Forward, March, Kirk Munroe [some good books to read .txt] 📗

him, together with four of the crew. In spite of the hot fire, the Hudson ran a line and brought out what was left of the Winslow and her company; but you'd better believe the little craft was a mighty sad-looking wreck. Hello! What's that?"

A string of colored signal-lights had flashed out for a moment directly ahead of the Speedy, and then disappeared. The strangest thing about them was that they had been shown just above the surface of the water, instead of from a masthead, as would usually be the case on a war-ship. The Speedy had been slipping quietly along, showing her regular side lights, which, as she was of low freeboard, must also have appeared close to the water from a short distance, and might have been mistaken for a signal. Now she quickly displayed the night-signal of the American blockading fleet, as well as her own private number, but no answer came to either. By the time the Speedy's crew were at quarters it was evident, from muffled sounds borne down the wind, that the stranger was a steamer in full retreat.

"Give her a blank shot," ordered Captain Boldwood, and the words had barely left his mouth before the forward six-pounder gun had roared out its summons to halt; but the stranger paid no heed.

A solid shot, well elevated, had as little effect. By this time the despatch-boat was rushing ahead at full speed in the direction the unknown steamer was supposed to have taken. Suddenly her search-light, sweeping the black waters with a broad arc of silver, disclosed a shadowy bulk moving swiftly at right angles to the course they were taking, and heading for a beacon blaze that had sprung up on the starboard or in-shore hand.

"Port your helm!" cried Captain Boldwood. "Mr. Comly, try to disable her. Make every shot tell if possible."

Again and again the six-pounder hurled its messenger of destruction, but apparently without effect.

"Looks as though I couldn't hit the side of a barn at a hundred feet," muttered the Ensign to Ridge, who stood beside him, thrilled by the novel experience. Then he sighted his gun for a third shot, sprang back, and jerked the lanyard. A flash, a roar, a choking cloud of smoke, and then a yell from the Speedy's crew. In the glare of the search-light the fugitive steamer was seen to take a sudden sheer, that a minute later was followed by a crash, and then she remained motionless.

Instantly the Speedy was slowed down and moved cautiously towards the wreck, with busy lead marking soundings every few seconds. The beacon for which the chase had steered no longer blazed; but in a few minutes the search-light disclosed a wooded shore.

"Have a boat ready, Mr. Comly, and prepare to go on board with half a dozen men."

"Ay, ay, sir."

"May I go with you?" asked Ridge, eagerly.

"Certainly, if the Captain says so."

But, to the young trooper's disappointment, Captain Boldwood refused permission. "Your business is of too important a nature for you to assume any needless risks outside of it," he said.

So Ridge could only watch enviously the departure of the boat with its crew of armed men. It had not been gone two minutes when a bright flame shot from the steamer's deck.

"They have set her on fire and abandoned her!" exclaimed the Captain. "I pray to God, Comly may be cautious. Quartermaster, show the recall."

The words were hardly spoken when there came a great blinding flash, an awful roar, and the Speedy listed to her beam ends. A vast pillar of flame leaped a hundred feet into the air, a huge foam-crested wave rolled out to sea, and then all space seemed full of flying fragments. The wreck had been destroyed by an explosion of her own cargo.

"Lower away the yawl! Quick, men! There may be some left to pick up. Yes, Mr. Norris, you may go now."

They rescued Comly, bleeding from a wound in the head, and three of his crew, all more or less injured, but the others had gone down with their boat, crushed beneath a hurtling deck beam.

The Speedy stood off and on until daylight enabled her commander to locate the scene of catastrophe and examine what was left of the shattered steamer. He found that she had been run ashore on one of the small outlying cays that are numerous off Cardenas Bay, and with other floating wreckage he picked up a life-preserver on which was painted, "Manuel Ros, Barcelona."

"How strangely and unexpectedly things turn out," he said to Ridge as he turned from examining this telltale relic. "Our Government learned some time ago that the Manuel Ros was taking on board at Cadiz a cargo of improved mines, submarine torpedoes, and high explosives for use in Puerto-Rican harbors. It was positively stated that she would not attempt to run the Cuban blockade. Nevertheless, we were all notified to keep a sharp lookout for her, especially around Santiago and Cienfuegos. She was reported to be very fast, and I can well credit it, for there are few ships in these waters can show their heels as she did to the Speedy. As it is, I am afraid she would have gained Cardenas Harbor in safety if it had not been for Mr. Comly's last lucky shot, which must have crippled her steering-gear. And to think that a ship which would have been considered a handsome prize by any cruiser should be destroyed by the little Speedy. I wonder, though, where the Wilmington that generally patrols this vicinity could have been?"

This mystery was explained a little later when the cruiser in question hove in sight, having been lured from her station by a small Spanish gunboat the evening before.

After making his report of what happened, the commander of the Speedy again headed his craft to the eastward, and ran all that day, together with most of the following night, within sight of the Cuban coast.

It wanted but an hour of daylight, when Ridge, who was sleeping on deck, was aroused and told that the place of his landing was at hand. A pot of coffee together with a substantial lunch had been prepared for him, and Ensign Comly, whose wound had proved to be slight, was waiting in a boat manned by four sailors.

Señorita was hoisted in a sling and dropped overboard to swim ashore in tow of the boat, and at the very last the Speedy's commander whispered the countersign of the Junta that was to open a way through the Cuban lines.

Then the boat was noiselessly shoved off, and slipped away through the chill darkness towards the denser shadow of the land that waited with manifold perils to test the courage of our young trooper.

CHAPTER XI A LIVELY EXPERIENCE OF CUBAN HOSPITALITY

"Good-bye, old man! Good luck, and hope we shall meet again soon."

With these words, accompanied by a warm hand-clasp, Ensign Dick Comly stepped into his boat, and it was shoved off from the bit of Cuban beach on which Ridge Norris had just been landed. For a couple of minutes the young trooper stood motionless, listening with strained ears to the lessening sound of muffled oars. It was the last link connecting him with home, country, and safety. For a moment he was possessed of such a panic that he was on the point of shouting for Comly to come back and take him away. It did not seem as though he could be left there alone in the dark, and amid all the crowding terrors of that unknown land.

Just then Señorita, who stood dripping and shivering beside him, rubbed her wet nose softly against his cheek, as though begging for sympathy, and in an instant his courage was restored. It was enough that another creature more helpless than he was dependent upon him for guidance and protection.

"It's all right, girl," he whispered, throwing an arm about the mare's neck. "We'll stick to each other and pull through somehow." Then plucking a handful of dried grass, he gave the animal a brisk rubbing that warmed them both. By the time it was finished, birds were twittering in the dense growth behind them, and the eastern sky was suffused with the glow of coming day.

Knowing nothing of his surroundings, nor what eyes might in a few minutes more discover these new features of the beach, Ridge now removed his slender belongings to a hiding-place behind some bushes, where he also fastened Señorita. Then he set forth to explore the shore with the hope of finding a path into the interior; for to force a way through the tangled chaparral that everywhere approached close to the water's edge seemed hopeless.

He had not gone a dozen paces when Señorita uttered a shrill neigh of distress at being thus deserted, and began a noisy struggle to break loose. With a muttered exclamation of dismay Ridge ran back. It was evident that the mare would not consent to be left.

"Very well," said the young man. "If you can't be reasonable and remain quietly behind for a few minutes, we must make our exploration in company. Perhaps it is better so, after all, for when I do discover a trail we shall be ready to take instant advantage of it, and get the more quickly away from this unpleasantly conspicuous place."

While thus talking in a low tone to the mare, Ridge was also equipping her for the road. He had just finished tightening the saddle-girth and was about to mount, when Señorita uttered a snort indicative of some strange presence. Turning quickly, her master was confronted by a sight that caused his heart to sink like lead. Only a few paces away stood a young man of dark but handsome features, clad in a well-worn suit of linen and a broad-brimmed palmetto hat. A military belt filled with cartridges encircled his waist, and from it hung an empty scabbard of untanned cowhide, designed to carry a machete. With that weapon held in one hand and a cocked pistol levelled full at Ridge in the other, he presented the appearance of a first-class brigand.

The young trooper made a movement towards his own revolver, but it was instantly checked by the stranger, who said, sternly, in Spanish:

"Hold there! If you but touch a weapon I shall shoot you dead! You are my prisoner, and will obey my commands. That I am prepared to enforce them I will show you."

With this he sounded a low whistle that was answered by a rustle in the bushes, from which half a dozen armed ragamuffins of all shades of swarthiness, from jet black to light chocolate, appeared as though by magic. All were provided with machetes, some carried rifles, and each looked as though it would afford him the greatest pleasure to cut into small pieces the stranger who had invaded their territory.

"You see," said their leader, with a smile, "that you are hopelessly surrounded, and that with a nod I can have you killed."

"Yes, I see," replied Ridge, "and I should be pleased to know into whose hands I have fallen. Are you Cubano or a Spaniard?"

"And I will ask if you are American or Spaniard?"

"But my question came first," insisted Ridge.

"While I am in a position to have mine answered," replied the other, again smiling. "But I will not press it at this moment. We will first seek a place better suited to conversation, since here we are liable to be interrupted. The American gunboats have an unpleasant habit of dropping shells among any party whom they may discover on the beach. Then, too, many Cubanos have been seen about here lately, and they might molest us, while it is also nearly time for the Spanish lancha that patrols this coast at sunrise and sunset. So you see-- Disarm him!"

This last was an order to two men who had moved noiselessly up behind Ridge while his attention was diverted by their leader. Now they seized our