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diff --git a/43706-0.txt b/43706-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..364f3d2 --- /dev/null +++ b/43706-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7620 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43706 *** + +Transcriber's Note: Minor typographical errors have been corrected +without note. Irregularities and inconsistencies in the text have +been retained as printed. Words printed in italics are noted with +underscores: _italics_. + + + + +WOUNDS IN THE RAIN + +_War Stories_ + + +BY + +STEPHEN CRANE + +_Author of_ + +"The Red Badge of Courage," "Active Service," "War is Kind," etc. + + +New York +Frederick A. Stokes Company +_Publishers_ + +Copyright, 1899, by +S. S. MCCLURE COMPANY. + +Copyright, 1899, by +THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY. + +Copyright, 1899, by +FRANK LESLIE PUBLISHING HOUSE (Incorporated). + +Copyright, 1900, by +FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY. + +_All Rights Reserved._ + + + + + TO + + Moreton Frewen + + THIS SMALL TOKEN OF THINGS + + WELL REMEMBERED BY + + HIS FRIEND + + STEPHEN CRANE. + +BREDE PLACE, SUSSEX, _April_, 1900. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +THE PRICE OF THE HARNESS 1 + +THE LONE CHARGE OF WILLIAM B. PERKINS 33 + +THE CLAN OF NO-NAME 42 + +GOD REST YE, MERRY GENTLEMEN 74 + +THE REVENGE OF THE ADOLPHUS 107 + +THE SERGEANT'S PRIVATE MADHOUSE 138 + +VIRTUE IN WAR 152 + +MARINES SIGNALLING UNDER FIRE AT GUANTANAMO 178 + +THIS MAJESTIC LIE 190 + +WAR MEMORIES 229 + +THE SECOND GENERATION 309 + + + + +WOUNDS IN THE RAIN + + + + +THE PRICE OF THE HARNESS + + +I + +Twenty-five men were making a road out of a path up the hillside. The +light batteries in the rear were impatient to advance, but first must +be done all that digging and smoothing which gains no encrusted medals +from war. The men worked like gardeners, and a road was growing from +the old pack-animal trail. + +Trees arched from a field of guinea-grass which resembled young wild +corn. The day was still and dry. The men working were dressed in the +consistent blue of United States regulars. They looked indifferent, +almost stolid, despite the heat and the labour. There was little +talking. From time to time a Government pack-train, led by a +sleek-sided tender bell-mare, came from one way or the other way, and +the men stood aside as the strong, hard, black-and-tan animals crowded +eagerly after their curious little feminine leader. + +A volunteer staff-officer appeared, and, sitting on his horse in the +middle of the work, asked the sergeant in command some questions which +were apparently not relevant to any military business. Men straggling +along on various duties almost invariably spun some kind of a joke as +they passed. + +A corporal and four men were guarding boxes of spare ammunition at the +top of the hill, and one of the number often went to the foot of the +hill swinging canteens. + +The day wore down to the Cuban dusk, in which the shadows are all grim +and of ghostly shape. The men began to lift their eyes from the shovels +and picks, and glance in the direction of their camp. The sun threw his +last lance through the foliage. The steep mountain-range on the right +turned blue and as without detail as a curtain. The tiny ruby of light +ahead meant that the ammunition-guard were cooking their supper. From +somewhere in the world came a single rifle-shot. + +Figures appeared, dim in the shadow of the trees. A murmur, a sigh of +quiet relief, arose from the working party. Later, they swung up the +hill in an unformed formation, being always like soldiers, and unable +even to carry a spade save like United States regular soldiers. As they +passed through some fields, the bland white light of the end of the day +feebly touched each hard bronze profile. + +"Wonder if we'll git anythin' to eat," said Watkins, in a low voice. + +"Should think so," said Nolan, in the same tone. They betrayed no +impatience; they seemed to feel a kind of awe of the situation. + +The sergeant turned. One could see the cool grey eye flashing under the +brim of the campaign hat. "What in hell you fellers kickin' about?" he +asked. They made no reply, understanding that they were being +suppressed. + +As they moved on, a murmur arose from the tall grass on either hand. It +was the noise from the bivouac of ten thousand men, although one saw +practically nothing from the low-cart roadway. The sergeant led his +party up a wet clay bank and into a trampled field. Here were scattered +tiny white shelter tents, and in the darkness they were luminous like +the rearing stones in a graveyard. A few fires burned blood-red, and +the shadowy figures of men moved with no more expression of detail than +there is in the swaying of foliage on a windy night. + +The working party felt their way to where their tents were pitched. A +man suddenly cursed; he had mislaid something, and he knew he was not +going to find it that night. Watkins spoke again with the monotony of a +clock, "Wonder if we'll git anythin' to eat." + +Martin, with eyes turned pensively to the stars, began a treatise. +"Them Spaniards----" + +"Oh, quit it," cried Nolan. "What th' piper do you know about th' +Spaniards, you fat-headed Dutchman? Better think of your belly, you +blunderin' swine, an' what you're goin' to put in it, grass or dirt." + +A laugh, a sort of a deep growl, arose from the prostrate men. In the +meantime the sergeant had reappeared and was standing over them. "No +rations to-night," he said gruffly, and turning on his heel, walked +away. + +This announcement was received in silence. But Watkins had flung +himself face downward, and putting his lips close to a tuft of grass, +he formulated oaths. Martin arose and, going to his shelter, crawled in +sulkily. After a long interval Nolan said aloud, "Hell!" Grierson, +enlisted for the war, raised a querulous voice. "Well, I wonder when we +_will_ git fed?" + +From the ground about him came a low chuckle, full of ironical comment +upon Grierson's lack of certain qualities which the other men felt +themselves to possess. + + +II + +In the cold light of dawn the men were on their knees, packing, +strapping, and buckling. The comic toy hamlet of shelter-tents had been +wiped out as if by a cyclone. Through the trees could be seen the +crimson of a light battery's blankets, and the wheels creaked like the +sound of a musketry fight. Nolan, well gripped by his shelter tent, his +blanket, and his cartridge-belt, and bearing his rifle, advanced upon a +small group of men who were hastily finishing a can of coffee. + +"Say, give us a drink, will yeh?" he asked, wistfully. He was as +sad-eyed as an orphan beggar. + +Every man in the group turned to look him straight in the face. He had +asked for the principal ruby out of each one's crown. There was a grim +silence. Then one said, "What fer?" Nolan cast his glance to the +ground, and went away abashed. + +But he espied Watkins and Martin surrounding Grierson, who had gained +three pieces of hard-tack by mere force of his audacious inexperience. +Grierson was fending his comrades off tearfully. + +"Now, don't be damn pigs," he cried. "Hold on a minute." Here Nolan +asserted a claim. Grierson groaned. Kneeling piously, he divided the +hard-tack with minute care into four portions. The men, who had had +their heads together like players watching a wheel of fortune, arose +suddenly, each chewing. Nolan interpolated a drink of water, and sighed +contentedly. + +The whole forest seemed to be moving. From the field on the other side +of the road a column of men in blue was slowly pouring; the battery had +creaked on ahead; from the rear came a hum of advancing regiments. Then +from a mile away rang the noise of a shot; then another shot; in a +moment the rifles there were drumming, drumming, drumming. The +artillery boomed out suddenly. A day of battle was begun. + +The men made no exclamations. They rolled their eyes in the direction +of the sound, and then swept with a calm glance the forests and the +hills which surrounded them, implacably mysterious forests and hills +which lent to every rifle-shot the ominous quality which belongs to +secret assassination. The whole scene would have spoken to the private +soldiers of ambushes, sudden flank attacks, terrible disasters, if it +were not for those cool gentlemen with shoulder-straps and swords who, +the private soldiers knew, were of another world and omnipotent for the +business. + +The battalions moved out into the mud and began a leisurely march in +the damp shade of the trees. The advance of two batteries had churned +the black soil into a formidable paste. The brown leggings of the men, +stained with the mud of other days, took on a deeper colour. +Perspiration broke gently out on the reddish faces. With his heavy roll +of blanket and the half of a shelter-tent crossing his right shoulder +and under his left arm, each man presented the appearance of being +clasped from behind, wrestler fashion, by a pair of thick white arms. + +There was something distinctive in the way they carried their rifles. +There was the grace of an old hunter somewhere in it, the grace of a +man whose rifle has become absolutely a part of himself. Furthermore, +almost every blue shirt sleeve was rolled to the elbow, disclosing +fore-arms of almost incredible brawn. The rifles seemed light, almost +fragile, in the hands that were at the end of these arms, never fat but +always with rolling muscles and veins that seemed on the point of +bursting. And another thing was the silence and the marvellous +impassivity of the faces as the column made its slow way toward where +the whole forest spluttered and fluttered with battle. + +Opportunely, the battalion was halted a-straddle of a stream, and +before it again moved, most of the men had filled their canteens. The +firing increased. Ahead and to the left a battery was booming at +methodical intervals, while the infantry racket was that continual +drumming which, after all, often sounds like rain on a roof. Directly +ahead one could hear the deep voices of field-pieces. + +Some wounded Cubans were carried by in litters improvised from hammocks +swung on poles. One had a ghastly cut in the throat, probably from a +fragment of shell, and his head was turned as if Providence +particularly wished to display this wide and lapping gash to the long +column that was winding toward the front. And another Cuban, shot +through the groin, kept up a continual wail as he swung from the tread +of his bearers. "Ay--ee! Ay--ee! Madre mia! Madre mia!" He sang this +bitter ballad into the ears of at least three thousand men as they +slowly made way for his bearers on the narrow wood-path. These wounded +insurgents were, then, to a large part of the advancing army, the +visible messengers of bloodshed and death, and the men regarded them +with thoughtful awe. This doleful sobbing cry--"Madre mia"--was a +tangible consequent misery of all that firing on in front into which +the men knew they were soon to be plunged. Some of them wished to +inquire of the bearers the details of what had happened; but they could +not speak Spanish, and so it was as if fate had intentionally sealed +the lips of all in order that even meagre information might not leak +out concerning this mystery--battle. On the other hand, many unversed +private soldiers looked upon the unfortunate as men who had seen +thousands maimed and bleeding, and absolutely could not conjure any +further interest in such scenes. + +A young staff-officer passed on horseback. The vocal Cuban was always +wailing, but the officer wheeled past the bearers without heeding +anything. And yet he never before had seen such a sight. His case was +different from that of the private soldiers. He heeded nothing because +he was busy--immensely busy and hurried with a multitude of reasons and +desires for doing his duty perfectly. His whole life had been a mere +period of preliminary reflection for this situation, and he had no +clear idea of anything save his obligation as an officer. A man of this +kind might be stupid; it is conceivable that in remote cases certain +bumps on his head might be composed entirely of wood; but those +traditions of fidelity and courage which have been handed to him from +generation to generation, and which he has tenaciously preserved +despite the persecution of legislators and the indifference of his +country, make it incredible that in battle he should ever fail to give +his best blood and his best thought for his general, for his men, and +for himself. And so this young officer in the shapeless hat and the +torn and dirty shirt failed to heed the wails of the wounded man, even +as the pilgrim fails to heed the world as he raises his illumined face +toward his purpose--rightly or wrongly, his purpose--his sky of the +ideal of duty; and the wonderful part of it is, that he is guided by an +ideal which he has himself created, and has alone protected from +attack. The young man was merely an officer in the United States +regular army. + +The column swung across a shallow ford and took a road which passed the +right flank of one of the American batteries. On a hill it was booming +and belching great clouds of white smoke. The infantry looked up with +interest. Arrayed below the hill and behind the battery were the horses +and limbers, the riders checking their pawing mounts, and behind each +rider a red blanket flamed against the fervent green of the bushes. As +the infantry moved along the road, some of the battery horses turned at +the noise of the trampling feet and surveyed the men with eyes as deep +as wells, serene, mournful, generous eyes, lit heart-breakingly with +something that was akin to a philosophy, a religion of self-sacrifice--oh, +gallant, gallant horses! + +"I know a feller in that battery," said Nolan, musingly. "A driver." + +"Dam sight rather be a gunner," said Martin. + +"Why would ye?" said Nolan, opposingly. + +"Well, I'd take my chances as a gunner b'fore I'd sit way up in th' air +on a raw-boned plug an' git shot at." + +"Aw----" began Nolan. + +"They've had some losses t'-day all right," interrupted Grierson. + +"Horses?" asked Watkins. + +"Horses and men too," said Grierson. + +"How d'yeh know?" + +"A feller told me there by the ford." + +They kept only a part of their minds bearing on this discussion because +they could already hear high in the air the wire-string note of the +enemy's bullets. + + +III + +The road taken by this battalion as it followed other battalions is +something less than a mile long in its journey across a heavily-wooded +plain. It is greatly changed now,--in fact it was metamorphosed in two +days; but at that time it was a mere track through dense shrubbery, +from which rose great dignified arching trees. It was, in fact, a path +through a jungle. + +The battalion had no sooner left the battery in rear when bullets began +to drive overhead. They made several different sounds, but as these +were mainly high shots it was usual for them to make the faint note of +a vibrant string, touched elusively, half-dreamily. + +The military balloon, a fat, wavering, yellow thing, was leading the +advance like some new conception of war-god. Its bloated mass shone +above the trees, and served incidentally to indicate to the men at the +rear that comrades were in advance. The track itself exhibited for all +its visible length a closely-knit procession of soldiers in blue with +breasts crossed with white shelter-tents. The first ominous order of +battle came down the line. "Use the cut-off. Don't use the magazine +until you're ordered." Non-commissioned officers repeated the command +gruffly. A sound of clicking locks rattled along the columns. All men +knew that the time had come. + +The front had burst out with a roar like a brush-fire. The balloon was +dying, dying a gigantic and public death before the eyes of two armies. +It quivered, sank, faded into the trees amid the flurry of a battle +that was suddenly and tremendously like a storm. + +The American battery thundered behind the men with a shock that seemed +likely to tear the backs of their heads off. The Spanish shrapnel fled +on a line to their left, swirling and swishing in supernatural +velocity. The noise of the rifle bullets broke in their faces like the +noise of so many lamp-chimneys or sped overhead in swift cruel +spitting. And at the front the battle-sound, as if it were simply +music, was beginning to swell and swell until the volleys rolled like a +surf. + +The officers shouted hoarsely, "Come on, men! Hurry up, boys! Come on +now! Hurry up!" The soldiers, running heavily in their accoutrements, +dashed forward. A baggage guard was swiftly detailed; the men tore +their rolls from their shoulders as if the things were afire. The +battalion, stripped for action, again dashed forward. + +"Come on, men! Come on!" To them the battle was as yet merely a road +through the woods crowded with troops, who lowered their heads +anxiously as the bullets fled high. But a moment later the column +wheeled abruptly to the left and entered a field of tall green grass. +The line scattered to a skirmish formation. In front was a series of +knolls treed sparsely like orchards; and although no enemy was visible, +these knolls were all popping and spitting with rifle-fire. In some +places there were to be seen long grey lines of dirt, intrenchments. +The American shells were kicking up reddish clouds of dust from the +brow of one of the knolls, where stood a pagoda-like house. It was not +much like a battle with men; it was a battle with a bit of charming +scenery, enigmatically potent for death. + +Nolan knew that Martin had suddenly fallen. "What----" he began. + +"They've hit me," said Martin. + +"Jesus!" said Nolan. + +Martin lay on the ground, clutching his left forearm just below the +elbow with all the strength of his right hand. His lips were pursed +ruefully. He did not seem to know what to do. He continued to stare at +his arm. + +Then suddenly the bullets drove at them low and hard. The men flung +themselves face downward in the grass. Nolan lost all thought of his +friend. Oddly enough, he felt somewhat like a man hiding under a bed, +and he was just as sure that he could not raise his head high without +being shot as a man hiding under a bed is sure that he cannot raise his +head without bumping it. + +A lieutenant was seated in the grass just behind him. He was in the +careless and yet rigid pose of a man balancing a loaded plate on his +knee at a picnic. He was talking in soothing paternal tones. + +"Now, don't get rattled. We're all right here. Just as safe as being in +church.... They're all going high. Don't mind them.... Don't mind +them.... They're all going high. We've got them rattled and they can't +shoot straight. Don't mind them." + +The sun burned down steadily from a pale blue sky upon the crackling +woods and knolls and fields. From the roar of musketry it might have +been that the celestial heat was frying this part of the world. + +Nolan snuggled close to the grass. He watched a grey line of +intrenchments, above which floated the veriest gossamer of smoke. A +flag lolled on a staff behind it. The men in the trench volleyed +whenever an American shell exploded near them. It was some kind of +infantile defiance. Frequently a bullet came from the woods directly +behind Nolan and his comrades. They thought at the time that these +bullets were from the rifle of some incompetent soldier of their own +side. + +There was no cheering. The men would have looked about them, wondering +where was the army, if it were not that the crash of the fighting for +the distance of a mile denoted plainly enough where was the army. + +Officially, the battalion had not yet fired a shot; there had been +merely some irresponsible popping by men on the extreme left flank. But +it was known that the lieutenant-colonel who had been in command was +dead--shot through the heart--and that the captains were thinned down +to two. At the rear went on a long tragedy, in which men, bent and +hasty, hurried to shelter with other men, helpless, dazed, and bloody. +Nolan knew of it all from the hoarse and affrighted voices which he +heard as he lay flattened in the grass. There came to him a sense of +exultation. Here, then, was one of those dread and lurid situations, +which in a nation's history stand out in crimson letters, becoming a +tale of blood to stir generation after generation. And he was in it, +and unharmed. If he lived through the battle, he would be a hero of the +desperate fight at ----; and here he wondered for a second what fate +would be pleased to bestow as a name for this battle. + +But it is quite sure that hardly another man in the battalion was +engaged in any thoughts concerning the historic. On the contrary, they +deemed it ill that they were being badly cut up on a most unimportant +occasion. It would have benefited the conduct of whoever were weak if +they had known that they were engaged in a battle that would be famous +for ever. + + +IV + +Martin had picked himself up from where the bullet had knocked him and +addressed the lieutenant. "I'm hit, sir," he said. + +The lieutenant was very busy. "All right, all right," he said, just +heeding the man enough to learn where he was wounded. "Go over that +way. You ought to see a dressing-station under those trees." + +Martin found himself dizzy and sick. The sensation in his arm was +distinctly galvanic. The feeling was so strange that he could wonder at +times if a wound was really what ailed him. Once, in this dazed way, he +examined his arm; he saw the hole. Yes, he was shot; that was it. And +more than in any other way it affected him with a profound sadness. + +As directed by the lieutenant, he went to the clump of trees, but he +found no dressing-station there. He found only a dead soldier lying +with his face buried in his arms and with his shoulders humped high as +if he were convulsively sobbing. Martin decided to make his way to the +road, deeming that he thus would better his chances of getting to a +surgeon. But he suddenly found his way blocked by a fence of barbed +wire. Such was his mental condition that he brought up at a rigid halt +before this fence, and stared stupidly at it. It did not seem to him +possible that this obstacle could be defeated by any means. The fence +was there, and it stopped his progress. He could not go in that +direction. + +But as he turned he espied that procession of wounded men, strange +pilgrims, that had already worn a path in the tall grass. They were +passing through a gap in the fence. Martin joined them. The bullets +were flying over them in sheets, but many of them bore themselves as +men who had now exacted from fate a singular immunity. Generally there +were no outcries, no kicking, no talk at all. They too, like Martin, +seemed buried in a vague but profound melancholy. + +But there was one who cried out loudly. A man shot in the head was +being carried arduously by four comrades, and he continually yelled one +word that was terrible in its primitive strength,--"Bread! Bread! +Bread!" Following him and his bearers were a limping crowd of men less +cruelly wounded, who kept their eyes always fixed on him, as if they +gained from his extreme agony some balm for their own sufferings. + +"Bread! Give me bread!" + +Martin plucked a man by the sleeve. The man had been shot in the foot, +and was making his way with the help of a curved, incompetent stick. It +is an axiom of war that wounded men can never find straight sticks. + +"What's the matter with that feller?" asked Martin. + +"Nutty," said the man. + +"Why is he?" + +"Shot in th' head," answered the other, impatiently. + +The wail of the sufferer arose in the field amid the swift rasp of +bullets and the boom and shatter of shrapnel. "Bread! Bread! Oh, God, +can't you give me bread? Bread!" The bearers of him were suffering +exquisite agony, and often they exchanged glances which exhibited their +despair of ever getting free of this tragedy. It seemed endless. + +"Bread! Bread! Bread!" + +But despite the fact that there was always in the way of this crowd a +wistful melancholy, one must know that there were plenty of men who +laughed, laughed at their wounds whimsically, quaintly inventing odd +humours concerning bicycles and cabs, extracting from this shedding of +their blood a wonderful amount of material for cheerful badinage, and, +with their faces twisted from pain as they stepped, they often joked +like music-hall stars. And perhaps this was the most tearful part of +all. + +They trudged along a road until they reached a ford. Here under the +eave of the bank lay a dismal company. In the mud and in the damp shade +of some bushes were a half-hundred pale-faced men prostrate. Two or +three surgeons were working there. Also, there was a chaplain, +grim-mouthed, resolute, his surtout discarded. Overhead always was that +incessant maddening wail of bullets. + +Martin was standing gazing drowsily at the scene when a surgeon grabbed +him. "Here, what's the matter with you?" Martin was daunted. He +wondered what he had done that the surgeon should be so angry with him. + +"In the arm," he muttered, half-shamefacedly. + +After the surgeon had hastily and irritably bandaged the injured member +he glared at Martin and said, "You can walk all right, can't you?" + +"Yes, sir," said Martin. + +"Well, now, you just make tracks down that road." + +"Yes, sir." Martin went meekly off. The doctor had seemed exasperated +almost to the point of madness. + +The road was at this time swept with the fire of a body of Spanish +sharpshooters who had come cunningly around the flanks of the American +army, and were now hidden in the dense foliage that lined both sides of +the road. They were shooting at everything. The road was as crowded as +a street in a city, and at an absurdly short range they emptied their +rifles at the passing people. They were aided always by the over-sweep +from the regular Spanish line of battle. + +Martin was sleepy from his wound. He saw tragedy follow tragedy, but +they created in him no feeling of horror. + +A man with a red cross on his arm was leaning against a great tree. +Suddenly he tumbled to the ground, and writhed for a moment in the way +of a child oppressed with colic. A comrade immediately began to bustle +importantly. "Here," he called to Martin, "help me carry this man, will +you?" + +Martin looked at him with dull scorn. "I'll be damned if I do," he +said. "Can't carry myself, let alone somebody else." + +This answer, which rings now so inhuman, pitiless, did not affect the +other man. "Well, all right," he said. "Here comes some other fellers." +The wounded man had now turned blue-grey; his eyes were closed; his +body shook in a gentle, persistent chill. + +Occasionally Martin came upon dead horses, their limbs sticking out and +up like stakes. One beast mortally shot, was besieged by three or four +men who were trying to push it into the bushes, where it could live its +brief time of anguish without thrashing to death any of the wounded men +in the gloomy procession. + +The mule train, with extra ammunition, charged toward the front, still +led by the tinkling bell-mare. + +An ambulance was stuck momentarily in the mud, and above the crack of +battle one could hear the familiar objurgations of the driver as he +whirled his lash. + +Two privates were having a hard time with a wounded captain, whom they +were supporting to the rear, He was half cursing, half wailing out the +information that he not only would not go another step toward the rear, +but that he was certainly going to return at once to the front. They +begged, pleaded at great length as they continually headed him off. +They were not unlike two nurses with an exceptionally bad and +headstrong little duke. + +The wounded soldiers paused to look impassively upon this struggle. +They were always like men who could not be aroused by anything further. + +The visible hospital was mainly straggling thickets intersected with +narrow paths, the ground being covered with men. Martin saw a busy +person with a book and a pencil, but he did not approach him to become +officially a member of the hospital. All he desired was rest and +immunity from nagging. He took seat painfully under a bush and leaned +his back upon the trunk. There he remained thinking, his face wooden. + + +V + +"My Gawd," said Nolan, squirming on his belly in the grass, "I can't +stand this much longer." + +Then suddenly every rifle in the firing line seemed to go off of its +own accord. It was the result of an order, but few men heard the order; +in the main they had fired because they heard others fire, and their +sense was so quick that the volley did not sound too ragged. These +marksmen had been lying for nearly an hour in stony silence, their +sights adjusted, their fingers fondling their rifles, their eyes +staring at the intrenchments of the enemy. The battalion had suffered +heavy losses, and these losses had been hard to bear, for a soldier +always reasons that men lost during a period of inaction are men badly +lost. + +The line now sounded like a great machine set to running frantically in +the open air, the bright sunshine of a green field. To the prut of the +magazine rifles was added the under-chorus of the clicking mechanism, +steady and swift, as if the hand of one operator was controlling it +all. It reminds one always of a loom, a great grand steel loom, +clinking, clanking, plunking, plinking, to weave a woof of thin red +threads, the cloth of death. By the men's shoulders under their eager +hands dropped continually the yellow empty shells, spinning into the +crushed grass blades to remain there and mark for the belated eye the +line of a battalion's fight. + +All impatience, all rebellious feeling, had passed out of the men as +soon as they had been allowed to use their weapons against the enemy. +They now were absorbed in this business of hitting something, and all +the long training at the rifle ranges, all the pride of the marksman +which had been so long alive in them, made them forget for the time +everything but shooting. They were as deliberate and exact as so many +watchmakers. + +A new sense of safety was rightfully upon them. They knew that those +mysterious men in the high far trenches in front were having the +bullets sping in their faces with relentless and remarkable precision; +they knew, in fact, that they were now doing the thing which they had +been trained endlessly to do, and they knew they were doing it well. +Nolan, for instance, was overjoyed. "Plug 'em," he said: "Plug 'em." He +laid his face to his rifle as if it were his mistress. He was aiming +under the shadow of a certain portico of a fortified house: there he +could faintly see a long black line which he knew to be a loop-hole cut +for riflemen, and he knew that every shot of his was going there under +the portico, mayhap through the loop-hole to the brain of another man +like himself. He loaded the awkward magazine of his rifle again and +again. He was so intent that he did not know of new orders until he saw +the men about him scrambling to their feet and running forward, +crouching low as they ran. + +He heard a shout. "Come on, boys! We can't be last! We're going up! +We're going up." He sprang to his feet and, stooping, ran with the +others. Something fine, soft, gentle, touched his heart as he ran. He +had loved the regiment, the army, because the regiment, the army, was +his life,--he had no other outlook; and now these men, his comrades, +were performing his dream-scenes for him; they were doing as he had +ordained in his visions. It is curious that in this charge he +considered himself as rather unworthy. Although he himself was in the +assault with the rest of them, it seemed to him that his comrades were +dazzlingly courageous. His part, to his mind, was merely that of a man +who was going along with the crowd. + +He saw Grierson biting madly with his pincers at a barbed-wire fence. +They were half-way up the beautiful sylvan slope; there was no enemy to +be seen, and yet the landscape rained bullets. Somebody punched him +violently in the stomach. He thought dully to lie down and rest, but +instead he fell with a crash. + +The sparse line of men in blue shirts and dirty slouch hats swept on up +the hill. He decided to shut his eyes for a moment because he felt very +dreamy and peaceful. It seemed only a minute before he heard a voice +say, "There he is." Grierson and Watkins had come to look for him. He +searched their faces at once and keenly, for he had a thought that the +line might be driven down the hill and leave him in Spanish hands. But +he saw that everything was secure, and he prepared no questions. + +"Nolan," said Grierson clumsily, "do you know me?" + +The man on the ground smiled softly. "Of course I know you, you +chowder-faced monkey. Why wouldn't I know you?" + +Watkins knelt beside him. "Where did they plug you, old boy?" + +Nolan was somewhat dubious. "It ain't much. I don't think but it's +somewheres there." He laid a finger on the pit of his stomach. They +lifted his shirt, and then privately they exchanged a glance of horror. + +"Does it hurt, Jimmie?" said Grierson, hoarsely. + +"No," said Nolan, "it don't hurt any, but I feel sort of +dead-to-the-world and numb all over. I don't think it's very bad." + +"Oh, it's all right," said Watkins. + +"What I need is a drink," said Nolan, grinning at them. "I'm +chilly--lying on this damp ground." + +"It ain't very damp, Jimmie," said Grierson. + +"Well, it is damp," said Nolan, with sudden irritability. "I can feel +it. I'm wet, I tell you--wet through--just from lying here." + +They answered hastily. "Yes, that's so, Jimmie. It _is_ damp. That's +so." + +"Just put your hand under my back and see how wet the ground is," he +said. + +"No," they answered. "That's all right, Jimmie. We know it's wet." + +"Well, put your hand under and see," he cried, stubbornly. + +"Oh, never mind, Jimmie." + +"No," he said, in a temper. "See for yourself." Grierson seemed to be +afraid of Nolan's agitation, and so he slipped a hand under the +prostrate man, and presently withdrew it covered with blood. "Yes," he +said, hiding his hand carefully from Nolan's eyes, "you were right, +Jimmie." + +"Of course I was," said Nolan, contentedly closing his eyes. "This +hillside holds water like a swamp." After a moment he said, "Guess I +ought to know. I'm flat here on it, and you fellers are standing up." + +He did not know he was dying. He thought he was holding an argument on +the condition of the turf. + + +VI + +"Cover his face," said Grierson, in a low and husky voice afterwards. + +"What'll I cover it with?" said Watkins. + +They looked at themselves. They stood in their shirts, trousers, +leggings, shoes; they had nothing. + +"Oh," said Grierson, "here's his hat." He brought it and laid it on the +face of the dead man. They stood for a time. It was apparent that they +thought it essential and decent to say or do something. Finally Watkins +said in a broken voice, "Aw, it's a dam shame." They moved slowly off +toward the firing line. + + * * * * * + +In the blue gloom of evening, in one of the fever-tents, the two rows +of still figures became hideous, charnel. The languid movement of a +hand was surrounded with spectral mystery, and the occasional painful +twisting of a body under a blanket was terrifying, as if dead men were +moving in their graves under the sod. A heavy odour of sickness and +medicine hung in the air. + +"What regiment are you in?" said a feeble voice. + +"Twenty-ninth Infantry," answered another voice. + +"Twenty-ninth! Why, the man on the other side of me is in the +Twenty-ninth." + +"He is?... Hey, there, partner, are you in the Twenty-ninth?" + +A third voice merely answered wearily. "Martin of C Company." + +"What? Jack, is that you?" + +"It's part of me.... Who are you?" + +"Grierson, you fat-head. I thought you were wounded." + +There was the noise of a man gulping a great drink of water, and at its +conclusion Martin said, "I am." + +"Well, what you doin' in the fever-place, then?" + +Martin replied with drowsy impatience. "Got the fever too." + +"Gee!" said Grierson. + +Thereafter there was silence in the fever-tent, save for the noise made +by a man over in a corner--a kind of man always found in an American +crowd--a heroic, implacable comedian and patriot, of a humour that has +bitterness and ferocity and love in it, and he was wringing from the +situation a grim meaning by singing the "Star-Spangled Banner" with all +the ardour which could be procured from his fever-stricken body. + +"Billie," called Martin in a low voice, "where's Jimmy Nolan?" + +"He's dead," said Grierson. + +A triangle of raw gold light shone on a side of the tent. Somewhere in +the valley an engine's bell was ringing, and it sounded of peace and +home as if it hung on a cow's neck. + +"And where's Ike Watkins?" + +"Well, he ain't dead, but he got shot through the lungs. They say he +ain't got much show." + +Through the clouded odours of sickness and medicine rang the dauntless +voice of the man in the corner. + + + + +THE LONE CHARGE OF WILLIAM B. PERKINS + + +He could not distinguish between a five-inch quick-firing gun and a +nickle-plated ice-pick, and so, naturally, he had been elected to fill +the position of war-correspondent. The responsible party was the editor +of the "Minnesota Herald." Perkins had no information of war, and no +particular rapidity of mind for acquiring it, but he had that rank and +fibrous quality of courage which springs from the thick soil of Western +America. + +It was morning in Guantanamo Bay. If the marines encamped on the hill +had had time to turn their gaze seaward, they might have seen a small +newspaper despatch-boat wending its way toward the entrance of the +harbour over the blue, sunlit waters of the Caribbean. In the stern of +this tug Perkins was seated upon some coal bags, while the breeze +gently ruffled his greasy pajamas. He was staring at a brown line of +entrenchments surmounted by a flag, which was Camp McCalla. In the +harbour were anchored two or three grim, grey cruisers and a transport. +As the tug steamed up the radiant channel, Perkins could see men moving +on shore near the charred ruins of a village. Perkins was deeply moved; +here already was more war than he had ever known in Minnesota. +Presently he, clothed in the essential garments of a war-correspondent, +was rowed to the sandy beach. Marines in yellow linen were handling an +ammunition supply. They paid no attention to the visitor, being morose +from the inconveniences of two days and nights of fighting. Perkins +toiled up the zigzag path to the top of the hill, and looked with eager +eyes at the trenches, the field-pieces, the funny little Colts, the +flag, the grim marines lying wearily on their arms. And still more, he +looked through the clear air over 1,000 yards of mysterious woods from +which emanated at inopportune times repeated flocks of Mauser bullets. + +Perkins was delighted. He was filled with admiration for these jaded +and smoky men who lay so quietly in the trenches waiting for a +resumption of guerilla enterprise. But he wished they would heed him. +He wanted to talk about it. Save for sharp inquiring glances, no one +acknowledged his existence. + +Finally he approached two young lieutenants, and in his innocent +Western way he asked them if they would like a drink. The effect on the +two young lieutenants was immediate and astonishing. With one voice +they answered, "Yes, we would." Perkins almost wept with joy at this +amiable response, and he exclaimed that he would immediately board the +tug and bring off a bottle of Scotch. This attracted the officers, and +in a burst of confidence one explained that there had not been a drop +in camp. Perkins lunged down the hill, and fled to his boat, where in +his exuberance he engaged in a preliminary altercation with some +whisky. Consequently he toiled again up the hill in the blasting sun +with his enthusiasm in no ways abated. The parched officers were very +gracious, and such was the state of mind of Perkins that he did not +note properly how serious and solemn was his engagement with the +whisky. And because of this fact, and because of his antecedents, there +happened the lone charge of William B. Perkins. + +Now, as Perkins went down the hill, something happened. A private in +those high trenches found that a cartridge was clogged in his rifle. It +then becomes necessary with most kinds of rifles to explode the +cartridge. The private took the rifle to his captain, and explained the +case. But it would not do in that camp to fire a rifle for mechanical +purposes and without warning, because the eloquent sound would bring +six hundred tired marines to tension and high expectancy. So the +captain turned, and in a loud voice announced to the camp that he found +it necessary to shoot into the air. The communication rang sharply from +voice to voice. Then the captain raised the weapon and fired. +Whereupon--and whereupon--a large line of guerillas lying in the bushes +decided swiftly that their presence and position were discovered, and +swiftly they volleyed. + +In a moment the woods and the hills were alive with the crack and +sputter of rifles. Men on the warships in the harbour heard the old +familiar flut-flut-fluttery-fluttery-flut-flut-flut from the +entrenchments. Incidentally the launch of the "Marblehead," commanded +by one of our headlong American ensigns, streaked for the strategic +woods like a galloping marine dragoon, peppering away with its +blunderbuss in the bow. + +Perkins had arrived at the foot of the hill, where began the arrangement +of 150 marines that protected the short line of communication between the +main body and the beach. These men had all swarmed into line behind +fortifications improvised from the boxes of provisions. And to them were +gathering naked men who had been bathing, naked men who arrayed themselves +speedily in cartridge belts and rifles. The woods and the hills went +flut-flut-flut-fluttery-fluttery-flut-fllllluttery-flut. Under the +boughs of a beautiful tree lay five wounded men thinking vividly. + +And now it befell Perkins to discover a Spaniard in the bush. The +distance was some five hundred yards. In a loud voice he announced his +perception. He also declared hoarsely, that if he only had a rifle, he +would go and possess himself of this particular enemy. Immediately an +amiable lad shot in the arm said: "Well, take mine." Perkins thus +acquired a rifle and a clip of five cartridges. + +"Come on!" he shouted. This part of the battalion was lying very tight, +not yet being engaged, but not knowing when the business would swirl +around to them. + +To Perkins they replied with a roar. "Come back here, you ---- fool. Do +you want to get shot by your own crowd? Come back, ---- ----!" As a +detail, it might be mentioned that the fire from a part of the hill +swept the journey upon which Perkins had started. + +Now behold the solitary Perkins adrift in the storm of fighting, even +as a champagne jacket of straw is lost in a great surf. He found it out +quickly. Four seconds elapsed before he discovered that he was an +almshouse idiot plunging through hot, crackling thickets on a June +morning in Cuba. Sss-s-swing-sing-ing-pop went the lightning-swift +metal grasshoppers over him and beside him. The beauties of rural +Minnesota illuminated his conscience with the gold of lazy corn, with +the sleeping green of meadows, with the cathedral gloom of pine +forests. Sshsh-swing-pop! Perkins decided that if he cared to extract +himself from a tangle of imbecility he must shoot. The entire situation +was that he must shoot. It was necessary that he should shoot. Nothing +would save him but shooting. It is a law that men thus decide when the +waters of battle close over their minds. So with a prayer that the +Americans would not hit him in the back nor the left side, and that the +Spaniards would not hit him in the front, he knelt like a supplicant +alone in the desert of chaparral, and emptied his magazine at his +Spaniard before he discovered that his Spaniard was a bit of dried palm +branch. + +Then Perkins flurried like a fish. His reason for being was a Spaniard +in the bush. When the Spaniard turned into a dried palm branch, he +could no longer furnish himself with one adequate reason. + +Then did he dream frantically of some anthracite hiding-place, some +profound dungeon of peace where blind mules live placidly chewing the +far-gathered hay. + +"Sss-swing-win-pop! Prut-prut-prrrut!" Then a field-gun spoke. +"_Boom_-ra-swow-ow-ow-ow-_pum_." Then a Colt automatic began to bark. +"Crack-crk-crk-crk-crk-crk" endlessly. Raked, enfiladed, flanked, +surrounded, and overwhelmed, what hope was there for William B. Perkins +of the "Minnesota Herald?" + +But war is a spirit. War provides for those that it loves. It provides +sometimes death and sometimes a singular and incredible safety. There +were few ways in which it was possible to preserve Perkins. One way was +by means of a steam-boiler. + +Perkins espied near him an old, rusty steam-boiler lying in the bushes. +War only knows how it was there, but there it was, a temple shining +resplendent with safety. With a moan of haste, Perkins flung himself +through that hole which expressed the absence of the steam-pipe. + +Then ensconced in his boiler, Perkins comfortably listened to the ring +of a fight which seemed to be in the air above him. Sometimes bullets +struck their strong, swift blow against the boiler's sides, but none +entered to interfere with Perkins's rest. + +Time passed. The fight, short anyhow, dwindled to prut ... prut ... +prut-prut ... prut. And when the silence came, Perkins might have been +seen cautiously protruding from the boiler. Presently he strolled back +toward the marine lines with his hat not able to fit his head for the +new bumps of wisdom that were on it. + +The marines, with an annoyed air, were settling down again when an +apparitional figure came from the bushes. There was great excitement. + +"It's that crazy man," they shouted, and as he drew near they gathered +tumultuously about him and demanded to know how he had accomplished it. + +Perkins made a gesture, the gesture of a man escaping from an +unintentional mud-bath, the gesture of a man coming out of battle, and +then he told them. + +The incredulity was immediate and general. "Yes, you did! What? In an +old boiler? An old boiler? Out in that brush? Well, we guess not." They +did not believe him until two days later, when a patrol happened to +find the rusty boiler, relic of some curious transaction in the ruin of +the Cuban sugar industry. The patrol then marvelled at the truthfulness +of war-correspondents until they were almost blind. + +Soon after his adventure Perkins boarded the tug, wearing a countenance +of poignant thoughtfulness. + + + + +THE CLAN OF NO-NAME + + Unwind my riddle. + Cruel as hawks the hours fly; + Wounded men seldom come home to die; + The hard waves see an arm flung high; + Scorn hits strong because of a lie; + Yet there exists a mystic tie. + Unwind my riddle. + + +She was out in the garden. Her mother came to her rapidly. "Margharita! +Margharita, Mister Smith is here! Come!" Her mother was fat and +commercially excited. Mister Smith was a matter of some importance to +all Tampa people, and since he was really in love with Margharita he +was distinctly of more importance to this particular household. + +Palm trees tossed their sprays over the fence toward the rutted sand of +the street. A little foolish fish-pond in the centre of the garden +emitted a sound of red-fins flipping, flipping. "No, mamma," said the +girl, "let Mr. Smith wait. I like the garden in the moonlight." + +Her mother threw herself into that state of virtuous astonishment which +is the weapon of her kind. "Margharita!" + +The girl evidently considered herself to be a privileged belle, for she +answered quite carelessly, "Oh, let him wait." + +The mother threw abroad her arms with a semblance of great high-minded +suffering and withdrew. Margharita walked alone in the moonlit garden. +Also an electric light threw its shivering gleam over part of her +parade. + +There was peace for a time. Then suddenly through the faint brown +palings was struck an envelope white and square. Margharita approached +this envelope with an indifferent stride. She hummed a silly air, she +bore herself casually, but there was something that made her grasp it +hard, a peculiar muscular exhibition, not discernible to indifferent +eyes. She did not clutch it, but she took it--simply took it in a way +that meant everything, and, to measure it by vision, it was a picture +of the most complete disregard. + +She stood straight for a moment; then she drew from her bosom a +photograph and thrust it through the palings. She walked rapidly into +the house. + + +II + +A man in garb of blue and white--something relating to what we call +bed-ticking--was seated in a curious little cupola on the top of a +Spanish blockhouse. The blockhouse sided a white military road that +curved away from the man's sight into a blur of trees. On all sides of +him were fields of tall grass, studded with palms and lined with fences +of barbed wire. The sun beat aslant through the trees and the man sped +his eyes deep into the dark tropical shadows that seemed velvet with +coolness. These tranquil vistas resembled painted scenery in a theatre, +and, moreover, a hot, heavy silence lay upon the land. + +The soldier in the watching place leaned an unclean Mauser rifle in a +corner, and, reaching down, took a glowing coal on a bit of palm bark +handed up to him by a comrade. The men below were mainly asleep. The +sergeant in command drowsed near the open door, the arm above his head, +showing his long keen-angled chevrons attached carelessly with +safety-pins. The sentry lit his cigarette and puffed languorously. + +Suddenly he heard from the air around him the querulous, deadly-swift +spit of rifle-bullets, and, an instant later, the poppety-pop of a +small volley sounded in his face, close, as if it were fired only ten +feet away. Involuntarily he threw back his head quickly as if he were +protecting his nose from a falling tile. He screamed an alarm and fell +into the blockhouse. In the gloom of it, men with their breaths coming +sharply between their teeth, were tumbling wildly for positions at the +loop-holes. The door had been slammed, but the sergeant lay just +within, propped up as when he drowsed, but now with blood flowing +steadily over the hand that he pressed flatly to his chest. His face +was in stark yellow agony; he chokingly repeated: "Fuego! Por Dios, +hombres!" + +The men's ill-conditioned weapons were jammed through the loop-holes +and they began to fire from all four sides of the blockhouse from the +simple data, apparently, that the enemy were in the vicinity. The fumes +of burnt powder grew stronger and stronger in the little square +fortress. The rattling of the magazine locks was incessant, and the +interior might have been that of a gloomy manufactory if it were not +for the sergeant down under the feet of the men, coughing out: "Por +Dios, hombres! Por Dios! Fuego!" + + +III + +A string of five Cubans, in linen that had turned earthy brown in +colour, slid through the woods at a pace that was neither a walk nor a +run. It was a kind of rack. In fact the whole manner of the men, as +they thus moved, bore a rather comic resemblance to the American pacing +horse. But they had come many miles since sun-up over mountainous and +half-marked paths, and were plainly still fresh. The men were all +practicos--guides. They made no sound in their swift travel, but moved +their half-shod feet with the skill of cats. The woods lay around them +in a deep silence, such as one might find at the bottom of a lake. + +Suddenly the leading practico raised his hand. The others pulled up +short and dropped the butts of their weapons calmly and noiselessly to +the ground. The leader whistled a low note and immediately another +practico appeared from the bushes. He moved close to the leader without +a word, and then they spoke in whispers. + +"There are twenty men and a sergeant in the blockhouse." + +"And the road?" + +"One company of cavalry passed to the east this morning at seven +o'clock. They were escorting four carts. An hour later, one horseman +rode swiftly to the westward. About noon, ten infantry soldiers with a +corporal were taken from the big fort and put in the first blockhouse, +to the east of the fort. There were already twelve men there. We saw a +Spanish column moving off toward Mariel." + +"No more?" + +"No more." + +"Good. But the cavalry?" + +"It is all right. They were going a long march." + +"The expedition is a half league behind. Go and tell the general." + +The scout disappeared. The five other men lifted their guns and resumed +their rapid and noiseless progress. A moment later no sound broke the +stillness save the thump of a mango, as it dropped lazily from its tree +to the grass. So strange had been the apparition of these men, their +dress had been so allied in colour to the soil, their passing had so +little disturbed the solemn rumination of the forest, and their going +had been so like a spectral dissolution, that a witness could have +wondered if he dreamed. + + +IV + +A small expedition had landed with arms from the United States, and had +now come out of the hills and to the edge of a wood. Before them was a +long-grassed rolling prairie marked with palms. A half-mile away was +the military road, and they could see the top of a blockhouse. The +insurgent scouts were moving somewhere off in the grass. The general +sat comfortably under a tree, while his staff of three young officers +stood about him chatting. Their linen clothing was notable from being +distinctly whiter than those of the men who, one hundred and fifty in +number, lay on the ground in a long brown fringe, ragged--indeed, bare +in many places--but singularly reposeful, unworried, veteran-like. + +The general, however, was thoughtful. He pulled continually at his +little thin moustache. As far as the heavily patrolled and guarded +military road was concerned, the insurgents had been in the habit of +dashing across it in small bodies whenever they pleased, but to safely +scoot over it with a valuable convoy of arms, was decidedly a more +important thing. So the general awaited the return of his practicos +with anxiety. The still pampas betrayed no sign of their existence. + +The general gave some orders and an officer counted off twenty men to +go with him, and delay any attempt of the troop of cavalry to return +from the eastward. It was not an easy task, but it was a familiar +task--checking the advance of a greatly superior force by a very hard +fire from concealment. A few rifles had often bayed a strong column for +sufficient length of time for all strategic purposes. The twenty men +pulled themselves together tranquilly. They looked quite indifferent. +Indeed, they had the supremely casual manner of old soldiers, hardened +to battle as a condition of existence. + +Thirty men were then told off, whose function it was to worry and rag +at the blockhouse, and check any advance from the westward. A hundred +men, carrying precious burdens--besides their own equipment--were to +pass in as much of a rush as possible between these two wings, cross +the road and skip for the hills, their retreat being covered by a +combination of the two firing parties. It was a trick that needed both +luck and neat arrangement. Spanish columns were for ever prowling +through this province in all directions and at all times. Insurgent +bands--the lightest of light infantry--were kept on the jump, even when +they were not incommoded by fifty boxes, each one large enough for the +coffin of a little man, and heavier than if the little man were in it; +and fifty small but formidable boxes of ammunition. + +The carriers stood to their boxes and the firing parties leaned on +their rifles. The general arose and strolled to and fro, his hands +behind him. Two of his staff were jesting at the third, a young man +with a face less bronzed, and with very new accoutrements. On the strap +of his cartouche were a gold star and a silver star, placed in a +horizontal line, denoting that he was a second lieutenant. He seemed +very happy; he laughed at all their jests, although his eye roved +continually over the sunny grass-lands, where was going to happen his +first fight. One of his stars was bright, like his hopes, the other was +pale, like death. + +Two practicos came racking out of the grass. They spoke rapidly to the +general; he turned and nodded to his officers. The two firing parties +filed out and diverged toward their positions. The general watched them +through his glasses. It was strange to note how soon they were dim to +the unaided eye. The little patches of brown in the green grass did not +look like men at all. + +Practicos continually ambled up to the general. Finally he turned and +made a sign to the bearers. The first twenty men in line picked up +their boxes, and this movement rapidly spread to the tail of the line. +The weighted procession moved painfully out upon the sunny prairie. The +general, marching at the head of it, glanced continually back as if he +were compelled to drag behind him some ponderous iron chain. Besides +the obvious mental worry, his face bore an expression of intense +physical strain, and he even bent his shoulders, unconsciously tugging +at the chain to hurry it through this enemy-crowded valley. + + +V + +The fight was opened by eight men who, snuggling in the grass, within +three hundred yards of the blockhouse, suddenly blazed away at the +bed-ticking figure in the cupola and at the open door where they could +see vague outlines. Then they laughed and yelled insulting language, +for they knew that as far as the Spaniards were concerned, the surprise +was as much as having a diamond bracelet turn to soap. It was this +volley that smote the sergeant and caused the man in the cupola to +scream and tumble from his perch. + +The eight men, as well as all other insurgents within fair range, had +chosen good positions for lying close, and for a time they let the +blockhouse rage, although the soldiers therein could occasionally hear, +above the clamour of their weapons, shrill and almost wolfish calls, +coming from men whose lips were laid against the ground. But it is not +in the nature of them of Spanish blood, and armed with rifles, to long +endure the sight of anything so tangible as an enemy's blockhouse +without shooting at it--other conditions being partly favourable. +Presently the steaming soldiers in the little fort could hear the sping +and shiver of bullets striking the wood that guarded their bodies. + +A perfectly white smoke floated up over each firing Cuban, the penalty +of the Remington rifle, but about the blockhouse there was only the +lightest gossamer of blue. The blockhouse stood always for some big, +clumsy and rather incompetent animal, while the insurgents, scattered +on two sides of it, were little enterprising creatures of another +species, too wise to come too near, but joyously raging at its easiest +flanks and drilling the lead into its sides in a way to make it fume, +and spit and rave like the tom-cat when the glad, free-band fox-hound +pups catch him in the lane. + +The men, outlying in the grass, chuckled deliriously at the fury of the +Spanish fire. They howled opprobrium to encourage the Spaniards to fire +more ill-used, incapable bullets. Whenever an insurgent was about to +fire, he ordinarily prefixed the affair with a speech. "Do you want +something to eat? Yes? All right." Bang! "Eat that." The more common +expressions of the incredibly foul Spanish tongue were trifles light as +air in this badinage, which was shrieked out from the grass during the +spin of bullets, and the dull rattle of the shooting. + +But at some time there came a series of sounds from the east that began +in a few disconnected pruts and ended as if an amateur was trying to +play the long roll upon a muffled drum. Those of the insurgents in the +blockhouse attacking party, who had neighbours in the grass, turned and +looked at them seriously. They knew what the new sound meant. It meant +that the twenty men who had gone to the eastward were now engaged. A +column of some kind was approaching from that direction, and they knew +by the clatter that it was a solemn occasion. + +In the first place, they were now on the wrong side of the road. They +were obliged to cross it to rejoin the main body, provided of course +that the main body succeeded itself in crossing it. To accomplish this, +the party at the blockhouse would have to move to the eastward, until +out of sight or good range of the maddened little fort. But judging +from the heaviness of the firing, the party of twenty who protected the +east were almost sure to be driven immediately back. Hence travel in +that direction would become exceedingly hazardous. Hence a man looked +seriously at his neighbour. It might easily be that in a moment they +were to become an isolated force and woefully on the wrong side of the +road. + +Any retreat to the westward was absurd, since primarily they would have +to widely circle the blockhouse, and more than that, they could hear, +even now in that direction, Spanish bugle calling to Spanish bugle, far +and near, until one would think that every man in Cuba was a trumpeter, +and had come forth to parade his talent. + + +VI + +The insurgent general stood in the middle of the road gnawing his lips. +Occasionally, he stamped a foot and beat his hands passionately +together. The carriers were streaming past him, patient, sweating +fellows, bowed under their burdens, but they could not move fast enough +for him when others of his men were engaged both to the east and to the +west, and he, too, knew from the sound that those to the east were in a +sore way. Moreover, he could hear that accursed bugling, bugling, +bugling in the west. + +He turned suddenly to the new lieutenant who stood behind him, pale and +quiet. "Did you ever think a hundred men were so many?" he cried, +incensed to the point of beating them. Then he said longingly: "Oh, for +a half an hour! Or even twenty minutes!" + +A practico racked violently up from the east. It is characteristic of +these men that, although they take a certain roadster gait and hold it +for ever, they cannot really run, sprint, race. "Captain Rodriguez is +attacked by two hundred men, señor, and the cavalry is behind them. He +wishes to know----" + +The general was furious; he pointed. "Go! Tell Rodriguez to hold his +place for twenty minutes, even if he leaves every man dead." + +The practico shambled hastily off. + +The last of the carriers were swarming across the road. The +rifle-drumming in the east was swelling out and out, evidently coming +slowly nearer. The general bit his nails. He wheeled suddenly upon the +young lieutenant. "Go to Bas at the blockhouse. Tell him to hold the +devil himself for ten minutes and then bring his men out of that +place." + +The long line of bearers was crawling like a dun worm toward the safety +of the foot-hills. High bullets sang a faint song over the aide as he +saluted. The bugles had in the west ceased, and that was more ominous +than bugling. It meant that the Spanish troops were about to march, or +perhaps that they had marched. + +The young lieutenant ran along the road until he came to the bend which +marked the range of sight from the blockhouse. He drew his machete, his +stunning new machete, and hacked feverishly at the barbed wire fence +which lined the north side of the road at that point. The first wire +was obdurate, because it was too high for his stroke, but two more cut +like candy, and he stepped over the remaining one, tearing his trousers +in passing on the lively serpentine ends of the severed wires. Once out +in the field and bullets seemed to know him and call for him and speak +their wish to kill him. But he ran on, because it was his duty, and +because he would be shamed before men if he did not do his duty, and +because he was desolate out there all alone in the fields with death. + +A man running in this manner from the rear was in immensely greater +danger than those who lay snug and close. But he did not know it. He +thought because he was five hundred--four hundred and fifty--four +hundred yards away from the enemy and the others were only three +hundred yards away that they were in far more peril. He ran to join +them because of his opinion. He did not care to do it, but he thought +that was what men of his kind would do in such a case. There was a +standard and he must follow it, obey it, because it was a monarch, the +Prince of Conduct. + +A bewildered and alarmed face raised itself from the grass and a voice +cried to him: "Drop, Manolo! Drop! Drop!" He recognised Bas and flung +himself to the earth beside him. + +"Why," he said panting, "what's the matter?" + +"Matter?" said Bas. "You are one of the most desperate and careless +officers I know. When I saw you coming I wouldn't have given a peseta +for your life." + +"Oh, no," said the young aide. Then he repeated his orders rapidly. But +he was hugely delighted. He knew Bas well; Bas was a pupil of Maceo; +Bas invariably led his men; he never was a mere spectator of their +battle; he was known for it throughout the western end of the island. +The new officer had early achieved a part of his ambition--to be called +a brave man by established brave men. + +"Well, if we get away from here quickly it will be better for us," said +Bas, bitterly. "I've lost six men killed, and more wounded. Rodriguez +can't hold his position there, and in a little time more than a +thousand men will come from the other direction." + +He hissed a low call, and later the young aide saw some of the men +sneaking off with the wounded, lugging them on their backs as porters +carry sacks. The fire from the blockhouse had become a-weary, and as +the insurgent fire also slackened, Bas and the young lieutenant lay in +the weeds listening to the approach of the eastern fight, which was +sliding toward them like a door to shut them off. + +Bas groaned. "I leave my dead. Look there." He swung his hand in a +gesture and the lieutenant looking saw a corpse. He was not stricken as +he expected; there was very little blood; it was a mere thing. + +"Time to travel," said Bas suddenly. His imperative hissing brought his +men near him; there were a few hurried questions and answers; then, +characteristically, the men turned in the grass, lifted their rifles, +and fired a last volley into the blockhouse, accompanying it with their +shrill cries. Scrambling low to the ground, they were off in a winding +line for safety. Breathing hard, the lieutenant stumbled his way +forward. Behind him he could hear the men calling each to each: "Segue! +Segue! Segue! Go on! Get out! Git!" Everybody understood that the peril +of crossing the road was compounding from minute to minute. + + +VII + +When they reached the gap through which the expedition had passed, they +fled out upon the road like scared wild-fowl tracking along a +sea-beach. A cloud of blue figures far up this dignified shaded avenue, +fired at once. The men already had begun to laugh as they shied one by +one across the road. "Segue! Segue!" The hard part for the nerves had +been the lack of information of the amount of danger. Now that they +could see it, they accounted it all the more lightly for their previous +anxiety. + +Over in the other field, Bas and the young lieutenant found Rodriguez, +his machete in one hand, his revolver in the other, smoky, dirty, +sweating. He shrugged his shoulders when he saw them and pointed +disconsolately to the brown thread of carriers moving toward the +foot-hills. His own men were crouched in line just in front of him +blazing like a prairie fire. + +Now began the fight of a scant rear-guard to hold back the pressing +Spaniards until the carriers could reach the top of the ridge, a mile +away. This ridge by the way was more steep than any roof; it conformed, +more, to the sides of a French war-ship. Trees grew vertically from it, +however, and a man burdened only with his rifle usually pulled himself +wheezingly up in a sort of ladder-climbing process, grabbing the slim +trunks above him. How the loaded carriers were to conquer it in a +hurry, no one knew. Rodriguez shrugged his shoulders as one who would +say with philosophy, smiles, tears, courage: "Isn't this a mess!" + +At an order, the men scattered back for four hundred yards with the +rapidity and mystery of a handful of pebbles flung in the night. They +left one behind who cried out, but it was now a game in which some were +sure to be left behind to cry out. + +The Spaniards deployed on the road and for twenty minutes remained +there pouring into the field such a fire from their magazines as was +hardly heard at Gettysburg. As a matter of truth the insurgents were at +this time doing very little shooting, being chary of ammunition. But it +is possible for the soldier to confuse himself with his own noise and +undoubtedly the Spanish troops thought throughout their din that they +were being fiercely engaged. Moreover, a firing-line--particularly at +night or when opposed to a hidden foe--is nothing less than an +emotional chord, a chord of a harp that sings because a puff of air +arrives or when a bit of down touches it. This is always true of new +troops or stupid troops and these troops were rather stupid troops. +But, the way in which they mowed the verdure in the distance was a +sight for a farmer. + +Presently the insurgents slunk back to another position where they +fired enough shots to stir again the Spaniards into an opinion that +they were in a heavy fight. But such a misconception could only endure +for a number of minutes. Presently it was plain that the Spaniards were +about to advance and, moreover, word was brought to Rodriguez that a +small band of guerillas were already making an attempt to worm around +the right flank. Rodriguez cursed despairingly; he sent both Bas and +the young lieutenant to that end of the line to hold the men to their +work as long as possible. + +In reality the men barely needed the presence of their officers. The +kind of fighting left practically everything to the discretion of the +individual and they arrived at concert of action mainly because of the +equality of experience, in the wisdoms of bushwhacking. + +The yells of the guerillas could plainly be heard and the insurgents +answered in kind. The young lieutenant found desperate work on the +right flank. The men were raving mad with it, babbling, tearful, almost +frothing at the mouth. Two terrible bloody creatures passed him, +creeping on all fours, and one in a whimper was calling upon God, his +mother, and a saint. The guerillas, as effectually concealed as the +insurgents, were driving their bullets low through the smoke at sight +of a flame, a movement of the grass or sight of a patch of dirty brown +coat. They were no column-o'-four soldiers; they were as slinky and +snaky and quick as so many Indians. They were, moreover, native Cubans +and because of their treachery to the one-star flag, they never by any +chance received quarter if they fell into the hands of the insurgents. +Nor, if the case was reversed, did they ever give quarter. It was life +and life, death and death; there was no middle ground, no compromise. +If a man's crowd was rapidly retreating and he was tumbled over by a +slight hit, he should curse the sacred graves that the wound was not +through the precise centre of his heart. The machete is a fine broad +blade but it is not so nice as a drilled hole in the chest; no man +wants his death-bed to be a shambles. The men fighting on the +insurgents' right knew that if they fell they were lost. + +On the extreme right, the young lieutenant found five men in a little +saucer-like hollow. Two were dead, one was wounded and staring blankly +at the sky and two were emptying hot rifles furiously. Some of the +guerillas had snaked into positions only a hundred yards away. + +The young man rolled in among the men in the saucer. He could hear the +barking of the guerillas and the screams of the two insurgents. The +rifles were popping and spitting in his face, it seemed, while the +whole land was alive with a noise of rolling and drumming. Men could +have gone drunken in all this flashing and flying and snarling and din, +but at this time he was very deliberate. He knew that he was thrusting +himself into a trap whose door, once closed, opened only when the black +hand knocked and every part of him seemed to be in panic-stricken +revolt. But something controlled him; something moved him inexorably in +one direction; he perfectly understood but he was only sad, sad with a +serene dignity, with the countenance of a mournful young prince. He was +of a kind--that seemed to be it--and the men of his kind, on peak or +plain, from the dark northern ice-fields to the hot wet jungles, +through all wine and want, through all lies and unfamiliar truth, dark +or light, the men of his kind were governed by their gods, and each man +knew the law and yet could not give tongue to it, but it was the law +and if the spirits of the men of his kind were all sitting in critical +judgment upon him even then in the sky, he could not have bettered his +conduct; he needs must obey the law and always with the law there is +only one way. But from peak and plain, from dark northern ice-fields +and hot wet jungles, through wine and want, through all lies and +unfamiliar truth, dark or light, he heard breathed to him the approval +and the benediction of his brethren. + +He stooped and gently took a dead man's rifle and some cartridges. The +battle was hurrying, hurrying, hurrying, but he was in no haste. His +glance caught the staring eye of the wounded soldier, and he smiled at +him quietly. The man--simple doomed peasant--was not of his kind, but +the law on fidelity was clear. + +He thrust a cartridge into the Remington and crept up beside the two +unhurt men. Even as he did so, three or four bullets cut so close to +him that all his flesh tingled. He fired carefully into the smoke. The +guerillas were certainly not now more than fifty yards away. + +He raised him coolly for his second shot, and almost instantly it was +as if some giant had struck him in the chest with a beam. It whirled +him in a great spasm back into the saucer. As he put his two hands to +his breast, he could hear the guerillas screeching exultantly, every +throat vomiting forth all the infamy of a language prolific in the +phrasing of infamy. + +One of the other men came rolling slowly down the slope, while his +rifle followed him, and, striking another rifle, clanged out. Almost +immediately the survivor howled and fled wildly. A whole volley missed +him and then one or more shots caught him as a bird is caught on the +wing. + +The young lieutenant's body seemed galvanised from head to foot. He +concluded that he was not hurt very badly, but when he tried to move he +found that he could not lift his hands from his breast. He had turned +to lead. He had had a plan of taking a photograph from his pocket and +looking at it. + +There was a stir in the grass at the edge of the saucer, and a man +appeared there, looking where lay the four insurgents. His negro face +was not an eminently ferocious one in its lines, but now it was lit +with an illimitable blood-greed. He and the young lieutenant exchanged +a singular glance; then he came stepping eagerly down. The young +lieutenant closed his eyes, for he did not want to see the flash of the +machete. + + +VIII + +The Spanish colonel was in a rage, and yet immensely proud; immensely +proud, and yet in a rage of disappointment. There had been a fight and +the insurgents had retreated leaving their dead, but still a valuable +expedition had broken through his lines and escaped to the mountains. +As a matter of truth, he was not sure whether to be wholly delighted or +wholly angry, for well he knew that the importance lay not so much in +the truthful account of the action as it did in the heroic prose of the +official report, and in the fight itself lay material for a purple +splendid poem. The insurgents had run away; no one could deny it; it +was plain even to whatever privates had fired with their eyes shut. +This was worth a loud blow and splutter. However, when all was said and +done, he could not help but reflect that if he had captured this +expedition, he would have been a brigadier-general, if not more. + +He was a short, heavy man with a beard, who walked in a manner common +to all elderly Spanish officers, and to many young ones; that is to +say, he walked as if his spine was a stick and a little longer than his +body; as if he suffered from some disease of the backbone, which +allowed him but scant use of his legs. He toddled along the road, +gesticulating disdainfully and muttering: "Ca! Ca! Ca!" + +He berated some soldiers for an immaterial thing, and as he approached +the men stepped precipitately back as if he were a fire-engine. They +were most of them young fellows, who displayed, when under orders, the +manner of so many faithful dogs. At present, they were black, +tongue-hanging, thirsty boys, bathed in the nervous weariness of the +after-battle time. + +Whatever he may truly have been in character, the colonel closely +resembled a gluttonous and libidinous old pig, filled from head to foot +with the pollution of a sinful life. "Ca!" he snarled, as he toddled. +"Ca! Ca!" The soldiers saluted as they backed to the side of the road. +The air was full of the odour of burnt rags. Over on the prairie +guerillas and regulars were rummaging the grass. A few unimportant +shots sounded from near the base of the hills. + +A guerilla, glad with plunder, came to a Spanish captain. He held in +his hand a photograph. "Mira, señor. I took this from the body of an +officer whom I killed machete to machete." + +The captain shot from the corner of his eye a cynical glance at the +guerilla, a glance which commented upon the last part of the statement. +"M-m-m," he said. He took the photograph and gazed with a slow faint +smile, the smile of a man who knows bloodshed and homes and love, at +the face of a girl. He turned the photograph presently, and on the back +of it was written: "One lesson in English I will give you--this: I love +you, Margharita." The photograph had been taken in Tampa. + +The officer was silent for a half-minute, while his face still wore the +slow faint smile. "Pobrecetto," he murmured finally, with a philosophic +sigh, which was brother to a shrug. Without deigning a word to the +guerilla he thrust the photograph in his pocket and walked away. + +High over the green earth, in the dizzy blue heights, some great birds +were slowly circling with down-turned beaks. + + +IX + +Margharita was in the gardens. The blue electric rays shone through the +plumes of the palm and shivered in feathery images on the walk. In the +little foolish fish-pond some stalwart fish was apparently bullying the +others, for often there sounded a frantic splashing. + +Her mother came to her rapidly. "Margharita! Mister Smith is here! +Come!" + +"Oh, is he?" cried the girl. She followed her mother to the house. She +swept into the little parlor with a grand air, the egotism of a savage. +Smith had heard the whirl of her skirts in the hall, and his heart, as +usual, thumped hard enough to make him gasp. Every time he called, he +would sit waiting with the dull fear in his breast that her mother +would enter and indifferently announce that she had gone up to heaven +or off to New York, with one of his dream-rivals, and he would never +see her again in this wide world. And he would conjure up tricks to +then escape from the house without any one observing his face break up +into furrows. It was part of his love to believe in the absolute +treachery of his adored one. So whenever he heard the whirl of her +skirts in the hall he felt that he had again leased happiness from a +dark fate. + +She was rosily beaming and all in white. "Why, Mister Smith," she +exclaimed, as if he was the last man in the world she expected to see. + +"Good-evenin'," he said, shaking hands nervously. He was always awkward +and unlike himself, at the beginning of one of these calls. It took him +some time to get into form. + +She posed her figure in operatic style on a chair before him, and +immediately galloped off a mile of questions, information of herself, +gossip and general outcries which left him no obligation, but to look +beamingly intelligent and from time to time say: "Yes?" His personal +joy, however, was to stare at her beauty. + +When she stopped and wandered as if uncertain which way to talk, there +was a minute of silence, which each of them had been educated to feel +was very incorrect; very incorrect indeed. Polite people always babbled +at each other like two brooks. + +He knew that the responsibility was upon him, and, although his mind +was mainly upon the form of the proposal of marriage which he intended +to make later, it was necessary that he should maintain his reputation +as a well-bred man by saying something at once. It flashed upon him to +ask: "Won't you please play?" But the time for the piano ruse was not +yet; it was too early. So he said the first thing that came into his +head: "Too bad about young Manolo Prat being killed over there in Cuba, +wasn't it?" + +"Wasn't it a pity?" she answered. + +"They say his mother is heart-broken," he continued. "They're afraid +she's goin' to die." + +"And wasn't it queer that we didn't hear about it for almost two +months?" + +"Well, it's no use tryin' to git quick news from there." + +Presently they advanced to matters more personal, and she used upon him +a series of star-like glances which rumpled him at once to squalid +slavery. He gloated upon her, afraid, afraid, yet more avaricious than +a thousand misers. She fully comprehended; she laughed and taunted him +with her eyes. She impressed upon him that she was like a +will-o'-the-wisp, beautiful beyond compare but impossible, almost +impossible, at least very difficult; then again, suddenly, +impossible--impossible--impossible. He was glum; he would never dare +propose to this radiance; it was like asking to be pope. + +A moment later, there chimed into the room something that he knew to be +a more tender note. The girl became dreamy as she looked at him; her +voice lowered to a delicious intimacy of tone. He leaned forward; he +was about to outpour his bully-ragged soul in fine words, +when--presto--she was the most casual person he had ever laid eyes +upon, and was asking him about the route of the proposed trolley line. + +But nothing short of a fire could stop him now. He grabbed her hand. +"Margharita," he murmured gutturally, "I want you to marry me." + +She glared at him in the most perfect lie of astonishment. "What do you +say?" + +He arose, and she thereupon arose also and fled back a step. He could +only stammer out her name. And thus they stood, defying the principles +of the dramatic art. + +"I love you," he said at last. + +"How--how do I know you really--truly love me?" she said, raising her +eyes timorously to his face and this timorous glance, this one timorous +glance, made him the superior person in an instant. He went forward as +confident as a grenadier, and, taking both her hands, kissed her. + +That night she took a stained photograph from her dressing-table and +holding it over the candle burned it to nothing, her red lips meanwhile +parted with the intentness of her occupation. On the back of the +photograph was written: "One lesson in English I will give you--this: I +love you." + +For the word is clear only to the kind who on peak or plain, from dark +northern ice-fields to the hot wet jungles, through all wine and want, +through lies and unfamiliar truth, dark or light, are governed by the +unknown gods, and though each man knows the law, no man may give tongue +to it. + + + + +GOD REST YE, MERRY GENTLEMEN + + +Little Nell, sometimes called the Blessed Damosel, was a war +correspondent for the _New York Eclipse_, and at sea on the despatch +boats he wore pajamas, and on shore he wore whatever fate allowed him, +which clothing was in the main unsuitable to the climate. He had been +cruising in the Caribbean on a small tug, awash always, habitable +never, wildly looking for Cervera's fleet; although what he was going +to do with four armoured cruisers and two destroyers in the event of +his really finding them had not been explained by the managing editor. +The cable instructions read:--"Take tug; go find Cervera's fleet." If +his unfortunate nine-knot craft should happen to find these great +twenty-knot ships, with their two spiteful and faster attendants, +Little Nell had wondered how he was going to lose them again. He had +marvelled, both publicly and in secret, on the uncompromising asininity +of managing editors at odd moments, but he had wasted little time. The +_Jefferson G. Johnson_ was already coaled, so he passed the word to his +skipper, bought some tinned meats, cigars, and beer, and soon the +_Johnson_ sailed on her mission, tooting her whistle in graceful +farewell to some friends of hers in the bay. + +So the _Johnson_ crawled giddily to one wave-height after another, and +fell, aslant, into one valley after another for a longer period than +was good for the hearts of the men, because the _Johnson_ was merely a +harbour-tug, with no architectural intention of parading the high-seas, +and the crew had never seen the decks all white water like a mere +sunken reef. As for the cook, he blasphemed hopelessly hour in and hour +out, meanwhile pursuing the equipment of his trade frantically from +side to side of the galley. Little Nell dealt with a great deal of +grumbling, but he knew it was not the real evil grumbling. It was +merely the unhappy words of men who wished expression of comradeship +for their wet, forlorn, half-starved lives, to which, they explained, +they were not accustomed, and for which, they explained, they were not +properly paid. Little Nell condoled and condoled without difficulty. He +laid words of gentle sympathy before them, and smothered his own misery +behind the face of a reporter of the _New York Eclipse_. But they +tossed themselves in their cockleshell even as far as Martinique; they +knew many races and many flags, but they did not find Cervera's fleet. +If they had found that elusive squadron this timid story would never +have been written; there would probably have been a lyric. The +_Johnson_ limped one morning into the Mole St. Nicholas, and there +Little Nell received this despatch:--"Can't understand your inaction. +What are you doing with the boat? Report immediately. Fleet transports +already left Tampa. Expected destination near Santiago. Proceed there +immediately. Place yourself under orders.--ROGERS, _Eclipse_." + +One day, steaming along the high, luminous blue coast of Santiago +province, they fetched into view the fleets, a knot of masts and +funnels, looking incredibly inshore, as if they were glued to the +mountains. Then mast left mast, and funnel left funnel, slowly, slowly, +and the shore remained still, but the fleets seemed to move out toward +the eager _Johnson_. At the speed of nine knots an hour the scene +separated into its parts. On an easily rolling sea, under a crystal +sky, black-hulled transports--erstwhile packets--lay waiting, while +grey cruisers and gunboats lay near shore, shelling the beach and some +woods. From their grey sides came thin red flashes, belches of white +smoke, and then over the waters sounded boom--boom--boom-boom. The crew +of the _Jefferson G. Johnson_ forgave Little Nell all the suffering of +a previous fortnight. + +To the westward, about the mouth of Santiago harbour, sat a row of +castellated grey battleships, their eyes turned another way, waiting. + +The _Johnson_ swung past a transport whose decks and rigging were +aswarm with black figures, as if a tribe of bees had alighted upon a +log. She swung past a cruiser indignant at being left out of the game, +her deck thick with white-clothed tars watching the play of their +luckier brethren. The cold blue, lifting seas tilted the big ships +easily, slowly, and heaved the little ones in the usual sinful way, as +if very little babes had surreptitiously mounted sixteen-hand trotting +hunters. The _Johnson_ leered and tumbled her way through a community +of ships. The bombardment ceased, and some of the troopships edged in +near the land. Soon boats black with men and towed by launches were +almost lost to view in the scintillant mystery of light which appeared +where the sea met the land. A disembarkation had begun. The _Johnson_ +sped on at her nine knots, and Little Nell chafed exceedingly, gloating +upon the shore through his glasses, anon glancing irritably over the +side to note the efforts of the excited tug. Then at last they were in +a sort of a cove, with troopships, newspaper boats, and cruisers on all +sides of them, and over the water came a great hum of human voices, +punctuated frequently by the clang of engine-room gongs as the steamers +manoeuvred to avoid jostling. + +In reality it was the great moment--the moment for which men, ships, +islands, and continents had been waiting for months; but somehow it did +not look it. It was very calm; a certain strip of high, green, rocky +shore was being rapidly populated from boat after boat; that was all. +Like many preconceived moments, it refused to be supreme. + +But nothing lessened Little Nell's frenzy. He knew that the army was +landing--he could see it; and little did he care if the great moment +did not look its part--it was his virtue as a correspondent to +recognise the great moment in any disguise. The _Johnson_ lowered a +boat for him, and he dropped into it swiftly, forgetting everything. +However, the mate, a bearded philanthropist, flung after him a +mackintosh and a bottle of whisky. Little Nell's face was turned toward +those other boats filled with men, all eyes upon the placid, gentle, +noiseless shore. Little Nell saw many soldiers seated stiffly beside +upright rifle barrels, their blue breasts crossed with white shelter +tent and blanket-rolls. Launches screeched; jack-tars pushed or pulled +with their boathooks; a beach was alive with working soldiers, some of +them stark naked. Little Nell's boat touched the shore amid a babble of +tongues, dominated at that time by a single stern voice, which was +repeating, "Fall in, B Company!" + +He took his mackintosh and his bottle of whisky and invaded Cuba. It +was a trifle bewildering. Companies of those same men in blue and brown +were being rapidly formed and marched off across a little open +space--near a pool--near some palm trees--near a house--into the hills. +At one side, a mulatto in dirty linen and an old straw hat was +hospitably using a machete to cut open some green cocoanuts for a group +of idle invaders. At the other side, up a bank, a blockhouse was +burning furiously; while near it some railway sheds were smouldering, +with a little Roger's engine standing amid the ruins, grey, almost +white, with ashes until it resembled a ghost. Little Nell dodged the +encrimsoned blockhouse, and proceeded where he saw a little village +street lined with flimsy wooden cottages. Some ragged Cuban cavalrymen +were tranquilly tending their horses in a shed which had not yet grown +cold of the Spanish occupation. Three American soldiers were trying to +explain to a Cuban that they wished to buy drinks. A native rode by, +clubbing his pony, as always. The sky was blue; the sea talked with a +gravelly accent at the feet of some rocks; upon its bosom the ships sat +quiet as gulls. There was no mention, directly, of invasion--invasion +for war--save in the roar of the flames at the blockhouse; but none +even heeded this conflagration, excepting to note that it threw out a +great heat. It was warm, very warm. It was really hard for Little Nell +to keep from thinking of his own affairs: his debts, other misfortunes, +loves, prospects of happiness. Nobody was in a flurry; the Cubans were +not tearfully grateful; the American troops were visibly glad of being +released from those ill transports, and the men often asked, with +interest, "Where's the Spaniards?" And yet it must have been a great +moment! It was a _great_ moment! + +It seemed made to prove that the emphatic time of history is not the +emphatic time of the common man, who throughout the change of nations +feels an itch on his shin, a pain in his head, hunger, thirst, a lack +of sleep; the influence of his memory of past firesides, glasses of +beer, girls, theatres, ideals, religions, parents, faces, hurts, joy. + +Little Nell was hailed from a comfortable veranda, and, looking up, saw +Walkley of the _Eclipse_, stretched in a yellow and green hammock, +smoking his pipe with an air of having always lived in that house, in +that village. "Oh, dear little Nell, how glad I am to see your angel +face again! There! don't try to hide it; I can see it. Did you bring a +corkscrew too? You're superseded as master of the slaves. Did you know +it? And by Rogers, too! Rogers is a Sadducee, a cadaver and a pelican, +appointed to the post of chief correspondent, no doubt, because of his +rare gift of incapacity. Never mind." + +"Where is he now?" asked Little Nell, taking seat on the steps. + +"He is down interfering with the landing of the troops," answered +Walkley, swinging a leg. "I hope you have the _Johnson_ well stocked +with food as well as with cigars, cigarettes and tobaccos, ales, wines +and liquors. We shall need them. There is already famine in the house +of Walkley. I have discovered that the system of transportation for our +gallant soldiery does not strike in me the admiration which I have +often felt when viewing the management of an ordinary bun-shop. A +hunger, stifling, jammed together amid odours, and everybody +irritable--ye gods, how irritable! And so I---- Look! look!" + +The _Jefferson G. Johnson_, well known to them at an incredible +distance, could be seen striding the broad sea, the smoke belching from +her funnel, headed for Jamaica. "The Army Lands in Cuba!" shrieked +Walkley. "Shafter's Army Lands near Santiago! Special type! Half the +front page! Oh, the Sadducee! The cadaver! The pelican!" + +Little Nell was dumb with astonishment and fear. Walkley, however, was +at least not dumb. "That's the pelican! That's Mr. Rogers making his +first impression upon the situation. He has engraved himself upon us. +We are tattooed with him. There will be a fight to-morrow, sure, and we +will cover it even as you found Cervera's fleet. No food, no horses, no +money. I am transport lame; you are sea-weak. We will never see our +salaries again. Whereby Rogers is a fool." + +"Anybody else here?" asked Little Nell wearily. + +"Only young Point." Point was an artist on the _Eclipse_. "But he has +nothing. Pity there wasn't an almshouse in this God-forsaken country. +Here comes Point now." A sad-faced man came along carrying much +luggage. "Hello, Point! lithographer _and_ genius, have you food? Food. +Well, then, you had better return yourself to Tampa by wire. You are no +good here. Only one more little mouth to feed." + +Point seated himself near Little Nell. "I haven't had anything to eat +since daybreak," he said gloomily, "and I don't care much, for I am +simply dog-tired." + +"Don' tell _me_ you are dog-tired, my talented friend," cried Walkley +from his hammock. "Think of me. And now what's to be done?" + +They stared for a time disconsolately at where, over the rim of the +sea, trailed black smoke from the _Johnson_. From the landing-place +below and to the right came the howls of a man who was superintending +the disembarkation of some mules. The burning blockhouse still rendered +its hollow roar. Suddenly the men-crowded landing set up its cheer, and +the steamers all whistled long and raucously. Tiny black figures were +raising an American flag over a blockhouse on the top of a great hill. + +"That's mighty fine Sunday stuff," said Little Nell. "Well, I'll go and +get the order in which the regiments landed, and who was first ashore, +and all that. Then I'll go and try to find General Lawton's +headquarters. His division has got the advance, I think." + +"And, lo! I will write a burning description of the raising of the +flag," said Walkley. "While the brilliant Point buskies for food--and +makes damn sure he gets it," he added fiercely. + +Little Nell thereupon wandered over the face of the earth, threading +out the story of the landing of the regiments. He only found about +fifty men who had been the first American soldier to set foot on Cuba, +and of these he took the most probable. The army was going forward in +detail, as soon as the pieces were landed. There was a house something +like a crude country tavern--the soldiers in it were looking over their +rifles and talking. There was a well of water quite hot--more palm +trees--an inscrutable background. + +When he arrived again at Walkley's mansion he found the verandah +crowded with correspondents in khaki, duck, dungaree and flannel. They +wore riding-breeches, but that was mainly forethought. They could see +now that fate intended them to walk. Some were writing copy, while +Walkley discoursed from his hammock. Rhodes--doomed to be shot in +action some days later--was trying to borrow a canteen from men who had +one, and from men who had none. Young Point, wan, utterly worn out, was +asleep on the floor. Walkley pointed to him. "That is how he appears +after his foraging journey, during which he ran all Cuba through a +sieve. Oh, yes; a can of corn and a half-bottle of lime juice." + +"Say, does anybody know, the name of the commander of the 26th +Infantry?" + +"Who commands the first brigade of Kent's Division?" + +"What was the name of the chap that raised the flag?" + +"What time is it?" + +And a woeful man was wandering here and there with a cold pipe, saying +plaintively, "Who's got a match? Anybody here got a match?" + +Little Nell's left boot hurt him at the heel, and so he removed it, +taking great care and whistling through his teeth. The heated dust was +upon them all, making everybody feel that bathing was unknown and +shattering their tempers. Young Point developed a snore which brought +grim sarcasm from all quarters. Always below, hummed the traffic of the +landing-place. + +When night came Little Nell thought best not to go to bed until late, +because he recognised the mackintosh as but a feeble comfort. The +evening was a glory. A breeze came from the sea, fanning spurts of +flame out of the ashes and charred remains of the sheds, while overhead +lay a splendid summer-night sky, aflash with great tranquil stars. In +the streets of the village were two or three fires, frequently and +suddenly reddening with their glare the figures of low-voiced men who +moved here and there. The lights of the transports blinked on the +murmuring plain in front of the village; and far to the westward Little +Nell could sometimes note a subtle indication of a playing +search-light, which alone marked the presence of the invisible +battleships, half-mooned about the entrance of Santiago Harbour, +waiting--waiting--waiting. + +When Little Nell returned to the veranda he stumbled along a man-strewn +place, until he came to the spot where he left his mackintosh; but he +found it gone. His curses mingled then with those of the men upon whose +bodies he had trodden. Two English correspondents, lying awake to smoke +a last pipe, reared and looked at him lazily. "What's wrong, old chap?" +murmured one. "Eh? Lost it, eh? Well, look here; come here and take a +bit of my blanket. It's a jolly big one. Oh, no trouble at all, man. +There you are. Got enough? Comfy? Good-night." + +A sleepy voice arose in the darkness. "If this hammock breaks, I shall +hit at least ten of those Indians down there. Never mind. This is war." + +The men slept. Once the sound of three or four shots rang across the +windy night, and one head uprose swiftly from the verandah, two eyes +looked dazedly at nothing, and the head as swiftly sank. Again a sleepy +voice was heard. "Usual thing! Nervous sentries!" The men slept. Before +dawn a pulseless, penetrating chill came into the air, and the +correspondents awakened, shivering, into a blue world. Some of the +fires still smouldered. Walkley and Little Nell kicked vigorously into +Point's framework. "Come on, brilliance! Wake up, talent! Don't be +sodgering. It's too cold to sleep, but it's not too cold to hustle." +Point sat up dolefully. Upon his face was a childish expression. "Where +are we going to get breakfast?" he asked, sulking. + +"There's no breakfast for you, you hound! Get up and hustle." +Accordingly they hustled. With exceeding difficulty they learned that +nothing emotional had happened during the night, save the killing +of two Cubans who were so secure in ignorance that they could not +understand the challenge of two American sentries. Then Walkley ran a +gamut of commanding officers, and Little Nell pumped privates for their +impressions of Cuba. When his indignation at the absence of breakfast +allowed him, Point made sketches. At the full break of day the +_Adolphus_, and _Eclipse_ despatch boat, sent a boat ashore with Tailor +and Shackles in it, and Walkley departed tearlessly for Jamaica, soon +after he had bestowed upon his friends much tinned goods and blankets. + +"Well, we've got our stuff off," said Little Nell. "Now Point and I +must breakfast." + +Shackles, for some reason, carried a great hunting-knife, and with it +Little Nell opened a tin of beans. + +"Fall to," he said amiably to Point. + +There were some hard biscuits. Afterwards they--the four of +them--marched off on the route of the troops. They were well loaded +with luggage, particularly young Point, who had somehow made a great +gathering of unnecessary things. Hills covered with verdure soon +enclosed them. They heard that the army had advanced some nine miles +with no fighting. Evidences of the rapid advance were here and +there--coats, gauntlets, blanket rolls on the ground. Mule-trains came +herding back along the narrow trail to the sound of a little tinkling +bell. Cubans were appropriating the coats and blanket-rolls. + +The four correspondents hurried onward. The surety of impending battle +weighed upon them always, but there was a score of minor things more +intimate. Little Nell's left heel had chafed until it must have been +quite raw, and every moment he wished to take seat by the roadside and +console himself from pain. Shackles and Point disliked each other +extremely, and often they foolishly quarrelled over something, or +nothing. The blanket-rolls and packages for the hand oppressed +everybody. It was like being burned out of a boarding-house, and having +to carry one's trunk eight miles to the nearest neighbour. Moreover, +Point, since he had stupidly overloaded, with great wisdom placed +various cameras and other trifles in the hands of his three +less-burdened and more sensible friends. This made them fume and gnash, +but in complete silence, since he was hideously youthful and innocent +and unaware. They all wished to rebel, but none of them saw their way +clear, because--they did not understand. But somehow it seemed a +barbarous project--no one wanted to say anything--cursed him privately +for a little ass, but--said nothing. For instance, Little Nell wished +to remark, "Point, you are not a thoroughbred in a half of a way. You +are an inconsiderate, thoughtless little swine." But, in truth, he +said, "Point, when you started out you looked like a Christmas-tree. If +we keep on robbing you of your bundles there soon won't be anything +left for the children." Point asked dubiously, "What do you mean?" +Little Nell merely laughed with deceptive good-nature. + +They were always very thirsty. There was always a howl for the +half-bottle of lime juice. Five or six drops from it were simply +heavenly in the warm water from the canteens. Point seemed to try to +keep the lime juice in his possession, in order that he might get more +benefit of it. Before the war was ended the others found themselves +declaring vehemently that they loathed Point, and yet when men asked +them the reason they grew quite inarticulate. The reasons seemed then +so small, so childish, as the reasons of a lot of women. And yet at the +time his offences loomed enormous. + +The surety of impending battle still weighed upon them. Then it came +that Shackles turned seriously ill. Suddenly he dropped his own and +much of Point's traps upon the trail, wriggled out of his blanket-roll, +flung it away, and took seat heavily at the roadside. They saw with +surprise that his face was pale as death, and yet streaming with sweat. + +"Boys," he said in his ordinary voice, "I'm clean played out. I can't +go another step. You fellows go on, and leave me to come as soon as I +am able." + +"Oh, no, that wouldn't do at all," said Little Nell and Tailor +together. + +Point moved over to a soft place, and dropped amid whatever traps he +was himself carrying. + +"Don't know whether it's ancestral or merely from the--sun--but I've +got a stroke," said Shackles, and gently slumped over to a prostrate +position before either Little Nell or Tailor could reach him. + +Thereafter Shackles was parental; it was Little Nell and Tailor who +were really suffering from a stroke, either ancestral or from the sun. + +"Put my blanket-roll under my head, Nell, me son," he said gently. +"There now! That is very nice. It is delicious. Why, I'm all right, +only--only tired." He closed his eyes, and something like an easy +slumber came over him. Once he opened his eyes. "Don't trouble about +me," he remarked. + +But the two fussed about him, nervous, worried, discussing this plan +and that plan. It was Point who first made a business-like statement. +Seated carelessly and indifferently upon his soft place, he finally +blurted out: + +"Say! Look here! Some of us have got to go on. We can't all stay here. +Some of us have got to go on." + +It was quite true; the _Eclipse_ could take no account of strokes. +In the end Point and Tailor went on, leaving Little Nell to bring on +Shackles as soon as possible. The latter two spent many hours in the +grass by the roadside. They made numerous abrupt acquaintances with +passing staff officers, privates, muleteers, many stopping to inquire +the wherefore of the death-faced figure on the ground. Favours were +done often and often, by peer and peasant--small things, of no +consequence, and yet warming. + +It was dark when Shackles and Little Nell had come slowly to where they +could hear the murmur of the army's bivouac. + +"Shack," gasped Little Nell to the man leaning forlornly upon him, "I +guess we'd better bunk down here where we stand." + +"All right, old boy. Anything you say," replied Shackles, in the bass +and hollow voice which arrives with such condition. + +They crawled into some bushes, and distributed their belongings upon +the ground. Little Nell spread out the blankets, and generally played +housemaid. Then they lay down, supperless, being too weary to eat. The +men slept. + +At dawn Little Nell awakened and looked wildly for Shackles, whose +empty blanket was pressed flat like a wet newspaper on the ground. But +at nearly the same moment Shackles appeared, elate. + +"Come on," he cried; "I've rustled an invitation for breakfast." + +Little Nell came on with celerity. + +"Where? Who?" he said. + +"Oh! some officers," replied Shackles airily. If he had been ill the +previous day, he showed it now only in some curious kind of deference +he paid to Little Nell. + +Shackles conducted his comrade, and soon they arrived at where a +captain and his one subaltern arose courteously from where they were +squatting near a fire of little sticks. They wore the wide white +trouser-stripes of infantry officers, and upon the shoulders of their +blue campaign shirts were the little marks of their rank; but otherwise +there was little beyond their manners to render them different from the +men who were busy with breakfast near them. The captain was old, +grizzled--a common type of captain in the tiny American army--overjoyed +at the active service, confident of his business, and yet breathing out +in some way a note of pathos. The war was come too late. Age was +grappling him, and honours were only for his widow and his +children--merely a better life insurance policy. He had spent his life +policing Indians with much labour, cold and heat, but with no glory for +him nor his fellows. All he now could do was to die at the head of his +men. If he had youthfully dreamed of a general's stars, they were now +impossible to him, and he knew it. He was too old to leap so far; his +sole honour was a new invitation to face death. And yet, with his +ambitions lying half-strangled, he was going to take his men into any +sort of holocaust, because his traditions were of gentlemen and +soldiers, and because--he loved it for itself--the thing itself--the +whirl, the unknown. If he had been degraded at that moment to be a +pot-wrestler, no power could have starved him from going through the +campaign as a spectator. Why, the army! It was in each drop of his +blood. + +The lieutenant was very young. Perhaps he had been hurried out of West +Point at the last moment, upon a shortage of officers appearing. To +him, all was opportunity. He was, in fact, in great luck. Instead of +going off in 1898 to grill for an indefinite period on some +God-forgotten heap of red-hot sand in New Mexico, he was here in Cuba, +on real business, with his regiment. When the big engagement came he +was sure to emerge from it either horizontally or at the head of a +company, and what more could a boy ask? He was a very modest lad, and +talked nothing of his frame of mind, but an expression of blissful +contentment was ever upon his face. He really accounted himself the +most fortunate boy of his time; and he felt almost certain that he +would do well. It was necessary to do well. He would do well. + +And yet in many ways these two were alike; the grizzled captain with +his gently mournful countenance--"Too late"--and the elate young second +lieutenant, his commission hardly dry. Here again it was the influence +of the army. After all they were both children of the army. + +It is possible to spring into the future here and chronicle what +happened later. The captain, after thirty-five years of waiting for his +chance, took his Mauser bullet through the brain at the foot of San +Juan Hill in the very beginning of the battle, and the boy arrived on +the crest panting, sweating, but unscratched, and not sure whether he +commanded one company or a whole battalion. Thus fate dealt to the +hosts of Shackles and Little Nell. + +The breakfast was of canned tomatoes stewed with hard bread, more hard +bread, and coffee. It was very good fare, almost royal. Shackles and +Little Nell were absurdly grateful as they felt the hot bitter coffee +tingle in them. But they departed joyfully before the sun was fairly +up, and passed into Siboney. They never saw the captain again. + +The beach at Siboney was furious with traffic, even as had been the +beach at Daqueri. Launches shouted, jack-tars prodded with their +boathooks, and load of men followed load of men. Straight, parade-like, +on the shore stood a trumpeter playing familiar calls to the +troop-horses who swam towards him eagerly through the salt seas. +Crowding closely into the cove were transports of all sizes and ages. +To the left and to the right of the little landing-beach green hills +shot upward like the wings in a theatre. They were scarred here and +there with blockhouses and rifle-pits. Up one hill a regiment was +crawling, seemingly inch by inch. Shackles and Little Nell walked among +palms and scrubby bushes, near pools, over spaces of sand holding +little monuments of biscuit-boxes, ammunition-boxes, and supplies of +all kinds. Some regiment was just collecting itself from the ships, and +the men made great patches of blue on the brown sand. + +Shackles asked a question of a man accidentally: "Where's that regiment +going to?" He pointed to the force that was crawling up the hill. The +man grinned, and said, "They're going to look for a fight!" + +"Looking for a fight!" said Shackles and Little Nell together. They +stared into each other's eyes. Then they set off for the foot of the +hill. The hill was long and toilsome. Below them spread wider and wider +a vista of ships quiet on a grey sea; a busy, black disembarkation-place; +tall, still, green hills; a village of well separated cottages; palms; +a bit of road; soldiers marching. They passed vacant Spanish trenches; +little twelve-foot blockhouses. Soon they were on a fine upland near +the sea. The path, under ordinary conditions, must have been a +beautiful wooded way. It wound in the shade of thickets of fine trees, +then through rank growths of bushes with revealed and fantastic roots, +then through a grassy space which had all the beauty of a neglected +orchard. But always from under their feet scuttled noisy land-crabs, +demons to the nerves, which in some way possessed a semblance of +moon-like faces upon their blue or red bodies, and these faces were +turned with expressions of deepest horror upon Shackles and Little +Nell as they sped to overtake the pugnacious regiment. The route +was paved with coats, hats, tent and blanket rolls, ration-tins, +haversacks--everything but ammunition belts, rifles and canteens. + +They heard a dull noise of voices in front of them--men talking too +loud for the etiquette of the forest--and presently they came upon two +or three soldiers lying by the roadside, flame-faced, utterly spent +from the hurried march in the heat. One man came limping back along the +path. He looked to them anxiously for sympathy and comprehension. "Hurt +m' knee. I swear I couldn't keep up with th' boys. I had to leave 'm. +Wasn't that tough luck?" His collar rolled away from a red, muscular +neck, and his bare forearms were better than stanchions. Yet he was +almost babyishly tearful in his attempt to make the two correspondents +feel that he had not turned back because he was afraid. They gave him +scant courtesy, tinctured with one drop of sympathetic yet cynical +understanding. Soon they overtook the hospital squad; men addressing +chaste language to some pack-mules; a talkative sergeant; two amiable, +cool-eyed young surgeons. Soon they were amid the rear troops of the +dismounted volunteer cavalry regiment which was moving to attack. The +men strode easily along, arguing one to another on ulterior matters. If +they were going into battle, they either did not know it or they +concealed it well. They were more like men going into a bar at one +o'clock in the morning. Their laughter rang through the Cuban woods. +And in the meantime, soft, mellow, sweet, sang the voice of the Cuban +wood-dove, the Spanish guerilla calling to his mate--forest music; on +the flanks, deep back on both flanks, the adorable wood-dove, singing +only of love. Some of the advancing Americans said it was beautiful. It +_was_ beautiful. The Spanish guerilla calling to his mate. What could +be more beautiful? + +Shackles and Little Nell rushed precariously through waist-high bushes +until they reached the centre of the single-filed regiment. The firing +then broke out in front. All the woods set up a hot sputtering; the +bullets sped along the path and across it from both sides. The thickets +presented nothing but dense masses of light green foliage, out of which +these swift steel things were born supernaturally. + +It was a volunteer regiment going into its first action, against an +enemy of unknown force, in a country where the vegetation was thicker +than fur on a cat. There might have been a dreadful mess; but in +military matters the only way to deal with a situation of this kind is +to take it frankly by the throat and squeeze it to death. Shackles and +Little Nell felt the thrill of the orders. "Come ahead, men! Keep right +ahead, men! Come on!" The volunteer cavalry regiment, with all the +willingness in the world, went ahead into the angle of V-shaped Spanish +formation. + +It seemed that every leaf had turned into a soda-bottle and was popping +its cork. Some of the explosions seemed to be against the men's very +faces, others against the backs of their necks. "Now, men! Keep goin' +ahead. Keep on goin'." The forward troops were already engaged. They, +at least, had something at which to shoot. "Now, captain, if you're +ready." "Stop that swearing there." "Got a match?" "Steady, now, men." + +A gate appeared in a barbed-wire fence. Within were billowy fields of +long grass, dotted with palms and luxuriant mango trees. It was +Elysian--a place for lovers, fair as Eden in its radiance of sun, under +its blue sky. One might have expected to see white-robed figures +walking slowly in the shadows. A dead man, with a bloody face, lay +twisted in a curious contortion at the waist. Someone was shot in the +leg, his pins knocked cleanly from under him. + +"Keep goin', men." The air roared, and the ground fled reelingly under +their feet. Light, shadow, trees, grass. Bullets spat from every side. +Once they were in a thicket, and the men, blanched and bewildered, +turned one way, and then another, not knowing which way to turn. "Keep +goin', men." Soon they were in the sunlight again. They could see the +long scant line, which was being drained man by man--one might say drop +by drop. The musketry rolled forth in great full measure from the +magazine carbines. "Keep goin', men." "Christ, I'm shot!" "They're +flankin' us, sir." "We're bein' fired into by our own crowd, sir." +"Keep goin', men." A low ridge before them was a bottling establishment +blowing up in detail. From the right--it seemed at that time to be the +far right--they could hear steady, crashing volleys--the United States +regulars in action. + +Then suddenly--to use a phrase of the street--the whole bottom of the +thing fell out. It was suddenly and mysteriously ended. The Spaniards +had run away, and some of the regulars were chasing them. It was a +victory. + +When the wounded men dropped in the tall grass they quite disappeared, +as if they had sunk in water. Little Nell and Shackles were walking +along through the fields, disputing. + +"Well, damn it, man!" cried Shackles, "we _must_ get a list of the +killed and wounded." + +"That is not nearly so important," quoth little Nell, academically, "as +to get the first account to New York of the first action of the army in +Cuba." + +They came upon Tailor, lying with a bared torso and a small red hole +through his left lung. He was calm, but evidently out of temper. "Good +God, Tailor!" they cried, dropping to their knees like two pagans; "are +you hurt, old boy?" + +"Hurt?" he said gently. "No, 'tis not so deep as a well nor so wide as +a church-door, but 'tis enough, d'you see? You understand, do you? +Idiots!" + +Then he became very official. "Shackles, feel and see what's under my +leg. It's a small stone, or a burr, or something. Don't be clumsy now! +Be careful! Be careful!" Then he said, angrily, "Oh, you didn't find it +at all. Damn it!" + +In reality there was nothing there, and so Shackles could not have +removed it. "Sorry, old boy," he said, meekly. + +"Well, you may observe that I can't stay here more than a year," said +Tailor, with some oratory, "and the hospital people have their own work +in hand. It behoves you, Nell, to fly to Siboney, arrest a despatch +boat, get a cot and some other things, and some minions to carry me. If +I get once down to the base I'm all right, but if I stay here I'm dead. +Meantime Shackles can stay here and try to look as if he liked it." + +There was no disobeying the man. Lying there with a little red hole in +his left lung, he dominated them through his helplessness, and through +their fear that if they angered him he would move and--bleed. + +"Well?" said Little Nell. + +"Yes," said Shackles, nodding. + +Little Nell departed. + +"That blanket you lent me," Tailor called after him, "is back there +somewhere with Point." + +Little Nell noted that many of the men who were wandering among the +wounded seemed so spent with the toil and excitement of their first +action that they could hardly drag one leg after the other. He found +himself suddenly in the same condition, His face, his neck, even his +mouth, felt dry as sun-baked bricks, and his legs were foreign to him. +But he swung desperately into his five-mile task. On the way he passed +many things: bleeding men carried by comrades; others making their way +grimly, with encrimsoned arms; then the little settlement of the +hospital squad; men on the ground everywhere, many in the path; one +young captain dying, with great gasps, his body pale blue, and +glistening, like the inside of a rabbit's skin. But the voice of the +Cuban wood-dove, soft, mellow, sweet, singing only of love, was no +longer heard from the wealth of foliage. + +Presently the hurrying correspondent met another regiment coming to +assist--a line of a thousand men in single file through the jungle. +"Well, how is it going, old man?" "How is it coming on?" "Are we doin' +'em?" Then, after an interval, came other regiments, moving out. He +had to take to the bush to let these long lines pass him, and he was +delayed, and had to flounder amid brambles. But at last, like a +successful pilgrim, he arrived at the brow of the great hill +overlooking Siboney. His practised eye scanned the fine broad brow of +the sea with its clustering ships, but he saw thereon no _Eclipse_ +despatch boats. He zigzagged heavily down the hill, and arrived +finally amid the dust and outcries of the base. He seemed to ask a +thousand men if they had seen an _Eclipse_ boat on the water, or an +_Eclipse_ correspondent on the shore. They all answered, "No." + +He was like a poverty-stricken and unknown suppliant at a foreign +Court. Even his plea got only ill-hearings. He had expected the news of +the serious wounding of Tailor to appal the other correspondents, but +they took it quite calmly. It was as if their sense of an impending +great battle between two large armies had quite got them out of focus +for these minor tragedies. Tailor was hurt--yes? They looked at Little +Nell, dazed. How curious that Tailor should be almost the first--how +_very_ curious--yes. But, as far as arousing them to any enthusiasm of +active pity, it seemed impossible. He was lying up there in the grass, +was he? Too bad, too bad, too bad! + +Little Nell went alone and lay down in the sand with his back against a +rock. Tailor was prostrate up there in the grass. Never mind. Nothing +was to be done. The whole situation was too colossal. Then into his +zone came Walkley the invincible. + +"Walkley!" yelled Little Nell. Walkley came quickly, and Little Nell +lay weakly against his rock and talked. In thirty seconds Walkley +understood everything, had hurled a drink of whisky into Little Nell, +had admonished him to lie quiet, and had gone to organise and +manipulate. When he returned he was a trifle dubious and backward. +Behind him was a singular squad of volunteers from the _Adolphus_, +carrying among them a wire-woven bed. + +"Look here, Nell!" said Walkley, in bashful accents; "I've collected a +battalion here which is willing to go bring Tailor; but--they +say--you--can't you show them where he is?" + +"Yes," said Little Nell, arising. + + * * * * * + +When the party arrived at Siboney, and deposited Tailor in the best +place, Walkley had found a house and stocked it with canned soups. +Therein Shackles and Little Nell revelled for a time, and then rolled +on the floor in their blankets. Little Nell tossed a great deal. "Oh, +I'm so tired. Good God, I'm tired. I'm--tired." + +In the morning a voice aroused them. It was a swollen, important, +circus voice saying, "Where is Mr. Nell? I wish to see him +immediately." + +"Here I am, Rogers," cried Little Nell. + +"Oh, Nell," said Rogers, "here's a despatch to me which I thought you +had better read." + +Little Nell took the despatch. It was: "Tell Nell can't understand his +inaction; tell him come home first steamer from Port Antonio, Jamaica." + + + + +THE REVENGE OF THE ADOLPHUS + + +I + +"Stand by." + +Shackles had come down from the bridge of the _Adolphus_ and flung +this command at three fellow-correspondents who in the galley were +busy with pencils trying to write something exciting and interesting +from four days quiet cruising. They looked up casually. "What for?" +They did not intend to arouse for nothing. Ever since Shackles had +heard the men of the navy directing each other to stand by for this +thing and that thing, he had used the two words as his pet phrase and +was continually telling his friends to stand by. Sometimes its +portentous and emphatic reiteration became highly exasperating and men +were apt to retort sharply. "Well, I _am_ standing by, ain't I?" On +this occasion they detected that he was serious. "Well, what for?" +they repeated. In his answer Shackles was reproachful as well as +impressive. "Stand by? Stand by for a Spanish gunboat. A Spanish +gunboat in chase! Stand by for _two_ Spanish gunboats--_both_ of them +in chase!" + +The others looked at him for a brief space and were almost certain that +they saw truth written upon his countenance. Whereupon they tumbled out +of the galley and galloped up to the bridge. The cook with a mere +inkling of tragedy was now out on deck bawling, "What's the matter? +What's the matter? What's the matter?" Aft, the grimy head of a stoker +was thrust suddenly up through the deck, so to speak. The eyes flashed +in a quick look astern and then the head vanished. The correspondents +were scrambling on the bridge. "Where's my glasses, damn it? Here--let +me take a look. Are they Spaniards, Captain? Are you sure?" + +The skipper of the _Adolphus_ was at the wheel. The pilot-house was so +arranged that he could not see astern without hanging forth from one +of the side windows, but apparently he had made early investigation. +He did not reply at once. At sea, he never replied at once to +questions. At the very first, Shackles had discovered the merits of +this deliberate manner and had taken delight in it. He invariably +detailed his talk with the captain to the other correspondents. "Look +here. I've just been to see the skipper. I said 'I would like to put +into Cape Haytien.' Then he took a little think. Finally he said: 'All +right.' Then I said: 'I suppose we'll need to take on more coal +there?' He took another little think. I said: 'Ever ran into that port +before?' He took another little think. Finally he said: 'Yes.' I said +'Have a cigar?' He took another little think. See? There's where I +fooled 'im----" + +While the correspondents spun the hurried questions at him, the +captain of the _Adolphus_ stood with his brown hands on the wheel and +his cold glance aligned straight over the bow of his ship. + +"Are they Spanish gunboats, Captain? Are they, Captain?" + +After a profound pause, he said: "Yes." The four correspondents hastily +and in perfect time presented their backs to him and fastened their +gaze on the pursuing foe. They saw a dull grey curve of sea going to +the feet of the high green and blue coast-line of north-eastern Cuba, +and on this sea were two miniature ships with clouds of iron-coloured +smoke pouring from their funnels. + +One of the correspondents strolled elaborately to the pilot-house. +"Aw--Captain," he drawled, "do you think they can catch us?" + +The captain's glance was still aligned over the bow of his ship. +Ultimately he answered: "I don't know." + +From the top of the little _Adolphus'_ stack, thick dark smoke swept +level for a few yards and then went rolling to leaward in great hot +obscuring clouds. From time to time the grimy head was thrust through +the deck, the eyes took the quick look astern and then the head +vanished. The cook was trying to get somebody to listen to him. "Well, +you know, damn it all, it won't be no fun to be ketched by them +Spaniards. Be-Gawd, it won't. Look here, what do you think they'll do +to us, hey? Say, I don't like this, you know. I'm damned if I do." The +sea, cut by the hurried bow of the _Adolphus_, flung its waters astern +in the formation of a wide angle and the lines of the angle ruffled +and hissed as they fled, while the thumping screw tormented the water +at the stern. The frame of the steamer underwent regular convulsions +as in the strenuous sobbing of a child. + +The mate was standing near the pilot-house. Without looking at him, the +captain spoke his name. "Ed!" + +"Yes, sir," cried the mate with alacrity. + +The captain reflected for a moment. Then he said: "Are they gainin' on +us?" + +The mate took another anxious survey of the race. "No--o--yes, I think +they are--a little." + +After a pause the captain said: "Tell the chief to shake her up more." + +The mate, glad of an occupation in these tense minutes, flew down to +the engine-room door. "Skipper says shake 'er up more!" he bawled. The +head of the chief engineer appeared, a grizzly head now wet with oil +and sweat. "What?" he shouted angrily. It was as if he had been +propelling the ship with his own arms. Now he was told that his best +was not good enough. "What? shake 'er up more? Why she can't carry +another pound, I tell you! Not another ounce! We----" Suddenly he ran +forward and climbed to the bridge. "Captain," he cried in the loud +harsh voice of one who lived usually amid the thunder of machinery, +"she can't do it, sir! Be-Gawd, she can't! She's turning over now +faster than she ever did in her life and we'll all blow to hell----" + +The low-toned, impassive voice of the captain suddenly checked the +chief's clamour. "I'll blow her up," he said, "but I won't git ketched +if I kin help it." Even then the listening correspondents found a +second in which to marvel that the captain had actually explained his +point of view to another human being. + +The engineer stood blank. Then suddenly he cried: "All right, sir!" He +threw a hurried look of despair at the correspondents, the deck of the +_Adolphus_, the pursuing enemy, Cuba, the sky and the sea; he vanished +in the direction of his post. + +A correspondent was suddenly regifted with the power of prolonged +speech. "Well, you see, the game is up, damn it. See? We can't get out +of it. The skipper will blow up the whole bunch before he'll let his +ship be taken, and the Spaniards are gaining. Well, that's what comes +from going to war in an eight-knot tub." He bitterly accused himself, +the others, and the dark, sightless, indifferent world. + +This certainty of coming evil affected each one differently. One was +made garrulous; one kept absent-mindedly snapping his fingers and +gazing at the sea; another stepped nervously to and fro, looking +everywhere as if for employment for his mind. As for Shackles he was +silent and smiling, but it was a new smile that caused the lines about +his mouth to betray quivering weakness. And each man looked at the +others to discover their degree of fear and did his best to conceal his +own, holding his crackling nerves with all his strength. + +As the _Adolphus_ rushed on, the sun suddenly emerged from behind grey +clouds and its rays dealt titanic blows so that in a few minutes the +sea was a glowing blue plain with the golden shine dancing at the tips +of the waves. The coast of Cuba glowed with light. The pursuers +displayed detail after detail in the new atmosphere. The voice of the +cook was heard in high vexation. "Am I to git dinner as usual? How do +I know? Nobody tells me what to do? Am I to git dinner as usual?" + +The mate answered ferociously. "Of course you are! What do you s'pose? +Ain't you the cook, you damn fool?" + +The cook retorted in a mutinous scream. "Well, how would I know? If +this ship is goin' to blow up----" + + +II + +The captain called from the pilot-house. "Mr. Shackles! Oh, Mr. +Shackles!" The correspondent moved hastily to a window. "What is it, +Captain?" The skipper of the _Adolphus_ raised a battered finger and +pointed over the bows. "See 'er?" he asked, laconic but quietly +jubilant. Another steamer was smoking at full speed over the sun-lit +seas. A great billow of pure white was on her bows. "Great Scott!" +cried Shackles. "Another Spaniard?" + +"No," said the captain, "that there is a United States cruiser!" + +"What?" Shackles was dumfounded into muscular paralysis. "No! Are you +_sure_?" + +The captain nodded. "Sure, take the glass. See her ensign? Two funnels, +two masts with fighting tops. She ought to be the _Chancellorville_." + +Shackles choked. "Well, I'm blowed!" + +"Ed!" said the captain. + +"Yessir!" + +"Tell the chief there is no hurry." + +Shackles suddenly bethought him of his companions. He dashed to them +and was full of quick scorn of their gloomy faces. "Hi, brace up there! +Are you blind? Can't you see her?" + +"See what?" + +"Why, the _Chancellorville_, you blind mice!" roared Shackles. "See +'er? See 'er? See 'er?" + +The others sprang, saw, and collapsed. Shackles was a madman for the +purpose of distributing the news. "Cook!" he shrieked. "Don't you see +'er, cook? Good Gawd, man, don't you see 'er?" He ran to the lower deck +and howled his information everywhere. Suddenly the whole ship smiled. +Men clapped each other on the shoulder and joyously shouted. The +captain thrust his head from the pilot-house to look back at the +Spanish ships. Then he looked at the American cruiser. "Now, we'll +see," he said grimly and vindictively to the mate. "Guess somebody else +will do some running," the mate chuckled. + +The two gunboats were still headed hard for the _Adolphus_ and she +kept on her way. The American cruiser was coming swiftly. "It's the +_Chancellorville_!" cried Shackles. "I know her! We'll see a fight +at sea, my boys! A fight at sea!" The enthusiastic correspondents +pranced in Indian revels. + +The _Chancellorville_--2000 tons--18.6 knots--10 five-inch guns--came +on tempestuously, sheering the water high with her sharp bow. From her +funnels the smoke raced away in driven sheets. She loomed with +extraordinary rapidity like a ship bulging and growing out of the sea. +She swept by the _Adolphus_ so close that one could have thrown a +walnut on board. She was a glistening grey apparition with a blood-red +water-line, with brown gun-muzzles and white-clothed motionless +jack-tars; and in her rush she was silent, deadly silent. Probably +there entered the mind of every man on board the _Adolphus_ a feeling +of almost idolatry for this living thing, stern but, to their thought, +incomparably beautiful. They would have cheered but that each man +seemed to feel that a cheer would be too puny a tribute. + +It was at first as if she did not see the _Adolphus_. She was going to +pass without heeding this little vagabond of the high-seas. But +suddenly a megaphone gaped over the rail of her bridge and a voice was +heard measuredly, calmly intoning. "Hello--there! Keep--well--to-- +the--north'ard--and--out of my--way--and I'll--go--in--and--see-- +what--those--people--want----" Then nothing was heard but the swirl of +water. In a moment the _Adolphus_ was looking at a high grey stern. On +the quarter-deck, sailors were poised about the breach of the +after-pivot-gun. + +The correspondents were revelling. "Captain," yelled Shackles, "we +can't miss this! We must see it!" But the skipper had already flung +over the wheel. "Sure," he answered almost at once. "We can't miss it." + +The cook was arrogantly, grossly triumphant. His voice rang along the +deck. "There, now! How will the Spinachers like that? Now, it's our +turn! We've been doin' the runnin' away but now we'll do the chasin'!" +Apparently feeling some twinge of nerves from the former strain, he +suddenly demanded: "Say, who's got any whisky? I'm near dead for a +drink." + +When the _Adolphus_ came about, she laid her course for a position to +the northward of a coming battle, but the situation suddenly became +complicated. When the Spanish ships discovered the identity of the ship +that was steaming toward them, they did not hesitate over their plan of +action. With one accord they turned and ran for port. Laughter arose +from the _Adolphus_. The captain broke his orders, and, instead of +keeping to the northward, he headed in the wake of the impetuous +_Chancellorville_. The correspondents crowded on the bow. + +The Spaniards when their broadsides became visible were seen to be +ships of no importance, mere little gunboats for work in the shallows +back of the reefs, and it was certainly discreet to refuse encounter +with the five-inch guns of the _Chancellorville_. But the joyful +_Adolphus_ took no account of this discretion. The pursuit of the +Spaniards had been so ferocious that the quick change to heels-overhead +flight filled that corner of the mind which is devoted to the spirit of +revenge. It was this that moved Shackles to yell taunts futilely at the +far-away ships. "Well, how do you like it, eh? How do you like it?" The +_Adolphus_ was drinking compensation for her previous agony. + +The mountains of the shore now shadowed high into the sky and the +square white houses of a town could be seen near a vague cleft which +seemed to mark the entrance to a port. The gunboats were now near to +it. + +Suddenly white smoke streamed from the bow of the _Chancellorville_ and +developed swiftly into a great bulb which drifted in fragments down the +wind. Presently the deep-throated boom of the gun came to the ears on +board the _Adolphus_. The shot kicked up a high jet of water into the +air astern of the last gunboat. The black smoke from the funnels of the +cruiser made her look like a collier on fire, and in her desperation +she tried many more long shots, but presently the _Adolphus_, murmuring +disappointment, saw the _Chancellorville_ sheer from the chase. + +In time they came up with her and she was an indignant ship. Gloom +and wrath was on the forecastle and wrath and gloom was on the +quarter-deck. A sad voice from the bridge said: "Just missed 'em." +Shackles gained permission to board the cruiser, and in the cabin, he +talked to Lieutenant-Commander Surrey, tall, bald-headed and angry. +"Shoals," said the captain of the _Chancellorville_. "I can't go any +nearer and those gunboats could steam along a stone sidewalk if only it +was wet." Then his bright eyes became brighter. "I tell you what! The +_Chicken_, the _Holy Moses_ and the _Mongolian_ are on station off +Nuevitas. If you will do me a favour--why, to-morrow I will give those +people a game!" + + +III + +The _Chancellorville_ lay all night watching off the port of the two +gunboats and, soon after daylight, the lookout descried three smokes to +the westward and they were later made out to be the _Chicken_, the +_Holy Moses_ and the _Adolphus_, the latter tagging hurriedly after the +United States vessels. + +The _Chicken_ had been a harbour tug but she was now the U.S.S. +_Chicken_, by your leave. She carried a six-pounder forward and a +six-pounder aft and her main point was her conspicuous vulnerability. +The _Holy Moses_ had been the private yacht of a Philadelphia +millionaire. She carried six six-pounders and her main point was the +chaste beauty of the officer's quarters. + +On the bridge of the _Chancellorville_, Lieutenant-Commander Surrey +surveyed his squadron with considerable satisfaction. Presently he +signalled to the lieutenant who commanded the _Holy Moses_ and to the +boatswain who commanded the _Chicken_ to come aboard the flag-ship. +This was all very well for the captain of the yacht, but it was not so +easy for the captain of the tug-boat who had two heavy lifeboats swung +fifteen feet above the water. He had been accustomed to talking with +senior officers from his own pilot house through the intercession of +the blessed megaphone. However he got a lifeboat overside and was +pulled to the _Chancellorville_ by three men--which cut his crew almost +into halves. + +In the cabin of the _Chancellorville_, Surrey disclosed to his two +captains his desires concerning the Spanish gunboats and they were glad +for being ordered down from the Nuevitas station where life was very +dull. He also announced that there was a shore battery containing, he +believed, four field guns--three-point-twos. His draught--he spoke of +it as _his_ draught--would enable him to go in close enough to engage +the battery at moderate range, but he pointed out that the main parts +of the attempt to destroy the Spanish gunboats must be left to the +_Holy Moses_ and the _Chicken_. His business, he thought, could only be +to keep the air so singing about the ears of the battery that the men +at the guns would be unable to take an interest in the dash of the +smaller American craft into the bay. + +The officers spoke in their turns. The captain of the _Chicken_ +announced that he saw no difficulties. The squadron would follow the +senior officer in line ahead, the _S. O._ would engage the batteries as +soon as possible, she would turn to starboard when the depth of water +forced her to do so and the _Holy Moses_ and the _Chicken_ would run +past her into the bay and fight the Spanish ships wherever they were +to be found. The captain of the _Holy Moses_ after some moments of +dignified thought said that he had no suggestions to make that would +better this plan. + +Surrey pressed an electric bell; a marine orderly appeared; he was sent +with a message. The message brought the navigating officer of the +_Chancellorville_ to the cabin and the four men nosed over a chart. + +In the end Surrey declared that he had made up his mind and the juniors +remained in expectant silence for three minutes while he stared at the +bulkhead. Then he said that the plan of the _Chicken's_ captain seemed +to him correct in the main. He would make one change. It was that he +should first steam in and engage the battery and the other vessels +should remain in their present positions until he signalled them to run +into the bay. If the squadron steamed ahead in line, the battery could, +if it chose, divide its fire between the cruiser and the gunboats +constituting the more important attack. He had no doubt, he said, that +he could soon silence the battery by tumbling the earth-works on to the +guns and driving away the men even if he did not succeed in hitting the +pieces. Of course he had no doubt of being able to silence the battery +in twenty minutes. Then he would signal for the _Holy Moses_ and the +_Chicken_ to make their rush, and of course he would support them with +his fire as much as conditions enabled him. He arose then indicating +that the conference was at an end. In the few moments more that all +four men remained in the cabin, the talk changed its character +completely. It was now unofficial, and the sharp badinage concealed +furtive affections, Academy friendships, the feelings of old-time +ship-mates, hiding everything under a veil of jokes. "Well, good luck +to you, old boy! Don't get that valuable packet of yours sunk under +you. Think how it would weaken the navy. Would you mind buying me three +pairs of pajamas in the town yonder? If your engines get disabled, tote +her under your arm. You can do it. Good-bye, old man, don't forget to +come out all right----" + +When the captains of the _Chicken_ and the _Chicken_ emerged from the +cabin, they strode the deck with a new step. They were proud men. The +marine on duty above their boats looked at them curiously and with awe. +He detected something which meant action, conflict, The boats' crews +saw it also. As they pulled their steady stroke, they studied +fleetingly the face of the officer in the stern sheets. In both cases +they perceived a glad man and yet a man filled with a profound +consideration of the future. + + +IV + +A bird-like whistle stirred the decks of the _Chancellorville_. It was +followed by the hoarse bellowing of the boatswain's mate. As the cruiser +turned her bow toward the shore, she happened to steam near the _Adolphus_. +The usual calm voice hailed the despatch boat. "Keep--that--gauze +under-shirt of yours--well--out of the--line of fire." + +"Ay, ay, sir!" + +The cruiser then moved slowly toward the shore, watched by every eye in +the smaller American vessels. She was deliberate and steady, and this +was reasonable even to the impatience of the other craft because the +wooded shore was likely to suddenly develop new factors. Slowly she +swung to starboard; smoke belched over her and the roar of a gun came +along the water. + +The battery was indicated by a long thin streak of yellow earth. The +first shot went high, ploughing the chaparral on the hillside. The +_Chancellorville_ wore an air for a moment of being deep in meditation. +She flung another shell, which landed squarely on the earth-work, +making a great dun cloud. Before the smoke had settled, there was a +crimson flash from the battery. To the watchers at sea, it was smaller +than a needle. The shot made a geyser of crystal water, four hundred +yards from the _Chancellorville_. + +The cruiser, having made up her mind, suddenly went at the battery, +hammer and tongs. She moved to and fro casually, but the thunder of her +guns was gruff and angry. Sometimes she was quite hidden in her own +smoke, but with exceeding regularity the earth of the battery spurted +into the air. The Spanish shells, for the most part, went high and wide +of the cruiser, jetting the water far away. + +Once a Spanish gunner took a festive side-show chance at the waiting +group of the three nondescripts. It went like a flash over the +_Adolphus_, singing a wistful metallic note. Whereupon the _Adolphus_ +broke hurriedly for the open sea, and men on the _Holy Moses_ and the +_Chicken_ laughed hoarsely and cruelly. The correspondents had been +standing excitedly on top of the pilot-house, but at the passing of the +shell, they promptly eliminated themselves by dropping with a thud to +the deck below. The cook again was giving tongue. "Oh, say, this won't +do! I'm damned if it will! We ain't no armoured cruiser, you know. If +one of them shells hits us--well, we finish right there. 'Tain't like +as if it was our _business_, foolin' 'round within the range of them +guns. There's no sense in it. Them other fellows don't seem to mind it, +but it's their _business_. If it's your _business_, you go ahead and do +it, but if it ain't, you--look at that, would you!" + +The _Chancellorville_ had sent up a spread of flags, and the _Holy +Moses_ and the _Chicken_ were steaming in. + + +V + +They, on the _Chancellorville_, sometimes could see into the bay, +and they perceived the enemy's gunboats moving out as if to give +battle. Surrey feared that this impulse would not endure or that +it was some mere pretence for the edification of the town's people +and the garrison, so he hastily signalled the _Holy Moses_ and the +_Chicken_ to go in. Thankful for small favours, they came on like +charging bantams. The battery had ceased firing. As the two auxiliaries +passed under the stern of the cruiser, the megaphone hailed them. +"You--will--see--the--en--em--y--soon--as--you--round--the--point. +A--fine--chance. Good--luck." + +As a matter of fact, the Spanish gunboats had not been informed of the +presence of the _Holy Moses_ and the _Chicken_ off the bar, and they +were just blustering down the bay over the protective shoals to make it +appear that they scorned the _Chancellorville_. But suddenly, from +around the point, there burst into view a steam yacht, closely followed +by a harbour tug. The gunboats took one swift look at this horrible +sight and fled screaming. + +Lieutenant Reigate, commanding the _Holy Moses_, had under his feet a +craft that was capable of some speed, although before a solemn +tribunal, one would have to admit that she conscientiously belied +almost everything that the contractors had said of her, originally. +Boatswain Pent, commanding the _Chicken_, was in possession of an +utterly different kind. The _Holy Moses_ was an antelope; the _Chicken_ +was a man who could carry a piano on his back. In this race Pent had +the mortification of seeing his vessel outstripped badly. + +The entrance of the two American craft had had a curious effect upon +the shores of the bay. Apparently everyone had slept in the assurance +that the _Chancellorville_ could not cross the bar, and that the +_Chancellorville_ was the only hostile ship. Consequently, the +appearance of the _Holy Moses_ and the _Chicken_, created a curious and +complete emotion. Reigate, on the bridge of the _Holy Moses_, laughed +when he heard the bugles shrilling and saw through his glasses the wee +figures of men running hither and thither on the shore. It was the +panic of the china when the bull entered the shop. The whole bay was +bright with sun. Every detail of the shore was plain. From a brown hut +abeam of the _Holy Moses_, some little men ran out waving their arms +and turning their tiny faces to look at the enemy. Directly ahead, some +four miles, appeared the scattered white houses of a town with a wharf, +and some schooners in front of it. The gunboats were making for the +town. There was a stone fort on the hill overshadowing, but Reigate +conjectured that there was no artillery in it. + +There was a sense of something intimate and impudent in the minds of +the Americans. It was like climbing over a wall and fighting a man in +his own garden. It was not that they could be in any wise shaken in +their resolve; it was simply that the overwhelmingly Spanish aspect of +things made them feel like gruff intruders. Like many of the emotions +of war-time, this emotion had nothing at all to do with war. + +Reigate's only commissioned subordinate called up from the bow gun. +"May I open fire, sir? I think I can fetch that last one." + +"Yes." Immediately the six-pounder crashed, and in the air was the +spinning-wire noise of the flying shot. It struck so close to the last +gunboat that it appeared that the spray went aboard. The swift-handed +men at the gun spoke of it. "Gave 'm a bath that time anyhow. First one +they've ever had. Dry 'em off this time, Jim." The young ensign said: +"Steady." And so the _Holy Moses_ raced in, firing, until the whole +town, fort, waterfront, and shipping were as plain as if they had been +done on paper by a mechanical draftsman. The gunboats were trying to +hide in the bosom of the town. One was frantically tying up to the +wharf and the other was anchoring within a hundred yards of the shore. +The Spanish infantry, of course, had dug trenches along the beach, and +suddenly the air over the _Holy Moses_ sung with bullets. The +shore-line thrummed with musketry. Also some antique shells screamed. + + +VI + +The _Chicken_ was doing her best. Pent's posture at the wheel seemed to +indicate that her best was about thirty-four knots. In his eagerness he +was braced as if he alone was taking in a 10,000 ton battleship through +Hell Gate. + +But the _Chicken_ was not too far in the rear and Pent could see +clearly that he was to have no minor part to play. Some of the antique +shells had struck the _Holy Moses_ and he could see the escaped steam +shooting up from her. She lay close inshore and was lashing out with +four six-pounders as if this was the last opportunity she would have to +fire them. She had made the Spanish gunboats very sick. A solitary gun +on the one moored to the wharf was from time to time firing wildly; +otherwise the gunboats were silent. But the beach in front of the town +was a line of fire. The _Chicken_ headed for the _Holy Moses_ and, as +soon as possible, the six-pounder in her bow began to crack at the +gunboat moored to the wharf. + +In the meantime, the _Chancellorville_ prowled off the bar, listening +to the firing, anxious, acutely anxious, and feeling her impotency in +every inch of her smart steel frame. And in the meantime, the +_Adolphus_ squatted on the waves and brazenly waited for news. One +could thoughtfully count the seconds and reckon that, in this second +and that second, a man had died--if one chose. But no one did it. +Undoubtedly, the spirit was that the flag should come away with honour, +honour complete, perfect, leaving no loose unfinished end over which +the Spaniards could erect a monument of satisfaction, glorification. +The distant guns boomed to the ears of the silent blue-jackets at their +stations on the cruiser. + +The _Chicken_ steamed up to the _Holy Moses_ and took into her nostrils +the odour of steam, gunpowder and burnt things. Rifle bullets simply +steamed over them both. In the merest flash of time, Pent took into his +remembrance the body of a dead quartermaster on the bridge of his +consort. The two megaphones uplifted together, but Pent's eager voice +cried out first. "Are you injured, sir?" + +"No, not completely. My engines can get me out after--after we have +sunk those gunboats." The voice had been utterly conventional but it +changed to sharpness. "Go in and sink that gunboat at anchor." + +As the _Chicken_ rounded the _Holy Moses_ and started inshore, a man +called to him from the depths of finished disgust. "They're takin' to +their boats, sir." Pent looked and saw the men of the anchored gunboat +lower their boats and pull like mad for shore. + +The _Chicken_, assisted by the _Holy Moses_, began a methodical +killing of the anchored gunboat. The Spanish infantry on shore fired +frenziedly at the _Chicken_. Pent, giving the wheel to a waiting sailor, +stepped out to a point where he could see the men at the guns. One +bullet spanged past him and into the pilot-house. He ducked his head +into the window. "That hit you, Murry?" he inquired with interest. + +"No, sir," cheerfully responded the man at the wheel. + +Pent became very busy superintending the fire of his absurd battery. +The anchored gunboat simply would not sink. It evinced that unnatural +stubbornness which is sometimes displayed by inanimate objects. The +gunboat at the wharf had sunk as if she had been scuttled but this +riddled thing at anchor would not even take fire. Pent began to grow +flurried--privately. He could not stay there for ever. Why didn't the +damned gunboat admit its destruction. Why---- + +He was at the forward gun when one of his engine room force came to him +and, after saluting, said serenely: "The men at the after-gun are all +down, sir." + +It was one of those curious lifts which an enlisted man, without in any +way knowing it, can give his officer. The impudent tranquillity of the +man at once set Pent to rights and the stoker departed admiring the +extraordinary coolness of his captain. + +The next few moments contained little but heat, an odour, applied +mechanics and an expectation of death. Pent developed a fervid and +amazed appreciation of the men, his men, men he knew very well, but +strange men. What explained them? He was doing his best because he was +captain of the _Chicken_ and he lived or died by the _Chicken_. But +what could move these men to watch his eye in bright anticipation of +his orders and then obey them with enthusiastic rapidity? What caused +them to speak of the action as some kind of a joke--particularly when +they knew he could overhear them? What manner of men? And he anointed +them secretly with his fullest affection. + +Perhaps Pent did not think all this during the battle. Perhaps he +thought it so soon after the battle that his full mind became confused +as to the time. At any rate, it stands as an expression of his feeling. + +The enemy had gotten a field-gun down to the shore and with it they +began to throw three-inch shells at the _Chicken_. In this war it was +usual that the down-trodden Spaniards in their ignorance should use +smokeless powder while the Americans, by the power of the consistent +everlasting three-ply, wire-woven, double back-action imbecility of a +hay-seed government, used powder which on sea and on land cried their +position to heaven, and, accordingly, good men got killed without +reason. At first, Pent could not locate the field-gun at all, but as +soon as he found it, he ran aft with one man and brought the after +six-pounder again into action. He paid little heed to the old gun crew. +One was lying on his face apparently dead; another was prone with a +wound in the chest, while the third sat with his back to the deck-house +holding a smitten arm. This last one called out huskily, "Give'm hell, +sir." + +The minutes of the battle were either days, years, or they were flashes +of a second. Once Pent looking up was astonished to see three shell +holes in the _Chicken's_ funnel--made surreptitiously, so to speak.... +"If we don't silence that field-gun, she'll sink us, boys." ... The +eyes of the man sitting with his back against the deck-house were +looking from out his ghastly face at the new gun-crew. He spoke with +the supreme laziness of a wounded man. "Give'm hell." ... Pent felt a +sudden twist of his shoulder. He was wounded--slightly.... The anchored +gunboat was in flames. + + +VII + +Pent took his little blood-stained tow-boat out to the _Holy Moses_. +The yacht was already under way for the bay entrance. As they were +passing out of range the Spaniards heroically redoubled their +fire--which is their custom. Pent, moving busily about the decks, +stopped suddenly at the door of the engine-room. His face was set and +his eyes were steely. He spoke to one of the engineers. "During the +action I saw you firing at the enemy with a rifle. I told you once to +stop, and then I saw you at it again. Pegging away with a rifle is no +part of your business. I want you to understand that you are in +trouble." The humbled man did not raise his eyes from the deck. +Presently the _Holy Moses_ displayed an anxiety for the _Chicken's_ +health. + +"One killed and four wounded, sir." + +"Have you enough men left to work your ship?" + +After deliberation, Pent answered: "No, sir." + +"Shall I send you assistance?" + +"No, sir. I can get to sea all right." + +As they neared the point they were edified by the sudden appearance of +a serio-comic ally. The _Chancellorville_ at last had been unable to +stand the strain, and had sent in her launch with an ensign, five +seamen and a number of marksmen marines. She swept hot-foot around the +point, bent on terrible slaughter; the one-pounder of her bow presented +a formidable appearance. The _Holy Moses_ and the _Chicken_ laughed +until they brought indignation to the brow of the young ensign. But he +forgot it when with some of his men he boarded the _Chicken_ to do what +was possible for the wounded. The nearest surgeon was aboard the +_Chancellorville_. There was absolute silence on board the cruiser as +the _Holy Moses_ steamed up to report. The blue-jackets listened with +all their ears. The commander of the yacht spoke slowly into his +megaphone: "We have--destroyed--the two--gun-boats--sir." There was a +burst of confused cheering on the forecastle of the _Chancellorville_, +but an officer's cry quelled it. + +"Very--good. Will--you--come aboard?" + +Two correspondents were already on the deck of the cruiser. Before the +last of the wounded were hoisted aboard the cruiser the _Adolphus_ was +on her way to Key West. When she arrived at that port of desolation +Shackles fled to file the telegrams and the other correspondents fled +to the hotel for clothes, good clothes, clean clothes; and food, good +food, much food; and drink, much drink, any kind of drink. + +Days afterward, when the officers of the noble squadron received the +newspapers containing an account of their performance, they looked at +each other somewhat dejectedly: "Heroic assault--grand daring of +Boatswain Pent--superb accuracy of the _Holy Moses'_ fire--gallant +tars of the _Chicken_--their names should be remembered as long as +America stands--terrible losses of the enemy----" + +When the Secretary of the Navy ultimately read the report of Commander +Surrey, S.O.P., he had to prick himself with a dagger in order to +remember that anything at all out of the ordinary had occurred. + + + + +THE SERGEANT'S PRIVATE MADHOUSE + + +The moonlight was almost steady blue flame and all this radiance was +lavished out upon a still lifeless wilderness of stunted trees and +cactus plants. The shadows lay upon the ground, pools of black and +sharply outlined, resembling substances, fabrics, and not shadows at +all. From afar came the sound of the sea coughing among the hollows in +the coral rock. + +The land was very empty; one could easily imagine that Cuba was a +simple vast solitude; one could wonder at the moon taking all the +trouble of this splendid illumination. There was no wind; nothing +seemed to live. + +But in a particular large group of shadows lay an outpost of some forty +United States marines. If it had been possible to approach them from +any direction without encountering one of their sentries, one could +have gone stumbling among sleeping men and men who sat waiting, their +blankets tented over their heads; one would have been in among them +before one's mind could have decided whether they were men or devils. +If a marine moved, he took the care and the time of one who walks +across a death-chamber. The lieutenant in command reached for his watch +and the nickel chain gave forth the faintest tinkling sound. He could +see the glistening five or six pairs of eyes that slowly turned to +regard him. His sergeant lay near him and he bent his face down to +whisper. "Who's on post behind the big cactus plant?" + +"Dryden," rejoined the sergeant just over his breath. + +After a pause the lieutenant murmured: "He's got too many nerves. I +shouldn't have put him there." The sergeant asked if he should crawl +down and look into affairs at Dryden's post. The young officer nodded +assent and the sergeant, softly cocking his rifle, went away on his +hands and knees. The lieutenant with his back to a dwarf tree, sat +watching the sergeant's progress for the few moments that he could see +him moving from one shadow to another. Afterward, the officer waited to +hear Dryden's quick but low-voiced challenge, but time passed and no +sound came from the direction of the post behind the cactus bush. + +The sergeant, as he came nearer and nearer to this cactus bush--a +number of peculiarly dignified columns throwing shadows of inky +darkness--had slowed his pace, for he did not wish to trifle with the +feelings of the sentry, and he was expecting the stern hail and was +ready with the immediate answer which turns away wrath. He was not made +anxious by the fact that he could not yet see Dryden, for he knew that +the man would be hidden in a way practised by sentry marines since the +time when two men had been killed by a disease of excessive confidence +on picket. Indeed, as the sergeant went still nearer, he became more +and more angry. Dryden was evidently a most proper sentry. + +Finally he arrived at a point where he could see Dryden seated in the +shadow, staring into the bushes ahead of him, his rifle ready on his +knee. The sergeant in his rage longed for the peaceful precincts of the +Washington Marine Barracks where there would have been no situation to +prevent the most complete non-commissioned oratory. He felt indecent in +his capacity of a man able to creep up to the back of a G Company +member on guard duty. Never mind; in the morning back at camp---- + +But, suddenly, he felt afraid. There was something wrong with Dryden. +He remembered old tales of comrades creeping out to find a picket +seated against a tree perhaps, upright enough but stone dead. The +sergeant paused and gave the inscrutable back of the sentry a long +stare. Dubious he again moved forward. At three paces, he hissed like a +little snake. Dryden did not show a sign of hearing. At last, the +sergeant was in a position from which he was able to reach out and +touch Dryden on the arm. Whereupon was turned to him the face of a man +livid with mad fright. The sergeant grabbed him by the wrist and with +discreet fury shook him. "Here! Pull yourself together!" + +Dryden paid no heed but turned his wild face from the newcomer to the +ground in front. "Don't you see 'em, sergeant? Don't you see 'em?" + +"Where?" whispered the sergeant. + +"Ahead, and a little on the right flank. A reg'lar skirmish line. Don't +you see 'em?" + +"Naw," whispered the sergeant. Dryden began to shake. He began moving +one hand from his head to his knee and from his knee to his head +rapidly, in a way that is without explanation. "I don't dare fire," he +wept. "If I do they'll see me, and oh, how they'll pepper me!" + +The sergeant lying on his belly, understood one thing. Dryden had gone +mad. Dryden was the March Hare. The old man gulped down his uproarious +emotions as well as he was able and used the most simple device. "Go," +he said, "and tell the lieutenant while I cover your post for you." + +"No! They'd see me! They'd see me! And then they'd pepper me! O, how +they'd pepper me!" + +The sergeant was face to face with the biggest situation of his life. +In the first place he knew that at night a large or small force of +Spanish guerillas was never more than easy rifle range from any marine +outpost, both sides maintaining a secrecy as absolute as possible in +regard to their real position and strength. Everything was on a +watch-spring foundation. A loud word might be paid for by a +night-attack which would involve five hundred men who needed their +earned sleep, not to speak of some of them who would need their lives. +The slip of a foot and the rolling of a pint of gravel might go from +consequence to consequence until various crews went to general quarters +on their ships in the harbour, their batteries booming as the swift +search-light flashes tore through the foliage. Men would get +killed--notably the sergeant and Dryden--and outposts would be cut off +and the whole night would be one pitiless turmoil. And so Sergeant +George H. Peasley began to run his private madhouse behind the +cactus-bush. + +"Dryden," said the sergeant, "you do as I tell you and go tell the +lieutenant." + +"I don't dare move," shivered the man. "They'll see me if I move. +They'll see me. They're almost up now. Let's hide----" + +"Well, then you stay here a moment and I'll go and----" + +Dryden turned upon him a look so tigerish that the old man felt his +hair move. "Don't you stir," he hissed. "You want to give me away. You +want them to see me. Don't you stir." The sergeant decided not to stir. + +He became aware of the slow wheeling of eternity, its majestic +incomprehensibility of movement. Seconds, minutes, were quaint little +things, tangible as toys, and there were billions of them, all alike. +"Dryden," he whispered at the end of a century in which, curiously, he +had never joined the marine corps at all but had taken to another walk +of life and prospered greatly in it. "Dryden, this is all foolishness." +He thought of the expedient of smashing the man over the head with his +rifle, but Dryden was so supernaturally alert that there surely would +issue some small scuffle and there could be not even the fraction of a +scuffle. The sergeant relapsed into the contemplation of another +century. + +His patient had one fine virtue. He was in such terror of the phantom +skirmish line that his voice never went above a whisper, whereas his +delusion might have expressed itself in hyena yells and shots from his +rifle. The sergeant, shuddering, had visions of how it might have +been--the mad private leaping into the air and howling and shooting at +his friends and making them the centre of the enemy's eager attention. +This, to his mind, would have been conventional conduct for a maniac. +The trembling victim of an idea was somewhat puzzling. The sergeant +decided that from time to time he would reason with his patient. "Look +here, Dryden, you don't see any real Spaniards. You've been drinking +or--something. Now----" + +But Dryden only glared him into silence. Dryden was inspired with such +a profound contempt of him that it was become hatred. "Don't you stir!" +And it was clear that if the sergeant did stir, the mad private would +introduce calamity. "Now," said Peasley to himself, "if those guerillas +_should_ take a crack at us to-night, they'd find a lunatic asylum +right in the front and it would be astonishing." + +The silence of the night was broken by the quick low voice of a sentry +to the left some distance. The breathless stillness brought an effect +to the words as if they had been spoken in one's ear. + +"_Halt--who's there--halt or I'll fire!_" Bang! + +At the moment of sudden attack particularly at night, it is improbable +that a man registers much detail of either thought or action. He may +afterward say: "I was here." He may say: "I was there." "I did this." +"I did that." But there remains a great incoherency because of the +tumultuous thought which seethes through the head. "Is this defeat?" At +night in a wilderness and against skilful foes half-seen, one does not +trouble to ask if it is also Death. Defeat is Death, then, save for the +miraculous. But the exaggerating magnifying first thought subsides in +the ordered mind of the soldier and he knows, soon, what he is doing +and how much of it. The sergeant's immediate impulse had been to +squeeze close to the ground and listen--listen--above all else, listen. +But the next moment he grabbed his private asylum by the scruff of its +neck, jerked it to its feet and started to retreat upon the main +outpost. + +To the left, rifle-flashes were bursting from the shadows. To the rear, +the lieutenant was giving some hoarse order or admonition. Through the +air swept some Spanish bullets, very high, as if they had been fired at +a man in a tree. The private asylum came on so hastily that the +sergeant found he could remove his grip, and soon they were in the +midst of the men of the outpost. Here there was no occasion for +enlightening the lieutenant. In the first place such surprises required +statement, question and answer. It is impossible to get a grossly +original and fantastic idea through a man's head in less than one +minute of rapid talk, and the sergeant knew the lieutenant could not +spare the minute. He himself had no minutes to devote to anything but +the business of the outpost. And the madman disappeared from his pen +and he forgot about him. + +It was a long night and the little fight was as long as the night. It +was a heart-breaking work. The forty marines lay in an irregular oval. +From all sides, the Mauser bullets sang low and hard. Their occupation +was to prevent a rush, and to this end they potted carefully at the +flash of a Mauser--save when they got excited for a moment, in which +case their magazines rattled like a great Waterbury watch. Then they +settled again to a systematic potting. + +The enemy were not of the regular Spanish forces. They were of a corps +of guerillas, native-born Cubans, who preferred the flag of Spain. They +were all men who knew the craft of the woods and were all recruited +from the district. They fought more like red Indians than any people +but the red Indians themselves. Each seemed to possess an +individuality, a fighting individuality, which is only found in the +highest order of irregular soldiers. Personally they were as distinct +as possible, but through equality of knowledge and experience, they +arrived at concert of action. So long as they operated in the +wilderness, they were formidable troops. It mattered little whether it +was daylight or dark; they were mainly invisible. They had schooled +from the Cubans insurgent to Spain. As the Cubans fought the Spanish +troops, so would these particular Spanish troops fight the Americans. +It was wisdom. + +The marines thoroughly understood the game. They must lie close and +fight until daylight when the guerillas promptly would go away. They +had withstood other nights of this kind, and now their principal +emotion was probably a sort of frantic annoyance. + +Back at the main camp, whenever the roaring volleys lulled, the men in +the trenches could hear their comrades of the outpost, and the +guerillas pattering away interminably. The moonlight faded and left an +equal darkness upon the wilderness. A man could barely see the comrade +at his side. Sometimes guerillas crept so close that the flame from +their rifles seemed to scorch the faces of the marines, and the reports +sounded as if from two or three inches of their very noses. If a pause +came, one could hear the guerillas gabbling to each other in a kind of +drunken delirium. The lieutenant was praying that the ammunition would +last. Everybody was praying for daybreak. + +A black hour came finally, when the men were not fit to have their +troubles increased. The enemy made a wild attack on one portion of the +oval, which was held by about fifteen men. The remainder of the force +was busy enough, and the fifteen were naturally left to their devices. +Amid the whirl of it, a loud voice suddenly broke out in +song: + + "When shepherds guard their flocks by night, + All seated on the ground, + An angel of the Lord came down + And glory shone around." + +"Who the hell is that?" demanded the lieutenant from a throat full of +smoke. There was almost a full stop of the firing. The Americans were +somewhat puzzled. Practical ones muttered that the fool should have a +bayonet-hilt shoved down his throat. Others felt a thrill at the +strangeness of the thing. Perhaps it was a sign! + + "The minstrel boy to the war has gone, + In the ranks of death you'll find him, + His father's sword he has girded on + And his wild harp slung behind him." + +This croak was as lugubrious as a coffin. "Who is it? Who is it?" +snapped the lieutenant. "Stop him, somebody." + +"It's Dryden, sir," said old Sergeant Peasley, as he felt around in the +darkness for his madhouse. "I can't find him--yet." + + "Please, O, please, O, do not let me fall; + You're--gurgh--ugh----" + +The sergeant had pounced upon him. + +This singing had had an effect upon the Spaniards. At first they had +fired frenziedly at the voice, but they soon ceased, perhaps from sheer +amazement. Both sides took a spell of meditation. + +The sergeant was having some difficulty with his charge. "Here, you, +grab 'im. Take 'im by the throat. Be quiet, you devil." + +One of the fifteen men, who had been hard-pressed, called out, "We've +only got about one clip a-piece, Lieutenant. If they come again----" + +The lieutenant crawled to and fro among his men, taking clips of +cartridges from those who had many. He came upon the sergeant and his +madhouse. He felt Dryden's belt and found it simply stuffed with +ammunition. He examined Dryden's rifle and found in it a full clip. The +madhouse had not fired a shot. The lieutenant distributed these +valuable prizes among the fifteen men. As the men gratefully took them, +one said: "If they had come again hard enough, they would have had us, +sir,--maybe." + +But the Spaniards did not come again. At the first indication of +daybreak, they fired their customary good-bye volley. The marines lay +tight while the slow dawn crept over the land. Finally the lieutenant +arose among them, and he was a bewildered man, but very angry. "Now +where is that idiot, Sergeant?" + +"Here he is, sir," said the old man cheerfully. He was seated on the +ground beside the recumbent Dryden who, with an innocent smile on his +face, was sound asleep. + +"Wake him up," said the lieutenant briefly. + +The sergeant shook the sleeper. "Here, Minstrel Boy, turn out. The +lieutenant wants you." + +Dryden climbed to his feet and saluted the officer with a dazed and +childish air. "Yes, sir." + +The lieutenant was obviously having difficulty in governing his +feelings, but he managed to say with calmness, "You seem to be fond of +singing, Dryden? Sergeant, see if he has any whisky on him." + +"Sir?" said the madhouse stupefied. "Singing--fond of singing?" + +Here the sergeant interposed gently, and he and the lieutenant held +palaver apart from the others. The marines, hitching more comfortably +their almost empty belts, spoke with grins of the madhouse. "Well, the +Minstrel Boy made 'em clear out. They couldn't stand it. But--I +wouldn't want to be in his boots. He'll see fireworks when the old man +interviews him on the uses of grand opera in modern warfare. How do you +think he managed to smuggle a bottle along without us finding it out?" + +When the weary outpost was relieved and marched back to camp, the men +could not rest until they had told a tale of the voice in the +wilderness. In the meantime the sergeant took Dryden aboard a ship, and +to those who took charge of the man, he defined him as "the most useful +---- ---- crazy man in the service of the United States." + + + + +VIRTUE IN WAR + + +I + +Gates had left the regular army in 1890, those parts of him which had +not been frozen having been well fried. He took with him nothing but an +oaken constitution and a knowledge of the plains and the best wishes of +his fellow-officers. The Standard Oil Company differs from the United +States Government in that it understands the value of the loyal and +intelligent services of good men and is almost certain to reward them +at the expense of incapable men. This curious practice emanates from no +beneficent emotion of the Standard Oil Company, on whose feelings you +could not make a scar with a hammer and chisel. It is simply that the +Standard Oil Company knows more than the United States Government and +makes use of virtue whenever virtue is to its advantage. In 1890 Gates +really felt in his bones that, if he lived a rigorously correct life +and several score of his class-mates and intimate friends died off, he +would get command of a troop of horse by the time he was unfitted by +age to be an active cavalry leader. He left the service of the United +States and entered the service of the Standard Oil Company. In the +course of time he knew that, if he lived a rigorously correct life, his +position and income would develop strictly in parallel with the worth +of his wisdom and experience, and he would not have to walk on the +corpses of his friends. + +But he was not happier. Part of his heart was in a barracks, and it was +not enough to discourse of the old regiment over the port and cigars to +ears which were polite enough to betray a languid ignorance. Finally +came the year 1898, and Gates dropped the Standard Oil Company as if it +were hot. He hit the steel trail to Washington and there fought the +first serious action of the war. Like most Americans, he had a native +State, and one morning he found himself major in a volunteer infantry +regiment whose voice had a peculiar sharp twang to it which he could +remember from childhood. The colonel welcomed the West Pointer with +loud cries of joy; the lieutenant-colonel looked at him with the pebbly +eye of distrust; and the senior major, having had up to this time the +best battalion in the regiment, strongly disapproved of him. There were +only two majors, so the lieutenant-colonel commanded the first +battalion, which gave him an occupation. Lieutenant-colonels under the +new rules do not always have occupations. Gates got the third +battalion--four companies commanded by intelligent officers who could +gauge the opinions of their men at two thousand yards and govern +themselves accordingly. The battalion was immensely interested in the +new major. It thought it ought to develop views about him. It thought +it was its blankety-blank business to find out immediately if it liked +him personally. In the company streets the talk was nothing else. Among +the non-commissioned officers there were eleven old soldiers of the +regular army, and they knew--and cared--that Gates had held commission +in the "Sixteenth Cavalry"--as _Harper's Weekly_ says. Over this fact +they rejoiced and were glad, and they stood by to jump lively when he +took command. He would know his work and he would know _their_ work, +and then in battle there would be killed only what men were absolutely +necessary and the sick list would be comparatively free of fools. + +The commander of the second battalion had been called by an Atlanta +paper, "Major Rickets C. Carmony, the commander of the second battalion +of the 307th ----, is when at home one of the biggest wholesale +hardware dealers in his State. Last evening he had ice-cream, at his +own expense, served out at the regular mess of the battalion, and after +dinner the men gathered about his tent where three hearty cheers for +the popular major were given." Carmony had bought twelve copies of this +newspaper and mailed them home to his friends. + +In Gates's battalion there were more kicks than ice-cream, and there +was no ice-cream at all. Indignation ran high at the rapid manner in +which he proceeded to make soldiers of them. Some of his officers +hinted finally that the men wouldn't stand it. They were saying that +they had enlisted to fight for their country--yes, but they weren't +going to be bullied day in and day out by a perfect stranger. They were +patriots, they were, and just as good men as ever stepped--just as good +as Gates or anybody like him. But, gradually, despite itself, the +battalion progressed. The men were not altogether conscious of it. They +evolved rather blindly. Presently there were fights with Carmony's +crowd as to which was the better battalion at drills, and at last there +was no argument. It was generally admitted that Gates commanded the +crack battalion. The men, believing that the beginning and the end of +all soldiering was in these drills of precision, were somewhat +reconciled to their major when they began to understand more of what he +was trying to do for them, but they were still fiery untamed patriots +of lofty pride and they resented his manner toward them. It was abrupt +and sharp. + +The time came when everybody knew that the Fifth Army Corps was the +corps designated for the first active service in Cuba. The officers and +men of the 307th observed with despair that their regiment was not in +the Fifth Army Corps. The colonel was a strategist. He understood +everything in a flash. Without a moment's hesitation he obtained leave +and mounted the night express for Washington. There he drove Senators +and Congressmen in span, tandem and four-in-hand. With the telegraph he +stirred so deeply the governor, the people and the newspapers of his +State that whenever on a quiet night the President put his head out of +the White House he could hear the distant vast commonwealth humming +with indignation. And as it is well known that the Chief Executive +listens to the voice of the people, the 307th was transferred to the +Fifth Army Corps. It was sent at once to Tampa, where it was brigaded +with two dusty regiments of regulars, who looked at it calmly, and said +nothing. The brigade commander happened to be no less a person than +Gates's old colonel in the "Sixteenth Cavalry"--as HARPER'S WEEKLY +says--and Gates was cheered. The old man's rather solemn look +brightened when he saw Gates in the 307th. There was a great deal of +battering and pounding and banging for the 307th at Tampa, but the men +stood it more in wonder than in anger. The two regular regiments +carried them along when they could, and when they couldn't waited +impatiently for them to come up. Undoubtedly the regulars wished the +volunteers were in garrison at Sitka, but they said practically +nothing. They minded their own regiments. The colonel was an invaluable +man in a telegraph office. When came the scramble for transports the +colonel retired to a telegraph office and talked so ably to Washington +that the authorities pushed a number of corps aside and made way for +the 307th, as if on it depended everything. The regiment got one of the +best transports, and after a series of delays and some starts, and an +equal number of returns, they finally sailed for Cuba. + + +II + +Now Gates had a singular adventure on the second morning after his +arrival at Atlanta to take his post as a major in the 307th. + +He was in his tent, writing, when suddenly the flap was flung away and +a tall young private stepped inside. + +"Well, Maje," said the newcomer, genially, "how goes it?" + +The major's head flashed up, but he spoke without heat. + +"Come to attention and salute." + +"Huh!" said the private. + +"Come to attention and salute." + +The private looked at him in resentful amazement, and then inquired: + +"Ye ain't mad, are ye? Ain't nothin' to get huffy about, is there?" + +"I---- Come to attention and salute." + +"Well," drawled the private, as he stared, "seein' as ye are so darn +perticular, I don't care if I do--if it'll make yer meals set on yer +stomick any better." + +Drawing a long breath and grinning ironically, he lazily pulled his +heels together and saluted with a flourish. + +"There," he said, with a return to his earlier genial manner. "How's +that suit ye, Maje?" + +There was a silence which to an impartial observer would have seemed +pregnant with dynamite and bloody death. Then the major cleared his +throat and coldly said: + +"And now, what is your business?" + +"Who--me?" asked the private. "Oh, I just sorter dropped in." With a +deeper meaning he added: "Sorter dropped in in a friendly way, thinkin' +ye was mebbe a different kind of a feller from what ye be." + +The inference was clearly marked. + +It was now Gates's turn to stare, and stare he unfeignedly did. + +"Go back to your quarters," he said at length. + +The volunteer became very angry. + +"Oh, ye needn't be so up-in-th'-air, need ye? Don't know's I'm dead +anxious to inflict my company on yer since I've had a good look at ye. +There may be men in this here battalion what's had just as much +edjewcation as you have, and I'm damned if they ain't got better +_manners_. Good-mornin'," he said, with dignity; and, passing out of +the tent, he flung the flap back in place with an air of slamming it as +if it had been a door. He made his way back to his company street, +striding high. He was furious. He met a large crowd of his comrades. + +"What's the matter, Lige?" asked one, who noted his temper. + +"Oh, nothin'," answered Lige, with terrible feeling. "Nothin'. I jest +been lookin' over the new major--that's all." + +"What's he like?" asked another. + +"Like?" cried Lige. "He's like nothin'. He ain't out'n the same kittle +as us. No. Gawd made him all by himself--sep'rate. He's a speshul +produc', he is, an' he won't have no truck with jest common--_men_, +like you be." + +He made a venomous gesture which included them all. + +"Did he set on ye?" asked a soldier. + +"Set on me? No," replied Lige, with contempt "I set on _him_. I sized +'im up in a minute. 'Oh, I don't know,' I says, as I was comin' out; +'guess you ain't the only man in the world,' I says." + +For a time Lige Wigram was quite a hero. He endlessly repeated the tale +of his adventure, and men admired him for so soon taking the conceit +out of the new officer. Lige was proud to think of himself as a plain +and simple patriot who had refused to endure any high-soaring nonsense. + +But he came to believe that he had not disturbed the singular composure +of the major, and this concreted his hatred. He hated Gates, not as a +soldier sometimes hates an officer, a hatred half of fear. Lige hated +as man to man. And he was enraged to see that so far from gaining any +hatred in return, he seemed incapable of making Gates have any thought +of him save as a unit in a body of three hundred men. Lige might just +as well have gone and grimaced at the obelisk in Central Park. + +When the battalion became the best in the regiment he had no part in +the pride of the companies. He was sorry when men began to speak well +of Gates. He was really a very consistent hater. + + +III + +The transport occupied by the 307th was commanded by some sort of a +Scandinavian, who was afraid of the shadows of his own topmasts. He +would have run his steamer away from a floating Gainsborough hat, and, +in fact, he ran her away from less on some occasions. The officers, +wishing to arrive with the other transports, sometimes remonstrated, +and to them he talked of his owners. Every officer in the convoying +warships loathed him, for in case any hostile vessel should appear they +did not see how they were going to protect this rabbit, who would +probably manage during a fight to be in about a hundred places on the +broad, broad sea, and all of them offensive to the navy's plan. When he +was not talking of his owners he was remarking to the officers of the +regiment that a steamer really was not like a valise, and that he was +unable to take his ship under his arm and climb trees with it. He +further said that "them naval fellows" were not near so smart as they +thought they were. + +From an indigo sea arose the lonely shore of Cuba. Ultimately, the +fleet was near Santiago, and most of the transports were bidden to wait +a minute while the leaders found out their minds. The skipper, to whom +the 307th were prisoners, waited for thirty hours half way between +Jamaica and Cuba. He explained that the Spanish fleet might emerge from +Santiago Harbour at any time, and he did not propose to be caught. His +owners---- Whereupon the colonel arose as one having nine hundred men at +his back, and he passed up to the bridge and he spake with the captain. +He explained indirectly that each individual of his nine hundred men +had decided to be the first American soldier to land for this campaign, +and that in order to accomplish the marvel it was necessary for the +transport to be nearer than forty-five miles from the Cuban coast. If +the skipper would only land the regiment the colonel would consent to +his then taking his interesting old ship and going to h---- with it. +And the skipper spake with the colonel. He pointed out that as far as +he officially was concerned, the United States Government did not +exist. He was responsible solely to his owners. The colonel pondered +these sayings. He perceived that the skipper meant that he was running +his ship as he deemed best, in consideration of the capital invested by +his owners, and that he was not at all concerned with the feelings of a +certain American military expedition to Cuba. He was a free son of the +sea--he was a sovereign citizen of the republic of the waves. He was +like Lige. + +However, the skipper ultimately incurred the danger of taking his +ship under the terrible guns of the _New York_, _Iowa_, _Oregon_, +_Massachusetts_, _Indiana_, _Brooklyn_, _Texas_ and a score of cruisers +and gunboats. It was a brave act for the captain of a United States +transport, and he was visibly nervous until he could again get to sea, +where he offered praises that the accursed 307th was no longer sitting +on his head. For almost a week he rambled at his cheerful will over the +adjacent high seas, having in his hold a great quantity of military +stores as successfully secreted as if they had been buried in a copper +box in the cornerstone of a new public building in Boston. He had had +his master's certificate for twenty-one years, and those people +couldn't tell a marlin-spike from the starboard side of the ship. + +The 307th was landed in Cuba, but to their disgust they found that +about ten thousand regulars were ahead of them. They got immediate +orders to move out from the base on the road to Santiago. Gates was +interested to note that the only delay was caused by the fact that many +men of the other battalions strayed off sight-seeing. In time the long +regiment wound slowly among hills that shut them from sight of the sea. + +For the men to admire, there were palm-trees, little brown huts, +passive, uninterested Cuban soldiers much worn from carrying American +rations inside and outside. The weather was not oppressively warm, and +the journey was said to be only about seven miles. There were no +rumours save that there had been one short fight and the army had +advanced to within sight of Santiago. Having a peculiar faculty for the +derision of the romantic, the 307th began to laugh. Actually there was +not _anything_ in the world which turned out to be as books describe +it. Here they had landed from the transport expecting to be at once +flung into line of battle and sent on some kind of furious charge, and +now they were trudging along a quiet trail lined with somnolent trees +and grass. The whole business so far struck them as being a highly +tedious burlesque. + +After a time they came to where the camps of regular regiments marked +the sides of the road--little villages of tents no higher than a man's +waist. The colonel found his brigade commander and the 307th was sent +off into a field of long grass, where the men grew suddenly solemn with +the importance of getting their supper. + +In the early evening some regulars told one of Gates's companies that +at daybreak this division would move to an attack upon something. + +"How d'you know?" said the company, deeply awed. + +"Heard it." + +"Well, what are we to attack?" + +"Dunno." + +The 307th was not at all afraid, but each man began to imagine the +morrow. The regulars seemed to have as much interest in the morrow as +they did in the last Christmas. It was none of their affair, +apparently. + +"Look here," said Lige Wigram, to a man in the 17th Regular Infantry, +"whereabouts are we goin' ter-morrow an' who do we run up against--do +ye know?" + +The 17th soldier replied, truculently: "If I ketch th' ---- ---- ---- +what stole my terbaccer, I'll whirl in an' break every ---- ---- bone +in his body." + +Gates's friends in the regular regiments asked him numerous questions +as to the reliability of his organisation. Would the 307th stand the +racket? They were certainly not contemptuous; they simply did not seem +to consider it important whether the 307th would or whether it would +not. + +"Well," said Gates, "they won't run the length of a tent-peg if they +can gain any idea of what they're fighting; they won't bunch if they've +about six acres of open ground to move in; they won't get rattled at +all if they see you fellows taking it easy, and they'll fight like the +devil as long as they thoroughly, completely, absolutely, +satisfactorily, exhaustively understand what the business is. They're +lawyers. All excepting my battalion." + + +IV + +Lige awakened into a world obscured by blue fog. Somebody was gently +shaking him. "Git up; we're going to move." The regiment was buckling +up itself. From the trail came the loud creak of a light battery moving +ahead. The tones of all men were low; the faces of the officers were +composed, serious. The regiment found itself moving along behind the +battery before it had time to ask itself more than a hundred questions. +The trail wound through a dense tall jungle, dark, heavy with dew. + +The battle broke with a snap--far ahead. Presently Lige heard from the +air above him a faint low note as if somebody were blowing softly in +the mouth of a bottle. It was a stray bullet which had wandered a mile +to tell him that war was before him. He nearly broke his neck looking +upward. "Did ye hear that?" But the men were fretting to get out of +this gloomy jungle. They wanted to see something. The faint +rup-rup-rrrrup-rup on in the front told them that the fight had begun; +death was abroad, and so the mystery of this wilderness excited them. +This wilderness was portentously still and dark. + +They passed the battery aligned on a hill above the trail, and they had +not gone far when the gruff guns began to roar and they could hear the +rocket-like swish of the flying shells. Presently everybody must have +called out for the assistance of the 307th. Aides and couriers came +flying back to them. + +"Is this the 307th? Hurry up your men, please, Colonel. You're needed +more every minute." + +Oh, they were, were they? Then the regulars were not going to do _all_ +the fighting? The old 307th was bitterly proud or proudly bitter. They +left their blanket rolls under the guard of God and pushed on, which +is one of the reasons why the Cubans of that part of the country +were, later, so well equipped. There began to appear fields, hot, +golden-green in the sun. On some palm-dotted knolls before them they +could see little lines of black dots--the American advance. A few men +fell, struck down by other men who, perhaps half a mile away, were +aiming at somebody else. The loss was wholly in Carmony's battalion, +which immediately bunched and backed away, coming with a shock against +Gates's advance company. This shock sent a tremor through all of +Gates's battalion until men in the very last files cried out nervously, +"Well, what in hell is up now?" There came an order to deploy and +advance. An occasional hoarse yell from the regulars could be heard. +The deploying made Gates's heart bleed for the colonel. The old man +stood there directing the movement, straight, fearless, sombrely +defiant of--everything. Carmony's four companies were like four herds. +And all the time the bullets from no living man knows where kept +pecking at them and pecking at them. Gates, the excellent Gates, the +highly educated and strictly military Gates, grew rankly insubordinate. +He knew that the regiment was suffering from nothing but the deadly +range and oversweep of the modern rifle, of which many proud and +confident nations know nothing save that they have killed savages with +it, which is the least of all informations. + +Gates rushed upon Carmony. + +"---- ---- it, man, if you can't get your people to deploy, for ---- +sake give me a chance! I'm stuck in the woods!" + +Carmony gave nothing, but Gates took all he could get and his battalion +deployed and advanced like men. The old colonel almost burst into +tears, and he cast one quick glance of gratitude at Gates, which the +younger officer wore on his heart like a secret decoration. + +There was a wild scramble up hill, down dale, through thorny thickets. +Death smote them with a kind of slow rhythm, leisurely taking a man now +here, now there, but the cat-spit sound of the bullets was always. A +large number of the men of Carmony's battalion came on with Gates. They +were willing to do anything, anything. They had no real fault, unless +it was that early conclusion that any brave high-minded youth was +necessarily a good soldier immediately, from the beginning. In them had +been born a swift feeling that the unpopular Gates knew everything, and +they followed the trained soldier. + +If they followed him, he certainly took them into it. As they swung +heavily up one steep hill, like so many wind-blown horses, they came +suddenly out into the real advance. Little blue groups of men were +making frantic rushes forward and then flopping down on their bellies +to fire volleys while other groups made rushes. Ahead they could see a +heavy house-like fort which was inadequate to explain from whence came +the myriad bullets. The remainder of the scene was landscape. Pale men, +yellow men, blue men came out of this landscape quiet and sad-eyed with +wounds. Often they were grimly facetious. There is nothing in the +American regulars so amazing as his conduct when he is wounded--his +apologetic limp, his deprecatory arm-sling, his embarrassed and ashamed +shot-hole through the lungs. The men of the 307th looked at calm +creatures who had divers punctures and they were made better. These men +told them that it was only necessary to keep a-going. They of the 307th +lay on their bellies, red, sweating and panting, and heeded the voice +of the elder brother. + +Gates walked back of his line, very white of face, but hard and stern +past anything his men knew of him. After they had violently adjured him +to lie down and he had given weak backs a cold, stiff touch, the 307th +charged by rushes. The hatless colonel made frenzied speech, but the +man of the time was Gates. The men seemed to feel that this was his +business. Some of the regular officers said afterward that the advance +of the 307th was very respectable indeed. They were rather surprised, +they said. At least five of the crack regiments of the regular army +were in this division, and the 307th could win no more than a feeling +of kindly appreciation. + +Yes, it was very good, very good indeed, but did you notice what was +being done at the same moment by the 12th, the 17th, the 7th, the 8th, +the 25th, the---- + +Gates felt that his charge was being a success. He was carrying out a +successful function. Two captains fell bang on the grass and a +lieutenant slumped quietly down with a death wound. Many men sprawled +suddenly. Gates was keeping his men almost even with the regulars, who +were charging on his flanks. Suddenly he thought that he must have come +close to the fort and that a Spaniard had tumbled a great stone block +down upon his leg. Twelve hands reached out to help him, but he cried: + +"No--d---- your souls--go on--go on!" + +He closed his eyes for a moment, and it really was only for a moment. +When he opened them he found himself alone with Lige Wigram, who lay on +the ground near him. + +"Maje," said Lige, "yer a good man. I've been a-follerin' ye all day +an' I want to say yer a good man." + +The major turned a coldly scornful eye upon the private. + +"Where are you wounded? Can you walk? Well, if you can, go to the rear +and leave me alone. I'm bleeding to death, and you bother me." + +Lige, despite the pain in his wounded shoulder, grew indignant. + +"Well," he mumbled, "you and me have been on th' outs fer a long time, +an' I only wanted to tell ye that what I seen of ye t'day has made me +feel mighty different." + +"Go to the rear--if you can walk," said the major. + +"Now, Maje, look here. A little thing like that----" + +"Go to the rear." + +Lige gulped with sobs. + +"Maje, I know I didn't understand ye at first, but ruther'n let a +little thing like that come between us, I'd--I'd----" + +"Go to the rear." + +In this reiteration Lige discovered a resemblance to that first old +offensive phrase, "Come to attention and salute." He pondered over the +resemblance and he saw that nothing had changed. The man bleeding to +death was the same man to whom he had once paid a friendly visit with +unfriendly results. He thought now that he perceived a certain hopeless +gulf, a gulf which is real or unreal, according to circumstances. +Sometimes all men are equal; occasionally they are not. If Gates had +ever criticised Lige's manipulation of a hay fork on the farm at home, +Lige would have furiously disdained his hate or blame. He saw now that +he must not openly approve the major's conduct in war. The major's +pride was in his business, and his, Lige's congratulations, were beyond +all enduring. + +The place where they were lying suddenly fell under a new heavy rain of +bullets. They sputtered about the men, making the noise of large +grasshoppers. + +"Major!" cried Lige. "Major Gates! It won't do for ye to be left here, +sir. Ye'll be killed." + +"But you can't help it, lad. You take care of yourself." + +"I'm damned if I do," said the private, vehemently. "If I can't git +_you_ out, I'll stay and wait." + +The officer gazed at his man with that same icy, contemptuous gaze. + +"I'm--I'm a dead man anyhow. You go to the rear, do you hear?" + +"No." + +The dying major drew his revolver, cocked it and aimed it unsteadily at +Lige's head. + +"Will you obey orders?" + +"No." + +"One?" + +"No." + +"Two?" + +"No." + +Gates weakly dropped his revolver. + +"Go to the devil, then. You're no soldier, but----" He tried to add +something, "But----" + +He heaved a long moan. "But--you--you--oh, I'm so-o-o tired." + + +V + +After the battle, three correspondents happened to meet on the trail. +They were hot, dusty, weary, hungry and thirsty, and they repaired to +the shade of a mango tree and sprawled luxuriously. Among them they +mustered twoscore friends who on that day had gone to the far shore of +the hereafter, but their senses were no longer resonant. Shackles was +babbling plaintively about mint-juleps, and the others were bidding him +to have done. + +"By-the-way," said one, at last, "it's too bad about poor old Gates of +the 307th. He bled to death. His men were crazy. They were blubbering +and cursing around there like wild people. It seems that when they got +back there to look for him they found him just about gone, and another +wounded man was trying to stop the flow with his hat! His hat, mind +you. Poor old Gatesie!" + +"Oh, no, Shackles!" said the third man of the party. "Oh, no, you're +wrong. The best mint-juleps in the world are made right in New York, +Philadelphia or Boston. That Kentucky idea is only a tradition." + +A wounded man approached them. He had been shot through the shoulder +and his shirt had been diagonally cut away, leaving much bare skin. +Over the bullet's point of entry there was a kind of a white spider, +shaped from pieces of adhesive plaster. Over the point of departure +there was a bloody bulb of cotton strapped to the flesh by other pieces +of adhesive plaster. His eyes were dreamy, wistful, sad. "Say, gents, +have any of ye got a bottle?" he asked. + +A correspondent raised himself suddenly and looked with bright eyes at +the soldier. + +"Well, you have got a nerve," he said grinning. "Have we got a bottle, +eh! Who in h---- do you think we are? If we had a bottle of good +licker, do you suppose we could let the whole army drink out of it? You +have too much faith in the generosity of men, my friend!" + +The soldier stared, ox-like, and finally said, "Huh?" + +"I say," continued the correspondent, somewhat more loudly, "that if we +had had a bottle we would have probably finished it ourselves by this +time." + +"But," said the other, dazed, "I _meant_ an empty bottle. I didn't mean +no _full_ bottle." + +The correspondent was humorously irascible. + +"An empty bottle! You must be crazy! Who ever heard of a man looking +for an empty bottle? It isn't sense! I've seen a million men looking +for full bottles, but you're the first man I ever saw who insisted on +the bottle's being empty. What in the world do you want it for?" + +"Well, ye see, mister," explained Lige, slowly, "our major he was +killed this mornin' an' we're jes' goin' to bury him, an' I thought I'd +jest take a look 'round an' see if I couldn't borry an empty bottle, +an' then I'd take an' write his name an' reg'ment on a paper an' put it +in th' bottle an' bury it with him, so's when they come fer to dig him +up sometime an' take him home, there sure wouldn't be no mistake." + +"Oh!" + + + + +MARINES SIGNALLING UNDER FIRE AT GUANTANAMO + + +They were four Guantanamo marines, officially known for the time as +signalmen, and it was their duty to lie in the trenches of Camp +McCalla, that faced the water, and, by day, signal the _Marblehead_ +with a flag and, by night, signal the _Marblehead_ with lanterns. It +was my good fortune--at that time I considered it my bad fortune, +indeed--to be with them on two of the nights when a wild storm of +fighting was pealing about the hill; and, of all the actions of the +war, none were so hard on the nerves, none strained courage so near the +panic point, as those swift nights in Camp McCalla. With a thousand +rifles rattling; with the field-guns booming in your ears; with the +diabolic Colt automatics clacking; with the roar of the _Marblehead_ +coming from the bay, and, last, with Mauser bullets sneering always in +the air a few inches over one's head, and with this enduring from dusk +to dawn, it is extremely doubtful if any one who was there will be able +to forget it easily. The noise; the impenetrable darkness; the +knowledge from the sound of the bullets that the enemy was on three +sides of the camp; the infrequent bloody stumbling and death of some +man with whom, perhaps, one had messed two hours previous; the +weariness of the body, and the more terrible weariness of the mind, at +the endlessness of the thing, made it wonderful that at least some of +the men did not come out of it with their nerves hopelessly in shreds. + +But, as this interesting ceremony proceeded in the darkness, it was +necessary for the signal squad to coolly take and send messages. +Captain McCalla always participated in the defence of the camp by +raking the woods on two of its sides with the guns of the _Marblehead_. +Moreover, he was the senior officer present, and he wanted to know what +was happening. All night long the crews of the ships in the bay would +stare sleeplessly into the blackness toward the roaring hill. + +The signal squad had an old cracker-box placed on top of the trench. +When not signalling they hid the lanterns in this-box; but as soon as +an order to send a message was received, it became necessary for one of +the men to stand up and expose the lights. And then--oh, my eye--how +the guerillas hidden in the gulf of night would turn loose at those +yellow gleams! + +Signalling in this way is done by letting one lantern remain +stationary--on top of the cracker-box, in this case--and moving the +other over to the left and right and so on in the regular gestures of +the wig-wagging code. It is a very simple system of night +communication, but one can see that it presents rare possibilities when +used in front of an enemy who, a few hundred yards away, is overjoyed +at sighting so definite a mark. + +How, in the name of wonders, those four men at Camp McCalla were not +riddled from head to foot and sent home more as repositories of Spanish +ammunition than as marines is beyond all comprehension. To make a +confession--when one of these men stood up to wave his lantern, I, +lying in the trench, invariably rolled a little to the right or left, +in order that, when he was shot, he would not fall on me. But the squad +came off scathless, despite the best efforts of the most formidable +corps in the Spanish army--the Escuadra de Guantanamo. That it was the +most formidable corps in the Spanish army of occupation has been told +me by many Spanish officers and also by General Menocal and other +insurgent officers. General Menocal was Garcia's chief-of-staff when +the latter was operating busily in Santiago province. The regiment was +composed solely of _practicos_, or guides, who knew every shrub and +tree on the ground over which they moved. + +Whenever the adjutant, Lieutenant Draper, came plunging along through +the darkness with an order--such as: "Ask the _Marblehead_ to please +shell the woods to the left"--my heart would come into my mouth, for I +knew then that one of my pals was going to stand up behind the lanterns +and have all Spain shoot at him. + +The answer was always upon the instant: + +"Yes, sir." Then the bullets began to snap, snap, snap, at his head +while all the woods began to crackle like burning straw. I could lie +near and watch the face of the signalman, illumed as it was by the +yellow shine of lantern light, and the absence of excitement, fright, +or any emotion at all on his countenance, was something to astonish all +theories out of one's mind. The face was in every instance merely that +of a man intent upon his business, the business of wig-wagging into the +gulf of night where a light on the _Marblehead_ was seen to move +slowly. + +These times on the hill resembled, in some days, those terrible scenes +on the stage--scenes of intense gloom, blinding lightning, with a +cloaked devil or assassin or other appropriate character muttering +deeply amid the awful roll of the thunder-drums. It was theatric beyond +words: one felt like a leaf in this booming chaos, this prolonged +tragedy of the night. Amid it all one could see from time to time the +yellow light on the face of a preoccupied signalman. + +Possibly no man who was there ever before understood the true eloquence +of the breaking of the day. We would lie staring into the east, fairly +ravenous for the dawn. Utterly worn to rags, with our nerves standing +on end like so many bristles, we lay and watched the east--the +unspeakably obdurate and slow east. It was a wonder that the eyes of +some of us did not turn to glass balls from the fixity of our gaze. + +Then there would come into the sky a patch of faint blue light. It was +like a piece of moonshine. Some would say it was the beginning of +daybreak; others would declare it was nothing of the kind. Men would +get very disgusted with each other in these low-toned arguments held in +the trenches. For my part, this development in the eastern sky +destroyed many of my ideas and theories concerning the dawning of the +day; but then I had never before had occasion to give it such solemn +attention. + +This patch widened and whitened in about the speed of a man's +accomplishment if he should be in the way of painting Madison Square +Garden with a camel's hair brush. The guerillas always set out to whoop +it up about this time, because they knew the occasion was approaching +when it would be expedient for them to elope. I, at least, always grew +furious with this wretched sunrise. I thought I could have walked +around the world in the time required for the old thing to get up above +the horizon. + +One midnight, when an important message was to be sent to the +_Marblehead_, Colonel Huntington came himself to the signal place with +Adjutant Draper and Captain McCauley, the quartermaster. When the man +stood up to signal, the colonel stood beside him. At sight of the +lights, the Spaniards performed as usual. They drove enough bullets +into that immediate vicinity to kill all the marines in the corps. + +Lieutenant Draper was agitated for his chief. "Colonel, won't you step +down, sir?" + +"Why, I guess not," said the grey old veteran in his slow, sad, +always-gentle way. "I am in no more danger than the man." + +"But, sir----" began the adjutant. + +"Oh, it's all right, Draper." + +So the colonel and the private stood side to side and took the heavy +fire without either moving a muscle. + +Day was always obliged to come at last, punctuated by a final exchange +of scattering shots. And the light shone on the marines, the dumb guns, +the flag. Grimy yellow face looked into grimy yellow face, and grinned +with weary satisfaction. Coffee! + +Usually it was impossible for many of the men to sleep at once. It +always took me, for instance, some hours to get my nerves combed down. +But then it was great joy to lie in the trench with the four signalmen, +and understand thoroughly that that night was fully over at last, and +that, although the future might have in store other bad nights, that +one could never escape from the prison-house which we call the past. + + * * * * * + +At the wild little fight at Cusco there were some splendid exhibitions +of wig-wagging under fire. Action began when an advanced detachment of +marines under Lieutenant Lucas with the Cuban guides had reached the +summit of a ridge overlooking a small valley where there was a house, a +well, and a thicket of some kind of shrub with great broad, oily +leaves. This thicket, which was perhaps an acre in extent, contained +the guerillas. The valley was open to the sea. The distance from the +top of the ridge to the thicket was barely two hundred yards. + +The _Dolphin_ had sailed up the coast in line with the marine advance, +ready with her guns to assist in any action. Captain Elliott, who +commanded the two hundred marines in this fight, suddenly called out +for a signalman. He wanted a man to tell the _Dolphin_ to open fire on +the house and the thicket. It was a blazing, bitter hot day on top of +the ridge with its shrivelled chaparral and its straight, tall cactus +plants. The sky was bare and blue, and hurt like brass. In two minutes +the prostrate marines were red and sweating like so many hull-buried +stokers in the tropics. + +Captain Elliott called out: + +"Where's a signalman? Who's a signalman here?" + +A red-headed "mick"--I think his name was Clancy--at any rate, it will +do to call him Clancy--twisted his head from where he lay on his +stomach pumping his Lee, and, saluting, said that he was a signalman. + +There was no regulation flag with the expedition, so Clancy was obliged +to tie his blue polka-dot neckerchief on the end of his rifle. It did +not make a very good flag. At first Clancy moved a ways down the safe +side of the ridge and wigwagged there very busily. But what with the +flag being so poor for the purpose, and the background of ridge being +so dark, those on the _Dolphin_ did not see it. So Clancy had to return +to the top of the ridge and outline himself and his flag against the +sky. + +The usual thing happened. As soon as the Spaniards caught sight of this +silhouette, they let go like mad at it. To make things more comfortable +for Clancy, the situation demanded that he face the sea and turn his +back to the Spanish bullets. This was a hard game, mark you--to stand +with the small of your back to volley firing. Clancy thought so. +Everybody thought so. We all cleared out of his neighbourhood. If he +wanted sole possession of any particular spot on that hill, he could +have it for all we would interfere with him. + +It cannot be denied that Clancy was in a hurry. I watched him. He was +so occupied with the bullets that snarled close to his ears that he was +obliged to repeat the letters of his message softly to himself. It +seemed an intolerable time before the _Dolphin_ answered the little +signal. Meanwhile, we gazed at him, marvelling every second that he had +not yet pitched headlong. He swore at times. + +Finally the _Dolphin_ replied to his frantic gesticulation, and he +delivered his message. As his part of the transaction was quite +finished--whoop!--he dropped like a brick into the firing line and +began to shoot; began to get "hunky" with all those people who had been +plugging at him. The blue polka-dot neckerchief still fluttered from +the barrel of his rifle. I am quite certain that he let it remain there +until the end of the fight. + +The shells of the _Dolphin_ began to plough up the thicket, kicking the +bushes, stones, and soil into the air as if somebody was blasting +there. + +Meanwhile, this force of two hundred marines and fifty Cubans and the +force of--probably--six companies of Spanish guerillas were making such +an awful din that the distant Camp McCalla was all alive with +excitement. Colonel Huntington sent out strong parties to critical +points on the road to facilitate, if necessary, a safe retreat, and +also sent forty men under Lieutenant Magill to come up on the left +flank of the two companies in action under Captain Elliott. Lieutenant +Magill and his men had crowned a hill which covered entirely the flank +of the fighting companies, but when the _Dolphin_ opened fire, it +happened that Magill was in the line of the shots. It became necessary +to stop the _Dolphin_ at once. Captain Elliott was not near Clancy at +this time, and he called hurriedly for another signalman. + +Sergeant Quick arose, and announced that he was a signalman. He +produced from somewhere a blue polka-dot neckerchief as large as a +quilt. He tied it on a long, crooked stick. Then he went to the top of +the ridge, and turning his back to the Spanish fire, began to signal to +the _Dolphin_. Again we gave a man sole possession of a particular part +of the ridge. We didn't want it. He could have it and welcome. If the +young sergeant had had the smallpox, the cholera, and the yellow fever, +we could not have slid out with more celerity. + +As men have said often, it seemed as if there was in this war a God of +Battles who held His mighty hand before the Americans. As I looked at +Sergeant Quick wig-wagging there against the sky, I would not have +given a tin tobacco-tag for his life. Escape for him seemed impossible. +It seemed absurd to hope that he would not be hit; I only hoped that he +would be hit just a little, in the arm, the shoulder, or the leg. + +I watched his face, and it was as grave and serene as that of a man +writing in his own library. He was the very embodiment of tranquillity +in occupation. He stood there amid the animal-like babble of the +Cubans, the crack of rifles, and the whistling snarl of the bullets, +and wig-wagged whatever he had to wig-wag without heeding anything but +his business. There was not a single trace of nervousness or haste. + +To say the least, a fight at close range is absorbing as a spectacle. +No man wants to take his eyes from it until that time comes when he +makes up his mind to run away. To deliberately stand up and turn your +back to a battle is in itself hard work. To deliberately stand up and +turn your back to a battle and hear immediate evidences of the +boundless enthusiasm with which a large company of the enemy shoot at +you from an adjacent thicket is, to my mind at least, a very great +feat. One need not dwell upon the detail of keeping the mind carefully +upon a slow spelling of an important code message. + +I saw Quick betray only one sign of emotion. As he swung his clumsy +flag to and fro, an end of it once caught on a cactus pillar, and he +looked sharply over his shoulder to see what had it. He gave the flag +an impatient jerk. He looked annoyed. + + + + +THIS MAJESTIC LIE + + +In the twilight, a great crowd was streaming up the Prado in Havana. +The people had been down to the shore to laugh and twiddle their +fingers at the American blockading fleet--mere colourless shapes on the +edge of the sea. Gorgeous challenges had been issued to the far-away +ships by little children and women while the men laughed. Havana was +happy, for it was known that the illustrious sailor Don Patricio de +Montojo had with his fleet met the decaying ships of one Dewey and +smitten them into stuffing for a baby's pillow. Of course the American +sailors were drunk at the time, but the American sailors were always +drunk. Newsboys galloped among the crowd crying _La Lucha_ and _La +Marina_. The papers said: "This is as we foretold. How could it be +otherwise when the cowardly Yankees met our brave sailors?" But the +tongues of the exuberant people ran more at large. One man said in a +loud voice: "How unfortunate it is that we still have to buy meat in +Havana when so much pork is floating in Manila Bay!" Amid the +consequent laughter, another man retorted: "Oh, never mind! That pork +in Manila is rotten. It always was rotten." Still another man said: +"But, little friend, it would make good manure for our fields if only +we had it." And still another man said: "Ah, wait until our soldiers +get with the wives of the Americans and there will be many little +Yankees to serve hot on our tables. The men of the _Maine_ simply +made our appetites good. Never mind the pork in Manila. There will be +plenty." Women laughed; children laughed because their mothers laughed; +everybody laughed. And--a word with you--these people were cackling and +chuckling and insulting their own dead, their own dead men of Spain, +for if the poor green corpses floated then in Manila Bay they were not +American corpses. + +The newsboys came charging with an extra. The inhabitants of +Philadelphia had fled to the forests because of a Spanish bombardment +and also Boston was besieged by the Apaches who had totally invested +the town. The Apache artillery had proven singularly effective and an +American garrison had been unable to face it. In Chicago millionaires +were giving away their palaces for two or three loaves of bread. These +despatches were from Madrid and every word was truth, but they added +little to the enthusiasm because the crowd--God help mankind--was +greatly occupied with visions of Yankee pork floating in Manila Bay. +This will be thought to be embittered writing. Very well; the writer +admits its untruthfulness in one particular. It is untruthful in that +it fails to reproduce one-hundredth part of the grossness and indecency +of popular expression in Havana up to the time when the people knew +they were beaten. + +There were no lights on the Prado or in other streets because of a +military order. In the slow-moving crowd, there was a young man and an +old woman. Suddenly the young man laughed a strange metallic laugh and +spoke in English, not cautiously. "That's damned hard to listen to." + +The woman spoke quickly. "Hush, you little idiot. Do you want to be +walkin' across that grass-plot in Cabanas with your arms tied behind +you?" Then she murmured sadly: "Johnnie, I wonder if that's true--what +they say about Manila?" + +"I don't know," said Johnnie, "but I think they're lying." + +As they crossed the Plaza, they could see that the Café Tacon was +crowded with Spanish officers in blue and white pajama uniforms. Wine +and brandy was being wildly consumed in honour of the victory at +Manila. "Let's hear what they say," said Johnnie to his companion, and +they moved across the street and in under the _portales_. The owner of +the Café Tacon was standing on a table making a speech amid cheers. He +was advocating the crucifixion of such Americans as fell into Spanish +hands and--it was all very sweet and white and tender, but above all, +it was chivalrous, because it is well known that the Spaniards are a +chivalrous people. It has been remarked both by the English newspapers +and by the bulls that are bred for the red death. And secretly the +corpses in Manila Bay mocked this jubilee; the mocking, mocking corpses +in Manila Bay. + +To be blunt, Johnnie was an American spy. Once he had been the manager +of a sugar plantation in Pinar del Rio, and during the insurrection it +had been his distinguished function to pay tribute of money, food and +forage alike to Spanish columns and insurgent bands. He was performing +this straddle with benefit to his crops and with mildew to his +conscience when Spain and the United States agreed to skirmish, both in +the name of honour. It then became a military necessity that he should +change his base. Whatever of the province that was still alive was +sorry to see him go for he had been a very dexterous man and food and +wine had been in his house even when a man with a mango could gain the +envy of an entire Spanish battalion. Without doubt he had been a mere +trimmer, but it was because of his crop and he always wrote the word +thus: C R O P. In those days a man of peace and commerce was in a +position parallel to the watchmaker who essayed a task in the midst of +a drunken brawl with oaths, bottles and bullets flying about his intent +bowed head. So many of them--or all of them--were trimmers, and to any +armed force they fervently said: "God assist you." And behold, the +trimmers dwelt safely in a tumultuous land and without effort save that +their little machines for trimming ran night and day. So many a +plantation became covered with a maze of lies as if thick-webbing +spiders had run from stalk to stalk in the cane. So sometimes a planter +incurred an equal hatred from both sides and when in trouble there was +no camp to which he could flee save, straight in air, the camp of the +heavenly host. + +If Johnnie had not had a crop, he would have been plainly on the side +of the insurgents, but his crop staked him down to the soil at a point +where the Spaniards could always be sure of finding him--him or his +crop--it is the same thing. But when war came between Spain and the +United States he could no longer be the cleverest trimmer in Pinar del +Rio. And he retreated upon Key West losing much of his baggage train, +not because of panic but because of wisdom. In Key West, he was no +longer the manager of a big Cuban plantation; he was a little tan-faced +refugee without much money. Mainly he listened; there was nought else +to do. In the first place he was a young man of extremely slow speech +and in the Key West Hotel tongues ran like pin-wheels. If he had +projected his methodic way of thought and speech upon this hurricane, +he would have been as effective as the man who tries to smoke against +the gale. This truth did not impress him. Really, he was impressed with +the fact that although he knew much of Cuba, he could not talk so +rapidly and wisely of it as many war-correspondents who had not yet +seen the island. Usually he brooded in silence over a bottle of beer +and the loss of his crop. He received no sympathy, although there was a +plentitude of tender souls. War's first step is to make expectation so +high that all present things are fogged and darkened in a tense wonder +of the future. None cared about the collapse of Johnnie's plantation +when all were thinking of the probable collapse of cities and fleets. + +In the meantime, battle-ships, monitors, cruisers, gunboats and torpedo +craft arrived, departed, arrived, departed. Rumours sang about the ears +of warships hurriedly coaling. Rumours sang about the ears of warships +leisurely coming to anchor. This happened and that happened and if the +news arrived at Key West as a mouse, it was often enough cabled north +as an elephant. The correspondents at Key West were perfectly capable +of adjusting their perspective, but many of the editors in the United +States were like deaf men at whom one has to roar. A few quiet words of +information was not enough for them; one had to bawl into their ears a +whirlwind tale of heroism, blood, death, victory--or defeat--at any +rate, a tragedy. The papers should have sent playwrights to the first +part of the war. Play-wrights are allowed to lower the curtain from +time to time and say to the crowd: "Mark, ye, now! Three or four months +are supposed to elapse. But the poor devils at Key West were obliged to +keep the curtain up all the time." "This isn't a continuous performance." +"Yes, it is; it's _got_ to be a continuous performance. The welfare of +the paper demands it. The people want news." Very well: continuous +performance. It is strange how men of sense can go aslant at the +bidding of other men of sense and combine to contribute to a general +mess of exaggeration and bombast. But we did; and in the midst of the +furor I remember the still figure of Johnnie, the planter, the +ex-trimmer. He looked dazed. + +This was in May. + +We all liked him. From time to time some of us heard in his words the +vibrant of a thoughtful experience. But it could not be well heard; it +was only like the sound of a bell from under the floor. We were too +busy with our own clatter. He was taciturn and competent while we +solved the war in a babble of tongues. Soon we went about our peaceful +paths saying ironically one to another: "War is hell." Meanwhile, +managing editors fought us tooth and nail and we all were sent boxes of +medals inscribed: "Incompetency." We became furious with ourselves. Why +couldn't we send hair-raising despatches? Why couldn't we inflame the +wires? All this we did. If a first-class armoured cruiser which had +once been a tow-boat fired a six-pounder shot from her forward +thirteen-inch gun turret, the world heard of it, you bet. We were not +idle men. We had come to report the war and we did it. Our good names +and our salaries depended upon it and we were urged by our +managing-editors to remember that the American people were a collection +of super-nervous idiots who would immediately have convulsions if we +did not throw them some news--any news. It was not true, at all. The +American people were anxious for things decisive to happen; they were +not anxious to be lulled to satisfaction with a drug. But we lulled +them. We told them this and we told them that, and I warrant you our +screaming sounded like the noise of a lot of sea-birds settling for the +night among the black crags. + +In the meantime, Johnnie stared and meditated. In his unhurried, +unstartled manner he was singularly like another man who was flying the +pennant as commander-in-chief of the North Atlantic Squadron. Johnnie +was a refugee; the admiral was an admiral. And yet they were much akin, +these two. Their brother was the Strategy Board--the only capable +political institution of the war. At Key West the naval officers spoke +of their business and were devoted to it and were bound to succeed in +it, but when the flag-ship was in port the only two people who were +independent and sane were the admiral and Johnnie. The rest of us were +lulling the public with drugs. + +There was much discussion of the new batteries at Havana. Johnnie was a +typical American. In Europe a typical American is a man with a hard +eye, chin-whiskers and a habit of speaking through his nose. Johnnie +was a young man of great energy, ready to accomplish a colossal thing +for the basic reason that he was ignorant of its magnitude. In fact he +attacked all obstacles in life in a spirit of contempt, seeing them +smaller than they were until he had actually surmounted them--when he +was likely to be immensely pleased with himself. Somewhere in him there +was a sentimental tenderness, but it was like a light seen afar at +night; it came, went, appeared again in a new place, flickered, flared, +went out, left you in a void and angry. And if his sentimental +tenderness was a light, the darkness in which it puzzled you was his +irony of soul. This irony was directed first at himself; then at you; +then at the nation and the flag; then at God. It was a midnight in +which you searched for the little elusive, ashamed spark of tender +sentiment. Sometimes, you thought this was all pretext, the manner and +the way of fear of the wit of others; sometimes you thought he was a +hardened savage; usually you did not think but waited in the cheerful +certainty that in time the little flare of light would appear in the +gloom. + +Johnnie decided that he would go and spy upon the fortifications of +Havana. If any one wished to know of those batteries it was the admiral +of the squadron, but the admiral of the squadron knew much. I feel sure +that he knew the size and position of every gun. To be sure, new guns +might be mounted at any time, but they would not be big guns, and +doubtless he lacked in his cabin less information than would be worth a +man's life. Still, Johnnie decided to be a spy. He would go and look. +We of the newspapers pinned him fast to the tail of our kite and he was +taken to see the admiral. I judge that the admiral did not display much +interest in the plan. But at any rate it seems that he touched Johnnie +smartly enough with a brush to make him, officially, a spy. Then +Johnnie bowed and left the cabin. There was no other machinery. If +Johnnie was to end his life and leave a little book about it, no one +cared--least of all, Johnnie and the admiral. When he came aboard the +tug, he displayed his usual stalwart and rather selfish zest for fried +eggs. It was all some kind of an ordinary matter. It was done every +day. It was the business of packing pork, sewing shoes, binding hay. It +was commonplace. No one could adjust it, get it in proportion, +until--afterwards. On a dark night, they heaved him into a small boat +and rowed him to the beach. + +And one day he appeared at the door of a little lodging-house in Havana +kept by Martha Clancy, born in Ireland, bred in New York, fifteen years +married to a Spanish captain, and now a widow, keeping Cuban lodgers +who had no money with which to pay her. She opened the door only a +little way and looked down over her spectacles at him. + +"Good-mornin' Martha," he said. + +She looked a moment in silence. Then she made an indescribable gesture +of weariness. "Come in," she said. He stepped inside. "And in God's +name couldn't you keep your neck out of this rope? And so you had to +come here, did you--to Havana? Upon my soul, Johnnie, my son, you are +the biggest fool on two legs." + +He moved past her into the court-yard and took his old chair at the +table--between the winding stairway and the door--near the orange tree. +"Why am I?" he demanded stoutly. She made no reply until she had taken +seat in her rocking-chair and puffed several times upon a cigarette. +Then through the smoke she said meditatively: "Everybody knows ye are a +damned little mambi." Sometimes she spoke with an Irish accent. + +He laughed. "I'm no more of a mambi than _you_ are, anyhow." + +"I'm no mambi. But your name is poison to half the Spaniards in Havana. +That you know. And if you were once safe in Cayo Hueso, 'tis nobody but +a born fool who would come blunderin' into Havana again. Have ye had +your dinner?" + +"What have you got?" he asked before committing himself. + +She arose and spoke without confidence as she moved toward the +cupboard. "There's some codfish salad." + +"_What?_" said he. + +"Codfish salad." + +"_Codfish what?_" + +"Codfish salad. Ain't it good enough for ye? Maybe this is +Delmonico's--no? Maybe ye never heard that the Yankees have us +blockaded, hey? Maybe ye think food can be picked in the streets here +now, hey? I'll tell ye one thing, my son, if you stay here long you'll +see the want of it and so you had best not throw it over your +shoulder." + +The spy settled determinedly in his chair and delivered himself his +final decision. "That may all be true, but I'm _damned_ if I eat +codfish salad." + +Old Martha was a picture of quaint despair. "You'll not?" + +"No!" + +"Then," she sighed piously, "may the Lord have mercy on ye, Johnnie, +for you'll never do here. 'Tis not the time for you. You're due after +the blockade. Will you do me the favour of translating why you won't +eat codfish salad, you skinny little insurrecto?" + +"Cod-fish salad!" he said with a deep sneer. "Who ever heard of it!" + +Outside, on the jumbled pavement of the street, an occasional two-wheel +cart passed with deafening thunder, making one think of the overturning +of houses. Down from the pale sky over the patio came a heavy odour of +Havana itself, a smell of old straw. The wild cries of vendors could be +heard at intervals. + +"You'll not?" + +"No." + +"And why not?" + +"Cod-fish salad? Not by a blame sight!" + +"Well--all right then. You are more of a pig-headed young imbecile than +even I thought from seeing you come into Havana here where half the +town knows you and the poorest Spaniard would give a gold piece to see +you go into Cabanas and forget to come out. Did I tell you, my son +Alfred is sick? Yes, poor little fellow, he lies up in the room you +used to have. The fever. And did you see Woodham in Key West? Heaven +save us, what quick time he made in getting out. I hear Figtree and +Button are working in the cable office over there--no? And when is the +war going to end? Are the Yankees going to try to take Havana? It will +be a hard job, Johnnie? The Spaniards say it is impossible. Everybody +is laughing at the Yankees. I hate to go into the street and hear them. +Is General Lee going to lead the army? What's become of Springer? I see +you've got a new pair of shoes." + +In the evening there was a sudden loud knock at the outer door. Martha +looked at Johnnie and Johnnie looked at Martha. He was still sitting in +the patio, smoking. She took the lamp and set it on a table in the +little parlour. This parlour connected the street-door with the patio, +and so Johnnie would be protected from the sight of the people who +knocked by the broad illuminated tract. Martha moved in pensive fashion +upon the latch. "Who's there?" she asked casually. + +"The police." There it was, an old melodramatic incident from the +stage, from the romances. One could scarce believe it. It had all the +dignity of a classic resurrection. "The police!" One sneers at its +probability; it is too venerable. But so it happened. + +"Who?" said Martha. + +"The police!" + +"What do you want here?" + +"Open the door and we'll tell you." + +Martha drew back the ordinary huge bolts of a Havana house and opened +the door a trifle. "Tell me what you want and begone quickly," she +said, "for my little boy is ill of the fever----" + +She could see four or five dim figures, and now one of these suddenly +placed a foot well within the door so that she might not close it. "We +have come for Johnnie. We must search your house." + +"Johnnie? Johnnie? Who is Johnnie?" said Martha in her best manner. + +The police inspector grinned with the light upon his face. "Don't you +know Señor Johnnie from Pinar del Rio?" he asked. + +"Before the war--yes. But now--where is he--he must be in Key West?" + +"He is in your house." + +"He? In my house? Do me the favour to think that I have some +intelligence. Would I be likely to be harbouring a Yankee in these +times? You must think I have no more head than an Orden Publico. And +I'll not have you search my house, for there is no one here save my +son--who is maybe dying of the fever--and the doctor. The doctor is +with him because now is the crisis, and any one little thing may kill +or cure my boy, and you will do me the favour to consider what may +happen if I allow five or six heavy-footed policemen to go tramping all +over my house. You may think----" + +"Stop it," said the chief police officer at last. He was laughing and +weary and angry. + +Martha checked her flow of Spanish. "There!" she thought, "I've done my +best. He ought to fall in with it." But as the police entered she began +on them again. "You will search the house whether I like it or no. Very +well; but if anything happens to my boy? It is a nice way of conduct, +anyhow--coming into the house of a widow at night and talking much +about this Yankee and----" + +"For God's sake, señora, hold your tongue. We----" + +"Oh, yes, the señora can for God's sake very well hold her tongue, but +that wouldn't assist you men into the street where you belong. Take +care: if my sick boy suffers from this prowling! No, you'll find +nothing in that wardrobe. And do you think he would be under the table? +Don't overturn all that linen. Look you, when you go upstairs, tread +lightly." + +Leaving a man on guard at the street door and another in the patio, the +chief policeman and the remainder of his men ascended to the gallery +from which opened three sleeping-rooms. They were followed by Martha +abjuring them to make no noise. The first room was empty; the second +room was empty; as they approached the door of the third room, Martha +whispered supplications. "Now, in the name of God, don't disturb my +boy." The inspector motioned his men to pause and then he pushed open +the door. Only one weak candle was burning in the room and its yellow +light fell upon the bed whereon was stretched the figure of a little +curly-headed boy in a white nightey. He was asleep, but his face was +pink with fever and his lips were murmuring some half-coherent childish +nonsense. At the head of the bed stood the motionless figure of a man. +His back was to the door, but upon hearing a noise he held a solemn +hand. There was an odour of medicine. Out on the balcony, Martha +apparently was weeping. + +The inspector hesitated for a moment; then he noiselessly entered the +room and with his yellow cane prodded under the bed, in the cupboard +and behind the window-curtains. Nothing came of it. He shrugged his +shoulders and went out to the balcony. He was smiling sheepishly. +Evidently he knew that he had been beaten. "Very good, Señora," he +said. "You are clever; some day I shall be clever, too." He shook his +finger at her. He was threatening her but he affected to be playful. +"Then--beware! Beware!" + +Martha replied blandly, "My late husband, El Capitan Señor Don Patricio +de Castellon y Valladolid was a cavalier of Spain and if he was alive +to-night he would now be cutting the ears from the heads of you and +your miserable men who smell frightfully of cognac." + +"Por Dios!" muttered the inspector as followed by his band he made his +way down the spiral staircase. "It is a tongue! One vast tongue!" At +the street-door they made ironical bows; they departed; they were angry +men. + +Johnnie came down when he heard Martha bolting the door behind the +police. She brought back the lamp to the table in the patio and stood +beside it, thinking. Johnnie dropped into his old chair. The expression +on the spy's face was curious; it pictured glee, anxiety, +self-complacency; above all it pictured self-complacency. Martha said +nothing; she was still by the lamp, musing. + +The long silence was suddenly broken by a tremendous guffaw from +Johnnie. "Did you ever see sich a lot of fools!" He leaned his head far +back and roared victorious merriment. + +Martha was almost dancing in her apprehension. "Hush! Be quiet, you +little demon! Hush! Do me the favour to allow them to get to the corner +before you bellow like a walrus. Be quiet." + +The spy ceased his laughter and spoke in indignation. "Why?" he +demanded. "Ain't I got a right to laugh?" + +"Not with a noise like a cow fallin' into a cucumber-frame," she +answered sharply. "Do me the favour----" Then she seemed overwhelmed +with a sense of the general hopelessness of Johnnie's character. She +began to wag her head. "Oh, but you are the boy for gettin' yourself +into the tiger's cage without even so much as the thought of a +pocket-knife in your thick head. You would be a genius of the first +water if you only had a little sense. And now you're here, what are you +going to do?" + +He grinned at her. "I'm goin' to hold an inspection of the land and sea +defences of the city of Havana." + +Martha's spectacles dropped low on her nose and, looking over the rims +of them in grave meditation, she said: "If you can't put up with +codfish salad you had better make short work of your inspection of the +land and sea defences of the city of Havana. You are likely to starve +in the meantime. A man who is particular about his food has come to the +wrong town if he is in Havana now." + +"No, but----" asked Johnnie seriously. "Haven't you any bread?" + +"_Bread!_" + +"Well, coffee then? Coffee alone will do." + +"_Coffee!_" + +Johnnie arose deliberately and took his hat. Martha eyed him. "And +where do you think you are goin'?" she asked cuttingly. + +Still deliberate, Johnnie moved in the direction of the street-door. +"I'm goin' where I can get something to eat." + +Martha sank into a chair with a moan which was a finished +opinion--almost a definition--of Johnnie's behaviour in life. "And +where will you go?" she asked faintly. + +"Oh, I don't know," he rejoined. "Some café. Guess I'll go to the Café +Aguacate. They feed you well there. I remember----" + +"_You_ remember? _They_ remember! They know you as well as if you were +the sign over the door." + +"Oh, they won't give me away," said Johnnie with stalwart confidence. + +"Gi-give you away? Give you a-way?" stammered Martha. + +The spy made no answer but went to the door, unbarred it and passed +into the street. Martha caught her breath and ran after him and came +face to face with him as he turned to shut the door. "Johnnie, if ye +come back, bring a loaf of bread. I'm dyin' for one good honest bite in +a slice of bread." + +She heard his peculiar derisive laugh as she bolted the door. She +returned to her chair in the patio. "Well, there," she said with +affection, admiration and contempt. "There he goes! The most +hard-headed little ignoramus in twenty nations! What does he care? +Nothin'! And why is it? Pure bred-in-the-bone ignorance. Just because +he can't stand codfish salad he goes out to a café! A café where they +know him as if they had made him!... Well.... I won't see him again, +probably.... But if he comes back, I hope he brings some bread. I'm +near dead for it." + + +II + +Johnnie strolled carelessly through dark narrow streets. Near every +corner were two Orden Publicos--a kind of soldier-police--quiet in the +shadow of some doorway, their Remingtons ready, their eyes shining. +Johnnie walked past as if he owned them, and their eyes followed him +with a sort of a lazy mechanical suspicion which was militant in none +of its moods. + +Johnnie was suffering from a desire to be splendidly imprudent. He +wanted to make the situation gasp and thrill and tremble. From time to +time he tried to conceive the idea of his being caught, but to save his +eyes he could not imagine it. Such an event was impossible to his +peculiar breed of fatalism which could not have conceded death until he +had mouldered seven years. + +He arrived at the Café Aguacate and found it much changed. The thick +wooden shutters were up to keep light from shining into the street. +Inside, there were only a few Spanish officers. Johnnie walked to the +private rooms at the rear. He found an empty one and pressed the +electric button. When he had passed through the main part of the café +no one had noted him. The first to recognise him was the waiter who +answered the bell. This worthy man turned to stone before the presence +of Johnnie. + +"Buenos noche, Francisco," said the spy, enjoying himself. "I have +hunger. Bring me bread, butter, eggs and coffee." There was a silence; +the waiter did not move; Johnnie smiled casually at him. + +The man's throat moved; then like one suddenly re-endowed with life, he +bolted from the room. After a long time, he returned with the +proprietor of the place. In the wicked eye of the latter there gleamed +the light of a plan. He did not respond to Johnnie's genial greeting, +but at once proceeded to develop his position. "Johnnie," he said, +"bread is very dear in Havana. It is very dear." + +"Is it?" said Johnnie looking keenly at the speaker. He understood at +once that here was some sort of an attack upon him. + +"Yes," answered the proprietor of the Café Aguacate slowly and softly. +"It is very dear. I think to-night one small bit of bread will cost you +one centene--in advance." A centene approximates five dollars in gold. + +The spy's face did not change. He appeared to reflect. "And how much +for the butter?" he asked at last. + +The proprietor gestured. "There is no butter. Do you think we can have +everything with those Yankee pigs sitting out there on their ships?" + +"And how much for the coffee?" asked Johnnie musingly. + +Again the two men surveyed each other during a period of silence. Then +the proprietor said gently, "I think your coffee will cost you about +two centenes." + +"And the eggs?" + +"Eggs are very dear. I think eggs would cost you about three centenes +for each one." + +The new looked at the old; the North Atlantic looked at the +Mediterranean; the wooden nutmeg looked at the olive. Johnnie slowly +took six centenes from his pocket and laid them on the table. "That's +for bread, coffee, and one egg. I don't think I could eat more than one +egg to-night. I'm not so hungry as I was." + +The proprietor held a perpendicular finger and tapped the table with +it. "Oh, señor," he said politely, "I think you would like two eggs." + +Johnnie saw the finger. He understood it. "Ye-e-es," he drawled. "I +would like two eggs." He placed three more centenes on the table. + +"And a little thing for the waiter? I am sure his services will be +excellent, invaluable." + +"Ye-e-es, for the waiter." Another centene was laid on the table. + +The proprietor bowed and preceded the waiter out of the room. There was +a mirror on the wall and, springing to his feet, the spy thrust his +face close to the honest glass. "Well, I'm damned!" he ejaculated. "Is +this me or is this the Honourable D. Hayseed Whiskers of Kansas? Who am +I, anyhow? Five dollars in gold!... Say, these people are clever. They +know their business, they do. Bread, coffee and two eggs and not even +sure of getting it! Fifty dol---- ... Never mind; wait until the war is +over. Fifty dollars gold!" He sat for a long time; nothing happened. +"Eh," he said at last, "that's the game." As the front door of the café +closed upon him, he heard the proprietor and one of the waiters burst +into derisive laughter. + +Martha was waiting for him. "And here ye are, safe back," she said with +delight as she let him enter. "And did ye bring the bread? Did ye bring +the bread?" + +But she saw that he was raging like a lunatic. His face was red and +swollen with temper; his eyes shot forth gleams. Presently he stood +before her in the patio where the light fell on him. "Don't speak to +me," he choked out waving his arms. "Don't speak to me! _Damn_ your +bread! I went to the Café Aguacate! Oh, yes, I went there! Of course, +I did! And do you know what they did to me? No! Oh, they didn't do +anything to me at all! Not a thing! Fifty dollars! Ten gold pieces!" + +"May the saints guard us," cried Martha. "And what was that for?" + +"Because they wanted them more than I did," snarled Johnnie. "Don't you +see the game. I go into the Café Aguacate. The owner of the place says +to himself, 'Hello! Here's that Yankee what they call Johnnie. He's got +no right here in Havana. Guess I'll peach on him to the police. They'll +put him in Cabanas as a spy.' Then he does a little more thinking, and +finally he says, 'No; I guess I won't peach on him just this minute. +First, I'll take a small flyer myself.' So in he comes and looks me +right in the eye and says, 'Excuse me but it will be a centene for the +bread, a centene for the coffee, and eggs are at three centenes each. +Besides there will be a small matter of another gold-piece for the +waiter.' I think this over. I think it over hard.... He's clever +anyhow.... When this cruel war is over, I'll be after him.... I'm a +nice secret agent of the United States government, I am. I come here to +be too clever for all the Spanish police, and the first thing I do is +get buncoed by a rotten, little thimble-rigger in a café. Oh, yes, I'm +all right." + +"May the saints guard us!" cried Martha again. "I'm old enough to be +your mother, or maybe, your grandmother, and I've seen a lot; but it's +many a year since I laid eyes on such a ign'rant and wrong-headed +little, red Indian as ye are! Why didn't ye take my advice and stay +here in the house with decency and comfort. But he must be all for +doing everything high and mighty. The Café Aguacate, if ye please. No +plain food for his highness. He turns up his nose at cod-fish sal----" + +"Thunder and lightnin', are you going to ram that thing down my throat +every two minutes, are you?" And in truth she could see that one more +reference to that illustrious viand would break the back of Johnnie's +gentle disposition as one breaks a twig on the knee. She shifted with +Celtic ease. "Did ye bring the bread?" she asked. + +He gazed at her for a moment and suddenly laughed. "I forgot to +mention," he informed her impressively, "that they did not take the +trouble to give me either the bread, the coffee or the eggs." + +"The powers!" cried Martha. + +"But it's all right. I stopped at a shop." From his pockets, he brought +a small loaf, some kind of German sausage and a flask of Jamaica rum. +"About all I could get. And they didn't want to sell them either. They +expect presently they can exchange a box of sardines for a grand +piano." + +"'We are not blockaded by the Yankee warships; we are blockaded by our +grocers,'" said Martha, quoting the epidemic Havana saying. But she did +not delay long from the little loaf. She cut a slice from it and sat +eagerly munching. Johnnie seemed more interested in the Jamaica rum. He +looked up from his second glass, however, because he heard a peculiar +sound. The old woman was weeping. "Hey, what's this?" he demanded in +distress, but with the manner of a man who thinks gruffness is the only +thing that will make people feel better and cease. "What's this anyhow? +What are you cryin' for?" + +"It's the bread," sobbed Martha. "It's the--the br-e-a-ddd." + +"Huh? What's the matter with it?" + +"It's so good, so g-good." The rain of tears did not prevent her from +continuing her unusual report. "Oh, it's so good! This is the first in +weeks. I didn't know bread could be so l-like heaven." + +"Here," said Johnnie seriously. "Take a little mouthful of this rum. It +will do you good." + +"No; I only want the bub-bub-bread." + +"Well, take the bread, too.... There you are. Now you feel better.... +By Jove, when I think of that Café Aguacate man! Fifty dollars gold! +And then not to get anything either. Say, after the war, I'm going +there, and I'm just going to raze that place to the ground. You see! +I'll make him think he can charge ME fifteen dollars for an egg.... +And then not give me the egg." + + +III + +Johnnie's subsequent activity in Havana could truthfully be related in +part to a certain temporary price of eggs. It is interesting to note +how close that famous event got to his eye so that, according to the +law of perspective, it was as big as the Capitol of Washington, where +centres the spirit of his nation. Around him, he felt a similar and +ferocious expression of life which informed him too plainly that if he +was caught, he was doomed. Neither the garrison nor the citizens of +Havana would tolerate any nonsense in regard to him if he was caught. +He would have the steel screw against his neck in short order. And what +was the main thing to bear him up against the desire to run away before +his work was done? A certain temporary price of eggs! It not only hid +the Capitol at Washington; it obscured the dangers in Havana. + +Something was learned of the Santa Clara battery, because one morning +an old lady in black accompanied by a young man--evidently her +son--visited a house which was to rent on the height, in rear of the +battery. The portero was too lazy and sleepy to show them over the +premises, but he granted them permission to investigate for themselves. +They spent most of their time on the flat parapeted roof of the house. +At length they came down and said that the place did not suit them. The +portero went to sleep again. + +Johnnie was never discouraged by the thought that his operations would +be of small benefit to the admiral commanding the fleet in adjacent +waters, and to the general commanding the army which was not going to +attack Havana from the land side. At that time it was all the world's +opinion that the army from Tampa would presently appear on the Cuban +beach at some convenient point to the east or west of Havana. It turned +out, of course, that the condition of the defences of Havana was of not +the slightest military importance to the United States since the city +was never attacked either by land or sea. But Johnnie could not foresee +this. He continued to take his fancy risk, continued his majestic lie, +with satisfaction, sometimes with delight, and with pride. And in the +psychologic distance was old Martha dancing with fear and shouting: +"Oh, Johnnie, me son, what a born fool ye are!" + +Sometimes she would address him thus: "And when ye learn all this, how +are ye goin' to get out with it?" She was contemptuous. + +He would reply, as serious as a Cossack in his fatalism. "Oh, I'll get +out some way." + +His manoeuvres in the vicinity of Regla and Guanabacoa were of a +brilliant character. He haunted the sunny long grass in the manner of a +jack-rabbit. Sometimes he slept under a palm, dreaming of the American +advance fighting its way along the military road to the foot of Spanish +defences. Even when awake, he often dreamed it and thought of the +all-day crash and hot roar of an assault. Without consulting +Washington, he had decided that Havana should be attacked from the +south-east. An advance from the west could be contested right up to the +bar of the Hotel Inglaterra, but when the first ridge in the south-east +would be taken, the whole city with most of its defences would lie +under the American siege guns. And the approach to this position was as +reasonable as is any approach toward the muzzles of magazine rifles. +Johnnie viewed the grassy fields always as a prospective battle-ground, +and one can see him lying there, filling the landscape with visions of +slow-crawling black infantry columns, galloping batteries of artillery, +streaks of faint blue smoke marking the modern firing lines, clouds of +dust, a vision of ten thousand tragedies. And his ears heard the +noises. + +But he was no idle shepherd boy with a head haunted by sombre and +glorious fancies. On the contrary, he was much occupied with practical +matters. Some months after the close of the war, he asked me: "Were you +ever fired at from very near?" I explained some experiences which I had +stupidly esteemed as having been rather near. "But did you ever have'm +fire a volley on you from close--very close--say, thirty feet?" + +Highly scandalised I answered, "No; in that case, I would not be the +crowning feature of the Smithsonian Institute." + +"Well," he said, "it's a funny effect. You feel as every hair on your +head had been snatched out by the roots." Questioned further he said, +"I walked right up on a Spanish outpost at daybreak once, and about +twenty men let go at me. Thought I was a Cuban army, I suppose." + +"What did you do?" + +"I run." + +"Did they hit you, at all?" + +"Naw." + +It had been arranged that some light ship of the squadron should +rendezvous with him at a certain lonely spot on the coast on a certain +day and hour and pick him up. He was to wave something white. His shirt +was not white, but he waved it whenever he could see the signal-tops of +a war-ship. It was a very tattered banner. After a ten-mile scramble +through almost pathless thickets, he had very little on him which +respectable men would call a shirt, and the less one says about his +trousers the better. This naked savage, then, walked all day up and +down a small bit of beach waving a brown rag. At night, he slept in the +sand. At full daybreak he began to wave his rag; at noon he was waving +his rag; at night-fall he donned his rag and strove to think of it as a +shirt. Thus passed two days, and nothing had happened. Then he retraced +a twenty-five mile way to the house of old Martha. At first she took +him to be one of Havana's terrible beggars and cried, "And do you come +here for alms? Look out, that I do not beg of you." The one unchanged +thing was his laugh of pure mockery. When she heard it, she dragged him +through the door. He paid no heed to her ejaculations but went straight +to where he had hidden some gold. As he was untying a bit of string +from the neck of a small bag, he said, "How is little Alfred?" +"Recovered, thank Heaven." He handed Martha a piece of gold. "Take this +and buy what you can on the corner. I'm hungry." Martha departed with +expedition. Upon her return, she was beaming. She had foraged a thin +chicken, a bunch of radishes and two bottles of wine. Johnnie had +finished the radishes and one bottle of wine when the chicken was still +a long way from the table. He called stoutly for more, and so Martha +passed again into the street with another gold piece. She bought more +radishes, more wine and some cheese. They had a grand feast, with +Johnnie audibly wondering until a late hour why he had waved his rag in +vain. + +There was no end to his suspense, no end to his work. He knew +everything. He was an animate guide-book. After he knew a thing once, +he verified it in several different ways in order to make sure. He +fitted himself for a useful career, like a young man in a college--with +the difference that the shadow of the garote fell ever upon his way, +and that he was occasionally shot at, and that he could not get enough +to eat, and that his existence was apparently forgotten, and that he +contracted the fever. But---- + +One cannot think of the terms in which to describe a futility so vast, +so colossal. He had builded a little boat, and the sea had receded and +left him and his boat a thousand miles inland on the top of a mountain. +The war-fate had left Havana out of its plan and thus isolated Johnnie +and his several pounds of useful information. The war-fate left Havana +to become the somewhat indignant victim of a peaceful occupation at the +close of the conflict, and Johnnie's data were worth as much as a +carpenter's lien on the north pole. He had suffered and laboured for +about as complete a bit of absolute nothing as one could invent. If the +company which owned the sugar plantation had not generously continued +his salary during the war, he would not have been able to pay his +expenses on the amount allowed him by the government, which, by the +way, was a more complete bit of absolute nothing than one could +possibly invent. + + +IV + +I met Johnnie in Havana in October, 1898. If I remember rightly the +U.S.S. _Resolute_ and the U.S.S. _Scorpion_ were in the harbour, +but beyond these two terrible engines of destruction there were not as +yet any of the more stern signs of the American success. Many Americans +were to be seen in the streets of Havana where they were not in any way +molested. Among them was Johnnie in white duck and a straw hat, cool, +complacent and with eyes rather more steady than ever. I addressed him +upon the subject of his supreme failure, but I could not perturb his +philosophy. In reply he simply asked me to dinner. "Come to the Café +Aguacate at 7:30 to-night," he said. "I haven't been there in a long +time. We shall see if they cook as well as ever." I turned up promptly +and found Johnnie in a private room smoking a cigar in the presence of +a waiter who was blue in the gills. "I've ordered the dinner," he said +cheerfully. "Now I want to see if you won't be surprised how well they +can do here in Havana." I was surprised. I was dumfounded. Rarely in +the history of the world have two rational men sat down to such a +dinner. It must have taxed the ability and endurance of the entire +working force of the establishment to provide it. The variety of dishes +was of course related to the markets of Havana, but the abundance and +general profligacy was related only to Johnnie's imagination. Neither +of us had an appetite. Our fancies fled in confusion before this +puzzling luxury. I looked at Johnnie as if he were a native of Thibet. +I had thought him to be a most simple man, and here I found him +revelling in food like a fat, old senator of Rome's decadence. And if +the dinner itself put me to open-eyed amazement, the names of the wines +finished everything. Apparently Johnny had had but one standard, and +that was the cost. If a wine had been very expensive, he had ordered +it. I began to think him probably a maniac. At any rate, I was sure +that we were both fools. Seeing my fixed stare, he spoke with affected +languor: "I wish peacocks' brains and melted pearls were to be had here +in Havana. We'd have 'em." Then he grinned. As a mere skirmisher I +said, "In New York, we think we dine well; but really this, you +know--well--Havana----" + +Johnnie waved his hand pompously. "Oh, I know." + +Directly after coffee, Johnnie excused himself for a moment and left +the room. When he returned he said briskly, "Well, are you ready to +go?" As soon as we were in a cab and safely out of hearing of the Café +Aguacate, Johnnie lay back and laughed long and joyously. + +But I was very serious. "Look here, Johnnie," I said to him solemnly, +"when you invite me to dine with you, don't you ever do _that_ again. +And I'll tell you one thing--when you dine with me you will probably +get the ordinary table d'hôte." I was an older man. + +"Oh, that's all right," he cried. And then he too grew serious. "Well, +as far as I am concerned--as far as I am concerned," he said, "the war +is now over." + + + + +WAR MEMORIES + + +"But to get the real thing!" cried Vernall, the war-correspondent. "It +seems impossible! It is because war is neither magnificent nor squalid; +it is simply life, and an expression of life can always evade us. We +can never tell life, one to another, although sometimes we think we +can." + +When I climbed aboard the despatch-boat at Key West, the mate told me +irritably that as soon as we crossed the bar, we would find ourselves +monkey-climbing over heavy seas. It wasn't my fault, but he seemed to +insinuate that it was all a result of my incapacity. There were four +correspondents in the party. The leader of us came aboard with a huge +bunch of bananas, which he hung like a chandelier in the centre of the +tiny cabin. We made acquaintance over, around, and under this bunch of +bananas, which really occupied the cabin as a soldier occupies a sentry +box. But the bunch did not become really aggressive until we were well +at sea. Then it began to spar. With the first roll of the ship, it +launched its honest pounds at McCurdy and knocked him wildly through +the door to the deck-rail, where he hung cursing hysterically. Without +a moment's pause, it made for me. I flung myself head-first into my +bunk and watched the demon sweep Brownlow into a corner and wedge his +knee behind a sea-chest. Kary gave a shrill cry and fled. The bunch of +bananas swung to and fro, silent, determined, ferocious, looking for +more men. It had cleared a space for itself. My comrades looked in at +the door, calling upon me to grab the thing and hold it. I pointed out +to them the security and comfort of my position. They were angry. +Finally the mate came and lashed the thing so that it could not prowl +about the cabin and assault innocent war-correspondents. You see? War! +A bunch of bananas rampant because the ship rolled. + +In that early period of the war we were forced to continue our dreams. +And we were all dreamers, envisioning the seas with death grapples, +ship and ship. Even the navy grew cynical. Officers on the bridge +lifted their megaphones and told you in resigned voices that they were +out of ice, onions, and eggs. At other times, they would shoot quite +casually at us with six-pounders. This industry usually progressed in +the night, but it sometimes happened in the day. There was never any +resentment on our side, although at moments there was some nervousness. +They were impressively quick with their lanyards; our means of replying +to signals were correspondingly slow. They gave you opportunity to say, +"Heaven guard me!" Then they shot. But we recognised the propriety of +it. Everything was correct save the war, which lagged and lagged and +lagged. It did not play; it was not a gory giant; it was a bunch of +bananas swung in the middle of the cabin. + +Once we had the honour of being rammed at midnight by the U.S.S. +_Machias_. In fact the exceeding industry of the naval commanders of +the Cuban blockading fleet caused a certain liveliness to at times +penetrate our mediocre existence. We were all greatly entertained over +an immediate prospect of being either killed by rapid fire guns, cut in +half by the ram or merely drowned, but even our great longing for +diversion could not cause us to ever again go near the _Machias_ on a +dark night. We had sailed from Key West on a mission that had nothing +to do with the coast of Cuba, and steaming due east and some +thirty-five miles from the Cuban land, we did not think we were liable +to an affair with any of the fierce American cruisers. Suddenly a +familiar signal of red and white lights flashed like a brooch of jewels +on the pall that covered the sea. It was far away and tiny, but we knew +all about it. It was the electric question of an American war-ship and +it demanded a swift answer in kind. The man behind the gun! What about +the man in front of the gun? The war-ship signals vanished and the sea +presented nothing but a smoky black stretch lit with the hissing white +tops of the flying waves. A thin line of flame swept from a gun. + +Thereafter followed one of those silences which had become so +peculiarly instructive to the blockade-runner. Somewhere in the +darkness we knew that a slate-coloured cruiser, red below the +water-line and with a gold scroll on her bows, was flying over the +waves toward us, while upon the dark decks the men stood at general +quarters in silence about the long thin guns, and it was the law of +life and death that we should make true answer in about the twelfth +part of a second. Now I shall with regret disclose a certain dreadful +secret of the despatch-boat service. Our signals, far from being +electric, were two lanterns which we kept in a tub and covered with a +tarpaulin. The tub was placed just forward of the pilot-house, and when +we were accosted at night it was everybody's duty to scramble wildly +for the tub and grab out the lanterns and wave them. It amounted to a +slowness of speech. I remember a story of an army sentry who upon +hearing a noise in his front one dark night called his usual sharp +query. "Halt--who's there? Halt or I'll fire!" And getting no immediate +response he fired even as he had said, killing a man with a hair-lip +who unfortunately could not arrange his vocal machinery to reply in +season. We were something like a boat with a hair-lip. And sometimes it +was very trying to the nerves.... The pause was long. Then a voice +spoke from the sea through a megaphone. It was faint but clear. "What +ship is that?" No one hesitated over his answer in cases of this kind. +Everybody was desirous of imparting fullest information. There was +another pause. Then out of the darkness flew an American cruiser, +silent as death, handled as ferociously as if the devil commanded her. +Again the little voice hailed from the bridge. "What ship is that?" +Evidently the reply to the first hail had been misunderstood or not +heard. This time the voice rang with menace, menace of immediate and +certain destruction, and the last word was intoned savagely and +strangely across the windy darkness as if the officer would explain +that the cruiser was after either fools or the common enemy. The yells +in return did not stop her. She was hurling herself forward to ram us +amidships, and the people on the little _Three Friends_ looked at a +tall swooping bow, and it was keener than any knife that has ever been +made. As the cruiser lunged every man imagined the gallant and famous +but frail _Three Friends_ cut into two parts as neatly as if she had +been cheese. But there was a sheer and a hard sheer to starboard, and +down upon our quarter swung a monstrous thing larger than any ship in +the world--the U.S.S. _Machias_. She had a freeboard of about three +hundred feet and the top of her funnel was out of sight in the clouds +like an Alp. I shouldn't wonder that at the top of that funnel there +was a region of perpetual snow. And at a range which swiftly narrowed +to nothing every gun in her port-battery swung deliberately into aim. +It was closer, more deliciously intimate than a duel across a +handkerchief. We all had an opportunity of looking miles down the +muzzles of this festive artillery before came the collision. Then the +_Machias_ reeled her steel shoulder against the wooden side of the +_Three Friends_ and up went a roar as if a vast shingle roof had +fallen. The poor little tug dipped as if she meant to pass under the +war-ship, staggered and finally righted, trembling from head to foot. +The cries of the splintered timbers ceased. The men on the tug gazed at +each other with white faces shining faintly in the darkness. The +_Machias_ backed away even as the _Three Friends_ drew slowly ahead, +and again we were alone with the piping of the wind and the slash of +the gale-driven water. Later, from some hidden part of the sea, the +bullish eye of a searchlight looked at us and the widening white rays +bathed us in the glare. There was another hail. "Hello there, _Three +Friends_!" "Ay, ay, sir!" "Are you injured?" Our first mate had taken a +lantern and was studying the side of the tug, and we held our breath +for his answer. I was sure that he was going to say that we were +sinking. Surely there could be no other ending to this terrific +bloodthirsty assault. But the first mate said, "No, sir." Instantly the +glare of the search-light was gone; the _Machias_ was gone; the +incident was closed. + +I was dining once on board the flag-ship, the _New York_, armoured +cruiser. It was the junior officers' mess, and when the coffee came, a +young ensign went to the piano and began to bang out a popular tune. It +was a cheerful scene, and it resembled only a cheerful scene. Suddenly +we heard the whistle of the bos'n's mate, and directly above us, it +seemed, a voice, hoarse as that of a sea-lion, bellowed a command: "Man +the port battery." In a moment the table was vacant; the popular tune +ceased in a jangle. On the quarter-deck assembled a group of +officers--spectators. The quiet evening sea, lit with faint red lights, +went peacefully to the feet of a verdant shore. One could hear the +far-away measured tumbling of surf upon a reef. Only this sound pulsed +in the air. The great grey cruiser was as still as the earth, the sea, +and the sky. Then they let off a four-inch gun directly under my feet. +I thought it turned me a back-somersault. That was the effect upon my +mind. But it appears I did not move. The shell went carousing off to +the Cuban shore, and from the vegetation there spirted a cloud of dust. +Some of the officers on the quarter-deck laughed. Through their glasses +they had seen a Spanish column of cavalry much agitated by the +appearance of this shell among them. As far as I was concerned, there +was nothing but the spirt of dust from the side of a long-suffering +island. When I returned to my coffee I found that most of the young +officers had also returned. Japanese boys were bringing liquors. The +piano's clattering of the popular air was often interrupted by the boom +of a four-inch gun. A bunch of bananas! + +One day, our despatch-boat found the shores of Guantanamo Bay flowing +past on either side. It was at nightfall and on the eastward point a +small village was burning, and it happened that a fiery light was +thrown upon some palm-trees so that it made them into enormous crimson +feathers. The water was the colour of blue steel; the Cuban woods were +sombre; high shivered the gory feathers. The last boatloads of the +marine battalion were pulling for the beach. The marine officers gave +me generous hospitality to the camp on the hill. That night there was +an alarm and amid a stern calling of orders and a rushing of men, I +wandered in search of some other man who had no occupation. It turned +out to be the young assistant surgeon, Gibbs. We foregathered in the +centre of a square of six companies of marines. There was no firing. We +thought it rather comic. The next night there was an alarm; there was +some firing; we lay on our bellies; it was no longer comic. On the +third night the alarm came early; I went in search of Gibbs, but I soon +gave over an active search for the more congenial occupation of lying +flat and feeling the hot hiss of the bullets trying to cut my hair. For +the moment I was no longer a cynic. I was a child who, in a fit of +ignorance, had jumped into the vat of war. I heard somebody dying near +me. He was dying hard. Hard. It took him a long time to die. He +breathed as all noble machinery breathes when it is making its gallant +strife against breaking, breaking. But he was going to break. He was +going to break. It seemed to me, this breathing, the noise of a heroic +pump which strives to subdue a mud which comes upon it in tons. The +darkness was impenetrable. The man was lying in some depression within +seven feet of me. Every wave, vibration, of his anguish beat upon my +senses. He was long past groaning. There was only the bitter strife for +air which pulsed out into the night in a clear penetrating whistle with +intervals of terrible silence in which I held my own breath in the +common unconscious aspiration to help. I thought this man would never +die. I wanted him to die. Ultimately he died. At the moment the +adjutant came bustling along erect amid the spitting bullets. I knew +him by his voice. "Where's the doctor? There's some wounded men over +there. Where's the doctor?" A man answered briskly: "Just died this +minute, sir." It was as if he had said: "Just gone around the corner +this minute, sir." Despite the horror of this night's business, the +man's mind was somehow influenced by the coincidence of the adjutant's +calling aloud for the doctor within a few seconds of the doctor's +death. It--what shall I say? It interested him, this coincidence. + +The day broke by inches, with an obvious and maddening reluctance. From +some unfathomable source I procured an opinion that my friend was not +dead at all--the wild and quivering darkness had caused me to +misinterpret a few shouted words. At length the land brightened in a +violent atmosphere, the perfect dawning of a tropic day, and in this +light I saw a clump of men near me. At first I thought they were all +dead. Then I thought they were all asleep. The truth was that a group +of wan-faced, exhausted men had gone to sleep about Gibbs' body so +closely and in such abandoned attitudes that one's eye could not pick +the living from the dead until one saw that a certain head had beneath +it a great dark pool. + +In the afternoon a lot of men went bathing, and in the midst of this +festivity firing was resumed. It was funny to see the men come +scampering out of the water, grab at their rifles and go into action +attired in nought but their cartridge-belts. The attack of the +Spaniards had interrupted in some degree the services over the graves +of Gibbs and some others. I remember Paine came ashore with a bottle of +whisky which I took from him violently. My faithful shooting boots +began to hurt me, and I went to the beach and poulticed my feet in wet +clay, sitting on the little rickety pier near where the corrugated iron +cable-station showed how the shells slivered through it. Some marines, +desirous of mementoes, were poking with sticks in the smoking ruins of +the hamlet. Down in the shallow water crabs were meandering among the +weeds, and little fishes moved slowly in schools. + +The next day we went shooting. It was exactly like quail shooting. I'll +tell you. These guerillas who so cursed our lives had a well some five +miles away, and it was the only water supply within about twelve miles +of the marine camp. It was decided that it would be correct to go forth +and destroy the well. Captain Elliott, of C company, was to take his +men with Captain Spicer's company, D, out to the well, beat the enemy +away and destroy everything. He was to start at the next daybreak. He +asked me if I cared to go, and, of course, I accepted with glee; but +all that night I was afraid. Bitterly afraid. The moon was very bright, +shedding a magnificent radiance upon the trenches. I watched the men of +C and D companies lying so tranquilly--some snoring, confound +them--whereas I was certain that I could never sleep with the weight of +a coming battle upon my mind, a battle in which the poor life of a +war-correspondent might easily be taken by a careless enemy. But if I +was frightened I was also very cold. It was a chill night and I wanted +a heavy top-coat almost as much as I wanted a certificate of immunity +from rifle bullets. These two feelings were of equal importance to my +mind. They were twins. Elliott came and flung a tent-fly over +Lieutenant Bannon and me as we lay on the ground back of the men. Then +I was no longer cold, but I was still afraid, for tent-flies cannot +mend a fear. In the morning I wished for some mild attack of disease, +something that would incapacitate me for the business of going out +gratuitously to be bombarded. But I was in an awkwardly healthy state, +and so I must needs smile and look pleased with my prospects. We were +to be guided by fifty Cubans, and I gave up all dreams of a +postponement when I saw them shambling off in single file through the +cactus. We followed presently. "Where you people goin' to?" "Don't +know, Jim." "Well, good luck to you, boys." This was the world's lazy +inquiry and conventional God-speed. Then the mysterious wilderness +swallowed us. + +The men were silent because they were ordered to be silent, but +whatever faces I could observe were marked with a look of serious +meditation. As they trudged slowly in single file they were reflecting +upon--what? I don't know. But at length we came to ground more open. +The sea appeared on our right, and we saw the gunboat _Dolphin_ +steaming along in a line parallel to ours. I was as glad to see her as +if she had called out my name. The trail wound about the bases of some +high bare spurs. If the Spaniards had occupied them I don't see how we +could have gone further. But upon them were only the dove-voiced +guerilla scouts calling back into the hills the news of our approach. +The effect of sound is of course relative. I am sure I have never heard +such a horrible sound as the beautiful cooing of the wood-dove when I +was certain that it came from the yellow throat of a guerilla. Elliott +sent Lieutenant Lucas with his platoon to ascend the hills and cover +our advance by the trail. We halted and watched them climb, a long +black streak of men in the vivid sunshine of the hillside. We did not +know how tall were these hills until we saw Lucas and his men on top, +and they were no larger than specks. We marched on until, at last, we +heard--it seemed in the sky--the sputter of firing. This devil's dance +was begun. The proper strategic movement to cover the crisis seemed to +me to be to run away home and swear I had never started on this +expedition. But Elliott yelled: "Now, men; straight up this hill." The +men charged up against the cactus, and, because I cared for the opinion +of others, I found myself tagging along close at Elliott's heels. I +don't know how I got up that hill, but I think it was because I was +afraid to be left behind. The immediate rear did not look safe. The +crowd of strong young marines afforded the only spectacle of +provisional security. So I tagged along at Elliott's heels. The hill +was as steep as a Swiss roof. From it sprang out great pillars of +cactus, and the human instinct was to assist one's self in the ascent +by grasping cactus with one's hands. I remember the watch I had to keep +upon this human instinct even when the sound of the bullets was +attracting my nervous attention. However, the attractive thing to my +sense at the time was the fact that every man of the marines was also +climbing away like mad. It was one thing for Elliott, Spicer, Neville, +Shaw and Bannon; it was another thing for me; but--what in the devil +was it to the men? Not the same thing surely. It was perfectly easy for +any marine to get overcome by the burning heat and, lying down, +bequeath the work and the danger to his comrades. The fine thing about +"the men" is that you can't explain them. I mean when you take them +collectively. They do a thing, and afterward you find that they have +done it because they have done it. However, when Elliott arrived at the +top of the ridge, myself and many other men were with him. But there +was no battle scene. Off on another ridge we could see Lucas' men and +the Cubans peppering away into a valley. The bullets about our ears +were really intended to lodge in them. We went over there. + +I walked along the firing line and looked at the men. I kept somewhat +on what I shall call the _lee_ side of the ridge. Why? Because I was +afraid of being shot. No other reason. Most of the men as they lay +flat, shooting, looked contented, almost happy. They were pleased, +these men, at the situation. I don't know. I cannot imagine. But they +were pleased, at any rate. I wasn't pleased. I was picturing defeat. I +was saying to myself:--"Now if the enemy should suddenly do so-and-so, +or so-and-so, why--what would become of me?" During these first few +moments I did not see the Spanish position because--I was afraid to +look at it. Bullets were hissing and spitting over the crest of the +ridge in such showers as to make observation to be a task for a brave +man. No, now, look here, why the deuce should I have stuck my head up, +eh? Why? Well, at any rate, I didn't until it seemed to be a far less +thing than most of the men were doing as if they liked it. Then I saw +nothing. At least it was only the bottom of a small valley. In this +valley there was a thicket--a big thicket--and this thicket seemed to +be crowded with a mysterious class of persons who were evidently trying +to kill us. Our enemies? Yes--perhaps--I suppose so. Leave that to the +people in the streets at home. They know and cry against the public +enemy, but when men go into actual battle not one in a thousand +concerns himself with an animus against the men who face him. The great +desire is to beat them--beat them whoever they are as a matter, first, +of personal safety, second, of personal glory. It is always safest to +make the other chap quickly run away. And as he runs away, one feels, +as one tries to hit him in the back and knock him sprawling, that he +must be a very good and sensible fellow. But these people apparently +did not mean to run away. They clung to their thicket and, amid the +roar of the firing, one could sometimes hear their wild yells of insult +and defiance. They were actually the most obstinate, headstrong, mulish +people that you could ever imagine. The _Dolphin_ was throwing shells +into their immediate vicinity and the fire from the marines and Cubans +was very rapid and heavy, but still those incomprehensible mortals +remained in their thicket. The scene on the top of the ridge was very +wild, but there was only one truly romantic figure. This was a Cuban +officer who held in one hand a great glittering machete and in the +other a cocked revolver. He posed like a statue of victory. Afterwards +he confessed to me that he alone had been responsible for the winning +of the fight. But outside of this splendid person it was simply a +picture of men at work, men terribly hard at work, red-faced, sweating, +gasping toilers. A Cuban negro soldier was shot though the heart and +one man took the body on his back and another took it by its feet and +trundled away toward the rear looking precisely like a wheelbarrow. A +man in C company was shot through the ankle and he sat behind the line +nursing his wound. Apparently he was pleased with it. It seemed to suit +him. I don't know why. But beside him sat a comrade with a face drawn, +solemn and responsible like that of a New England spinster at the +bedside of a sick child. + +The fight banged away with a roar like a forest fire. Suddenly a marine +wriggled out of the firing line and came frantically to me. "Say, young +feller, I'll give you five dollars for a drink of whisky." He tried to +force into my hand a gold piece. "Go to the devil," said I, deeply +scandalised. "Besides, I haven't got any whisky," "No, but look here," +he beseeched me. "If I don't get a drink I'll die. And I'll give you +five dollars for it. Honest, I will." I finally tried to escape from +him by walking away, but he followed at my heels, importuning me with +all the exasperating persistence of a professional beggar and trying to +force this ghastly gold piece into my hand. I could not shake him off, +and amid that clatter of furious fighting I found myself intensely +embarrassed, and glancing fearfully this way and that way to make sure +that people did not see me, the villain and his gold. In vain I assured +him that if I had any whisky I should place it at his disposal. He +could not be turned away. I thought of the European expedient in such a +crisis--to jump in a cab. But unfortunately---- In the meantime I had +given up my occupation of tagging at Captain Elliott's heels, because +his business required that he should go into places of great danger. +But from time to time I was under his attention. Once he turned to me +and said: "Mr. Vernall, will you go and satisfy yourself who those +people are?" Some men had appeared on a hill about six hundred yards +from our left flank. "Yes, sir," cried I with, I assure you, the finest +alacrity and cheerfulness, and my tone proved to me that I had +inherited histrionic abilities. This tone was of course a black lie, +but I went off briskly and was as jaunty as a real soldier while all +the time my heart was in my boots and I was cursing the day that saw me +landed on the shores of the tragic isle. If the men on the distant hill +had been guerillas, my future might have been seriously jeopardised, +but I had not gone far toward them when I was able to recognise the +uniforms of the marine corps. Whereupon I scampered back to the firing +line and with the same alacrity and cheerfulness reported my +information. I mention to you that I was afraid, because there were +about me that day many men who did not seem to be afraid at all, men +with quiet, composed faces who went about this business as if they +proceeded from a sense of habit. They were not old soldiers; they were +mainly recruits, but many of them betrayed all the emotion and merely +the emotion that one sees in the face of a man earnestly at work. + +I don't know how long the action lasted. I remember deciding in my own +mind that the Spaniards stood forty minutes. This was a mere arbitrary +decision based on nothing. But at any rate we finally arrived at the +satisfactory moment when the enemy began to run away. I shall never +forget how my courage increased. And then began the great bird +shooting. From the far side of the thicket arose an easy slope covered +with plum-coloured bush. The Spaniards broke in coveys of from six to +fifteen men--or birds--and swarmed up this slope. The marines on our +ridge then had some fine, open field shooting. No charge could be made +because the shells from the _Dolphin_ were helping the Spaniards to +evacuate the thicket, so the marines had to be content with this +extraordinary paraphrase of a kind of sport. It was strangely like the +original. The shells from the _Dolphin_ were the dogs; dogs who went in +and stirred out the game. The marines were suddenly gentlemen in +leggings, alive with the sharp instinct which marks the hunter. The +Spaniards were the birds. Yes, they were the birds, but I doubt if they +would sympathise with my metaphors. + +We destroyed their camp, and when the tiled roof of a burning house +fell with a crash it was so like the crash of a strong volley of +musketry that we all turned with a start, fearing that we would have to +fight again on that same day. And this struck me at least as being an +impossible thing. They gave us water from the _Dolphin_ and we filled +our canteens. None of the men were particularly jubilant. They did not +altogether appreciate their victory. They were occupied in being glad +that the fight was over. I discovered to my amazement that we were on +the summit of a hill so high that our released eyes seemed to sweep +over half the world. The vast stretch of sea shimmering like fragile +blue silk in the breeze, lost itself ultimately in an indefinite pink +haze, while in the other direction, ridge after ridge, ridge after +ridge, rolled brown and arid into the north. The battle had been fought +high in the air--where the rain clouds might have been. That is why +everybody's face was the colour of beetroot and men lay on the ground +and only swore feebly when the cactus spurs sank into them. + +Finally we started for camp. Leaving our wounded, our cactus +pincushions, and our heat-prostrated men on board the _Dolphin_. I did +not see that the men were elate or even grinning with satisfaction. +They seemed only anxious to get to food and rest. And yet it was plain +that Elliott and his men had performed a service that would prove +invaluable to the security and comfort of the entire battalion. They +had driven the guerillas to take a road along which they would have to +proceed for fifteen miles before they could get as much water as would +wet the point of a pin. And by the destruction of a well at the scene +of the fight, Elliott made an arid zone almost twenty miles wide +between the enemy and the base camp. In Cuba this is the best of +protections. However, a cup of coffee! Time enough to think of a +brilliant success after one had had a cup of coffee. The long line +plodded wearily through the dusky jungle which was never again to be +alive with ambushes. + +It was dark when we stumbled into camp, and I was sad with an +ungovernable sadness, because I was too tired to remember where I had +left my kit. But some of my colleagues were waiting on the beach, and +they put me on a despatch-boat to take my news to a Jamaica +cable-station. The appearance of this despatch-boat struck me with +wonder. It was reminiscent of something with which I had been familiar +in early years. I looked with dull surprise at three men of the +engine-room force, who sat aft on some bags of coal smoking their pipes +and talking as if there had never been any battles fought anywhere. The +sudden clang of the gong made me start and listen eagerly, as if I +would be asking: "What was that?" The chunking of the screw affected me +also, but I seemed to relate it to a former and pleasing experience. +One of the correspondents on board immediately began to tell me of the +chief engineer, who, he said, was a comic old character. I was taken to +see this marvel, which presented itself as a gray-bearded man with an +oil can, who had the cynical, malicious, egotistic eye of proclaimed +and admired ignorance. I looked dazedly at the venerable impostor. What +had he to do with battles--the humming click of the locks, the odour of +burnt cotton, the bullets, the firing? My friend told the scoundrel +that I was just returned from the afternoon's action. He said: "That +so?" And looked at me with a smile, faintly, faintly derisive. You see? +I had just come out of my life's most fiery time, and that old devil +looked at me with that smile. What colossal conceit. The +four-times-damned doddering old head-mechanic of a derelict junk shop. +The whole trouble lay in the fact that I had not shouted out with +mingled awe and joy as he stood there in his wisdom and experience, +with all his ancient saws and home-made epigrams ready to fire. + +My friend took me to the cabin. What a squalid hole! My heart sank. The +reward after the labour should have been a great airy chamber, a +gigantic four-poster, iced melons, grilled birds, wine, and the +delighted attendance of my friends. When I had finished my cablegram, I +retired to a little shelf of a berth, which reeked of oil, while the +blankets had soaked recently with sea-water. The vessel heeled to +leaward in spasmodic attempts to hurl me out, and I resisted with the +last of my strength. The infamous pettiness of it all! I thought the +night would never end. "But never mind," I said to myself at last, +"to-morrow in Fort Antonio I shall have a great bath and fine raiment, +and I shall dine grandly and there will be lager beer on ice. And there +will be attendants to run when I touch a bell, and I shall catch every +interested romantist in the town, and spin him the story of the fight +at Cusco." We reached Fort Antonio and I fled from the cable office to +the hotel. I procured the bath and, as I donned whatever fine raiment I +had foraged, I called the boy and pompously told him of a dinner--a +real dinner, with furbelows and complications, and yet with a basis of +sincerity. He looked at me calf-like for a moment, and then he went +away. After a long interval, the manager himself appeared and asked me +some questions which led me to see that he thought I had attempted to +undermine and disintegrate the intellect of the boy, by the elocution +of Arabic incantations. Well, never mind. In the end, the manager of +the hotel elicited from me that great cry, that cry which during the +war, rang piteously from thousands of throats, that last grand cry of +anguish and despair: "_Well, then, in the name of God, can I have a +cold bottle of beer?_" + +Well, you see to what war brings men? War is death, and a plague of the +lack of small things, and toil. Nor did I catch my sentimentalists and +pour forth my tale to them, and thrill, appal, and fascinate them. +However, they did feel an interest in me, for I heard a lady at the +hotel ask: "Who _is_ that chap in the very dirty jack-boots?" So you +see, that whereas you can be very much frightened upon going into +action, you can also be greatly annoyed after you have come out. + +Later, I fell into the hands of one of my closest friends, and he +mercilessly outlined a scheme for landing to the west of Santiago and +getting through the Spanish lines to some place from which we could +view the Spanish squadron lying in the harbour. There was rumour that +the _Viscaya_ had escaped, he said, and it would be very nice to make +sure of the truth. So we steamed to a point opposite a Cuban camp which +my friend knew, and flung two crop-tailed Jamaica polo ponies into the +sea. We followed in a small boat and were met on the beach by a small +Cuban detachment who immediately caught our ponies and saddled them for +us. I suppose we felt rather god-like. We were almost the first +Americans they had seen and they looked at us with eyes of grateful +affection. I don't suppose many men have the experience of being looked +at with eyes of grateful affection. They guide us to a Cuban camp +where, in a little palm-bark hut, a black-faced lieutenant-colonel was +lolling in a hammock. I couldn't understand what was said, but at any +rate he must have ordered his half-naked orderly to make coffee, for it +was done. It was a dark syrup in smoky tin-cups, but it was better than +the cold bottle of beer which I did not drink in Jamaica. + +The Cuban camp was an expeditious affair of saplings and palm-bark tied +with creepers. It could be burned to the ground in fifteen minutes and +in ten reduplicated. The soldiers were in appearance an absolutely +good-natured set of half-starved ragamuffins. Their breeches hung in +threads about their black legs and their shirts were as nothing. They +looked like a collection of real tropic savages at whom some +philanthropist had flung a bundle of rags and some of the rags had +stuck here and there. But their condition was now a habit. I doubt if +they knew they were half-naked. Anyhow they didn't care. No more they +should; the weather was warm. This lieutenant-colonel gave us an escort +of five or six men and we went up into the mountains, lying flat on our +Jamaica ponies while they went like rats up and down extraordinary +trails. In the evening we reached the camp of a major who commanded the +outposts. It was high, high in the hills. The stars were as big as +cocoanuts. We lay in borrowed hammocks and watched the firelight gleam +blood-red on the trees. I remember an utterly naked negro squatting, +crimson, by the fire and cleaning an iron-pot. Some voices were singing +an Afric wail of forsaken love and death. And at dawn we were to try to +steal through the Spanish lines. I was very, very sorry. + +In the cold dawn the situation was the same, but somehow courage seemed +to be in the breaking day. I went off with the others quite cheerfully. +We came to where the pickets stood behind bulwarks of stone in +frameworks of saplings. They were peering across a narrow cloud-steeped +gulch at a dull fire marking a Spanish post. There was some palaver and +then, with fifteen men, we descended the side of this mountain, going +down into the chill blue-and-grey clouds. We had left our horses with +the Cuban pickets. We proceeded stealthily, for we were already within +range of the Spanish pickets. At the bottom of the cañon it was still +night. A brook, a regular salmon-stream, brawled over the rocks. There +were grassy banks and most delightful trees. The whole valley was a +sylvan fragrance. But--the guide waved his arm and scowled warningly, +and in a moment we were off, threading thickets, climbing hills, +crawling through fields on our hands and knees, sometimes sweeping like +seventeen phantoms across a Spanish road. I was in a dream, but I kept +my eye on the guide and halted to listen when he halted to listen and +ambled onward when he ambled onward. Sometimes he turned and pantomimed +as ably and fiercely as a man being stung by a thousand hornets. Then +we knew that the situation was extremely delicate. We were now of +course well inside the Spanish lines and we ascended a great hill which +overlooked the harbour of Santiago. There, tranquilly at anchor, lay +the _Oquendo_, the _Maria Theresa_, the _Christobal Colon_, the +_Viscaya_, the _Pluton_, the _Furor_. The bay was white in the sun and +the great blacked-hull armoured cruisers were impressive in a dignity +massive yet graceful. We did not know that they were all doomed ships, +soon to go out to a swift death. My friend drew maps and things while I +devoted myself to complete rest, blinking lazily at the Spanish +squadron. We did not know that we were the last Americans to view them +alive and unhurt and at peace. Then we retraced our way, at the same +noiseless canter. I did not understand my condition until I considered +that we were well through the Spanish lines and practically out of +danger. Then I discovered that I was a dead man. The nervous force +having evaporated I was a mere corpse. My limbs were of dough and my +spinal cord burned within me as if it were red-hot wire. But just at +this time we were discovered by a Spanish patrol, and I ascertained +that I was not dead at all. We ultimately reached the foot of the +mother-mountain on whose shoulders were the Cuban pickets, and here I +was so sure of safety that I could not resist the temptation to die +again. I think I passed into eleven distinct stupors during the ascent +of that mountain while the escort stood leaning on their Remingtons. We +had done twenty-five miles at a sort of a man-gallop, never once using +a beaten track, but always going promiscuously through the jungle and +over the rocks. And many of the miles stood straight on end so that it +was as hard to come down as it was to go up. But during my stupors, the +escort _stood_, mind you, and chatted in low voices. For all the signs +they showed, we might have been starting. And they had had nothing to +eat but mangoes for over eight days. Previous to the eight days they +had been living on mangoes and the carcase of a small lean pony. They +were, in fact, of the stuff of Fenimore Cooper's Indians, only they +made no preposterous orations. At the major's camp, my friend and I +agreed that if our worthy escort would send down a representative with +us to the coast, we would send back to them whatever we could spare +from the stores of our despatch-boat. With one voice the escort +answered that they themselves would go the additional four leagues, as +in these starving times they did not care to trust a representative, +thank you. "They can't do it; they'll peg out; there must be a limit," +I said. "No," answered my friend. "They're all right; they'd run three +times around the whole island for a mouthful of beer." So we saddled up +and put off with our fifteen Cuban infantrymen wagging along tirelessly +behind us. Sometimes, at the foot of a precipitous hill, a man asked +permission to cling to my horse's tail, and then the Jamaica pony would +snake him to the summit so swiftly that only his toes seemed to touch +the rocks. And for this assistance the man was grateful. When we +crowned the last great ridge we saw our squadron to the eastward spread +in its patient semicircular about the mouth of the harbour. But as we +wound towards the beach we saw a more dramatic thing--our own +despatch-boat leaving the rendezvous and putting off to sea. Evidently +we were late. Behind me were fifteen stomachs, empty. It was a +frightful situation. My friend and I charged for the beach and those +fifteen fools began to _run_. + +It was no use. The despatch-boat went gaily away trailing black smoke +behind her. We turned in distress wondering what we could say to that +abused escort. If they massacred us, I felt that it would be merely a +virtuous reply to fate and they should in no ways be blamed. There are +some things which a man's feelings will not allow him to endure after a +diet of mangoes and pony. However, we perceived to our amazement that +they were not indignant at all. They simply smiled and made a gesture +which expressed an habitual pessimism. It was a philosophy which denied +the existence of everything but mangoes and pony. It was the Americans +who refused to be comforted. I made a deep vow with myself that I would +come as soon as possible and play a regular Santa Claus to that +splendid escort. But--we put to sea in a dug-out with two black boys. +The escort waved us a hearty good-bye from the shore and I never saw +them again. I hope they are all on the police-force in the new +Santiago. + +In time we were rescued from the dug-out by our despatch-boat, and we +relieved our feelings by over-rewarding the two black boys. In fact +they reaped a harvest because of our emotion over our failure to fill +the gallant stomachs of the escort. They were two rascals. We steamed +to the flagship and were given permission to board her. Admiral Sampson +is to me the most interesting personality of the war. I would not know +how to sketch him for you even if I could pretend to sufficient +material. Anyhow, imagine, first of all, a marble block of impassivity +out of which is carved the figure of an old man. Endow this with life, +and you've just begun. Then you must discard all your pictures of +bluff, red-faced old gentlemen who roar against the gale, and +understand that the quiet old man is a sailor and an admiral. This will +be difficult; if I told you he was anything else it would be easy. He +resembles other types; it is his distinction not to resemble the +preconceived type of his standing. When first I met him I was impressed +that he was immensely bored by the war and with the command of the +North Atlantic Squadron. I perceived a manner where I thought I +perceived a mood, a point of view. Later, he seemed so indifferent to +small things which bore upon large things that I bowed to his apathy as +a thing unprecedented, marvellous. Still I mistook a manner for a mood. +Still I could not understand that this was the way of the man. I am not +to blame, for my communication was slight and depended upon +sufferance--upon, in fact, the traditional courtesy of the navy. But +finally I saw that it was all manner, that hidden in his indifferent, +even apathetic, manner, there was the alert, sure, fine mind of the +best sea-captain that America has produced since--since Farragut? I +don't know. I think--since Hull. + +Men follow heartily when they are well led. They balk at trifles when a +blockhead cries go on. For my part, an impressive thing of the war is +the absolute devotion to Admiral Sampson's person--no, to his judgment +and wisdom--which was paid by his ship-commanders--Evans of the _Iowa_, +Taylor of the _Oregon_, Higginson of the _Massachusetts_, Phillips of +the _Texas_, and all the other captains--barring one. Once, afterward, +they called upon him to avenge himself upon a rival--they were there +and they would have to say--but he said no-o-o, he guessed it--wouldn't +do--any--g-o-oo-o-d--to the--service. + +Men feared him, but he never made threats; men tumbled heels over head +to obey him, but he never gave a sharp order; men loved him, but he +said no word, kindly or unkindly; men cheered for him and he said: "Who +are they yelling for?" Men behaved badly to him and he said nothing. +Men thought of glory and he considered the management of ships. All +without a sound. A noiseless campaign--on his part. No bunting, no +arches, no fireworks; nothing but the perfect management of a big +fleet. That is a record for you. No trumpets, no cheers of the +populace. Just plain, pure, unsauced accomplishment. But ultimately he +will reap his reward in--in what? In text-books on sea-campaigns. No +more. The people choose their own and they choose the kind they like. +Who has a better right? Anyhow he is a great man. And when you are once +started you can continue to be a great man without the help of bouquets +and banquets. He don't need them--bless your heart. + +The flag-ship's battle-hatches were down, and between decks it was +insufferable despite the electric fans. I made my way somewhat +forwards, past the smart orderly, past the companion, on to the den of +the junior mess. Even there they were playing cards in somebody's +cabin. "Hello, old man. Been ashore? How'd it look? It's your deal, +Chick." There was nothing but steamy wet heat and the decent +suppression of the consequent ill-tempers. The junior officers' +quarters were no more comfortable than the admiral's cabin. I had +expected it to be so because of my remembrance of their gay spirits. +But they were not gay. They were sweltering. Hello, old man, had I been +ashore? I fled to the deck, where other officers not on duty were +smoking quiet cigars. The hospitality of the officers of the flag-ship +is another charming memory of the war. + +I rolled into my berth on the despatch-boat that night feeling a +perfect wonder of the day. Was the figure that leaned over the +card-game on the flag-ship, the figure with a whisky and soda in its +hand and a cigar in its teeth--was it identical with the figure +scrambling, afraid of its life, through Cuban jungle? Was it the figure +of the situation of the fifteen pathetic hungry men? It was the same +and it went to sleep, hard sleep. I don't know where we voyaged. I +think it was Jamaica. But, at any rate, upon the morning of our return +to the Cuban coast, we found the sea alive with transports--United +States transports from Tampa, containing the Fifth Army Corps under +Major-General Shafter. The rigging and the decks of these ships were +black with men and everybody wanted to land first. I landed, +ultimately, and immediately began to look for an acquaintance. The +boats were banged by the waves against a little flimsy dock. I fell +ashore somehow, but I did not at once find an acquaintance. I talked to +a private in the 2d Massachusetts Volunteers who told me that he was +going to write war correspondence for a Boston newspaper. This +statement did not surprise me. + +There was a straggly village, but I followed the troops who at this +time seemed to be moving out by companies. I found three other +correspondents and it was luncheon time. Somebody had two bottles of +Bass, but it was so warm that it squirted out in foam. There was no +firing; no noise of any kind. An old shed was full of soldiers loafing +pleasantly in the shade. It was a hot, dusty, sleepy afternoon; bees +hummed. We saw Major-General Lawton standing with his staff under a +tree. He was smiling as if he would say: "Well, this will be better +than chasing Apaches." His division had the advance, and so he had the +right to be happy. A tall man with a grey moustache, light but very +strong, an ideal cavalryman. He appealed to one all the more because of +the vague rumours that his superiors--some of them--were going to take +mighty good care that he shouldn't get much to do. It was rather +sickening to hear such talk, but later we knew that most of it must +have been mere lies. + +Down by the landing-place a band of correspondents were making a sort +of permanent camp. They worked like Trojans, carrying wall-tents, cots, +and boxes of provisions. They asked me to join them, but I looked +shrewdly at the sweat on their faces and backed away. The next day the +army left this permanent camp eight miles to the rear. The day became +tedious. I was glad when evening came. I sat by a camp-fire and +listened to a soldier of the 8th Infantry who told me that he was the +first enlisted man to land. I lay pretending to appreciate him, but in +fact I considered him a great shameless liar. Less than a month ago, I +learned that every word he said was gospel truth. I was much surprised. +We went for breakfast to the camp of the 20th Infantry, where Captain +Greene and his subaltern, Exton, gave us tomatoes stewed with hard +bread and coffee. Later, I discovered Greene and Exton down at the +beach good-naturedly dodging the waves which seemed to be trying to +prevent them from washing the breakfast dishes. I felt tremendously +ashamed because my cup and my plate were there, you know, and---- Fate +provides some men greased opportunities for making dizzy jackasses of +themselves and I fell a victim to my flurry on this occasion. I was a +blockhead. I walked away blushing. What? The battles? Yes, I saw +something of all of them. I made up my mind that the next time I met +Greene and Exton I'd say: "Look here; why didn't you tell me you had to +wash your own dishes that morning so that I could have helped? I felt +beastly when I saw you scrubbing there. And me walking around idly." +But I never saw Captain Greene again. I think he is in the Philippines +now fighting the Tagals. The next time I saw Exton--what? Yes, La +Guasimas. That was the "rough rider fight." However, the next time I +saw Exton I--what do you think? I forgot to speak about it. But if ever +I meet Greene or Exton again--even if it should be twenty years--I am +going to say, first thing: "Why----" What? Yes. Roosevelt's regiment +and the First and Tenth Regular Cavalry. I'll say, first thing: "Say, +why didn't you tell me you had to wash your own dishes, that morning, +so that I could have helped?" My stupidity will be on my conscience +until I die, if, before that, I do not meet either Greene or Exton. Oh, +yes, you are howling for blood, but I tell you it is more emphatic that +I lost my tooth-brush. Did I tell you that? Well, I lost it, you see, +and I thought of it for ten hours at a stretch. Oh, yes--he? He was +shot through the heart. But, look here, I contend that the French cable +company buncoed us throughout the war. What? Him? My tooth-brush I +never found, but he died of his wound in time. Most of the regular +soldiers carried their tooth-brushes stuck in the bands of their hats. +It made a quaint military decoration. I have had a line of a thousand +men pass me in the jungle and not a hat lacking the simple emblem. + +The first of July? All right. My Jamaica polo-pony was not present. He +was still in the hills to the westward of Santiago, but the Cubans had +promised to fetch him to me. But my kit was easy to carry. It had +nothing superfluous in it but a pair of spurs which made me indignant +every time I looked at them. Oh, but I must tell you about a man I met +directly after the La Guasimas fight. Edward Marshall, a correspondent +whom I had known with a degree of intimacy for seven years, was +terribly hit in that fight and asked me if I would not go to +Siboney--the base--and convey the news to his colleagues of the _New +York Journal_ and round up some assistance. I went to Siboney, and +there was not a _Journal_ man to be seen, although usually you judged +from appearances that the _Journal_ staff was about as large as the +army. Presently I met two correspondents, strangers to me, but I +questioned them, saying that Marshall was badly shot and wished for +such succour as _Journal_ men could bring from their despatch-boat. And +one of these correspondents replied. He is the man I wanted to +describe. I love him as a brother. He said: "Marshall? Marshall? Why, +Marshall isn't in Cuba at all. He left for New York just before the +expedition sailed from Tampa." I said: "Beg pardon, but I remarked that +Marshall was shot in the fight this morning, and have you seen any +_Journal_ people?" After a pause, he said: "I am sure Marshall is not +down here at all. He's in New York." I said: "Pardon me, but I remarked +that Marshall was shot in the fight this morning, and have you seen any +_Journal_ people?" He said: "No; now look here, you must have gotten +two chaps mixed somehow. Marshall isn't in Cuba at all. How could he be +shot?" I said: "Pardon me, but I remarked that Marshall was shot in the +fight this morning, and have you seen any _Journal_ people?" He said: +"But it can't really be Marshall, you know, for the simple reason that +he's not down here." I clasped my hands to my temples, gave one +piercing cry to heaven and fled from his presence. I couldn't go on +with him. He excelled me at all points. I have faced death by bullets, +fire, water, and disease, but to die thus--to wilfully batter myself +against the ironclad opinion of this mummy--no, no, not that. In the +meantime, it was admitted that a correspondent was shot, be his name +Marshall, Bismarck, or Louis XIV. Now, supposing the name of this +wounded correspondent had been Bishop Potter? Or Jane Austen? Or +Bernhardt? Or Henri Georges Stephane Adolphe Opper de Blowitz? What +effect--never mind. + +We will proceed to July 1st. On that morning I marched with my +kit--having everything essential save a tooth-brush--the entire army +put me to shame, since there must have been at least fifteen thousand +tooth-brushes in the invading force--I marched with my kit on the road +to Santiago. It was a fine morning and everybody--the doomed and the +immunes--how could we tell one from the other--everybody was in the +highest spirits. We were enveloped in forest, but we could hear, from +ahead, everybody peppering away at everybody. It was like the roll of +many drums. This was Lawton over at El Caney. I reflected with +complacency that Lawton's division did not concern me in a professional +way. That was the affair of another man. My business was with Kent's +division and Wheeler's division. We came to El Poso--a hill at nice +artillery range from the Spanish defences. Here Grimes's battery was +shooting a duel with one of the enemy's batteries. Scovel had +established a little camp in the rear of the guns and a servant had +made coffee. I invited Whigham to have coffee, and the servant added +some hard biscuit and tinned tongue. I noted that Whigham was staring +fixedly over my shoulder, and that he waved away the tinned tongue with +some bitterness. It was a horse, a dead horse. Then a mule, which had +been shot through the nose, wandered up and looked at Whigham. We ran +away. + +On top of the hill one had a fine view of the Spanish lines. We stared +across almost a mile of jungle to ash-coloured trenches on the military +crest of the ridge. A goodly distance back of this position were white +buildings, all flying great red-cross flags. The jungle beneath us +rattled with firing and the Spanish trenches crackled out regular +volleys, but all this time there was nothing to indicate a tangible +enemy. In truth, there was a man in a Panama hat strolling to and fro +behind one of the Spanish trenches, gesticulating at times with a +walking stick. A man in a Panama hat, walking with a stick! That was +the strangest sight of my life--that symbol, that quaint figure of +Mars. The battle, the thunderous row, was his possession. He was the +master. He mystified us all with his infernal Panama hat and his +wretched walking-stick. From near his feet came volleys and from near +his side came roaring shells, but he stood there alone, visible, the +one tangible thing. He was a Colossus, and he was half as high as a +pin, this being. Always somebody would be saying: "Who _can_ that +fellow be?" + +Later, the American guns shelled the trenches and a blockhouse near +them, and Mars had vanished. It could not have been death. One cannot +kill Mars. But there was one other figure, which arose to symbolic +dignity. The balloon of our signal corps had swung over the tops of the +jungle's trees toward the Spanish trenches. Whereat the balloon and the +man in the Panama hat and with a walking stick--whereat these two waged +tremendous battle. + +Suddenly the conflict became a human thing. A little group of blue +figures appeared on the green of the terrible hillside. It was some of +our infantry. The attaché of a great empire was at my shoulder, and he +turned to me and spoke with incredulity and scorn. "Why, they're trying +to take the position," he cried, and I admitted meekly that I thought +they were. "But they can't do it, you know," he protested vehemently. +"It's impossible." And--good fellow that he was--he began to grieve and +wail over a useless sacrifice of gallant men. "It's plucky, you know! +By Gawd, it's plucky! But _they can't do it_!" He was profoundly +moved; his voice was quite broken. "It will simply be a hell of a +slaughter with no good coming out of it." + +The trail was already crowded with stretcher-bearers and with wounded +men who could walk. One had to stem a tide of mute agony. But I don't +know that it was mute agony. I only know that it was mute. It was +something in which the silence or, more likely, the reticence was an +appalling and inexplicable fact. One's senses seemed to demand that +these men should cry out. But you could really find wounded men who +exhibited all the signs of a pleased and contented mood. When thinking +of it now it seems strange beyond words. But at the time--I don't +know--it did not attract one's wonder. A man with a hole in his arm or +his shoulder, or even in the leg below the knee, was often whimsical, +comic. "Well, this ain't exactly what I enlisted for, boys. If I'd been +told about this in Tampa, I'd have resigned from th' army. Oh, yes, you +can get the same thing if you keep on going. But I think the Spaniards +may run out of ammunition in the course of a week or ten days." Then +suddenly one would be confronted by the awful majesty of a man shot in +the face. Particularly I remember one. He had a great dragoon +moustache, and the blood streamed down his face to meet this moustache +even as a torrent goes to meet the jammed log, and then swarmed out to +the tips and fell in big slow drops. He looked steadily into my eyes; I +was ashamed to return his glance. You understand? It is very +curious--all that. + +The two lines of battle were royally whacking away at each other, and +there was no rest or peace in all that region. The modern bullet is a +far-flying bird. It rakes the air with its hot spitting song at +distances which, as a usual thing, place the whole landscape in the +danger-zone. There was no direction from which they did not come. A +chart of their courses over one's head would have resembled a spider's +web. My friend Jimmie, the photographer, mounted to the firing line +with me and we gallivanted as much as we dared. The "sense of the +meeting" was curious. Most of the men seemed to have no idea of a grand +historic performance, but they were grimly satisfied with themselves. +"Well, begawd, we done it." Then they wanted to know about other parts +of the line. "How are things looking, old man? Everything all right?" +"Yes, everything is all right if you can hold this ridge." "Aw, hell," +said the men, "we'll hold the ridge. Don't you worry about that, son." + +It was Jimmie's first action, and, as we cautiously were making our way +to the right of our lines, the crash of the Spanish fire became +uproarious, and the air simply whistled. I heard a quavering voice near +my shoulder, and, turning, I beheld Jimmie--Jimmie--with a face +bloodless, white as paper. He looked at me with eyes opened extremely +wide. "Say," he said, "this is pretty hot, ain't it?" I was delighted. I +knew exactly what he meant. He wanted to have the situation defined. If +I had told him that this was the occasion of some mere idle desultory +firing and recommended that he wait until the real battle began, I +think he would have gone in a bee-line for the rear. But I told him the +truth. "Yes, Jimmie," I replied earnestly. "You can take it from me +that this is patent, double-extra-what-for." And immediately he nodded. +"All right." If this was a big action, then he was willing to pay in +his fright as a rational price for the privilege of being present. But +if this was only a penny affray, he considered the price exorbitant, +and he would go away. He accepted my assurance with simple faith, and +deported himself with kindly dignity as one moving amid great things. +His face was still as pale as paper, but that counted for nothing. The +main point was his perfect willingness to be frightened for reasons. I +wonder where is Jimmie? I lent him the Jamaica polo-pony one day and it +ran away with him and flung him off in the middle of a ford. He +appeared to me afterward and made bitter speech concerning this horse +which I had assured him was a gentle and pious animal. Then I never saw +Jimmie again. + +Then came the night of the first of July. A group of correspondents +limped back to El Poso. It had been a day so long that the morning +seemed as remote as a morning in the previous year. But I have +forgotten to tell you about Reuben McNab. Many years ago, I went to +school at a place called Claverack, in New York State, where there was +a semi-military institution. Contemporaneous with me, as a student, was +Reuben McNab, a long, lank boy, freckled, sandy-haired--an +extraordinary boy in no way, and yet, I wager, a boy clearly marked in +every recollection. Perhaps there is a good deal in that name. Reuben +McNab. You can't fling that name carelessly over your shoulder and lose +it. It follows you like the haunting memory of a sin. At any rate, +Reuben McNab was identified intimately in my thought with the sunny +irresponsible days at Claverack, when all the earth was a green field +and all the sky was a rainless blue. Then I looked down into a +miserable huddle at Bloody Bend, a huddle of hurt men, dying men, dead +men. And there I saw Reuben McNab, a corporal in the 71st New York +Volunteers, and with a hole through his lung. Also, several holes +through his clothing. "Well, they got me," he said in greeting. Usually +they said that. There were no long speeches. "Well, they got me." That +was sufficient. The duty of the upright, unhurt, man is then difficult. +I doubt if many of us learned how to speak to our own wounded. In the +first place, one had to play that the wound was nothing; oh, a mere +nothing; a casual interference with movement, perhaps, but nothing +more; oh, really nothing more. In the second place, one had to show a +comrade's appreciation of this sad plight. As a result I think most of +us bungled and stammered in the presence of our wounded friends. That's +curious, eh? "Well, they got me," said Reuben McNab. I had looked upon +five hundred wounded men with stolidity, or with a conscious +indifference which filled me with amazement. But the apparition of +Reuben McNab, the schoolmate, lying there in the mud, with a hole +through his lung, awed me into stutterings, set me trembling with a +sense of terrible intimacy with this war which theretofore I could have +believed was a dream--almost. Twenty shot men rolled their eyes and +looked at me. Only one man paid no heed. He was dying; he had no time. +The bullets hummed low over them all. Death, having already struck, +still insisted upon raising a venomous crest. "If you're goin' by the +hospital, step in and see me," said Reuben McNab. That was all. + +At the correspondents' camp, at El Poso, there was hot coffee. It was +very good. I have a vague sense of being very selfish over my blanket +and rubber coat. I have a vague sense of spasmodic firing during my +sleep; it rained, and then I awoke to hear that steady drumming of an +infantry fire--something which was never to cease, it seemed. They were +at it again. The trail from El Poso to the positions along San Juan +ridge had become an exciting thoroughfare. Shots from large-bore rifles +dropped in from almost every side. At this time the safest place was +the extreme front. I remember in particular the one outcry I heard. A +private in the 71st, without his rifle, had gone to a stream for some +water, and was returning, being but a little in rear of me. Suddenly I +heard this cry--"Oh, my God, come quick"--and I was conscious then to +having heard the hateful zip of a close shot. He lay on the ground, +wriggling. He was hit in the hip. Two men came quickly. Presently +everybody seemed to be getting knocked down. They went over like men of +wet felt, quietly, calmly, with no more complaint than so many +automatons. It was only that lad--"Oh, my God, come quick." Otherwise, +men seemed to consider that their hurts were not worthy of particular +attention. A number of people got killed very courteously, tacitly +absolving the rest of us from any care in the matter. A man fell; he +turned blue; his face took on an expression of deep sorrow; and then +his immediate friends worried about him, if he had friends. This was +July 1. I crave the permission to leap back again to that date. + +On the morning of July 2, I sat on San Juan hill and watched Lawton's +division come up. I was absolutely sheltered, but still where I could +look into the faces of men who were trotting up under fire. There +wasn't a high heroic face among them. They were all men intent on +business. That was all. It may seem to you that I am trying to make +everything a squalor. That would be wrong. I feel that things were +often sublime. But they were _differently_ sublime. They were not +of our shallow and preposterous fictions. They stood out in a simple, +majestic commonplace. It was the behaviour of men on the street. It was +the behaviour of men. In one way, each man was just pegging along at +the heels of the man before him, who was pegging along at the heels of +still another man, who was pegging along at the heels of still another +man who---- It was that in the flat and obvious way. In another way it +was pageantry, the pageantry of the accomplishment of naked duty. One +cannot speak of it--the spectacle of the common man serenely doing his +work, his appointed work. It is the one thing in the universe which +makes one fling expression to the winds and be satisfied to simply +feel. Thus they moved at San Juan--the soldiers of the United States +Regular Army. One pays them the tribute of the toast of silence. + +Lying near one of the enemy's trenches was a red-headed Spanish corpse. +I wonder how many hundreds were cognisant of this red-headed Spanish +corpse? It arose to the dignity of a landmark. There were many corpses +but only one with a red head. This red-head. He was always there. Each +time I approached that part of the field I prayed that I might find +that he had been buried. But he was always there--red-headed. His +strong simple countenance was a malignant sneer at the system which was +forever killing the credulous peasants in a sort of black night of +politics, where the peasants merely followed whatever somebody had told +them was lofty and good. But, nevertheless, the red-headed Spaniard was +dead. He was irrevocably dead. And to what purpose? The honour of +Spain? Surely the honour of Spain could have existed without the +violent death of this poor red-headed peasant? Ah well, he was buried +when the heavy firing ceased and men had time for such small things as +funerals. The trench was turned over on top of him. It was a fine, +honourable, soldierly fate--to be buried in a trench, the trench of the +fight and the death. Sleep well, red-headed peasant. You came to +another hemisphere to fight because--because you were told to, I +suppose. Well, there you are, buried in your trench on San Juan hill. +That is the end of it, your life has been taken--that is a flat, frank +fact. And foreigners buried you expeditiously while speaking a strange +tongue. Sleep well, red-headed mystery. + +On the day before the destruction of Cervera's fleet, I steamed past +our own squadron, doggedly lying in its usual semicircle, every nose +pointing at the mouth of the harbour. I went to Jamaica, and on the +placid evening of the next day I was again steaming past our own +squadron, doggedly lying in its usual semicircle, every nose pointing +at the mouth of the harbour. A megaphone-hail from the bridge of one of +the yacht-gunboats came casually over the water. "Hello! hear the +news?" "No; what was it?" "The Spanish fleet came out this morning." +"Oh, of course, it did." "Honest, I mean." "Yes, I know; well, where +are they now?" "Sunk." Was there ever such a preposterous statement? I +was humiliated that my friend, the lieutenant on the yacht-gunboat, +should have measured me as one likely to swallow this bad joke. + +But it was all true; every word. I glanced back at our squadron, lying +in its usual semicircle, every nose pointing at the mouth of the +harbour. It would have been absurd to think that anything had happened. +The squadron hadn't changed a button. There it sat without even a smile +on the face of the tiger. And it had eaten four armoured cruisers and +two torpedo-boat-destroyers while my back was turned for a moment. +Courteously, but clearly, we announced across the waters that until +despatch-boats came to be manned from the ranks of the celebrated +horse-marines, the lieutenant's statement would probably remain +unappreciated. He made a gesture, abandoning us to our scepticism. It +infuriates an honourable and serious man to be taken for a liar or a +joker at a time when he is supremely honourable and serious. However, +when we went ashore, we found Siboney ringing with the news. It was +true, then; that mishandled collection of sick ships had come out and +taken the deadly thrashing which was rightfully the due of--I don't +know--somebody in Spain--or perhaps nobody anywhere. One likes to +wallop incapacity, but one has mingled emotions over the incapacity +which is not so much personal as it is the development of centuries. +This kind of incapacity cannot be centralised. You cannot hit the head +which contains it all. This is the idea, I imagine, which moved the +officers and men of our fleet. Almost immediately they began to speak +of the Spanish Admiral as "poor old boy" with a lucid suggestion in +their tones that his fate appealed to them as being undue hard, undue +cruel. And yet the Spanish guns hit nothing. If a man shoots, he should +hit something occasionally, and men say that from the time the Spanish +ships broke clear of the harbour entrance until they were one by one +overpowered, they were each a band of flame. Well, one can only mumble +out that when a man shoots he should be required to hit something +occasionally. + +In truth, the greatest fact of the whole campaign on land and sea seems +to be the fact that the Spaniards could only hit by chance, by a fluke. +If he had been an able marksman, no man of our two unsupported +divisions would have set foot on San Juan hill on July 1. They should +have been blown to smithereens. The Spaniards had no immediate lack of +ammunition, for they fired enough to kill the population of four big +cities. I admit neither Velasquez nor Cervantes into this discussion, +although they have appeared by authority as reasons for something which +I do not clearly understand. Well, anyhow they couldn't hit anything. +Velasquez? Yes. Cervantes? Yes. But the Spanish troops seemed only to +try to make a very rapid fire. Thus we lost many men. We lost them +because of the simple fury of the fire; never because the fire was +well-directed, intelligent. But the Americans were called upon to be +whipped because of Cervantes and Velasquez. It was impossible. + +Out on the slopes of San Juan the dog-tents shone white. Some kind of +negotiations were going forward, and men sat on their trousers and +waited. It was all rather a blur of talks with officers, and a craving +for good food and good water. Once Leighton and I decided to ride over +to El Caney, into which town the civilian refugees from Santiago were +pouring. The road from the beleaguered city to the out-lying village +was a spectacle to make one moan. There were delicate gentle families +on foot, the silly French boots of the girls twisting and turning in a +sort of absolute paper futility; there were sons and grandsons carrying +the venerable patriarch in his own armchair; there were exhausted +mothers with babes who wailed; there were young dandies with their +toilettes in decay; there were puzzled, guideless women who didn't know +what had happened. The first sentence one heard was the murmurous "What +a damn shame." We saw a godless young trooper of the Second Cavalry +sharply halt a waggon. "Hold on a minute. You must carry this woman. +She's fainted twice already." The virtuous driver of the U.S. Army +waggon mildly answered: "But I'm full-up now." "You can make room for +her," said the private of the Second Cavalry. A young, young man with a +straight mouth. It was merely a plain bit of nothing--at--all but, +thank God, thank God, he seemed to have not the slightest sense of +excellence. He said: "If you've got any man in there who can walk at +all, you put him out and let this woman get in." "But," answered the +teamster, "I'm filled up with a lot of cripples and grandmothers." +Thereupon they discussed the point fairly, and ultimately the woman was +lifted into the waggon. + +The vivid thing was the fact that these people did not visibly suffer. +Somehow they were numb. There was not a tear. There was rarely a +countenance which was not wondrously casual. There was no sign of +fatalistic theory. It was simply that what was happening to-day had +happened yesterday, as near as one could judge. I could fancy that +these people had been thrown out of their homes every day. It was +utterly, utterly casual. And they accepted the ministrations of our men +in the same fashion. Everything was a matter of course. I had a filled +canteen. I was frightfully conscious of this fact because a filled +canteen was a pearl of price; it was a great thing. It was an enormous +accident which led one to offer praises that he was luckier than ten +thousand better men. + +As Leighton and I rode along, we came to a tree under which a refugee +family had halted. They were a man, his wife, two handsome daughters +and a pimply son. It was plain that they were superior people, because +the girls had dressed for the exodus and wore corsets which captivated +their forms with a steel-ribbed vehemence only proper for wear on a +sun-blistered road to a distant town. They asked us for water. Water +was the gold of the moment. Leighton was almost maudlin in his +generosity. I remember being angry with him. He lavished upon them his +whole canteen and he received in return not even a glance of--what? +Acknowledgment? No, they didn't even admit anything. Leighton wasn't a +human being; he was some sort of a mountain spring. They accepted him +on a basis of pure natural phenomena. His canteen was purely an +occurrence. In the meantime the pimple-faced approached me. He asked +for water and held out a pint cup. My response was immediate. I tilted +my canteen and poured into his cup almost a pint of my treasure. He +glanced into the cup and apparently he beheld there some innocent +sediment for which he alone or his people were responsible. In the +American camps the men were accustomed to a sediment. Well, he glanced +at my poor cupful and then negligently poured it out on the ground and +held up his cup for more. I gave him more; I gave him his cup full +again, but there was something within me which made me swear him out +completely. But he didn't understand a word. Afterward I watched if +they were capable of being moved to help on their less able fellows on +this miserable journey. Not they! Nor yet anybody else. Nobody cared +for anybody save my young friend of the Second Cavalry, who rode +seriously to and fro doing his best for people, who took him as a +result of a strange upheaval. + +The fight at El Caney had been furious. General Vera del Rey with +somewhat less than 1000 men--the Spanish accounts say 520--had there +made such a stand that only about 80 battered soldiers ever emerged +from it. The attack cost Lawton about 400 men. The magazine rifle! But +the town was now a vast parrot-cage of chattering refugees. If, on the +road, they were silent, stolid and serene, in the town they found their +tongues and set up such a cackle as one may seldom hear. Notably the +women; it is they who invariably confuse the definition of situations, +and one could wonder in amaze if this crowd of irresponsible, gabbling +hens had already forgotten that this town was the deathbed, so to +speak, of scores of gallant men whose blood was not yet dry; whose +hands, of the hue of pale amber, stuck from the soil of the hasty +burial. On the way to El Caney I had conjured a picture of the women of +Santiago, proud in their pain, their despair, dealing glances of +defiance, contempt, hatred at the invader; fiery ferocious ladies, so +true to their vanquished and to their dead that they spurned the very +existence of the low-bred churls who lacked both Velasquez and +Cervantes. And instead, there was this mere noise, which reminded one +alternately of a tea-party in Ireland, a village fête in the south of +France, and the vacuous morning screech of a swarm of sea-gulls. "Good. +There is Donna Maria. This will lower her high head. This will teach +her better manners to her neighbours. She wasn't too grand to send her +rascal of a servant to borrow a trifle of coffee of me in the morning, +and then when I met her on the calle--por Dios, she was too blind to +see me. But we are all equal here. No? Little Juan has a sore toe. Yes, +Donna Maria; many thanks, many thanks. Juan, do me the favour to be +quiet while Donna Maria is asking about your toe. Oh, Donna Maria, we +were always poor, always. But you. My heart bleeds when I see how hard +this is for you. The old cat! She gives me a head-shake." + +Pushing through the throng in the plaza we came in sight of the door of +the church, and here was a strange scene. The church had been turned +into a hospital for Spanish wounded who had fallen into American hands. +The interior of the church was too cave-like in its gloom for the eyes +of the operating surgeons, so they had had the altar table carried to +the doorway, where there was a bright light. Framed then in the black +archway was the altar table with the figure of a man upon it. He was +naked save for a breech-clout and so close, so clear was the +ecclesiastic suggestion, that one's mind leaped to a phantasy that this +thin, pale figure had just been torn down from a cross. The flash of +the impression was like light, and for this instant it illumined all +the dark recesses of one's remotest idea of sacrilege, ghastly and +wanton. I bring this to you merely as an effect, an effect of mental +light and shade, if you like; something done in thought similar to that +which the French impressionists do in colour; something meaningless and +at the same time overwhelming, crushing, monstrous. "Poor devil; I +wonder if he'll pull through," said Leighton. An American surgeon and +his assistants were intent over the prone figure. They wore white +aprons. Something small and silvery flashed in the surgeon's hand. An +assistant held the merciful sponge close to the man's nostrils, but he +was writhing and moaning in some horrible dream of this artificial +sleep. As the surgeon's instrument played, I fancied that the man +dreamed that he was being gored by a bull. In his pleading, delirious +babble occurred constantly the name of the Virgin, the Holy Mother. +"Good morning," said the surgeon. He changed his knife to his left hand +and gave me a wet palm. The tips of his fingers were wrinkled, +shrunken, like those of a boy who has been in swimming too long. Now, +in front of the door, there were three American sentries, and it was +their business to--to do what? To keep this Spanish crowd from swarming +over the operating table! It was perforce a public clinic. They would +not be denied. The weaker women and the children jostled according to +their might in the rear, while the stronger people, gaping in the front +rank, cried out impatiently when the pushing disturbed their long +stares. One burned with a sudden gift of public oratory. One wanted to +say: "Oh, go away, go away, go away. Leave the man decently alone with +his pain, you gogglers. This is not the national sport." + +But within the church there was an audience of another kind. This was +of the other wounded men awaiting their turn. They lay on their brown +blankets in rows along the stone floor. Their eyes, too, were fastened +upon the operating-table, but--that was different. Meek-eyed little +yellow men lying on the floor awaiting their turns. + +One afternoon I was seated with a correspondent friend, on the porch of +one of the houses at Siboney. A vast man on horseback came riding along +at a foot pace. When he perceived my friend, he pulled up sharply. +"Whoa! Where's that mule I lent you?" My friend arose and saluted. +"I've got him all right, General, thank you," said my friend. The vast +man shook his finger. "Don't you lose him now." "No, sir, I won't; +thank you, sir." The vast man rode away. "Who the devil is that?" said +I. My friend laughed. "That's General Shafter," said he. + +I gave five dollars for the Bos'n--small, black, spry imp of Jamaica +sin. When I first saw him he was the property of a fireman on the +_Criton_. The fireman had found him--a little wharf rat--in Port +Antonio. It was not the purchase of a slave; it was that the fireman +believed that he had spent about five dollars on a lot of comic +supplies for the Bos'n, including a little suit of sailor clothes. The +Bos'n was an adroit and fantastic black gamin. His eyes were like white +lights, and his teeth were a row of little piano keys; otherwise he was +black. He had both been a jockey and a cabin-boy, and he had the +manners of a gentleman. After he entered my service I don't think there +was ever an occasion upon which he was useful, save when he told me +quaint stories of Guatemala, in which country he seemed to have lived +some portion of his infantile existence. Usually he ran funny errands +like little foot-races, each about fifteen yards in length. At Siboney +he slept under my hammock like a poodle, and I always expected that, +through the breaking of a rope, I would some night descend and +obliterate him. His incompetence was spectacular. When I wanted him to +do a thing, the agony of supervision was worse than the agony of +personal performance. It would have been easier to have gotten my own +spurs or boots or blanket than to have the bother of this little +incapable's service. But the good aspect was the humorous view. He was +like a boy, a mouse, a scoundrel, and a devoted servitor. He was +immensely popular. His name of Bos'n became a Siboney stock-word. +Everybody knew it. It was a name like President McKinley, Admiral +Sampson, General Shafter. The Bos'n became a figure. One day he +approached me with four one-dollar notes in United States currency. He +besought me to preserve them for him, and I pompously tucked them away +in my riding breeches, with an air which meant that his funds were now +as safe as if they were in a national bank. Still, I asked with some +surprise, where he had reaped all this money. He frankly admitted at +once that it had been given to him by the enthusiastic soldiery as a +tribute to his charm of person and manner. This was not astonishing for +Siboney, where money was meaningless. Money was not worth +carrying--"packing." However, a soldier came to our house one morning, +and asked, "Got any more tobacco to sell?" As befitted men in virtuous +poverty, we replied with indignation. "What tobacco?" "Why, that +tobacco what the little nigger is sellin' round." + +I said, "Bos'n!" He said, "Yes, mawstah." Wounded men on bloody +stretchers were being carried into the hospital next door. "Bos'n, +you've been stealing my tobacco." His defence was as glorious as the +defence of that forlorn hope in romantic history, which drew itself up +and mutely died. He lied as desperately, as savagely, as hopelessly as +ever man fought. + +One day a delegation from the 33d Michigan came to me and said: "Are +you the proprietor of the Bos'n?" I said: "Yes." And they said: "Well, +would you please be so kind as to be so good as to give him to us?" A +big battle was expected for the next day. "Why," I answered, "if you +want him you can have him. But he's a thief, and I won't let him go +save on his personal announcement." The big battle occurred the next +day, and the Bos'n did not disappear in it; but he disappeared in my +interest in the battle, even as a waif might disappear in a fog. My +interest in the battle made the Bos'n dissolve before my eyes. Poor +little rascal! I gave him up with pain. He was such an innocent +villain. He knew no more of thievery than the whole of it. Anyhow one +was fond of him. He was a natural scoundrel. He was not an educated +scoundrel. One cannot bear the educated scoundrel. He was ingenuous, +simple, honest, abashed ruffianism. + +I hope the 33d Michigan did not arrive home naked. I hope the Bos'n did +not succeed in getting everything. If the Bos'n builds a palace in +Detroit, I shall know where he got the money. He got it from the 33d +Michigan. Poor little man. He was only eleven years old. He vanished. I +had thought to preserve him as a relic, even as one preserves forgotten +bayonets and fragments of shell. And now as to the pocket of my +riding-breeches. It contained four dollars in United States currency. +Bos'n! Hey, Bos'n, where are you? The morning was the morning of +battle. + +I was on San Juan Hill when Lieutenant Hobson and the men of the +_Merrimac_ were exchanged and brought into the American lines. Many of +us knew that the exchange was about to be made, and gathered to see the +famous party. Some of our Staff officers rode out with three Spanish +officers --prisoners--these latter being blindfolded before they were +taken through the American position. The army was majestically minding +its business in the long line of trenches when its eye caught sight of +this little procession. "What's that? What they goin' to do?" "They're +goin' to exchange Hobson." Wherefore every man who was foot-free staked +out a claim where he could get a good view of the liberated heroes, and +two bands prepared to collaborate on "The Star Spangled Banner." There +was a very long wait through the sunshiny afternoon. In our impatience, +we imagined them--the Americans and Spaniards--dickering away out there +under the big tree like so many peddlers. Once the massed bands, misled +by a rumour, stiffened themselves into that dramatic and breathless +moment when each man is ready to blow. But the rumour was exploded in +the nick of time. We made ill jokes, saying one to another that the +negotiations had found diplomacy to be a failure, and were playing +freeze-out poker for the whole batch of prisoners. + +But suddenly the moment came. Along the cut roadway, toward the crowded +soldiers, rode three men, and it could be seen that the central one +wore the undress uniform of an officer of the United States navy. +Most of the soldiers were sprawled out on the grass, bored and wearied +in the sunshine. However, they aroused at the old circus-parade, +torch-light procession cry, "Here they come." Then the men of the +regular army did a thing. They arose _en masse_ and came to +"Attention." Then the men of the regular army did another thing. They +slowly lifted every weather-beaten hat and drooped it until it touched +the knee. Then there was a magnificent silence, broken only by the +measured hoof-beats of the little company's horses as they rode through +the gap. It was solemn, funereal, this splendid silent welcome of a +brave man by men who stood on a hill which they had earned out of blood +and death--simply, honestly, with no sense of excellence, earned out of +blood and death. + +Then suddenly the whole scene went to rubbish. Before he reached the +bottom of the hill, Hobson was bowing to right and left like another +Boulanger, and, above the thunder of the massed bands, one could hear +the venerable outbreak, "Mr. Hobson, I'd like to shake the hand of the +man who----" But the real welcome was that welcome of silence. However, +one could thrill again when the tail of the procession appeared--an +army waggon containing the blue-jackets of the _Merrimac_ adventure. I +remember grinning heads stuck out from under the canvas cover of the +waggon. And the army spoke to the navy. "Well, Jackie, how does it +feel?" And the navy up and answered: "Great! Much obliged to you +fellers for comin' here." "Say, Jackie, what did they arrest ye for +anyhow? Stealin' a dawg?" The navy still grinned. Here was no rubbish. +Here was the mere exchange of language between men. + +Some of us fell in behind this small but royal procession and followed +it to General Shafter's headquarters, some miles on the road to +Siboney. I have a vague impression that I watched the meeting between +Shafter and Hobson, but the impression ends there. However, I remember +hearing a talk between them as to Hobson's men, and then the +blue-jackets were called up to hear the congratulatory remarks of the +general in command of the Fifth Army Corps. It was a scene in the fine +shade of thickly-leaved trees. The general sat in his chair, his belly +sticking ridiculously out before him as if he had adopted some form of +artificial inflation. He looked like a joss. If the seamen had suddenly +begun to burn a few sticks, most of the spectators would have exhibited +no surprise. But the words he spoke were proper, clear, quiet, +soldierly, the words of one man to others. The Jackies were comic. At +the bidding of their officer they aligned themselves before the +general, grinned with embarrassment one to the other, made funny +attempts to correct the alignment, and--looked sheepish. They looked +sheepish. They looked like bad little boys flagrantly caught. They had +no sense of excellence. Here was no rubbish. + +Very soon after this the end of the campaign came for me. I caught a +fever. I am not sure to this day what kind of a fever it was. It was +defined variously. I know, at any rate, that I first developed a +languorous indifference to everything in the world. Then I developed a +tendency to ride a horse even as a man lies on a cot. Then I--I am not +sure--I think I grovelled and groaned about Siboney for several days. +My colleagues, Scovel and George Rhea, found me and gave me of their +best, but I didn't know whether London Bridge was falling down or +whether there was a war with Spain. It was all the same. What of it? +Nothing of it. Everything had happened, perhaps. But I cared not a jot. +Life, death, dishonour--all were nothing to me. All I cared for was +pickles. _Pickles_ at any price! _Pickles!!_ + +If I had been the father of a hundred suffering daughters, I should +have waved them all aside and remarked that they could be damned for +all I cared. It was not a mood. One can defeat a mood. It was a +physical situation. Sometimes one cannot defeat a physical situation. I +heard the talk of Siboney and sometimes I answered, but I was as +indifferent as the star-fish flung to die on the sands. The only fact +in the universe was that my veins burned and boiled. Rhea finally +staggered me down to the army-surgeon who had charge of the +proceedings, and the army-surgeon looked me over with a keen healthy +eye. Then he gave a permit that I should be sent home. The manipulation +from the shore to the transport was something which was Rhea's affair. +I am not sure whether we went in a boat or a balloon. I think it was a +boat. Rhea pushed me on board and I swayed meekly and unsteadily toward +the captain of the ship, a corpulent, well-conditioned, impickled +person pacing noisily on the spar-deck. "Ahem, yes; well; all right. +Have you got your own food? I hope, for Christ's sake, you don't expect +us to feed you, do you?" Whereupon I went to the rail and weakly yelled +at Rhea, but he was already afar. The captain was, meantime, remarking +in bellows that, for Christ's sake, I couldn't expect him to feed me. I +didn't expect to be fed. I didn't care to be fed. I wished for nothing +on earth but some form of painless pause, oblivion. The insults of this +old pie-stuffed scoundrel did not affect me then; they affect me now. I +would like to tell him that, although I like collies, fox-terriers, and +even screw-curled poodles, I do not like him. He was free to call me +superfluous and throw me overboard, but he was not free to coarsely +speak to a somewhat sick man. I--in fact I hate him--it is all wrong--I +lose whatever ethics I possessed--but--I hate him, and I demand that +you should imagine a milch cow endowed with a knowledge of navigation +and in command of a ship--and perfectly capable of commanding a +ship--oh, well, never mind. + +I was crawling along the deck when somebody pounced violently upon me +and thundered: "Who in hell are you, sir?" I said I was a +correspondent. He asked me did I know that I had yellow fever. I said +No. He yelled, "Well, by Gawd, you isolate yourself, sir." I said; +"Where?" At this question he almost frothed at the mouth. I thought he +was going to strike me. "Where?" he roared. "How in hell do I know, +sir? I know as much about this ship as you do, sir. But you isolate +yourself, sir." My clouded brain tried to comprehend these orders. This +man was a doctor in the regular army, and it was necessary to obey him, +so I bestirred myself to learn what he meant by these gorilla outcries. +"All right, doctor; I'll isolate myself, but I wish you'd tell me where +to go." And then he passed into such volcanic humour that I clung to +the rail and gasped. "Isolate yourself, sir. Isolate yourself. That's +all I've got to say, sir. I don't give a God damn where you go, but +when you get there, stay there, sir." So I wandered away and ended up +on the deck aft, with my head against the flagstaff and my limp body +stretched on a little rug. I was not at all sorry for myself. I didn't +care a tent-peg. And yet, as I look back upon it now, the situation was +fairly exciting--a voyage of four or five days before me--no food--no +friends--above all else, no friends--isolated on deck, and rather ill. + +When I returned to the United States, I was able to move my feminine +friends to tears by an account of this voyage, but, after all, it +wasn't so bad. They kept me on my small reservation aft, but plenty of +kindness loomed soon enough. At mess-time, they slid me a tin plate of +something, usually stewed tomatoes and bread. Men are always good men. +And, at any rate, most of the people were in worse condition than +I--poor bandaged chaps looking sadly down at the waves. In a way, I +knew the kind. First lieutenants at forty years of age, captains at +fifty, majors at 102, lieutenant-colonels at 620, full colonels at +1000, and brigadiers at 9,768,295 plus. A man had to live two billion +years to gain eminent rank in the regular army at that time. And, of +course, they all had trembling wives at remote western posts waiting to +hear the worst, the best, or the middle. + +In rough weather, the officers made a sort of a common pool of all the +sound legs and arms, and by dint of hanging hard to each other they +managed to move from their deck chairs to their cabins and from their +cabins again to their deck chairs. Thus they lived until the ship +reached Hampton Roads. We slowed down opposite the curiously mingled +hotels and batteries at Old Point Comfort, and at our mast-head we flew +the yellow-flag, the grim ensign of the plague. Then we witnessed +something which informed us that with all this ship-load of wounds and +fevers and starvations we had forgotten the fourth element of war. We +were flying the yellow flag, but a launch came and circled swiftly +about us. There was a little woman in the launch, and she kept looking +and looking and looking. Our ship was so high that she could see only +those who rung at the rail, but she kept looking and looking and +looking. It was plain enough--it was all plain enough--but my heart +sank with the fear that she was not going to find him. But presently +there was a commotion among some black dough-boys of the 24th Infantry, +and two of them ran aft to Colonel Liscum, its gallant commander. Their +faces were wreathed in darkey grins of delight. "Kunnel, ain't dat Mis' +Liscum, Kunnel?" "What?" said the old man. He got up quickly and +appeared at the rail, his arm in a sling. He cried, "Alice!" The little +woman saw him, and instantly she covered up her face with her hands as +if blinded with a flash of white fire. She made no outcry; it was all +in this simply swift gesture, but we--we knew them. It told us. It told +us the other part. And in a vision we all saw our own harbour-lights. +That is to say those of us who had harbour-lights. + +I was almost well, and had defeated the yellow-fever charge which had +been brought against me, and so I was allowed ashore among the first. +And now happened a strange thing. A hard campaign, full of wants and +lacks and absences, brings a man speedily back to an appreciation of +things long disregarded or forgotten. In camp, somewhere in the woods +between Siboney and Santiago, I happened to think of ice-cream-soda. I +had done very well without it for many years; in fact I think I loathe +it; but I got to dreaming of ice-cream-soda, and I came near dying of +longing for it. I couldn't get it out of my mind, try as I would to +concentrate my thoughts upon the land crabs and mud with which I was +surrounded. It certainly had been an institution of my childhood, but +to have a ravenous longing for it in the year 1898 was about as +illogical as to have a ravenous longing for kerosene. All I could do +was to swear to myself that if I reached the United States again, I +would immediately go to the nearest soda-water fountain and make it +look like Spanish Fours. In a loud, firm voice, I would say, "Orange, +please." And here is the strange thing: as soon as I was ashore I went +to the nearest soda-water fountain, and in a loud, firm voice I said, +"Orange, please." I remember one man who went mad that way over tinned +peaches, and who wandered over the face of the earth saying +plaintively, "Have you any peaches?" + +Most of the wounded and sick had to be tabulated and marshalled in +sections and thoroughly officialised, so that I was in time to take a +position on the verandah of Chamberlain's Hotel and see my late +shipmates taken to the hospital. The verandah was crowded with women in +light, charming summer dresses, and with spruce officers from the +Fortress. It was like a bank of flowers. It filled me with awe. All +this luxury and refinement and gentle care and fragrance and colour +seemed absolutely new. Then across the narrow street on the verandah of +the hotel there was a similar bank of flowers. Two companies of +volunteers dug a lane through the great crowd in the street and kept +the way, and then through this lane there passed a curious procession. +I had never known that they looked like that. Such a gang of dirty, +ragged, emaciated, half-starved, bandaged cripples I had never seen. +Naturally there were many men who couldn't walk, and some of these were +loaded upon a big flat car which was in tow of a trolley-car. Then +there were many stretchers, slow-moving. When that crowd began to pass +the hotel the banks of flowers made a noise which could make one +tremble. Perhaps it was a moan, perhaps it was a sob--but no, it was +something beyond either a moan or a sob. Anyhow, the sound of women +weeping was in it.--The sound of women weeping. + +And how did these men of famous deeds appear when received thus by the +people? Did they smirk and look as if they were bursting with the +desire to tell everything which had happened? No they hung their heads +like so many jail-birds. Most of them seemed to be suffering from +something which was like stage-fright during the ordeal of this chance +but supremely eloquent reception. No sense of excellence--that was it. +Evidently they were willing to leave the clacking to all those natural +born major-generals who after the war talked enough to make a great +fall in the price of that commodity all over the world. + +The episode was closed. And you can depend upon it that I have told you +nothing at all, nothing at all, nothing at all. + + + + +THE SECOND GENERATION + + +I + +Caspar Cadogan resolved to go to the tropic wars and do something. The +air was blue and gold with the pomp of soldiering, and in every ear +rang the music of military glory. Caspar's father was a United States +Senator from the great State of Skowmulligan, where the war fever ran +very high. Chill is the blood of many of the sons of millionaires, but +Caspar took the fever and posted to Washington. His father had never +denied him anything, and this time all that Caspar wanted was a little +Captaincy in the Army--just a simple little Captaincy. + +The old man had been entertaining a delegation of respectable +bunco-steerers from Skowmulligan who had come to him on a matter which +is none of the public's business. + +Bottles of whisky and boxes of cigars were still on the table in the +sumptuous private parlour. The Senator had said, "Well, gentlemen, I'll +do what I can for you." By this sentence he meant whatever he meant. + +Then he turned to his eager son. "Well, Caspar?" The youth poured out +his modest desires. It was not altogether his fault. Life had taught +him a generous faith in his own abilities. If any one had told him that +he was simply an ordinary d--d fool he would have opened his eyes wide +at the person's lack of judgment. All his life people had admired him. + +The Skowmulligan war-horse looked with quick disapproval into the eyes +of his son. "Well, Caspar," he said slowly, "I am of the opinion that +they've got all the golf experts and tennis champions and cotillion +leaders and piano tuners and billiard markers that they really need as +officers. Now, if you were a soldier----" + +"I know," said the young man with a gesture, "but I'm not exactly a +fool, I hope, and I think if I get a chance I can do something. I'd +like to try. I would, indeed." + +The Senator lit a cigar. He assumed an attitude of ponderous +reflection. "Y--yes, but this country is full of young men who are not +fools. Full of 'em." + +Caspar fidgeted in the desire to answer that while he admitted the +profusion of young men who were not fools, he felt that he himself +possessed interesting and peculiar qualifications which would allow him +to make his mark in any field of effort which he seriously challenged. +But he did not make this graceful statement, for he sometimes detected +something ironic in his father's temperament. The Skowmulligan +war-horse had not thought of expressing an opinion of his own ability +since the year 1865, when he was young, like Caspar. + +"Well, well," said the Senator finally. "I'll see about it. I'll see +about it." The young man was obliged to await the end of his father's +characteristic method of thought. The war-horse never gave a quick +answer, and if people tried to hurry him they seemed able to arouse +only a feeling of irritation against making a decision at all. His mind +moved like the wind, but practice had placed a Mexican bit in the mouth +of his judgment. This old man of light quick thought had taught himself +to move like an ox cart. Caspar said, "Yes, sir." He withdrew to his +club, where, to the affectionate inquiries of some envious friends, he +replied, "The old man is letting the idea soak." + +The mind of the war-horse was decided far sooner than Caspar expected. +In Washington a large number of well-bred handsome young men were +receiving appointments as Lieutenants, as Captains, and occasionally as +Majors. They were a strong, healthy, clean-eyed educated collection. +They were a prime lot. A German Field-Marshal would have beamed with +joy if he could have had them--to send to school. Anywhere in the world +they would have made a grand show as material, but, intrinsically they +were not Lieutenants, Captains and Majors. They were fine men, though +manhood is only an essential part of a Lieutenant, a Captain or a +Major. But at any rate, this arrangement had all the logic of going to +sea in a bathing-machine. + +The Senator found himself reasoning that Caspar was as good as any of +them, and better than many. Presently he was bleating here and there +that his boy should have a chance. "The boy's all right, I tell you, +Henry. He's wild to go, and I don't see why they shouldn't give him a +show. He's got plenty of nerve, and he's keen as a whiplash. I'm going +to get him an appointment, and if you can do anything to help it along +I wish you would." + +Then he betook himself to the White House and the War Department and +made a stir. People think that Administrations are always slavishly, +abominably anxious to please the Machine. They are not; they wish the +Machine sunk in red fire, for by the power of ten thousand past words, +looks, gestures, writings, the Machine comes along and takes the +Administration by the nose and twists it, and the Administration dare +not even yell. The huge force which carries an election to success +looks reproachfully at the Administration and says, "Give me a bun." +That is a very small thing with which to reward a Colossus. + +The Skowmulligan war-horse got his bun and took it to his hotel where +Caspar was moodily reading war rumours. "Well, my boy, here you are." +Caspar was a Captain and Commissary on the staff of Brigadier-General +Reilly, commander of the Second Brigade of the First Division of the +Thirtieth Army Corps. + +"I had to work for it," said the Senator grimly. "They talked to me as +if they thought you were some sort of empty-headed idiot. None of 'em +seemed to know you personally. They just sort of took it for granted. +Finally I got pretty hot in the collar." He paused a moment; his heavy, +grooved face set hard; his blue eyes shone. He clapped a hand down upon +the handle of his chair. + +"Caspar, I've got you into this thing, and I believe you'll do all +right, and I'm not saying this because I distrust either your sense or +your grit. But I want you to understand you've _got to make a go of +it_. I'm not going to talk any twaddle about your country and your +country's flag. You understand all about that. But now you're a +soldier, and there'll be this to do and that to do, and fighting to do, +and you've got to do _every d----d one of 'em_ right up to the handle. +I don't know how much of a shindy this thing is going to be, but any +shindy is enough to show how much there is in a man. You've got your +appointment, and that's all I can do for you; but I'll thrash you with +my own hands if, when the Army gets back, the other fellows say my son +is 'nothing but a good-looking dude.'" + +He ceased, breathing heavily. Caspar looked bravely and frankly at his +father, and answered in a voice which was not very tremulous. "I'll do +my best. This is my chance. I'll do my best with it." + +The Senator had a marvellous ability of transition from one manner to +another. Suddenly he seemed very kind. "Well, that's all right, then. I +guess you'll get along all right with Reilly. I know him well, and +he'll see you through. I helped him along once. And now about this +commissary business. As I understand it, a Commissary is a sort of +caterer in a big way--that is, he looks out for a good many more things +than a caterer has to bother his head about. Reilly's brigade has +probably from two to three thousand men in it, and in regard to certain +things you've got to look out for every man of 'em every day. I know +perfectly well you couldn't successfully run a boarding-house in Ocean +Grove. How are you going to manage for all these soldiers, hey? Thought +about it?" + +"No," said Caspar, injured. "I didn't want to be a Commissary. I wanted +to be a Captain in the line." + +"They wouldn't hear of it. They said you would have to take a staff +appointment where people could look after you." + +"Well, let them look after me," cried Caspar resentfully; "but when +there's any fighting to be done I guess I won't necessarily be the last +man." + +"That's it," responded the Senator. "That's the spirit." They both +thought that the problem of war would eliminate to an equation of +actual battle. + +Ultimately Caspar departed into the South to an encampment in salty +grass under pine trees. Here lay an Army corps twenty thousand strong. +Caspar passed into the dusty sunshine of it, and for many weeks he was +lost to view. + + +II + +"Of course I don't know a blamed thing about it," said Caspar frankly +and modestly to a circle of his fellow staff officers. He was referring +to the duties of his office. + +Their faces became expressionless; they looked at him with eyes in +which he could fathom nothing. After a pause one politely said, "Don't +you?" It was the inevitable two words of convention. + +"Why," cried Caspar, "I didn't know what a commissary officer was until +I _was_ one. My old Guv'nor told me. He'd looked it up in a book +somewhere, I suppose; but _I_ didn't know." + +"Didn't you?" + +The young man's face glowed with sudden humour. "Do you know, the word +was intimately associated in my mind with camels. Funny, eh? I think it +came from reading that rhyme of Kipling's about the commissariat +camel." + +"Did it?" + +"Yes. Funny, isn't it? Camels!" + +The brigade was ultimately landed at Siboney as part of an army to +attack Santiago. The scene at the landing sometimes resembled the +inspiriting daily drama at the approach to the Brooklyn Bridge. There +was a great bustle, during which the wise man kept his property gripped +in his hands lest it might march off into the wilderness in the pocket +of one of the striding regiments. Truthfully, Caspar should have had +frantic occupation, but men saw him wandering bootlessly here and there +crying, "Has any one seen my saddlebags? Why, if I lose them I'm +ruined. I've got everything packed away in 'em. Everything!" + +They looked at him gloomily and without attention. "No," they said. It +was to intimate that they would not give a rip if he had lost his nose, +his teeth and his self-respect. Reilly's brigade collected itself from +the boats and went off, each regiment's soul burning with anger because +some other regiment was in advance of it. Moving along through the +scrub and under the palms, men talked mostly of things that did not +pertain to the business in hand. + +General Reilly finally planted his headquarters in some tall grass +under a mango tree. "Where's Cadogan?" he said suddenly as he took off +his hat and smoothed the wet grey hair from his brow. Nobody knew. "I +saw him looking for his saddle-bags down at the landing," said an +officer dubiously. "Bother him," said the General contemptuously. "Let +him stay there." + +Three venerable regimental commanders came, saluted stiffly and sat in +the grass. There was a pow-wow, during which Reilly explained much that +the Division Commander had told him. The venerable Colonels nodded; +they understood. Everything was smooth and clear to their minds. But +still, the Colonel of the Forty-fourth Regular Infantry murmured about +the commissariat. His men--and then he launched forth in a sentiment +concerning the privations of his men in which you were confronted with +his feeling that his men--his men were the only creatures of importance +in the universe, which feeling was entirely correct for him. Reilly +grunted. He did what most commanders did. He set the competent line to +doing the work of the incompetent part of the staff. + +In time Caspar came trudging along the road merrily swinging his +saddle-bags. "Well, General," he cried as he saluted, "I found 'em." + +"Did you?" said Reilly. Later an officer rushed to him tragically: +"General, Cadogan is off there in the bushes eatin' potted ham and +crackers all by himself." The officer was sent back into the bushes for +Caspar, and the General sent Caspar with an order. Then Reilly and the +three venerable Colonels, grinning, partook of potted ham and crackers. +"Tashe a' right," said Reilly, with his mouth full. "Dorsey, see if 'e +got some'n else." + +"Mush be selfish young pig," said one of the Colonels, with his mouth +full. "Who's he, General?" + +"Son--Sen'tor Cad'gan--ol' frien' mine--dash 'im." + +Caspar wrote a letter: + + "_Dear Father_: I am sitting under a tree using the flattest part + of my canteen for a desk. Even as I write the division ahead of us + is moving forward and we don't know what moment the storm of battle + may break out. I don't know what the plans are. General Reilly + knows, but he is so good as to give me very little of his + confidence. In fact, I might be part of a forlorn hope from all to + the contrary I've heard from him. I understood you to say in + Washington that you at one time had been of some service to him, + but if that is true I can assure you he has completely forgotten + it. At times his manner to me is little short of being offensive, + but of course I understand that it is only the way of a crusty old + soldier who has been made boorish and bearish by a long life among + the Indians. I dare say I shall manage it all right without a row. + + "When you hear that we have captured Santiago, please send me by + first steamer a box of provisions and clothing, particularly + sardines, pickles, and light-weight underwear. The other men on the + staff are nice quiet chaps, but they seem a bit crude. There has + been no fighting yet save the skirmish by Young's brigade. Reilly + was furious because we couldn't get in it. I met General Peel + yesterday. He was very nice. He said he knew you well when he was + in Congress. Young Jack May is on Peel's staff. I knew him well in + college. We spent an hour talking over old times. Give my love to + all at home." + +The march was leisurely. Reilly and his staff strolled out to the head +of the long, sinuous column and entered the sultry gloom of the forest. +Some less fortunate regiments had to wait among the trees at the side +of the trail, and as Reilly's brigade passed them, officer called to +officer, classmate to classmate, and in these greetings rang a note of +everything, from West Point to Alaska. They were going into an action +in which they, the officers, would lose over a hundred in killed and +wounded--officers alone--and these greetings, in which many nicknames +occurred, were in many cases farewells such as one pictures being given +with ostentation, solemnity, fervour. "There goes Gory Widgeon! Hello, +Gory! Where you starting for? Hey, Gory!" + +Caspar communed with himself and decided that he was not frightened. He +was eager and alert; he thought that now his obligation to his country, +or himself, was to be faced, and he was mad to prove to old Reilly and +the others that after all he was a very capable soldier. + + +III + +Old Reilly was stumping along the line of his brigade and mumbling like +a man with a mouthful of grass. The fire from the enemy's position was +incredible in its swift fury, and Reilly's brigade was getting its +share of a very bad ordeal. The old man's face was of the colour of a +tomato, and in his rage he mouthed and sputtered strangely. As he +pranced along his thin line, scornfully erect, voices arose from the +grass beseeching him to take care of himself. At his heels scrambled a +bugler with pallid skin and clenched teeth, a chalky, trembling youth, +who kept his eye on old Reilly's back and followed it. + +The old gentleman was quite mad. Apparently he thought the whole thing +a dreadful mess, but now that his brigade was irrevocably in it he was +full-tilting here and everywhere to establish some irreproachable, +immaculate kind of behaviour on the part of every man jack in his +brigade. The intentions of the three venerable Colonels were the same. +They stood behind their lines, quiet, stern, courteous old fellows, +admonishing their regiments to be very pretty in the face of such a +hail of magazine-rifle and machine-gun fire as has never in this world +been confronted save by beardless savages when the white man has found +occasion to take his burden to some new place. + +And the regiments were pretty. The men lay on their little stomachs and +got peppered according to the law and said nothing, as the good blood +pumped out into the grass, and even if a solitary rookie tried to get a +decent reason to move to some haven of rational men, the cold voice of +an officer made him look criminal with a shame that was a credit to his +regimental education. Behind Reilly's command was a bullet-torn jungle +through which it could not move as a brigade; ahead of it were Spanish +trenches on hills. Reilly considered that he was in a fix no doubt, but +he said this only to himself. Suddenly he saw on the right a little +point of blue-shirted men already half-way up the hill. It was some +pathetic fragment of the Sixth United States Infantry. Chagrined, +shocked, horrified, Reilly bellowed to his bugler, and the +chalked-faced youth unlocked his teeth and sounded the charge by +rushes. + +The men formed hastily and grimly, and rushed. Apparently there awaited +them only the fate of respectable soldiers. But they went because--of +the opinions of others, perhaps. They went because--no loud-mouthed lot +of jail-birds such as the Twenty-Seventh Infantry could do anything +that they could not do better. They went because Reilly ordered it. +They went because they went. + +And yet not a man of them to this day has made a public speech +explaining precisely how he did the whole thing and detailing with what +initiative and ability he comprehended and defeated a situation which +he did not comprehend at all. + +Reilly never saw the top of the hill. He was heroically striving to +keep up with his men when a bullet ripped quietly through his left +lung, and he fell back into the arms of the bugler, who received him as +he would have received a Christmas present. The three venerable +Colonels inherited the brigade in swift succession. The senior +commanded for about fifty seconds, at the end of which he was mortally +shot. Before they could get the news to the next in rank he, too, was +shot. The junior Colonel ultimately arrived with a lean and puffing +little brigade at the top of the hill. The men lay down and fired +volleys at whatever was practicable. + +In and out of the ditch-like trenches lay the Spanish dead, lemon-faced +corpses dressed in shabby blue and white ticking. Some were huddled +down comfortably like sleeping children; one had died in the attitude +of a man flung back in a dentist's chair; one sat in the trench with +his chin sunk despondently to his breast; few preserved a record of the +agitation of battle. With the greater number it was as if death had +touched them so gently, so lightly, that they had not known of it. +Death had come to them rather in the form of an opiate than of a bloody +blow. + +But the arrived men in the blue shirts had no thought of the sallow +corpses. They were eagerly exchanging a hail of shots with the Spanish +second line, whose ash-coloured entrenchments barred the way to a city +white amid trees. In the pauses the men talked. + +"We done the best. Old E Company got there. Why, one time the hull of B +Company was _behind_ us." + +"Jones, he was the first man up. I saw 'im." + +"Which Jones?" + +"Did you see ol' Two-bars runnin' like a land-crab? Made good time, +too. He hit only in the high places. He's all right." + +"The Lootenant s all right, too. He was a good ten yards ahead of the +best of us. I hated him at the post, but for this here active service +there's none of 'em can touch him." + +"This is mighty different from being at the post." + +"Well, we done it, an' it wasn't b'cause _I_ thought it could be done. +When we started, I ses to m'self: 'Well, here goes a lot o' d----d +fools.'" + +"'Tain't over yet." + +"Oh, they'll never git us back from here. If they start to chase us +back from here we'll pile 'em up so high the last ones can't climb +over. We've come this far, an' we'll stay here. I ain't done pantin'." + +"Anything is better than packin' through that jungle an' gettin' +blistered from front, rear, an' both flanks. I'd rather tackle another +hill than go trailin' in them woods, so thick you can't tell whether +you are one man or a division of cav'lry." + +"Where's that young kitchen-soldier, Cadogan, or whatever his name is. +Ain't seen him to-day." + +"Well, _I_ seen him. He was right in with it. He got shot, too, about +half up the hill, in the leg. I seen it. He's all right. Don't worry +about him. He's all right." + +"I seen 'im, too. He done his stunt. As soon as I can git this piece of +barbed-wire entanglement out o' me throat I'll give 'm a cheer." + +"He ain't shot at all b'cause there he stands, there. See 'im?" + +Rearward, the grassy slope was populous with little groups of men +searching for the wounded. Reilly's brigade began to dig with its +bayonets and shovel with its meat-ration cans. + + +IV + +Senator Cadogan paced to and fro in his private parlour and smoked +small, brown weak cigars. These little wisps seemed utterly inadequate +to console such a ponderous satrap. + +It was the evening of the 1st of July, 1898, and the Senator was +immensely excited, as could be seen from the superlatively calm way in +which he called out to his private secretary, who was in an adjoining +room. The voice was serene, gentle, affectionate, low. + +"Baker, I wish you'd go over again to the War Department and see if +they've heard anything about Caspar." + +A very bright-eyed, hatchet-faced young man appeared in a doorway, pen +still in hand. He was hiding a nettle-like irritation behind all the +finished audacity of a smirk, sharp, lying, trustworthy young +politician. "I've just got back from there, sir," he suggested. + +The Skowmulligan war-horse lifted his eyes and looked for a short +second into the eyes of his private secretary. It was not a glare or an +eagle glance; it was something beyond the practice of an actor; it was +simply meaning. The clever private secretary grabbed his hat and was at +once enthusiastically away. "All right, sir," he cried. "I'll find +out." + +The War Department was ablaze with light, and messengers were running. +With the assurance of a retainer of an old house Baker made his way +through much small-calibre vociferation. There was rumour of a big +victory; there was rumour of a big defeat. In the corridors various +watchdogs arose from their armchairs and asked him of his business in +tones of uncertainty which in no wise compared with their previous +habitual deference to the private secretary of the war-horse of +Skowmulligan. + +Ultimately Baker arrived in a room where some kind of head clerk sat +writing feverishly at a roll-top desk. Baker asked a question, and the +head clerk mumbled profanely without lifting his head. Apparently he +said: "How in the blankety-blank blazes do I know?" + +The private secretary let his jaw fall. Surely some new spirit had come +suddenly upon the heart of Washington--a spirit which Baker understood +to be almost defiantly indifferent to the wishes of Senator Cadogan, a +spirit which was not courteously oily. What could it mean? Baker's +fox-like mind sprang wildly to a conception of overturned factions, +changed friends, new combinations. The assurance which had come from +experience of a broad political situation suddenly left him, and he +would not have been amazed if some one had told him that Senator +Cadogan now controlled only six votes in the State of Skowmulligan. +"Well," he stammered in his bewilderment, "well--there isn't any news +of the old man's son, hey?" Again the head clerk replied blasphemously. + +Eventually Baker retreated in disorder from the presence of this head +clerk, having learned that the latter did not give a ---- if Caspar +Cadogan were sailing through Hades on an ice yacht. + +Baker stormed other and more formidable officials. In fact, he struck +as high as he dared. They one and all flung him short, hard words, even +as men pelt an annoying cur with pebbles. He emerged from the brilliant +light, from the groups of men with anxious, puzzled faces, and as he +walked back to the hotel he did not know if his name were Baker or +Cholmondeley. + +However, as he walked up the stairs to the Senator's rooms he contrived +to concentrate his intellect upon a manner of speaking. + +The war-horse was still pacing his parlour and smoking. He paused at +Baker's entrance. "Well?" + +"Mr. Cadogan," said the private secretary coolly, "they told me at the +Department that they did not give a cuss whether your son was alive or +dead." + +The Senator looked at Baker and smiled gently. "What's that, my boy?" +he asked in a soft and considerate voice. + +"They said----" gulped Baker, with a certain tenacity. "They said that +they didn't give a cuss whether your son was alive or dead." + +There was a silence for the space of three seconds. Baker stood like an +image; he had no machinery for balancing the issues of this kind of a +situation, and he seemed to feel that if he stood as still as a stone +frog he would escape the ravages of a terrible Senatorial wrath which +was about to break forth in a hurricane speech which would snap off +trees and sweep away barns. + +"Well," drawled the Senator lazily, "who did you see, Baker?" + +The private secretary resumed a certain usual manner of breathing. He +told the names of the men whom he had seen. + +"Ye--e--es," remarked the Senator. He took another little brown cigar +and held it with a thumb and first finger, staring at it with the calm +and steady scrutiny of a scientist investigating a new thing. "So they +don't care whether Caspar is alive or dead, eh? Well ... maybe they +don't.... That's all right.... However ... I think I'll just look in on +'em and state my views." + +When the Senator had gone, the private secretary ran to the window and +leaned afar out. Pennsylvania Avenue was gleaming silver blue in the +light of many arc-lamps; the cable trains groaned along to the clangour +of gongs; from the window, the walks presented a hardly diversified +aspect of shirt-waists and straw hats. Sometimes a newsboy screeched. + +Baker watched the tall, heavy figure of the Senator moving out to +intercept a cable train. "Great Scott!" cried the private secretary to +himself, "there'll be three distinct kinds of grand, plain practical +fireworks. The old man is going for 'em. I wouldn't be in Lascum's +boots. Ye gods, what a row there'll be." + +In due time the Senator was closeted with some kind of deputy +third-assistant battery-horse in the offices of the War Department. The +official obviously had been told off to make a supreme effort to pacify +Cadogan, and he certainly was acting according to his instructions. He +was almost in tears; he spread out his hands in supplication, and his +voice whined and wheedled. + +"Why, really, you know, Senator, we can only beg you to look at the +circumstances. Two scant divisions at the top of that hill; over a +thousand men killed and wounded; the line so thin that any strong +attack would smash our Army to flinders. The Spaniards have probably +received reenforcements under Pando; Shafter seems to be too ill to be +actively in command of our troops; Lawton can't get up with his +division before to-morrow. We are actually expecting ... no, I won't +say expecting ... but we would not be surprised ... nobody in the +department would be surprised if before daybreak we were compelled to +give to the country the news of a disaster which would be the worst +blow the National pride has ever suffered. Don't you see? Can't you see +our position, Senator?" + +The Senator, with a pale but composed face, contemplated the official +with eyes that gleamed in a way not usual with the big, self-controlled +politician. + +"I'll tell you frankly, sir," continued the other. "I'll tell you +frankly, that at this moment we don't know whether we are a-foot or +a-horseback. Everything is in the air. We don't know whether we have +won a glorious victory or simply got ourselves in a deuce of a fix." + +The Senator coughed. "I suppose my boy is with the two divisions at the +top of that hill? He's with Reilly." + +"Yes; Reilly's brigade is up there." + +"And when do you suppose the War Department can tell me if he is all +right. I want to know." + +"My dear Senator, frankly, I don't know. Again I beg you to think of +our position. The Army is in a muddle; it's a General thinking that he +must fall back, and yet not sure that he _can_ fall back without losing +the Army. Why, we're worrying about the lives of sixteen thousand men +and the self-respect of the nation, Senator." + +"I see," observed the Senator, nodding his head slowly. "And naturally +the welfare of one man's son doesn't--how do they say it--doesn't cut +any ice." + + +V + +And in Cuba it rained. In a few days Reilly's brigade discovered that +by their successful charge they had gained the inestimable privilege of +sitting in a wet trench and slowly but surely starving to death. Men's +tempers crumbled like dry bread. The soldiers who so cheerfully, +quietly and decently had captured positions which the foreign experts +had said were impregnable, now in turn underwent an attack which was +furious as well as insidious. The heat of the sun alternated with rains +which boomed and roared in their falling like mountain cataracts. It +seemed as if men took the fever through sheer lack of other occupation. +During the days of battle none had had time to get even a tropic +headache, but no sooner was that brisk period over than men began to +shiver and shudder by squads and platoons. Rations were scarce enough +to make a little fat strip of bacon seem of the size of a corner lot, +and coffee grains were pearls. There would have been godless quarreling +over fragments if it were not that with these fevers came a great +listlessness, so that men were almost content to die, if death required +no exertion. + +It was an occasion which distinctly separated the sheep from the goats. +The goats were few enough, but their qualities glared out like crimson +spots. + +One morning Jameson and Ripley, two Captains in the Forty-fourth Foot, +lay under a flimsy shelter of sticks and palm branches. Their dreamy, +dull eyes contemplated the men in the trench which went to left and +right. To them came Caspar Cadogan, moaning. "By Jove," he said, as he +flung himself wearily on the ground, "I can't stand much more of this, +you know. It's killing me." A bristly beard sprouted through the grime +on his face; his eyelids were crimson; an indescribably dirty shirt +fell away from his roughened neck; and at the same time various lines +of evil and greed were deepened on his face, until he practically stood +forth as a revelation, a confession. "I can't stand it. By Jove, I +can't." + +Stanford, a Lieutenant under Jameson, came stumbling along toward them. +He was a lad of the class of '98 at West Point. It could be seen that +he was flaming with fever. He rolled a calm eye at them. "Have you any +water, sir?" he said to his Captain. Jameson got upon his feet and +helped Stanford to lay his shaking length under the shelter. "No, boy," +he answered gloomily. "Not a drop. You got any, Rip?" + +"No," answered Ripley, looking with anxiety upon the young officer. +"Not a drop." + +"You, Cadogan?" + +Here Caspar hesitated oddly for a second, and then in a tone of deep +regret made answer, "No, Captain; not a mouthful." + +Jameson moved off weakly. "You lay quietly, Stanford, and I'll see what +I can rustle." + +Presently Caspar felt that Ripley was steadily regarding him. He +returned the look with one of half-guilty questioning. + +"God forgive you, Cadogan," said Ripley, "but you are a damned beast. +Your canteen is full of water." + +Even then the apathy in their veins prevented the scene from becoming +as sharp as the words sounded. Caspar sputtered like a child, and at +length merely said: "No, it isn't." Stanford lifted his head to shoot a +keen, proud glance at Caspar, and then turned away his face. + +"You lie," said Ripley. "I can tell the sound of a full canteen as far +as I can hear it." + +"Well, if it is, I--I must have forgotten it." + +"You lie; no man in this Army just now forgets whether his canteen is +full or empty. Hand it over." + +Fever is the physical counterpart of shame, and when a man has the one +he accepts the other with an ease which would revolt his healthy self. +However, Caspar made a desperate struggle to preserve the forms. He +arose and taking the string from his shoulder, passed the canteen to +Ripley. But after all there was a whine in his voice, and the +assumption of dignity was really a farce. "I think I had better go, +Captain. You can have the water if you want it, I'm sure. But--but I +fail to see--I fail to see what reason you have for insulting me." + +"Do you?" said Ripley stolidly. "That's all right." + +Caspar stood for a terrible moment. He simply did not have the strength +to turn his back on this--this affair. It seemed to him that he must +stand forever and face it. But when he found the audacity to look again +at Ripley he saw the latter was not at all concerned with the +situation. Ripley, too, had the fever. The fever changes all laws of +proportion. Caspar went away. + +"Here, youngster; here is your drink." + +Stanford made a weak gesture. "I wouldn't touch a drop from his blamed +canteen if it was the last water in the world," he murmured in his +high, boyish voice. + +"Don't you be a young jackass," quoth Ripley tenderly. + +The boy stole a glance at the canteen. He felt the propriety of arising +and hurling it after Caspar, but--he, too, had the fever. + +"Don't you be a young jackass," said Ripley again. + + +VI + +Senator Cadogan was happy. His son had returned from Cuba, and the 8:30 +train that evening would bring him to the station nearest to the stone +and red shingle villa which the Senator and his family occupied on the +shores of Long Island Sound. The Senator's steam yacht lay some hundred +yards from the beach. She had just returned from a trip to Montauk +Point where the Senator had made a gallant attempt to gain his son from +the transport on which he was coming from Cuba. He had fought a brave +sea-fight with sundry petty little doctors and ship's officers who had +raked him with broadsides, describing the laws of quarantine and had +used inelegant speech to a United States Senator as he stood on the +bridge of his own steam yacht. These men had grimly asked him to tell +exactly how much better was Caspar than any other returning soldier. + +But the Senator had not given them a long fight. In fact, the truth +came to him quickly, and with almost a blush he had ordered the yacht +back to her anchorage off the villa. As a matter of fact, the trip to +Montauk Point had been undertaken largely from impulse. Long ago the +Senator had decided that when his boy returned the greeting should have +something Spartan in it. He would make a welcome such as most soldiers +get. There should be no flowers and carriages when the other poor +fellows got none. He should consider Caspar as a soldier. That was the +way to treat a man. But in the end a sharp acid of anxiety had worked +upon the iron old man, until he had ordered the yacht to take him out +and make a fool of him. The result filled him with a chagrin which +caused him to delegate to the mother and sisters the entire business of +succouring Caspar at Montauk Point Camp. He had remained at home +conducting the huge correspondence of an active National politician and +waiting for this son whom he so loved and whom he so wished to be a man +of a certain strong, taciturn, shrewd ideal. The recent yacht voyage he +now looked upon as a kind of confession of his weakness, and he was +resolved that no more signs should escape him. + +But yet his boy had been down there against the enemy and among the +fevers. There had been grave perils, and his boy must have faced them. +And he could not prevent himself from dreaming through the poetry of +fine actions in which visions his son's face shone out manly and +generous. During these periods the people about him, accustomed as they +were to his silence and calm in time of stress, considered that affairs +in Skowmulligan might be most critical. In no other way could they +account for this exaggerated phlegm. + +On the night of Caspar's return he did not go to dinner, but had a tray +sent to his library, where he remained writing. At last he heard the +spin of the dog-cart's wheels on the gravel of the drive, and a moment +later there penetrated to him the sound of joyful feminine cries. He +lit another cigar; he knew that it was now his part to bide with +dignity the moment when his son should shake off that other welcome and +come to him. He could still hear them; in their exuberance they seemed +to be capering like schoolchildren. He was impatient, but this +impatience took the form of a polar stolidity. + +Presently there were quick steps and a jubilant knock at his door. +"Come in," he said. + +In came Caspar, thin, yellow, and in soiled khaki. "They almost tore me +to pieces," he cried, laughing. "They danced around like wild things." +Then as they shook hands he dutifully said "How are you, sir?" + +"How are you, my boy?" answered the Senator casually but kindly. + +"Better than I might expect, sir," cried Caspar cheerfully. "We had a +pretty hard time, you know." + +"You look as if they'd given you a hard run," observed the father in a +tone of slight interest. + +Caspar was eager to tell. "Yes, sir," he said rapidly. "We did, indeed. +Why, it was awful. We--any of us--were lucky to get out of it alive. It +wasn't so much the Spaniards, you know. The Army took care of them all +right. It was the fever and the--you know, we couldn't get anything to +eat. And the mismanagement. Why, it was frightful." + +"Yes, I've heard," said the Senator. A certain wistful look came into +his eyes, but he did not allow it to become prominent. Indeed, he +suppressed it. "And you, Caspar? I suppose you did your duty?" + +Caspar answered with becoming modesty. "Well, I didn't do more than +anybody else, I don't suppose, but--well, I got along all right, I +guess." + +"And this great charge up San Juan Hill?" asked, the father slowly. +"Were you in that?" + +"Well--yes; I was in it," replied the son. + +The Senator brightened a trifle. "You were, eh? In the front of it? or +just sort of going along?" + +"Well--I don't know. I couldn't tell exactly. Sometimes I was in front +of a lot of them, and sometimes I was--just sort of going along." + +This time the Senator emphatically brightened. "That's all right, then. +And of course--of course you performed your commissary duties +correctly?" + +The question seemed to make Caspar uncommunicative and sulky. "I did +when there was anything to do," he answered. "But the whole thing was +on the most unbusiness-like basis you can imagine. And they wouldn't +tell you anything. Nobody would take time to instruct you in your +duties, and of course if you didn't know a thing your superior officer +would swoop down on you and ask you why in the deuce such and such a +thing wasn't done in such and such a way. Of course I did the best I +could." + +The Senator's countenance had again become sombrely indifferent. "I +see. But you weren't directly rebuked for incapacity, were you? No; of +course you weren't. But--I mean--did any of your superior officers +suggest that you were 'no good,' or anything of that sort? I mean--did +you come off with a clean slate?" + +Caspar took a small time to digest his father's meaning. "Oh, yes, +sir," he cried at the end of his reflection. "The Commissary was in +such a hopeless mess anyhow that nobody thought of doing anything but +curse Washington." + +"Of course," rejoined the Senator harshly. "But supposing that you had +been a competent and well-trained commissary officer. What then?" + +Again the son took time for consideration, and in the end deliberately +replied "Well, if I had been a competent and well-trained Commissary I +would have sat there and eaten up my heart and cursed Washington." + +"Well, then, that's all right. And now about this charge up San Juan? +Did any of the Generals speak to you afterward and say that you had +done well? Didn't any of them see you?" + +"Why, n--n--no, I don't suppose they did ... any more than I did them. +You see, this charge was a big thing and covered lots of ground, and I +hardly saw anybody excepting a lot of the men." + +"Well, but didn't any of the men see you? Weren't you ahead some of the +time leading them on and waving your sword?" + +Caspar burst into laughter. "Why, no. I had all I could do to scramble +along and try to keep up. And I didn't want to go up at all." + +"Why?" demanded the Senator. + +"Because--because the Spaniards were shooting so much. And you could +see men falling, and the bullets rushed around you in--by the bushel. +And then at last it seemed that if we once drove them away from the top +of the hill there would be less danger. So we all went up." + +The Senator chuckled over this description. "And you didn't flinch at +all?" + +"Well," rejoined Caspar humorously, "I won't say I wasn't frightened." + +"No, of course not. But then you did not let anybody know it?" + +"Of course not." + +"You understand, naturally, that I am bothering you with all these +questions because I desire to hear how my only son behaved in the +crisis. I don't want to worry you with it. But if you went through the +San Juan charge with credit I'll have you made a Major." + +"Well," said Caspar, "I wouldn't say I went through that charge with +credit. I went through it all good enough, but the enlisted men around +went through in the same way." + +"But weren't you encouraging them and leading them on by your example?" + +Caspar smirked. He began to see a point. "Well, sir," he said with a +charming hesitation. "Aw--er--I--well, I dare say I was doing my share +of it." + +The perfect form of the reply delighted the father. He could not endure +blatancy; his admiration was to be won only by a bashful hero. Now he +beat his hand impulsively down upon the table. "That's what I wanted to +know. That's it exactly. I'll have you made a Major next week. You've +found your proper field at last. You stick to the Army, Caspar, and +I'll back you up. That's the thing. In a few years it will be a great +career. The United States is pretty sure to have an Army of about a +hundred and fifty thousand men. And starting in when you did and with +me to back you up--why, we'll make you a General in seven or eight +years. That's the ticket. You stay in the Army." The Senator's cheek +was flushed with enthusiasm, and he looked eagerly and confidently at +his son. + +But Caspar had pulled a long face. "The Army?" he said. "Stay in the +Army?" + +The Senator continued to outline quite rapturously his idea of the +future. "The Army, evidently, is just the place for you. You know as +well as I do that you have not been a howling success, exactly, in +anything else which you have tried. But now the Army just suits you. It +is the kind of career which especially suits you. Well, then, go in, +and go at it hard. Go in to win. Go at it." + +"But--" began Caspar. + +The Senator interrupted swiftly. "Oh, don't worry about that part of +it. I'll take care of all that. You won't get jailed in some Arizona +adobe for the rest of your natural life. There won't be much more of +that, anyhow; and besides, as I say, I'll look after all that end of +it. The chance is splendid. A young, healthy and intelligent man, with +the start you've already got, and with my backing, can do +anything--anything! There will be a lot of active service--oh, yes, I'm +sure of it--and everybody who----" + +"But," said Caspar, wan, desperate, heroic, "father, I don't care to +stay in the Army." + +The Senator lifted his eyes and darkened. "What?" he said. "What's +that?" He looked at Caspar. + +The son became tightened and wizened like an old miser trying to +withhold gold. He replied with a sort of idiot obstinacy, "I don't care +to stay in the Army." + +The Senator's jaw clinched down, and he was dangerous. But, after all, +there was something mournful somewhere. "Why, what do you mean?" he +asked gruffly. + +"Why, I couldn't get along, you know. The--the----" + +"The what?" demanded the father, suddenly uplifted with thunderous +anger. "The what?" + +Caspar's pain found a sort of outlet in mere irresponsible talk. "Well, +you know--the other men, you know. I couldn't get along with them, you +know. They're peculiar, somehow; odd; I didn't understand them, and +they didn't understand me. We--we didn't hitch, somehow. They're a +queer lot. They've got funny ideas. I don't know how to explain it +exactly, but--somehow--I don't like 'em. That's all there is to it. +They're good fellows enough, I know, but----" + +"Oh, well, Caspar," interrupted the Senator. Then he seemed to weigh a +great fact in his mind. "I guess----" He paused again in profound +consideration. "I guess----" He lit a small, brown cigar. "I guess you +are no damn good." + + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Wounds in the rain, by Stephen Crane + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 43706 *** |