THE ATTACK ON THE OLD CONVENT.
"My father a prisoner!" I gasped out, when I could speak.
"Yes, Mark."
"And how was he captured? and why?"
"It is rather a long story. But tell me, where is Alano?" And now it
was Señor Guerez' turn to become anxious.
In a few words I explained matters, to which the planter listened with
close attention. His brow darkened when I mentioned the Spaniards up at
the coffee plantation.
"I know them," he said. "We are expecting an attack from them every
day."
"An attack at this place?"
"Yes." He turned to his companions, and introduced me to Father Anuncio
and to Lieutenant Porlando, both of whom shook hands warmly when they
were informed who I was. "You see, many of the planters have brought
their families here," Señor Guerez went on, "and the Spanish think to
subdue us if they can make our wives and daughters prisoners. But that
shall never be while we have strength to fight."
"Tell me of my father," I said impatiently.
"Come inside, my boy," said Alano's father; and giving Bumbo a bit of
silver I sent him off, and followed the others into the courtyard,
in the rear of which was the convent building proper, although wings
extended out upon both sides.
In a shady corner I was introduced to La Señora Guerez and to Alano's
two sisters, Inez and Paula, two girls of ten and twelve, now quite as
dark as their father and mother, and very beautiful, with their black
wavy hair and sparkling eyes full of good humor and merriment. Mother
and daughters could speak a little English, and for Alano's sake they
fairly made me feel like one of the family.
I was impatient to hear about my father; and as soon as the señor had
told the others of what I had said concerning Alano, Señor Guerez told
me his story.
"As soon as we felt that the war was going to be severe and probably of
long duration," said he, "your father and I telegraphed to Dr. Walford
to keep you at Broxville Academy until you heard from us by letter. Two
days later came a return message stating that you had already gone to
New York and taken steamer for Cuba. The worthy doctor could not tell
by what route you had gone.
"This being the case, your father and I concluded to let you come on,
and I dispatched Pedro, one of my faithful servants, to meet you at
Santiago de Cuba and conduct you in safety to the plantation, where
your father was still down with his broken leg, which was, however,
mending rapidly.
"Several days went by, and matters became very troublesome about my
plantation. Some of the men had joined the Cuban forces under Brigadier
General José Maceo, a brother to the late Antonio Maceo, and my
neighbors begged me to join also and become captain of a company of
white Cubans--they not caring to serve under Maceo or Garcia and also
not caring to go as far west as where the forces under General Gomez
were located.
"While I was deliberating, a body of Spanish guerrillas came along
and burned down two of my largest storehouses and threatened my wife
with violence. This angered me, and I got my gun and shot two of the
rascals--one in the leg and the other in the shoulder. A battle royal
ensued between my workmen and the guerrillas, and the guerrillas
received the worst of the encounter and were forced to retreat, with
three men wounded and one man dead.
"This settled the matter, and I joined the Cuban forces under Garcia
without delay. Your father also took part in the battle and saved my
wife from great indignities. When I called my white men together, and
my white neighbors, they speedily formed a company of volunteers, and I
was chosen the captain, with Lieutenant Porlando for my first officer
and your father for second lieutenant. We were all supplied with good
horses and first-class weapons, and the very next day after effecting
our organization defeated a body of the Spanish troops and drove them
ten miles up the road and away from the mountains which General Garcia
is using as a stronghold.
"As it was perilous in the extreme to leave the women-folks home alone
while the men were away, it was decided by me and my neighbors to bring
them all here and leave them with Father Anuncio and a strong guard. It
was believed that no one would dare molest any woman while sheltered by
this old convent. There are within the walls over a dozen ladies and
nearly thirty children, besides a company of picked men and six men who
were wounded at one time or another."
"But my father?" I put in, as the señor paused.
"I am coming to that, Mark. It was two days ago that our company was
in the vicinity of Guantanamo. I had received valuable information
concerning the contemplated movements of the Spanish troops, and this
information I wished to place in the hands of General Garcia and his
staff. Your father offered to find a certain captain, while another of
the company rode off to find the general.
"Your father was accompanied by a private named Hawley, an American
who settled near me several years ago. The pair were gone about six
hours when Hawley came riding back to our camp, severely wounded in
the thigh. He said they had met a company of Spanish soldiers, who
had discovered them ere they were aware. Your father had been taken a
prisoner, while Hawley had had a hard time of it to escape."
"And have you heard of him since then?" I asked anxiously.
"I heard from him yesterday. Some of our soldiers, while tramping
through the woods, came across a Spaniard who was severely wounded.
They treated him as well as he could possibly expect, dressed his
wounds, and gave him a supply of water and bread and meat; and in
return he told them about their prisoner, your father. He said your
father was to be sent on to the authorities at Santiago as an American
spy."
"A spy!"
"Yes, my boy, a spy. It is, of course, a foolish charge, but I am
afraid it may cause your father a good deal of trouble."
"Why, they place spies in dungeons and often shoot them, Señor Guerez!"
"Let us hope for the best, Mark," he returned soothingly.
"Would they dare shoot an American citizen?"
"Unfortunately your father was caught wearing a Cuban uniform and with
our flag pinned to his hat--as I have it."
I bowed my head, and something like tears started to my eyes. This news
was awful. Supposing my father was shot as a spy? I would be left alone
in the world. Overcome by my emotions, I felt compelled to turn away,
when Señor Guerez placed a kindly hand on my shoulder.
"Don't be too downcast, my boy. It may not go so badly with your
parent, and I will do all I can for both of you. As soon as I can
arrange certain matters with the men who are in charge here, I will
follow up those who have your father in charge and see if he cannot be
rescued."
"Oh, will you do that?" I cried, catching his hand. "You are more than
kind, Señor Guerez!"
We were about to continue the conversation, when the lieutenant to
whom I had been introduced came rushing up all out of breath. He had
been walking down by the river, field-glass in hand, and had made an
important discovery, which he imparted to the others in Spanish.
It was to the effect that a large body of Spanish soldiers were riding
through the woods, back of the river, and it looked as if they were
bound for the old convent. They were heavily armed, and on the back of
a mule could be seen a small cannon.
"As I expected," muttered Señor Guerez. "I'll take a look at them."
He ran up to the roof of the convent, glass in hand, and, nobody
stopping me, I followed him. A long, searching look and he dashed down
the glass, hurried below, and issued a dozen rapid orders.
Men flew in all directions, some to get their guns and pistols, and
others to shut the gates leading to the courtyard and to place square
bits of blocks into the deep windows.
I tried to get an explanation from somebody, but all were too busy.
Señor Guerez was the only one who gave me a hint of what was wrong.
"'Tis a body of Spanish soldiers led by a priest who is a rival to
Father Anuncio. He wishes to get the good father to give up this old
convent, which means that we must vacate too. It is a ruse of the
enemy."
No more was said. Quarter of an hour later a white flag was waved and
a man came up to the old convent gates. A short talk ensued between
him, Señor Guerez, Father Anuncio, and several others, and then the man
withdrew.
Hardly had he gone than all of us heard the cracks of a dozen or more
guns, and as many bullets flattened themselves on the convent walls.
"They have opened the fight," remarked Señor Guerez grimly, while
several of the women and children shrieked. "Now we will show them what
we can do."
He selected the best of his soldiers, and placed them at convenient
loopholes in the upper part of the old building. Weapons were ready for
use, and at a word of command the fire of the Spaniards was returned.
A yell of surprise and rage went up, and there immediately followed
another volley of musketry from without. This was returned, and this
sort of thing lasted for quarter of an hour, when the enemy retired
behind the bluff I have previously mentioned.
But they did not remain quiet long. Presently, looking through his
field-glass, Señor Guerez announced that they had succeeded in mounting
the cannon they had brought along. The weapon was duly loaded and
sighted, and we awaited with thrilling interest the effect of this
rather formidable weapon.