"ASSIST ME TO GET RID OF THEM, AND I WILL REWARD YOU WELL!"
"Duped! Made the plaything of a willful Spanish beauty!"
Such were Howard Sherwood's bitter words, as he left the vault, strode
past Cara, the maid, and forth into the darkness of the tropical night.
His heart was like a lump of lead, while his brain seemed on fire.
Estella's revelation had come to him like a thunderbolt out of a clear
sky.
"She is to wed another! She knew this, and yet she let me go on. It
was unmaidenly, extremely reprehensible!" He grated his teeth. "Well,
that's my first experience in love, and I'll take care that it shall
be my last! Henceforth I'll devote myself strictly to business."
With a kind of grim satisfaction he remembered that he had his letters
once more. Now he could visit the various rebel leaders without delay,
and learn what they might have to say for publication.
He strode on and on, not knowing in what direction, and caring
still less. He was in no humor for retiring, and would doubtless
have continued his pedestrianism all night had not an unexpected
interruption occurred.
"Vayase Vms!" (Go away, you!)
The sharp cry, coming from the opposite side of the street Howard was
traversing, caused the young war correspondent to come to a sudden
halt. In the dim light he saw a tall, heavily bearded man in the grasp
of two dirty rascals. One of them had the man by the throat, while the
other was trying to steal his gold watch and chain.
"Vayase Vms!" cried the gentleman again, and he began to struggle
desperately to free himself. But the footpads were strong, and deftly
threw him upon his back.
"Hold on there!" exclaimed Howard, running up. "What are you up to
here?"
The footpads, who could not understand English, stared at him sullenly,
taken by surprise.
"They would rob me, señor," gasped the gentleman, speaking with the
strongest Spanish accent. "Assist me to get rid of them, and I will
reward you well!"
"I don't want any reward to help you beat off thieves," returned
Howard, and, leaping closer, he struck one of the rascals a stinging
blow in the face. "Begone, before I shoot you full of holes, you
miserable curs!"
They did not understand the words, but the blow counted for much, and
when his pistol came into sight, one spoke to the other, and both
promptly took to their heels.
The Spanish gentleman had been fighting the pair for several minutes
previous to the young war correspondent's arrival, and now it took him
some time to get his breath and adjust his attire. While he was doing
this, Howard noticed that he was a noble-looking man, well past middle
age, and that on the breast of his coat was pinned the badge of the
Royal Army Legion of Spain.
"I have much to thank you for, señor," said the Spanish gentleman,
when he had recovered his breath. "The rascals would have robbed me of
everything, even at the cost of my life!"
He held out his hand, and they shook warmly. Then the man looked at
Howard, curiously.
"Do you not speak Spanish?" he asked in that tongue.
"Muy poco, señor," (Very little, sir), returned Howard, frankly.
"An Americano, then, I presume," went on the gentleman.
"Yes, and fresh from the States," and Howard smiled.
"You have done me a great service, señor--I shall not forget it. I
should have come out better prepared for such ruffians. Dios! but this
war is responsible for many things!"
"That's true. Can I be of further assistance to you, sir?"
"I fancy not, though I am out on a strange mission to-night. May I ask
your name, señor?"
Howard told him. The Spanish gentleman was about to give his own in
return, when, with a wild shout, half a dozen Cuban rebels appeared
on the scene, closely followed by a detachment of Spanish soldiers.
A dozen shots were exchanged, and in the tumult and excitement the
young war correspondent and the man he had so gallantly helped became
separated, and for the time being Howard was not aware of his identity.
Had it been disclosed, Howard would have been much astonished.
The struggle of the handful of insurgents against so many soldiers made
Howard forget for the moment the trying scenes through which he had
passed, and by a sudden impulse he followed the leader of the rebels,
when the man, a big, burly creole, was forced to retreat.
At a distance of half a dozen city blocks the big fellow turned into a
dark lane and came to a halt, his bloody machete, or war-knife, held
high in the air, ready to strike dead the first to follow.
"Quien va?" he shouted, asking to what party Howard belonged.
"Cuba!" was the young war correspondent's ready answer. Had he said
Spain, the bloody machete would have split his skull in twain.
"What want?" growled the creole. "No cheat!"
"I am honest with you," said Howard. "I want you to do me a favor, for
which I shall pay you well."
"What I do for you?"
"Take me to your nearest leader."
"So you can spy? No, not for all the gold in Cuba!" replied the creole,
loyally.
"I do not want to spy. I am an American newspaper man, and I want
reliable news. We cannot get it from the Spaniards, you know."
The creole swore a savage oath.
"That is right, señor--they tell all lies of us. Come with me, but
remember, if you tell me a lie you die!"
He caught hold of Howard's arm, and led the way back into the darkness,
around half a dozen squalid streets, and into a building which had
once been used as a tobacco storehouse. Here they were stopped by a
sentinel, but the creole gave the proper password, and in another
moment Howard found himself in the presence of three well-dressed and
intelligent-looking Cuban tradespeople. At the same time the door he
had entered was closed and locked behind him.
At first the rebels were suspicious of him, but a perusal of the
letters he carried convinced them that he was honest in pretensions,
and then they willingly gave him such information as they desired
circulated in the United States. Howard took down in short-hand all
they had to say, and in less than an hour was ready to depart again.
"You will remain in Santiago?" asked Captain Miguel, the leader of the
party.
"I will until I get a chance to steal away," said Howard. "The Spanish
authorities have refused me the password."
"You might obtain that, Señor Sherwood, but it would do you no good.
They allow no one to pass unless he is personally known to somebody in
charge. But if you wish very much to leave, I will arrange it so you
can go by boat across the bay. On a dark night there will be no danger
of attack from any of the gun-boats, and it will be easier to pass the
lines from over there than from here."
After a brief consultation Howard decided to accept Captain Miguel's
offer, and promised to meet the captain on the following evening at
nine o'clock. This arranged, Howard rewarded the creole with a gold
piece, and was given directions to get to his hotel.
The work on hand drove from the young war correspondent's mind all
thoughts of Estella. All night he labored on his letter to the press
association, and the precious epistle was placed in safe hands for
transmission on the first outgoing steamer.
The following day was a busy one for Howard. He had to procure the
proper outfit in which to rough it on the road, and this was no easy
matter. Finally, however, money used freely brought what was desired,
and the proper time found him at the appointed place. Although he had
looked about eagerly for Estella, he had seen nothing more of the girl
he had so madly, and as he now thought, hopelessly loved.
It was a cloudy night, just proper for the perilous undertaking at
hand. The boat was manned by four sturdy negroes, and pushed off
silently from under one of the deserted docks. The negroes could not
talk English, but Captain Miguel had assured Howard that they knew
their business perfectly, and all the young war correspondent must do
was to be silent until a landing was made.
In and out among the boats at anchor wound the row-boat, the quartet
of negroes rowing swiftly and silently. In vain Howard tried to pierce
the darkness ahead, and he wondered that the men did not lose their
reckoning.
Howard well knew the tremendous risk he was running. Only three
days before a party of six men had been killed on this same bay for
attempting to cross without permission. Discovery would most likely
bring to him a similar fate.
But he was not afraid. To tell the truth, the bitter parting with
Estella had made him reckless.
"It won't matter much if I am killed," he thought, dismally. "To think
of her married to some dark-skinned, homely spaniard----"
Swish! Bang!
A rocket had gone up, not over fifty feet to the leeward of them. The
trail of fire was followed by a flood of light overhead that illumined
the waters for several hundred feet around.
The negroes gave a shout of terror, and well they might. The boat was
headed directly for a large gun-boat, one of the long guns of which was
pointed directly at them!
"Surrender! or we'll blow you to pieces!" came in a loud tone of
command, and as the light of the rocket died out a flash-light was
thrown upon the scene.
Howard waited to hear no more. Softly and silently he slipped overboard
into the water and dove out of sight.