Upon returning to my London lodgings I was greatly rejoiced to find
awaiting me there a cable message from the War Department at Washington,
saying that if I would visit General Weyler at Madrid, and secure from
him a really frank expression of his views concerning our Spanish
imbroglio, the President would be very glad to give me a commission as
First Assistant Vivandiere to the army of the Philippines, with rank of
Captain. I saw at once that in endeavoring to secure an interview with
this particular celebrity I ran risks far greater than any I had yet
encountered--greater even than those involved in my visit to Mr. Caine
at his Manx home. It is my custom, however, to go wherever duty may
call, and inasmuch as my sex has, since the days of Joan of Arc, secured
military recognition nowhere except in the ranks of the Salvation Army,
I resolved to accept the commission, and notified the War Department
accordingly. Fortunately my style of beauty is of the Spanish type, and,
furthermore, when at boarding-school, many years ago, in Brooklyn, I had
studied the Spanish tongue, so that disguise was not difficult. I had
seen Carmencita dance at a private residence in New York, and had
therefore some slight knowledge of how a full-fledged senorita should
enter a room, so that, on the whole, I went to Madrid tolerably
confident that I could beard the great Spanish lion in his den, and
escape unscathed.
Purchasing a lace mantilla and a scarlet scarf about eight feet long, my
feet covered with red slippers, and a slight suggestion of yellow silk
hosiery peeping from beneath a satin skirt of the length prescribed by
the rainy-day club, and armed with a pack of cards and a pair of
castanets, I ventured forth upon my perilous mission. Nothing of moment
occurred on the journey. I did not don my Spanish dress until I had left
England behind--indeed, I had reached the Pyrenees before I arrayed
myself in my costume, although I was most anxious to do so. It was,
after all, so fetching.
Once in Spain I had no difficulty at all, and in fact made myself very
popular with the natives by telling most charming fortunes for them, and
dancing the armadillo and opadildock with a verve which pleased them and
surprised even myself. I have always known myself to be a resourceful
creature, but I had never dreamed that among my reserve accomplishments
the agility and grace of a premiere danseuse could be numbered.
[Illustration: "A RATHER STUNNING BANDERILLO OPENED THE DOOR"]
It was Friday evening when I reached Madrid, and Saturday morning,
bright and early, I called at General Weyler's house. A rather stunning
banderillo opened the front door and inquired my business.
"Tell General Weyler," said I, "that Senorita Gypsy del Castillanos de
Sierra de Santiago, of Newark, New Jersey, wishes to speak with him on
affairs of national importance."
[Illustration: IN HIDING]
I had resolved upon a bold stroke, and it worked to a charm. The
General, who is mortally afraid of assassins, had been listening from
his usual hiding-place behind the hat-rack. Pushing the hat-rack from
before him, he stepped out into the hall, and, standing between me and
the door, inquired threateningly if Newark, New Jersey, was not one of
the dependencies of the United States. I answered him in fluent Spanish
that it was, told him that I had lived there through no fault of my own
for three years, had had to fly before a mob because of my pro-Spanish
sympathies, and, travelling night and day, had come to lay before him a
complete sketch of the fortifications of Newark, together with the
ground-plan of Harlem, which, as I informed him, he would have to take
before he could possibly hope to place Washington in a state of siege. I
also gave him a chart showing by what waterways a Spanish fleet could
approach and reduce Niagara Falls to ashes--a blow which would strike
England and the United States with equal force, without necessarily
altering the _status quo ante_ with Great Britain.
The General, like the quick-witted soldier that he is, became interested
at once. The lowering aspect of his brow cleared like the summer clouds
before an August sun, and, with an urbanity which I had not expected,
invited me to step into his sanctum. I accepted with alacrity. I cannot
say that it was a pleasant room; it was in military disorder. Machetes
and murderous-looking pistols were everywhere, and the chair to which I
was assigned was a pleasant little relic of the Inquisition, and was so
arranged that had the General so wished, the arms holding hidden iron
spikes would fold about me at any moment and give me a hug I should not
forget in a hurry. Added to this was a series of Kodak pictures of all
the atrocities of which he was guilty while in Havana. These were framed
in one massive oaken frieze running from one end of the room to the
other, and labelled on a gilt tablet with black letters, "Snap Shots I
Have Snapped, or Pleasant Times in Cuba."
This demonstrates that Weyler is one of those rarely fortunate people
who take pleasure and pride in the profession they are called upon to
follow.
"General," said I, once we were seated, "did it ever occur to you that
if you were two feet shorter, and clean-shaven, with a different nose
and a smaller mouth, and a shorter chin and a bigger brow, and less
curve to your arms when you walk, you would resemble Napoleon
Bonaparte?"
The General was evidently pleased by my compliment.
"Do you think so?" said he, with a smile which absolutely froze my
soul.
"I do," I said, meekly, and then I began to weep. I was really unnerved,
and began to wish I had never accepted the commission. He was so
frightfully cold-blooded, and toyed with a stiletto of razor-like
sharpness so carelessly that I was truly terrified.
"Don't cry, Gypsy," he said. "War is a terrible thing, but we will beat
those Yankee pigs yet." This, of course, was before peace was declared.
The remark nerved me up again. He believed in me, and that was half the
battle.
"Oh, I hope so, General," I sobbed. "But how? Poor old Spain has nothing
to fight with."
"Spain has me, senorita!" he cried, passionately. "And I single-handed
will give them battle."
"But you do not know the country, General," said I. "Don't risk your
life, I beg of you--our only hope! I haven't a doubt that in a fight
with pigs you will win; but, General, the United States is so vast, so
complicated; it is full of pitfalls!"