CUBAN WARFARE.
Spanish Soldiers--A Sally--Prisoners of War--'Los Voluntarios'--A
triumphant Return--Danger!--Cuban Emigrants.
Our vacillating governor having at last consented to another chase after
the rebels, under the leadership of a certain Spanish colonel, a body of
volunteers--myself among the number--join the troops on the appointed
day and march with them from town.
The Spanish troops muster some five hundred strong. Their hand weapons
are of the old-fashioned calibre, and they carry small field guns on the
backs of mules. Every man is smoking either a cigarette or a cigar as he
tramps along. His uniform is of dark blue cotton, or other light
material suitable to the tropical heat. He carries little else besides
his gun, his tobacco, and a tin-pot for making coffee; for the country
through which he is passing abounds naturally in nearly every kind of
provender.
The besiegers have altogether disappeared from the neighbouring country,
and for the first few miles our march is easy and uninterrupted. But
soon the passes grow narrower, until our progress is effected in single
file. Occasionally we halt to refresh ourselves, for the weather is
intensely hot, and the sun blazes upon our backs. To ensure ourselves
against brain fever, we gather a few cool plantain leaves and place them
in layers in the crowns of our Panamas. Our way is incessantly
intercepted by fallen trees and brushwood; but we can see nothing of the
enemy, and hear little besides the singing of birds and the ripple of
hidden water. Many of our party would gladly abandon the quest after
human game, and make use of their weapons in a hunt after wild pig, or
small deer, which animals abound in this part of the country.
'Alto!' We have waded at last through the intricate forest, and halt in
an open plain. It is evening, and as we are weary with our wanderings,
we encamp here all night. A moon is shining bright enough for us to read
the smallest print; but we are disinclined to be studious, and smoke our
cigarettes and sip our hot coffee. Men are dispatched to a neighbouring
plantation in quest of bananas, pumpkins, Indian corn, sugar-cane,
pine-apples, pomegranates, cocoa-nuts, and mangoes, and with this
princely fare we take our suppers. Then sleep overtakes us.
Early next morning we are called to arms by the sound of firing, which
seems to reach us from a hill in the distance. The noise is as if a
thousand sportsmen were out for a battue. Our commander assures us that
the enemy is near at hand, and soon crowds of mounted men appear on the
hill before us. With the aid of our field-glasses, we watch their
movements, and can distinguish their dresses of white canvas, their
sporting guns, and primitive spears. A body of them surrounds a thatched
hut, over the roof of which droops a white banner with a strange device,
consisting of a silver star on a square of republican red. The enemy
appears to be very numerous, and as he marches along the ridge of the
hill, his line seems interminable. All our opponents are mounted on
horses, or mules with strange saddles and equipments.
'Adelante!' We advance to meet the foe. Some hours elapse before we can
reach the thatched hut, as our course is exceedingly circuitous. We find
the hut occupied by a decrepit, half-naked negro, but our birds have
flown. The negro, who tells us he is a hermit, and that his name is San
Benito, can give us no information as to the whereabouts of the enemy,
so we make him a prisoner of war. The opposing forces have left nothing
but their patriotic banner behind them. This trophy our commander
possesses himself of, and bears off in triumph. Then we scour the
country in companies of fifty; but we meet with nothing more formidable,
than a barricade of felled trees and piled stones. Once we capture a
strange weapon, made out of the trunk of a very hard tree, scooped and
trimmed into the form of a cannon, and bound with strong iron hoops.
Upon another occasion we discharge our rifles into a thicket whence
sounds of firing proceed, and we make two more prisoners of war, in the
shape of a couple of runaway negroes.
Though we have had no encounter with the enemy, our 'losses' are not
inconsiderable; many of the soldiers having been attacked by those
terrible and invincible foes--fever and dysentery. In this manner at
least two-thirds of our force is put _hors de combat_. Our colonel is in
despair. As for the volunteers, their disappointment at the unsuccessful
issue is very great.
At length our colonel, disgusted with the result of the campaign, orders
a retreat. The troops willingly obey, and are preparing for their march
back, when twenty of the volunteers come to the front and propose making
one effort to storm the enemy's impregnable fortress. Finding our
colonel opposed to such a wild enterprise, these gentlemen, reckless of
the consequences, plunge headlong into an adjacent thicket, and thence
presently the sound of fire-arms proceeds. For upwards of an hour we
await the return of these mad adventurers, and during the interval the
firing is incessant. Finally the 'besiegers' are seen to emerge from a
distant part of the thicket. When we join them, we find that more than
half their number are wounded, and the rest bear between them no less
than three prisoners of war! For the first time I have the pleasure of
standing before veritable rebels! Two of the prisoners are whites and
are seriously maimed; the third is a mulatto youth of not more than
sixteen years. They are all attired in brown holland blouses, white
trousers, buff-coloured shoes and straw hats. The white men have been
disarmed, but the mulatto lad has still a revolver and machete-sword in
his belt.
The volunteers are elated beyond measure by their formidable(?)
captures, and endeavour to persuade their chief to make another attempt
with the troops. But the colonel will not hear of it, and commands the
men instantly to retreat. The volunteers obey this time, in spite of
their protestations, but before doing so, a horrible scene is enacted.
The mulatto lad, who is only slightly wounded, is bound hand and foot
with strong cords, and consigned to the care of the soldiers, but the
other two unfortunates, who lie groaning in agony on the ground, are
brutally seized by some of the volunteers, who, after maltreating them
in a shocking manner, stab them to death with the points of their
bayonets!
Sickening at the fearful spectacle, I gladly follow the colonel and his
men, who are unanimous in their indignation at the outrage.
A two days' march brings us to the confines of the town again; but
before we proceed to enter, the governor, accompanied by a staff of
officers and a band of music, comes out to meet us. A cart, driven by
oxen, is procured, and upon it are placed the captured cannon and rebel
banner, the former of which is as much as possible concealed by Spanish
flags and flowers. A procession is then formed, and in this way we pass
through the streets, followed by the military band, which plays a hymn
of victory in commemoration of our triumphant return. The houses become
suddenly decorated with banners, blankets, and pieces of drugget
suspended from the windows, and the inhabitants welcome us with loud
cheers and 'vivas.'
Immediately upon quitting the ranks, I repair to the office of _El
Sufragio Universal_, for the purpose of reporting to Don Javier the
result of our expedition. Strange to relate, that gentleman has already
perused a glowing account of our glorious campaign in _El Redactor_, the
government organ in Cuba. The editor hands me a copy of that periodical,
and there, sure enough, is a thrilling description of what we might have
achieved, if we had had the good fortune to encounter the enemy in the
open field!
But the editor has some strange news for my private ear. He tells me
that a fillibustering expedition from the United States has landed with
arms, ammunition, and a thousand American fillibusters, in the Bay of
Nipe, not many leagues from our town. With this reinforcement it is
confidently expected that the rebels will make an attempt to attack the
Spanish troops in their stronghold. Don Javier, who is a Cuban to the
bone, is sanguine of his countrymen's success. With a few more such
expeditions, he is sure that the colony will soon be rid of its Spanish
rulers. Then the editor gives me some extraordinary information about
myself. It appears that during my absence, _El Redactor_ has made the
wonderful discovery that I am one of the agents of an American
newspaper; has referred in its leading articles to the 'scandalous and
untruthful reports' published by its American contemporary, and has
insinuated that henceforth the climate of Cuba will be found by many
degrees too warm for me.
But this is not the worst news which the Cuban editor has to impart. The
cholera, he says, has been raging in many parts of the town, and
innumerable families have in consequence of this disaster and the
continued arrests, fled from Santiago. The majority of them had embarked
in the first steamer announced to leave the island, which happened to be
the 'Caravelle,' bound for Jamaica; others had taken refuge at their
estates in the country, while numbers of young Cubans, who had been
threatened with arrest, had made their escape and joined the insurgent
army.
On my way from Don Javier's office, I meet Bimba, and from him I learn
further particulars respecting this wholesale flight of Cubans. He tells
me that, among the departures are Don Benigno and his family, who fled
to his country estate. That Don Severiano and _his_ family have set sail
for Europe, taking with them my creole lady-love, who had been for this
purpose released from the convent. My friend says that their
destination is Paris. So au revoir, Cachita mia; we may meet again!
Quien sabe?
Bimba then discloses the wonderful intelligence, that among the
passengers by the French steamer bound for Jamaica was my companion
Nicasio Rodriguez y Boldu; and he hands me a letter which my partner had
entrusted to his care. The contents of this document only confirms what
I have already heard. The cholera, the recent arrests, the fact that
Nicasio is the close friend of the formidable agent of the _New York
Trigger_, have combined to induce him to abandon the island before my
return. He urges me to follow his example without delay and embark in
the first steamer which leaves the island. He himself will remain in
Jamaica till he hears from me, and if I am unable to join him there, we
shall--si Dios quiere--meet again in that part of Europe where for many
years we have dwelt together and practised, under more favourable
auspices, 'the divine art of Apelles.'
The first steamer announced to leave Santiago is the 'Pelayo,' and as
this vessel will sail for Havana in four hours' time, I prepare for my
journey to the Cuban capital. Bimba and those of my friends who still
remain in this disturbed part of the Ever-faithful Isle, accompany me on
board. Foremost is the editor of _El Sufragio Universal_, who, after
wishing me a 'bon voyage' and a hearty 'vaya usted con Dios,' secretly
hands me a bundle of papers, containing, among other matters, the
'leavings' of the censor for the past fortnight, which Don Javier hopes
will be acceptable to the proprietors of the _New York Trigger_.
I had almost forgotten Tunicu! 'What has become of him?' I ask.
Bimba tells me that Tunicu has disappeared no one knows whither.
'Eloped with his mulatto lady?' I suggest.
'No muy!' says Bimba; 'la Ermina accompanied Don Benigno to his estate.
You will probably hear of them again.'