CONDEMNED TO DIE!--TOMASSO'S WORDS--A GALLANT RESOLVE.
The drink of water which the Jailer Luigi had intended should bring
death to Howard Sherwood, was unsuspectingly swallowed by the young
war correspondent. It was bitter, but that was all, and as much of the
Cuban water has a salty flavor, he considered this nothing unusual.
After giving him the water, the jailer hurried away, confident that
Howard would soon be a dead man. Left to himself, the young man threw
himself on his bench, and gave himself up to his reflections.
"I'll be tried in the morning, that's certain," he thought. "Now, the
question is, what defense can I make?"
This was not an easy point to decide. He wished to shield Estella as
much as possible, even at a risk to himself.
"My noble girl must not suffer," he decided. "She has already suffered
too much in my behalf!"
The hours went slowly by until morning dawned without; a dull morning
indeed, with the warm rain coming down unceasingly. Estella's prayer
in this particular had been answered. There had been no cessation in
the downpour, and everywhere, within and without the city, the poorly
constructed roads were heavy with mud. Despite the onerous taxes
imposed, Spain had never given Cuba good highways, and now, in moving
her army from place to place, she was made to suffer roundly for her
neglect. On more than one occasion, during the rainy season, not a
cannon, not even a mule team, could be moved from one town to the next.
Little did the young war correspondent dream that, less than a hundred
feet away, Estella sat in a dismal cell, her face buried in her hands,
and her dark hair falling in a disheveled mass over her shoulders, the
picture of despair.
From words dropped by her jailer, she had surmised that Captain
Martinez's proposed attack upon Marambo was known, and steps were being
taken to meet it.
"The insurgents within the city will have no time in which to arm
themselves. More than likely, every suspected person here will be
immediately placed under arrest."
A trumpet call sounded through the damp air, coming from without the
prison. A minute later, and Luigi appeared at the door of Howard's
cell, accompanied by two guardsmen detailed to escort the young war
correspondent before the special court-martial.
"Caramba!" muttered the jailer, and fell back with a white face.
He had fully expected to find Howard a corpse upon the stone floor. To
see the young man with a half-smile upon his handsome face nearly took
away his breath.
But he dared not ask questions, and immediately proceeded to release
Howard from his chains. This done, the two soldiers told him to march,
and, one on either side of him, escorted him out of the prison and to
the Council Hall, where the hearing was to be held.
It was evident to Howard's trained eye that the officers in charge were
much worried, for no time was lost in opening court. Then a call was
made for Lieutenant Mazenas, but he was not present.
"He cannot leave the railroad property," was the explanation given to
account for his absence, and then Captain Nocolo was called.
The captain briefly related his story, telling how Howard had escaped
from Santiago by boat, of the capture and then of his second escape.
Much more was said, the captain doing his best to convict Howard. He
imagined that Luigi had lacked the courage to administer the poison.
"And what have you to say in your defense, Señor Sherwood?" demanded
the presiding officer, his lowered brows bent full upon Howard's manly
face.
Howard told his story as plainly as possible, leaving out only those
portions which related more particularly to Estella. He accused Captain
Nocolo of a personal interest in having him shot or imprisoned, but to
this assertion the court would not listen.
"Captain Nocolo is an honorable Spanish officer; we know him well,"
said one of the court judges. "You had better confine your remarks to
yourself. You are accused of being a spy, and as yet have brought forth
no evidence to clear yourself."
"I can say no more, gentlemen," returned Howard, angrily, for he
considered this treatment almost brutal. "I have told the truth. I am
an innocent man, and if I am punished, the consequences will be upon
your heads."
"Take him away!" roared the presiding officer, an intimate friend of
the Nocolo family.
And Howard was immediately handcuffed again, and led back to the
prison. The court went into secret session for only five minutes,
and then it was announced that he had been found guilty of being a
spy in the interests of the rebels, and he was sentenced to be shot
immediately. The reader may imagine this statement to be over-drawn,
but let us add that since the beginning of the present insurrection
such hasty trials have been frequent and many patriots have been tried
and shot within the hour of their capture.
Hardly had Howard reached the interior of the prison grounds than a
special messenger rode up announcing the decision of the court-martial.
A guard was at once detailed to carry out the order. The young war
correspondent heard the news with a sinking heart.
"They would murder me," he thought. "This is the work of Lieutenant
Mazenas and Captain Nocolo quite as much as of the Spanish authorities."
There was so much excitement at the entrance to the prison that, once
within the yard, the guards paid scant attention to Howard, saving to
see that he did not attempt to escape.
Within the prison yard a hundred or more prisoners were tramping
about in the rain, taking their daily exercise. Howard watched them
curiously, yet not without a certain feeling of envy. To be merely a
prisoner was one thing--to be condemned to be shot quite another. How
he wished for a single chance to obtain his freedom! But no such chance
offered itself.
Among the prisoners there was a man who attracted Howard's attention
by his queer movements each time that he came close to the young war
correspondent. Howard mused on the matter for several minutes, and came
to the conclusion that the fellow wished to speak to him.
Then he recognized Tomasso, although the overseer's face was partially
concealed in bandages placed on the sword cuts he had received in his
efforts to save himself and his young mistress from arrest.
Cautiously Howard moved on a few steps to a spot where Tomasso would
come within a few feet of him. The long line of prisoners marched
around, and the overseer drew close. As he approached he bent forward
with a keen glance, to be certain that he was not observed.
"Estella is here," he whispered in English, that the other prisoners
next to him might not understand. "Cell 47."
He moved on, and Howard fell back nearly dumfounded. What was this
Tomasso had said? Estella a prisoner in cell 47! He could scarcely
believe the evidence of his own ears. He waited until the overseer came
round again.
"What for?" he questioned.
"Helping the rebels, and trying to help you," replied Tomasso. "Beware
of poison. I saved you once; I may not be able to do so again, señor!"
Tomasso moved on quickly after this. But a guard had seen him talking
this time, and with an oath he belabored the faithful fellow over the
shoulders with a cowhide.
"Didn't I tell you to keep silent? Another word and I'll string you up
by the thumbs, you dirty rebel!"
Howard scarcely heard the remarks. Estella had been arrested for aiding
the insurgents, and for trying to aid him, a condemned spy? What would
they do with his sweetheart--condemn her to death, also?
"Would that I could speak to her, if only once again!" he thought, and
instantly decided to make a final and desperate effort to do so.