“I beg your pardon, General,” I stammered.
He had already thrown himself upon his cot, but he rose on his elbow and
stared at me.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” I gasped, “but what did you call me then--just
now?”
“Call you,” he said. “Oh, I called you ‘captain.’ You are a captain. I
will assign you your troop to-morrow.”
He turned and buried his face in his arm, and unable to thank him I
stepped outside of the tent and stood looking up at the stars, with my
grandfather’s sword clasped close in my hands. And I was so proud and
happy that I believe I almost prayed that he could look down and see me.
That was how I received my first commission--in a swamp in Honduras,
from General Laguerre, of the Foreign Legion, as he lay half-asleep
upon his cot. It may be, if I continue as I have begun, I shall receive
higher titles, from ministers of war, from queens, presidents, and
sultans. I shall have a trunk filled, like that of General Laguerre’s,
with commissions, brevets, and patents of nobility, picked up in many
queer courts, in many queer corners of the globe. But to myself I shall
always be Captain Macklin, and no other rank nor title will ever count
with me as did that first one, which came without my earning it, which
fell from the lips of an old man without authority to give it, but which
seemed to touch me like a benediction.
. . . . . . . . . .
The officer from whom I took over my troop was a German, Baron Herbert
von Ritter. He had served as an aide-de-camp to the King of Bavaria,
and his face was a patchwork of sword-cuts which he had received in the
students’ duels. No one knew why he had left the German army. He had
been in command of the troop with the rank of captain, but when the next
morning Laguerre called him up and told him that I was now his captain
he seemed rather relieved than otherwise.
“They’re a hard lot,” he said to me, as we left the General. “I’m glad
to get rid of them.”
The Legion was divided into four troops of about fifty men each. Only
half of the men were mounted, but the difficulties of the trail were so
great that the men on foot were able to move quite as rapidly as those
on mule-back. Under Laguerre there were Major Webster, an old man, who
as a boy had invaded Central America with William Walker’s expedition,
and who ever since had lived in Honduras; Major Reeder and five
captains, Miller, who was in charge of a dozen native Indians and
who acted as a scout; Captain Heinze, two Americans named Porter and
Russell, and about a dozen lieutenants of every nationality. Heinze had
been adjutant of the force, but the morning after my arrival the General
appointed me to that position, and at roll-call announced the change to
the battalion.
“We have been waiting here for two weeks for a shipment of machine
guns,” he said to them. “They have not arrived and I cannot wait for
them any longer. The battalion will start at once for Santa Barbara,
where I expect to get you by to-morrow night. There we will join General
Garcia, and continue with him until we enter the capital.”
The men, who were properly weary of lying idle in the swamp, interrupted
him with an enthusiastic cheer and continued shouting until he lifted
his hand.
“Since we have been lying here,” he said, “I have allowed you certain
liberties, and discipline has relaxed. But now that we are on the march
again you will conduct yourselves like soldiers, and discipline will be
as strictly enforced as in any army in Europe. Since last night we have
received an addition to our force in the person of Captain Macklin, who
has volunteered his services. Captain Macklin comes of a distinguished
family of soldiers, and he has himself been educated at West Point. I
have appointed him Captain of D Troop and Adjutant of the Legion. As
adjutant you will recognize his authority as you would my own. You will
now break camp, and be prepared to march in half an hour.”
Soon after we had started we reached a clearing, and Laguerre halted
us and formed the column into marching order. Captain Miller, who was
thoroughly acquainted with the trail, and his natives, were sent on two
hundred yards ahead of us as a point. They were followed by Heinze with
his Gatling guns. Then came Laguerre and another troop, then Reeder with
the two remaining troops and our “transport” between them. Our transport
consisted of a dozen mules carrying bags of coffee, beans, and flour,
our reserve ammunition, the General’s tent, and whatever few private
effects the officers possessed over and above the clothes they stood in.
I brought up the rear with D Troop. We moved at a walk in single file
and without flankers, as the jungle on either side of the trail was
impenetrable. Our departure from camp had been so prompt that I had
been given no time to become acquainted with my men, but as we tramped
forward I rode along with them or drew to one side to watch them pass
and took a good look at them. Carrying their rifles, and with their
blanket-rolls and cartridge-belts slung across their shoulders, they
made a better appearance than when they were sleeping around the camp.
As the day grew on I became more and more proud of my command. The baron
pointed out those of the men who could be relied upon, and I could pick
out for myself those who had received some military training. When I
asked these where they had served before, they seemed pleased at
my having distinguished the difference between them and the other
volunteers, and saluted properly and answered briefly and respectfully.
If I was proud of the men, I was just as pleased with myself, or, I
should say, with my luck. Only two weeks before I had been read out to
the battalion at West Point, as one unfit to hold a commission, and here
I was riding at the head of my own troop. I was no second lieutenant
either, with a servitude of five years hanging over me before I could
receive my first bar, but a full-fledged captain, with fifty men under
him to care for and discipline and lead into battle. There was not a man
in my troop who was not at least a few years older than myself, and as
I rode in advance of them and heard the creak of the saddles and the
jingle of the picket-pins and water-bottles, or turned and saw the long
line stretching out behind me, I was as proud as Napoleon returning
in triumph to Paris. I had brought with me from the Academy my scarlet
sash, and wore it around my waist under my sword-belt. I also had my
regulation gauntlets, and a campaign sombrero, and as I rode along
I remembered the line about General Stonewall Jackson, in “Barbara
Frietchie.”
“The leader glancing left and right.”
I repeated it to myself, and scowled up at the trees and into the
jungle. It was a tremendous feeling to be a “leader.”
At noon the heat was very great, and Laguerre halted the column at
a little village and ordered the men to eat their luncheon. I posted
pickets, appointed a detail to water the mules, and asked two of the
inhabitants for the use of their clay ovens. In the other troops each
man, or each group of men, were building separate fires and eating alone
or in messes of five or six but by detailing four of my men to act
as cooks for the whole troop, and six others to tend the fires in the
ovens, and six more to carry water for the coffee, all of my men were
comfortably fed before those in the other troops had their fires going.
Von Ritter had said to me that during the two weeks in camp the men had
used up all their tobacco, and that their nerves were on edge for lack
of something to smoke. So I hunted up a native who owned a tobacco
patch, and from him, for three dollars in silver, I bought three hundred
cigars. I told Von Ritter to serve out six of them to each of the men of
D Troop. It did me good to see how much they enjoyed them. For the next
five minutes every man I met had a big cigar in his mouth, which he
would remove with a grin, and say, “Thank you, Captain.” I did not give
them the tobacco to gain popularity, for in active service I consider
that tobacco is as necessary for the man as food, and I also believe
that any officer who tries to buy the good-will of his men is taking the
quickest way to gain their contempt.
Soldiers know the difference between the officer who bribes and pets
them, and the one who, before his own tent is set up, looks to his
men and his horses, who distributes the unpleasant duties of the camp
evenly, and who knows what he wants done the first time he gives an
order, and does not make unnecessary work for others because he cannot
make up his mind.
After I had seen the mules watered and picketed in the public corral,
I went to look for the General, whom I found with the other officers at
the house of the Alcalde. They had learned news of the greatest moment.
Two nights previous, General Garcia had been attacked in force at Santa
Barbara, and had abandoned the town without a fight. Nothing more was
known, except that he was either falling back along the trail to join
us, or was waiting outside the city for us to come up and join him.
Laguerre at once ordered the bugles to sound “Boots and saddles,” and
within five minutes we were on the trail again with instructions to
press the men forward as rapidly as possible. The loss of Santa Barbara
was a serious calamity. It was the town third in importance in Honduras,
and it had been the stronghold of the revolutionists. The moral effect
of the fact that Garcia held it, had been of the greatest possible
benefit. As Garcia’s force consisted of 2,000 men and six pieces of
artillery, it was inexplicable to Laguerre how without a fight he had
abandoned so valuable a position.
The country through which we now passed was virtually uninhabited, and
wild and rough, but grandly beautiful. At no time, except when we passed
through one of the dusty little villages, of a dozen sun-baked huts set
around a sun-baked plaza, was the trail sufficiently wide to permit
us to advance unless in single file. And yet this was the highway of
Honduras from the Caribbean Sea to the Pacific Ocean, and the only road
to Tegucigalpa, the objective point of our expedition. The capital lay
only one hundred miles from Porto Cortez, but owing to the nature of
this trail it could not be reached from the east coast, either on foot
or by mule, in less than from six to nine days. No wheeled vehicle could
have possibly attempted the trip without shaking to pieces, and it was
only by dragging and lifting our Gatling guns by hand that we were able
to bring them with us.
At sunset we halted at a little village, where, as usual, the people
yelled “Vivas!” at us, and protested that they were good revolutionists.
The moon had just risen, and, as the men rode forward, kicking up the
white dust and with the Gatlings clanking and rumbling behind them,
they gave a most war-like impression. Miller, who had reconnoitered the
village before we entered it, stood watching us as we came in. He said
that we reminded him of troops of United States cavalry as he had seen
them on the alkali plains of New Mexico and Arizona. It was again my
duty to station our pickets and out-posts, and as I came back after
placing the sentries, the fires were twinkling all over the plaza and
throwing grotesque shadows of the men and the mules against the white
walls of the houses. It was a most weird and impressive picture.
The troopers were exhausted with the forced march, and fell instantly
to sleep, but for a long time I sat outside the Town Hall talking with
General Laguerre and two of the Americans, Miller and old man Webster.
Their talk was about Aiken, who so far had accompanied us as an untried
prisoner. From what he had said to me on the march, and from what I
remembered of his manner when Captain Leeds informed him of the loss of
the guns, I was convinced that he was innocent of any treachery.
I related to the others just what had occurred at the coast, and after
some talk with Aiken himself, Laguerre finally agreed that he was
innocent of any evil against him, and that Quay was the man who had sold
the secret. Laguerre then offered Aiken his choice of continuing on with
us, or of returning to the coast, and Aiken said that he would prefer to
go on with our column. Now that the Isthmian Line knew that he had tried
to assist Laguerre, his usefulness at the coast was at an end. He added
frankly that his only other reason for staying with us was because he
thought we were going to win. General Laguerre gave him charge of our
transport and commissary, that is of our twelve pack-mules and of
the disposition of the coffee, flour, and beans. Aiken possessed real
executive ability, and it is only fair to him to say that as commissary
sergeant he served us well. By the time we had reached Tegucigalpa the
twelve mules had increased to twenty, and our stock of rations, instead
of diminishing as we consumed them, increased daily. We never asked how
he managed it. Possibly, knowing Aiken, it was wiser not to inquire.
We broke camp at four in the morning, but in spite of our early start
the next day’s advance was marked by the most cruel heat. We had left
the shade of the high lands and now pushed on over a plain of dry,
burning sand, where nothing grew but naked bushes bristling with thorns,
and tall grayish-green cacti with disjointed branching arms. They
stretched out before us against the blazing sky, like a succession of
fantastic telegraph-poles. We were marching over what had once been the
bed of a great lake. Layers of tiny round pebbles rolled under our feet,
and the rocks which rose out of the sand had been worn and polished by
the water until they were as smooth as the steps of a cathedral. A mile
away on each flank were dark green ridges, but ahead of us there was
only a great stretch of glaring white sand. No wind was stirring, and
not a drop of moisture. The air was like a breath from a brick oven,
and the heat of the sun so fierce that if you touched your fingers to a
gun-barrel it burned the flesh.
We did not escape out of this lime-kiln until three in the afternoon,
when the trail again led us into the protecting shade of the jungle. The
men plunged into it as eagerly as though they were diving into water.
About four o’clock we heard great cheering ahead of us, and word was
passed to the rear that Miller had come in touch with Garcia’s scouts. A
half hour later, we marched into the camp of the revolutionists. It was
situated about three miles outside of Santa Barbara, on the banks of the
river where the trail crossed it at a ford. Our fellows made a rather
fine appearance as they rode out of the jungle among the revolutionists;
and, considering the fact that we had come to fight for them, I thought
the little beggars might have given us a cheer, but they only stared
at us, and nodded stupidly. They were a mixed assortment, all of them
under-size and either broad or swarthy, with the straight hair and wide
cheek-bones of the Carib Indian, or slight and nervous looking, with the
soft eyes and sharp profile of the Spaniard. The greater part of
them had deserted in companies from the army, and they still wore
the blue-jean uniform and carried the rifle and accoutrements of the
Government. To distinguish themselves from those soldiers who had
remained with Alvarez, they had torn off the red braid with which their
tunics were embroidered.
All the officers of the Foreign Legion rode up the stream with Laguerre
to meet General Garcia, whom we found sitting in the shade of his
tent surrounded by his staff. He gave us a most enthusiastic greeting,
embracing the General, and shaking hands with each of us in turn. He
seemed to be in the highest state of excitement, and bustled about
ordering us things to drink, and chattering, gesticulating, and
laughing. He reminded me of a little, fat French poodle trying to
express his delight by bounds and barks. They brought us out a great
many bottles of rum and limes, and we all had a long, deep drink. After
the fatigue and dust of the day, it was the best I ever tasted. Garcia’s
officers seemed just as much excited over nothing as he was, but were
exceedingly friendly, treating us with an exaggerated “comrades-in-arms”
and “brother-officers” sort of manner. The young man who entertained me
was quite a swell, with a tortoise-shell visor to his cap and a Malacca
sword-cane which swung from a gold cord. He was as much pleased over it
as a boy with his first watch, and informed me that it had been used to
assassinate his uncle, ex-President Rojas. As he seemed to consider it a
very valuable heirloom, I moved my legs so that, as though by accident,
my sword fell forward where he could see it. When he did he exclaimed
upon its magnificence, and I showed him my name on the scabbard. He
thought it had been presented to me for bravery. He was very much
impressed.
Garcia and Laguerre talked together for a long time and then shook hands
warmly, and we all saluted and returned to the ford.
As soon as we had reached it Laguerre seated himself under a tree and
sent for all of his officers.
“We are to attack at daybreak to-morrow morning,” he said. “Garcia is
to return along the trail and make a demonstration on this side of the
town, while we are here to attack from the other. The plaza is about
three hundred yards from where we will enter. On the corner of the plaza
and the main street there is a large warehouse. The warehouse looks
across the plaza to the barracks, which are on the other side of the
square. General Garcia’s plan is that our objective point shall be this
warehouse. It has two stories, and men on its roof will have a great
advantage over those in the barracks and in the streets. He believes
that when he begins his attack from this side, the Government troops
will rush from the barracks and hasten toward the sound of the firing.
At the same signal we are to hurry in from the opposite side of the
town, seize the warehouse, and throw up barricades across the plaza.
Should this plan succeed, the Government troops will find themselves
shut in between two fires. It seems to be a good plan, and I have agreed
to it. The cattle-path to the town is much too rough for our guns, so
Captain Heinze and the gun detail will remain here and co-operate with
General Garcia. Let your men get all the sleep they can now. They must
march again at midnight. They will carry nothing but their guns and
ammunition and rations for one meal. If everything goes as we expect, we
will breakfast in Santa Barbara.”
I like to remember the happiness I got out of the excitement of that
moment. I lived at the rate of an hour a minute, and I was as upset from
pure delight as though I had been in a funk of abject terror. And I was
scared in a way, too, for whenever I remembered I knew nothing of actual
fighting, and of what chances there were to make mistakes, I shivered
down to my heels. But I would not let myself think of the chances to
make a failure, but rather of the opportunities of doing something
distinguished and of making myself conspicuous. I laughed when I thought
of my classmates at the Point with their eyes bent on a book of tactics,
while here was I, within three hours of a real battle, of the most
exciting of all engagements, an attack upon a city. A full year, perhaps
many years, would pass before they would get the chance to hear a
hostile shot, the shot fired in anger, which every soldier must first
hear before he can enter upon his inheritance, and hold his own in the
talk of the mess-table. I felt almost sorry for them when I thought
how they would envy me when they read of the fight in the newspapers. I
decided it would be called the battle of Santa Barbara, and I imagined
how it would look in the head-lines. I was even generous enough to wish
that three or four of the cadets were with me; that is, of course, under
me, so that they could tell afterward how well I had led them.
At midnight we filed silently out of camp, and felt our way in the dark
through the worst stretch of country we had yet encountered. The
ferns rose above our hips, and the rocks and fallen logs over which we
stumbled were slippery with moss. Every minute a man was thrown by a
trailing vine or would plunge over a fallen tree-trunk, and there would
be a yell of disgust and an oath and a rattle of accoutrements. The men
would certainly have been lost if they had not kept in touch by calling
to one another, and the noise we made hissing at them for silence only
added to the uproar.
At the end of three hours our guides informed us that for the last
half-mile they had been guessing at the trail, and that they had now
completely lost themselves. So Laguerre sent out Miller and the
native scouts to buskey about and find out where we were, and almost
immediately we heard the welcome barking of a dog, and one of the men
returned to report that we had walked right into the town. We found that
the first huts were not a hundred yards distant. Laguerre accordingly
ordered the men to conceal themselves and sent Miller, one of Garcia’s
officers, and myself to reconnoitre.
The moonlight had given way to the faint gray light which comes just
before dawn, and by it we could distinguish lumps of blackness which as
we approached turned into the thatched huts of the villagers. Until we
found the main trail into the town we kept close to the bamboo fences
of these huts, and then, still keeping in the shadows, we followed the
trail until it turned into a broad and well-paved street.
Except for many mongrel dogs that attacked us, and the roosters that
began to challenge us from every garden, we had not been observed, and,
so far as we could distinguish, the approach to the town was totally
unprotected. By this time the light had increased sufficiently for us
to see the white fronts of the houses, and the long empty street, where
rows of oil-lamps were sputtering and flickering, and as they went out,
filling the clean, morning air with the fumes of the dying wicks. It
had been only two weeks since I had seen paved streets, and shops, and
lamp-posts, but I had been sleeping long enough in the open to make
the little town of Santa Barbara appear to me like a modern and
well-appointed city. Viewed as I now saw it, our purpose to seize
it appeared credulous and grotesque. I could not believe that we
contemplated such a piece of folly. But the native officer pointed down
the street toward a square building with overhanging balconies. In the
morning mist the warehouse loomed up above its fellows of one story like
an impregnable fortress.
Miller purred with satisfaction.
“That’s the place,” he whispered; “I remember it now. If we can get into
it, they can never get us out.” It seemed to me somewhat like burglary,
but I nodded in assent, and we ran back through the outskirts to
where Laguerre was awaiting us. We reported that there were no pickets
guarding our side of the town, and the building Garcia had designated
for defence seemed to us most admirably selected.
It was now near to the time set for the attack to begin, and Laguerre
called the men together, and, as was his custom, explained to them what
he was going to do. He ordered that when we reached the warehouse I was
to spread out my men over the plaza and along the two streets on which
the warehouse stood. Porter was to mount at once to the roof and open
fire on the barracks, and the men of B and C Troops were to fortify the
warehouse and erect the barricades.
It was still dark, but through the chinks of a few of the mud huts
we could see the red glow of a fire, and were warned by this to move
forward and take up our position at the head of the main street. Before
we advanced, skirmishers were sent out to restrain any of the people in
the huts who might attempt to arouse the garrison. But we need not have
concerned ourselves, for those of the natives who came to their doors,
yawning and shivering in the cool morning air, shrank back at the sight
of us, and held up their hands. I suppose, as we crept out of the mist,
we were a somewhat terrifying spectacle, but I know that I personally
felt none of the pride of a conquering hero. The glimpse I had caught of
the sleeping town, peaceful and unconscious, and the stealth and silence
of our movements, depressed me greatly, and I was convinced that I had
either perpetrated or was about to perpetrate some hideous crime. I had
anticipated excitement and the joy of danger, instead of which, as I
tiptoed between the poor gardens, I suffered all the quaking terrors of
a chicken thief.
We had halted behind a long adobe wall to the right of the main street,
and as we crouched there the sun rose like a great searchlight and
pointed us out, and exposed us, and seemed to hold up each one of us to
the derision of Santa Barbara. As the light flooded us we all ducked our
heads simultaneously, and looked wildly about us as though seeking
for some place to hide. I felt as though I had been caught in the open
street in my night-gown. It was impossible to justify our presence. As I
lay, straining my ears for Garcia’s signal, I wondered what we would do
if the worthy citizen who owned the garden wall, against which we lay
huddled, should open the gate and ask us what we wanted. Could we reply
that we, a hundred and fifty men, proposed to seize and occupy his city?
I felt sure he would tell us to go away at once or he would call the
police. I looked at the men near me, and saw that each was as disturbed
as myself. A full quarter of an hour had passed since the time set for
the attack, and still there was no signal from Garcia. The strain was
becoming intolerable. At any moment some servant, rising earlier than
his fellows, might stumble upon us, and in his surprise sound the alarm.
Already in the trail behind us a number of natives, on their way to
market, had been halted by our men, who were silently waving them back
into the forest. The town was beginning to stir, wooden shutters banged
against stone walls, and from but just around the corner of the main
street came the clatter of iron bars as they fell from the door of a
shop. We could hear the man who was taking them down whistling cheerily.
And then from the barracks came, sharply and clearly, the ringing notes
of the reveille. I jumped to my feet and ran to where Laguerre was
sitting with his back to the wall.
“General, can’t I begin now?” I begged. “You said D Troop was to go in
first.”
He shook his head impatiently. “Listen!” he commanded.
We heard a single report, but so faintly and from such a distance
that had it not instantly been followed by two more we could not have
distinguished it. Even then we were not certain. Then as we crouched
listening, each reading the face of the others and no one venturing
to breathe, there came the sharp, broken roll of musketry. It was
unmistakable. The men gave a great gasp of relief, and without orders
sprang to “attention.” A ripple of rifle-fire, wild and scattered,
answered the first volley.
“They have engaged the pickets,” said Laguerre.
The volleys were followed by others, and volleys, more uneven, answered
them still more wildly.
“They are driving the pickets back,” explained Laguerre. We all stood
looking at him as though he were describing something which he actually
saw. Suddenly from the barracks came the discordant calls of many
bugles, warning, commanding, beseeching.
Laguerre tossed back his head, like a horse that has been too tightly
curbed.
“They are leaving the barracks,” he said. He pulled out his watch and
stood looking down at it in his hand.
“I will give them three minutes to get under way,” he said. “Then we
will start for the warehouse. When they come back again, they will find
us waiting for them.”
It seemed an hour that we stood there, and during every second of that
hour the rifle-fire increased in fierceness and came nearer, and seemed
to make another instant of inaction a crime. The men were listening with
their mouths wide apart, their heads cocked on one side, and their eyes
staring. They tightened their cartridge-belts nervously, and opened and
shot back the breech-bolts of their rifles. I took out my revolver, and
spun the cylinder to reassure myself for the hundredth time that it
was ready. But Laguerre stood quite motionless, with his eyes fixed
impassively upon his watch as though he were a physician at a sick-bed.
Only once did he raise his eyes. It was when the human savageness of the
rifle-fire was broken by a low mechanical rattle, like the whirr of a
mowing-machine as one hears it across the hay-fields. It spanked the air
with sharp hot reports.
“Heinze has turned the Gatlings on them,” he said. “They will be coming
back soon.” He closed the lid of his watch with a click and nodded
gravely at me. “You can go ahead now, Captain,” he said. His tone was
the same as though he had asked me to announce dinner.