer. "Miss Evans isn't a burning patriot like the rest of us, and
so of course she can't share our ravenous appetite for beef cooked and
eaten on the hoof."
"So?" Lopez's handsome face clouded. "You are hungry, then?"
Norine confessed that she was. "I'm starving!" said she. "I haven't had
a decent meal for a week."
"God be praised! I know where there is a goat, not two leagues away!"
said the colonel.
"But I don't want a goat," Norine complained. "I want--well, pickles,
and jam, and sardines, and--candy, and--tooth-powder! Real
boarding-school luxuries. I'd just like to rob a general store."
Lopez furrowed his brows and lost himself in thought. Later, while the
others were talking, he drew Ramos aside and for a while they kept
their heads together; then they invited Judson to join their council.
It was not until perhaps an hour later that O'Reilly had a chance for a
confidential talk with Norine, for in the mean time other officers came
to pay their respects. But when the last one had reluctantly departed
he said:
"I've been talking to Joe about you, and I don't think it's right for
you to be running around alone this way."
"You know how mad that sort of talk makes me," she warned him.
"Yes. Just the same, I'll never feel easy until you're safe home again.
And I'll never stop bothering you until--"
"In the first place, I'm not alone. I take a woman with me everywhere,
a Mrs. Ruiz."
"Bah! She's no more of a chaperon than I am."
Norine uttered an impatient exclamation. "Is this a time to consider
such things?"
"Oh, I dare say the nature of your work is unconventional and excuses a
good deal, but you don't understand the Latin mind as I do. These
Cubans have different standards than ours. They're very apt to think--"
"I don't care what they think," the girl declared, "so long as _I_
think I'm doing right. That's final."
There was a brief pause. Then O'Reilly admitted: "I'm not seriously
concerned over that part of it, either, for you are the best judge of
what is right and proper. What does concern me, however, is the effect
all this may have upon you, yourself. You're impractical,
romantic"--Norine laughed shortly, but he went on, stubbornly--"and
just the sort of girl to be carried away by some extravagant impulse."
"What makes you think I'm impractical and romantic?"
"You wouldn't be here, otherwise."
"Very well. What are you trying to get at? What do you mean by 'some
extravagant impulse'?"
"I'm afraid"--O'Reilly hesitated, then voiced a fear which had troubled
him more than he cared to acknowledge--"I'm afraid of some silly
entanglement, some love affair--"
Norine's laughter rang out, spontaneous, unaffected. It served to
relieve the momentary tension which had sprung up between them.
"All these men are attracted to you, as it is quite natural they should
be," O'Reilly hurried on. "I'm worried to death for fear you'll forget
that you're too blamed good for any of them."
"What a conscientious duenna you are!" she told him, "but rest easy;
I'm thoroughly homesick, and ready to flunk it all at the first good
excuse. I'll make you a promise, Johnnie. If I decide to fall in love
with any of these ragged heroes I'll choose you. Most of them think
there is something between us, anyhow."
"I don't quite understand how I manage to resist you," O'Reilly told
her, "for I think you're perfectly splendid. Probably that's why I'd
hate to see you married to some one-legged veteran of this amateur war."
"Women don't marry legs," she told him, lightly. Then, more seriously,
she asked, "What are you doing about Rosa?"
"I'm waiting to hear from Matanzas Province. When I joined the army I
had to go where I was sent, of course, but General Gomez has started
inquiries, and as soon as I learn something definite I shall follow it
up. I shall go where the trail leads."
"You still have hope?"
He nodded. "I refuse to let myself doubt."
When O'Reilly joined Judson for supper the latter met him with a broad
grin on his face. "Well," said he, "it seems you started something with
your game of 'Vittles.' You can get ready to saddle up when the moon
rises."
"What do you mean?"
"The colonel took Miss Evans at her word. We're going to raid San
Antonio de los Banos--two hundred of us--to get her some pickles, and
jam, and candy, and tooth-powder."
XIX
THAT SICK MAN FROM SAN ANTONIO
Certain histories of the Cuban War for Independence speak of "The
Battle of San Antonio de los Banos." They relate how one thousand
patriots captured the village after a gallant and sanguinary resistance
by its Spanish garrison; how they released the prisoners in the local
jail, replenished their own supplies, and then retired in the face of
enemy reinforcements. It is quite a stirring story to read and it has
but one fault, a fault, by the way, not uncommon in histories--it is
mainly untrue.
In the first place, the engagement was in no sense a battle, but merely
a raid. The number of troops engaged was, perhaps, one-fifth of the
generous total ascribed by the historians, and as a military manoeuver
it served no purpose whatsoever. That the Cubans delivered a spirited
attack there is no denying. As a matter of fact, the engagement was
characterized by an abandon, by a lack of caution, truly sensational,
the reason being that the Insurrectos were half starved and stormed the
town much as hungry hoboes attack a lunch-counter. Nevertheless, since
the affair had a direct bearing upon the fortunes of several people
connected with this story, it is, perhaps, worth relating.
The Baths of St. Anthony consisted of a sulphur spring which for many
years had been held in high regard by gouty and rheumatic Camagueyans;
around this spring a village had arisen which boasted rather better
shops than the ordinary country town. It was this fact which had
induced the gallant and obliging Colonel Lopez to attack it, for, as he
explained to his American friends, if any place outside of Habana was
likely to contain pickles, jam, sardines, candy, tooth-powder, and such
other delicacies as appeared necessary to the contentment of a visiting
American lady, San Antonio de los Banos was the one. Colonel Lopez did
not believe in half measures: once he had determined to prove his
devotion to Norine Evans, he would have sacrificed himself and the
flower of his command; he would have wasted his last precious
three-pound shell in breaching the walls of San Antonio de los Banos
rather than fail. But as a matter of fact the village had no walls and
it was defended only by a couple of blockhouses. Therefore the colonel
left his artillery behind.
Perhaps its name was the most impressive thing about San Antonio de los
Banos. Its streets were narrow and steep and stony, and its flinty
little plaza was flanked by stores of the customary sort, the fronts of
which were open so that mounted customers from the country might ride
in to make their purchases. Crowning two commanding eminences just
outside the village limits were the loopholed fortinas, where for
months past the Spanish garrison had been dozing.
Lopez and his troop approached the town in the early morning. As they
deployed for the attack the colonel issued private instructions to
certain members of his command.
"O'Reilly, you and Senor Branch will enter one grocery-store after
another. You will purchase that jam, those sardines, and whatever else
you think Miss Evans would like. Captain Judson, you and Major Ramos
will go to the apothecary-shop--I understand there is a very good
one--and look for tooth-powder and candy and the like, I shall see that
the streets are cleared, then I shall endeavor to discover some
pickles; but as God is my judge, I doubt if there is such a thing this
side of Habana."
Leslie Branch, whose temper had not improved with the long night ride,
inquired, caustically: "Do you expect us to buy the groceries? Well,
I'm broke, and so is O'Reilly."
"Have you no money?" asked the colonel, vastly surprised.
"I haven't tipped my hat to a dollar since I quit newspaper work.
What's more, I want to do a little shopping for myself."
O'Reilly agreed: "If you don't give us some change, Colonel, we'll have
to open a charge account in your name."
"Carmaba!" muttered Lopez. "I intended to borrow from you gentlemen.
Well, never mind--we'll commandeer what we wish in the name of the
Republic."
Lopez's attack proved a complete surprise, both to the citizens and to
the garrison of the town. The rebel bugle gave the first warning of
what was afoot, and before the Castilian troops who were loitering off
duty could regain their quarters, before the citizens could take cover
or the shopkeepers close and bar their heavy wooden shutters, two
hundred ragged horsemen were yelling down the streets.
There followed a typical Cuban engagement--ten shouts to one shot.
There was a mad charge on the heels of the scurrying populace, a
scattering pop-pop of rifles, cheers, cries, shrieks of defiance and
far-flung insults directed at the fortinas.
Bugles blew on the hilltops; the defenders armed themselves and began
to fire into the village. But since the Insurrectos were now well
sheltered by the houses and only a portion of certain streets could be
raked from the forts, the Spanish bullets did no harm. Obedient to
orders, a number of Lopez's men dismounted and took positions whence
they could guard against a sally, thus leaving the rest of the command
free to raid the stores. In the outskirts of the town Mausers spoke,
the dust leaped, and leaden messengers whined through the air.
As locusts settle upon a standing crop, so did the army of liberators
descend upon the shops of San Antonio de los Banos. It was great fun,
great excitement, while it lasted, for the town was distracted and its
citizens had neither time nor inclination to resist. Some of the
shop-keepers, indeed, to prove their loyalty, openly welcomed the
invaders. Others, however, lacking time to close up, fled
incontinently, leaving their goods unguarded.
O'Reilly, with Branch and Jacket close at his heels, whirled his horse
into the first bodega he came to. The store was stocked with general
merchandise, but its owner, evidently a Spaniard, did not tarry to set
a price upon any of it. As the three horsemen came clattering in at the
front he went flying out at the rear, and, although O'Reilly called
reassuringly after him, his only answer was the slamming of a back
door, followed by swiftly diminishing cries of fright. Plainly, that
rush of ragged men, those shots, those ferocious shouts from the plaza,
were too much for the peaceful shopkeeper and his family, and they had
taken refuge in some neighbor's garden.
There was no time to waste. Johnnie dismounted and, walking to the
shelves where some imported canned goods were displayed, he began to
select those delicacies for which he had been sent. The devoted Jacket
was at his side. The little Cuban exercised no restraint; he seized
whatever was most handy, meanwhile cursing ferociously, as befitted a
bloodthirsty bandit. Boys are natural robbers, and at this opportunity
for loot Jacket's soul flamed savagely and he swept the shelves bare as
he went.
"Hey, Leslie! Get something to carry this stuff in," O'Reilly directed
over his shoulder. Receiving only a muttered reply, he turned to find
that his fellow-countryman had cut down a string of perhaps two dozen
large straw sombreros and was attempting to select one that fitted his
head.
"Oh, look!" Branch murmured. "Forty dollars' worth of lids, but--all
too small. They must have been made on the head of a cane."
"Take the whole string, but get us something to wrap up this grub in.
Hurry!"
Spurred by O'Reilly's tone and by a lively rattle of rifle-shots
outside, Leslie disappeared into the living-quarters at the back of the
store. A moment later he emerged with a huge armful of bedclothes,
evidently snatched at random. Trailing behind him, like a bridal veil,
was a mosquito-net, which in his haste he had torn from its fastenings.
"I guess this is poor!" he exulted. "Bedding! Pillows! Mosquito-net!
I'll sleep comfortable after this."
From somewhere came the faint smothered wailing of a baby--eloquent
testimony of the precipitate haste with which the terrified storekeeper
and his wife had fled. Dumping his burden of sheets, blankets, and
brilliantly colored cotton quilts upon the floor, Branch selected two
of the stoutest and began to knot the corners together.
He had scarcely finished when Judson reined in at the door and called
to O'Reilly: "We've cleaned out the drugstore. Better get a move on
you, for we may have to run any minute. I've just heard about some
Cuban prisoners in the calaboose. Gimme a hand and we'll let 'em out."
"Sure!" O'Reilly quickly remounted, meanwhile directing Jacket to load
the canned goods upon his horse and ride for the open country. He
looked back a few moments later, to see his asistente emerge from the
bodega perched between two queer-looking improvised saddlebags bulging
with plunder. The pony was overloaded, but in obedience to the frantic
urgings of its barelegged rider it managed to break into a shambling
trot. Branch reappeared, too, looping the eight-foot string of straw
hats to his saddle-horn, and balancing before him the remainder of the
bedding, done up in a gaudy quilt.
Sharing in the general consternation at the attack, the jail guards had
disappeared, leaving Lopez's men free to break into the prison. When
O'Reilly joined them the work was well under way. The municipal
building of San Antonio was a thick-walled structure with iron-barred
windows and stout doors; but the latter soon gave way, and the
attackers poured in. Seizing whatever implements they could find,
Judson and O'Reilly went from cell to cell, battering, prying,
smashing, leaving their comrades to rescue the inmates. This jail was a
poor affair. It could scarcely be dignified by the name of a prison;
nevertheless, true prison conditions prevailed in it and it was
evidently conducted in typically Spanish fashion. The corridors were
dark and odorous, the cells unspeakably foul; O'Reilly and Judson saw,
heard, smelled enough to convince them that no matter how guilty the
prisoners might be they had been amply punished for their crimes.
This, too, was swift work. The building echoed to rushing, yelling men,
while outside a fitful accompaniment of gun-shots urged the rescuers to
greater haste. While the Americans smashed lock after lock, their
comrades dragged the astonished inmates from their kennels, hustled
them into the street, and took them up behind their saddles.
The raid was over, "retreat" was sounding, when Judson and O'Reilly ran
out of the prison, remounted, and joined their comrades, who were
streaming back toward the plaza.
"Whew!" Judson wiped the sweat out of his eyes. "No chance to ask these
fellows what they were in for."
"No need to ask them," said Johnnie. "A month in there would be too
much for a murderer."
"The druggist said most of 'em are just patriots, and every holiday the
Spaniards shoot one or two. There's no cock-fighting, so it's the only
Sunday amusement they have. Did you notice that sick guy?"
"Yes."
"He looked to me like he was plain starved. Our fellows had to carry
him."
Colonel Lopez galloped up to inquire, anxiously, "Did you find those
eatables, eh?"
"Yes, sir, and a lot more."
"Good! But I failed. Pickles? Caramba! Nobody here ever heard of one!"
"Did we lose any men?" Judson asked.
"Not one. But Ramos was badly cut."
"So? Then he got to close quarters with some Spaniard?"
"Oh no!" The colonel grinned. "He was in too great a hurry and broke
open a show-case with his fist."