THEIR terrible plight spurred them on to renewed efforts to break down the heavy door. The iron bolts were bent under their frenzied onslaughts, and the stifling smoke became thicker.
The ominous sounds of bursting shell grew louder and more frequent.
“They are shelling this very building,” exclaimed O’Neil, as he gathered himself for a spring at the resisting oak.
The two lads were almost in a panic. The situation seemed indeed hopeless. The crackling of the approaching fire was very near; so close that the air of the cell was becoming too hot to breathe.
Then an explosion, that seemed to the anxious prisoners as if the building itself had been destroyed, sent them reeling to the farthest limits of their narrow prison. They clutched the hot wall for support. The mingled smoke of powder and burning wood was so thick that they could see but a few feet. Phil felt a sharp pain and glanced down with horror to see blood flowing down his leg. He knew he had been wounded; he did not know how seriously.
He peered through the thick smoke for his companions. Sydney was near him, his clothes torn, showing the effects of the explosion. O’Neil was not visible. Phil groped through the suffocating smoke toward the door. He heard a crash of splintered wood accompanied by a glad cry from the sailor, and then the cell was lit up by a red glow of fire through the hole made by the boatswain’s mate in the oaken door. O’Neil stood, peering through the breach; the explosion of the shell had started, and he had, with his powerful hands, enlarged it. His glance was calm, but the sight, to Phil, was calculated to unnerve the stoutest heart. The hall outside was a veritable furnace, and it was their only road to safety. They were surely lost. How could they pass through this scorching heat alive?
“Come, it’s our only chance,” cried O’Neil. “It’s sure death here. The building may fall at any minute.”
THE THREE PRISONERS RUSHED
THROUGH THE FLAMES
Singly the Americans crawled from the comparative cool of their cell to the hall, through the breach in the door. The door of the building had been left open by the retreating guards, and showed white through the red glare of the flames.
Hand in hand the three prisoners rushed through the scorching flames. The red tongues reached out on all sides toward their retreating forms.
A second afterward they were all buried in sand up to their necks in order to quench the smouldering fire in their clothes.
“I thought our numbers were made[1] that time,” exclaimed O’Neil when they had succeeded in extinguishing the flames. “It was that shell what done the business. I’d like to see the man who fired it. I’d give him my month’s pay. The shell exploded just on the outside of the door and splintered it so that I could get my hands on the pieces. But come, this is none too safe, we must get to the seashore.”
With shells exploding over their heads they ran pell-mell through the deserted town to the beach.
As a view of the sea flashed before the lads, they cried out in excitement.
The dark hull of a war vessel steamed a quarter of a mile off shore. They saw the bright flashes from her gun ports followed by a harsh screech of shell and then a crash and explosion which seemed to be at their very feet.
O’Neil looked about him.
“We must get to that fish trap,” he cried, pointing to a cluster of bamboo piles driven under the water, their ends appearing above the surface. “We’ll be safe there until we can signal the dago war-ship; do you see the flag of the republic flying from her trucks?”
Wading and swimming the Americans made their way to the fish trap. It was just at the end of the coral reef, and when the vessel had finished the bombardment they would surely be seen and rescued.
From the hills back of the town came a report of cannon and a shell struck the water near the cruiser.
“Our friend the artillery lieutenant,” exclaimed Phil, as the brown vapor from the exploded shrapnel appeared again in the air above the cruiser. “He knows her range too. She is turning. I wonder if they have seen us.”
“They’ll see us in a minute,” answered O’Neil grimly, as he stripped himself of his white undershirt and drew from the sand a long bamboo pole. “But our artillery friends ashore may see us also.”
“If they do, we must swim for it,” said O’Neil calmly, tying his shirt on to the pole and raising the conspicuous flag above his head.
“They see us; I mean the cruiser,” cried Sydney joyfully; “she is heading toward us.”
The cruiser had turned in shore; her battery was now silent, but the spiteful piece of artillery ashore sent its bursting shrapnel ever nearer the approaching vessel.
“Get under the water, quick,” cried O’Neil, grasping the lads and drawing them down with him.
Through the water the noise of an explosion above them came muffled to their ears. When they rose to the surface, the agitated water about them told the story only too plainly. O’Neil’s fears had been realized. The enemy had also seen them.
It was fortunate for our friends that they were all good swimmers. They must leave the protection of their bamboo piling and swim toward the approaching man-of-war. With but their heads above water they would afford but a small target for their friend the lieutenant of artillery, but if he was fortunate with his aim once it would be all over with the Americans.
Leaving their insecure resting place they swam slowly out toward the cruiser, which had now stopped and seemed to be awaiting them.
The cool freshness of the water put new strength into the swimmers. O’Neil swam on his back, his eyes turned toward the shore. As soon as the red flash appeared he commanded his companions to duck, and thus escaping the shower of bursting shrapnel, they reached the side of the cruiser in safety.
Willing hands helped them aboard and up the gangway of the war-ship, which now steamed away, hurling a parting broadside into the deserted and burning town.
The Americans indeed presented a sorry spectacle; with clothes torn nearly off their bodies, smoke-begrimed, and burned painfully in many places; but their new found friends on board received them with great courtesy and cheerfully supplied all their needs.
In but a short time their wounds and burns, which were found to be only slight, were carefully attended to by the ship’s surgeon, and they appeared on deck with the only clothes available, those of the government officers.
Captain Garcia, the commanding officer of the cruiser, insisted that the lads should live with him in his cabin, and O’Neil was to be given a place among the officers themselves.
After the experiences of the last few hours all three were exhausted, and the captain, with tactful generosity, refrained from asking their story until the rescued men could be refreshed with a bath, clean clothes and a bountiful dinner.
Phil and Sydney lay back in the commodious cabin of the war-ship and, in spite of their eagerness to hear the latest news from La Boca, fell into a profound sleep.
It was not until late in the afternoon that the lads were awakened by Captain Garcia.
“I hope you are feeling refreshed,” he inquired kindly. “I am delighted to have you with us for a few days until I can take you back to your own ship.”
“For a few days,” Phil exclaimed in astonishment; “aren’t you going back now to La Boca?”
“I am sorry if I seem to carry you away against your wishes,” he replied courteously, “but I am sailing under very imperative orders from my president to seek the rebel cruisers at Rio Grande. It was but by accident that I went into Mariel. I saw a great many soldiers of the enemy drawn up there and took the opportunity to worry them, and at the same time give my gunners an opportunity to test our new guns.” He stopped and inquired, “But tell me how you and your two companions came to be there; was I the means of liberating you? I have not heard as yet your experiences.”
Phil had forgotten that the captain had received but little information as to the reasons why they were at the fish trap, from which they had swum to safety. He at once told their story: of their capture, the trial and the verdict, and then of the escape.
“We owe our lives to you, Captain Garcia,” he added gratefully. “If your shell had not exploded in front of the door of our prison, we should have been burned alive, and if you had not stopped to bombard Mariel we would still be there looking forward to being shot to-morrow morning.”
“I am indeed thankful that I have been able to serve those who prevented the cargo of machine guns from falling into the hands of our enemy,” the captain answered smilingly.
“How do you know we did that?” cried Phil in surprise.
“The story has reached our president,” Captain Garcia responded, “and he is very grateful to the Americans. Now,” he added, “our launches are watching every exit by water, so General Ruiz finds himself effectively cut off from his base of supplies.”
Phil remembered the machine guns were not in the legation and quickly his thoughts turned to his uncompleted mission. The pulsations of the engines showed the vessel was steaming away rapidly from those who should have his report at the earliest moment.
“Could you not take us back to La Boca?” he asked anxiously. “I have secret information which must be received immediately by my captain on board the ‘Connecticut.’”
“That is impossible,” replied Captain Garcia; “we are over a hundred miles from La Boca, but if you will trust the message to me I can send it safely by wireless telegraph.”
Phil’s face lit up with pleasure.
“I shall get the message ready at once,” he answered much relieved. “You will pardon me if I send it in cipher?” he asked; “I should not like to divulge its import to even our rescuer.”
Phil and Sydney put the message, that the former framed, in the cipher code of the United States. Our lads fortunately had been given the key word by Captain Taylor before they started on their perilous mission. Without this secret word the message could not be read by outsiders, so although the boys knew that all the foreign ships in port would read this message to the “Connecticut,” none but Captain Taylor could find it intelligible; to the others it would be a meaningless confusion of unpronounceable words. The message told the captain of the battle-ship that the machine guns were no longer in the legation but concealed in the city of La Boca, and that the insurgent army were strong and well equipped with modern rifles and artillery; that they alone lacked machine guns, of which their race stood in great dread; that the cruiser “Aquadores” was on its way to Rio Grande to fight the enemy’s men-of-war, and that they were on board and well.
“I think that will be sufficient, don’t you?” Phil asked Sydney, after they had laboriously put the long message in the cipher code.
“Yes,” Sydney replied, “unless you wish to put the captain on his guard against a traitor in the legation.”
“The time is not ripe for that yet,” Phil answered promptly; “we must wait until the evidence against him is overwhelming. Remember Captain Taylor has a high opinion of Lazar and if we attempted to poison his ear against him, he might, even though he likes us, believe that we had formed a combination against the ensign.”
“Have your own way,” responded Sydney, impatiently, “but I fear by the time we return to the ‘Connecticut’ all the damage that he is capable of doing will be done.”
“What can he do more, Syd?” Phil exclaimed. “If he has given up the guns he must stop there, for there is nothing more that he can do that will injure the United States.”
The message completed they took it to Captain Garcia.
“Come to the wireless room with me,” requested the captain, “and we shall see it started on its long journey.”
Phil was delighted at the opportunity. He had always been interested in this wonderful method of telegraphy, but had not been able to make as complete a study of it as he would have desired, owing to his time being too thoroughly occupied since his reporting for duty in the Atlantic fleet.
Sydney also was included in the invitation, and the two lads followed Captain Garcia to the little compartment in which the delicate instruments were installed.
The operator, a bright-faced foreigner, stood up civilly as the three entered, and took the message held out to him by Captain Garcia.
“Send this to the American battle-ship,” he ordered. “We shall remain here to see you manipulate your instruments.”
The wireless man smiled proudly as he put his hand carelessly on his sending key.
“What is her call letter?” he asked politely, turning to Phil.
“A-D,” the lad replied promptly.
The switch was closed and the whirring of the mercurial motor showed the expert that all was ready to commence.
The man closed his key and on releasing it a bright spark jumped across the spark gap, charging the storage jars with electrical fluid of a high tension. The lads understood that this had electrified the aerial wire leading to the main truck of the cruiser and a wave of electricity had been started on its journey through space. Again and again in long and short makes and breaks the key was pressed down upon its platinum contact. A-D in dots and dashes was sent up to the long wire. After a minute the key was held at rest and another switch was thrown in, connecting this same wire to the receiving instruments. All held their breath in expectancy while the operator placed his telephone receiver to his ear. Phil watched the man’s face anxiously. He saw on it a look of satisfaction. Then he saw him again close his key, press it down twice in acknowledgment, then glance at the paper before him.
A hundred miles away the aerial wire of the “Connecticut” was set in electrical vibration. The American operator below the armored deck heard an even but indistinct buzz in his telephone receiver. He listened intently. It was surely his own call. Who could be signaling him. He must be sure, for he did not wish to interfere with the messages among the foreign war-ships. No, it was distinct enough. A-D, A-D, unceasingly. He waited until the noise ceased, then quickly he sent out his acknowledgment, turning the rheostat handle for high tension, for he knew the sender of this mysterious call was at a long distance.
“I have her, señor captain,” the operator of the “Aquadores” reported in a businesslike voice as he proceeded to send the cipher message before him.
Phil breathed easier after the last acknowledgment had been received from the “Connecticut.” The captain in but a few minutes would know the situation as well as if they themselves had told him in person.
“Now that this is off our minds,” exclaimed Phil, as he and Sydney walked up and down outside the captain’s cabin, “I believe it our duty to discover how strong this ship is for fighting two of her enemy’s vessels. I am delighted to be here, but at the same time I don’t care about getting killed, or what might be worse, captured. If our friend Ruiz gets us in his power again, it will be all up with us.”
“What do you propose to do?” asked Sydney excitedly. “I wish we could fight her for them.”
“No, that we couldn’t do; but we are surely justified in instructing them before the battle, and during the battle too, for we can satisfy our conscience by the plea of self-defense,” answered Phil, regarding closely a six-inch gun near him. “Look at their guns; they are the very latest pattern and have two telescope sights each. These men in but a short time could be trained to use those guns in a way that will insure a victory.”
“In training these men to fight a successful battle,” Sydney returned, thoroughly interested, “we shall also help the government to keep in control of the country. Do you know for what reason we were sent to the insurgent camp?”
“To find out their strength, of course,” answered Phil promptly.
“Yes, but why did our government wish this information? The reason has just occurred to me. Some of the foreign governments wish to give the insurgents the power of belligerents. This the United States does not desire, for it will give them an opportunity to blockade La Boca with their navy and thus ruin our shipping with that port. Our merchant vessels, and also those of foreigners, may be seized at the will of these outlaws, and this situation would be disastrous. La Fitte and Company have a powerful backing in two countries of Europe.”
“Syd, I believe you have hit the nail on the head. Why couldn’t I have thought of that?” exclaimed the lad, proud of his companion’s sagacity.
“Then, there’s all the more reason,” Phil added, “why we should do our utmost to see that these insurgent war vessels never have an opportunity to blockade La Boca.”
“That’s exactly it,” answered Sydney promptly, “and as we are due in Rio Grande in two days more we should start right in now.”
O’Neil was sent for and told of our lads’ plans. The boatswain’s mate was greatly delighted.
“Give me two days, sir,” he cried excitedly, “and they’ll make a hundred per cent. of hits on the insurgent hulks.”
The three Americans walked down to the battery deck. The crew were at quarters. Each division was going through the drill at their guns in a perfunctory manner.
“Look at ’em,” scoffed O’Neil, “like a gang of Italian roustabouts on a New York dock.”
“After this drill is over, O’Neil,” Phil confided, “you get a group around you and try to interest them; then get them at the gun and explain how it should be done. You must poke fun at them in order to catch their interest. Then we shall see that Captain Garcia sees you. That ought to open his eyes and make him want to see more. Do you see?”
“That I do,” exclaimed the sailor, “and you have hit the character of these dagos as if you’d always lived among ’em.”
Phil and Sydney strolled quietly up the ladder and entered the captain’s cabin.
Captain Garcia was quite willing to be drawn into conversation, and our lads diplomatically led the topic up to the possibilities in the coming engagement.
“As you have been so frank with me,” answered the captain, in reply to an inquiry from Phil, “I shall tell you what is my greatest anxiety.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “The navy to a man were in sympathy with the rebels, and as soon as General Ruiz began to collect his army and threaten the capital, our two war vessels, the ‘Soledad’ and ‘Barcelo,’ with a torpedo-boat, sailed from La Boca for Rio Grande, where they won the sympathy of the citizens and set up the capital of the rebellion. My men are wavering in their allegiance to our cause, and if they should mutiny and take the ship, turning it over to the rebels, our cause would be lost.” He stopped speaking and glanced seriously at his eager listeners. “My life would of course be sacrificed. I should either be shot by the mutineers or else executed by our enemy.”
This was indeed a startling announcement for our lads. A mutiny on board the “Aquadores” might be as serious to them as it would be for her captain.
“The ‘Aquadores,’” the captain continued in the same low tone, “is a powerful ship. She was built in your country for our government, and when this war broke out, a power held her at the dockyard, although I had my crew on board and was ready to sail; it was the government of the United States. I could not set sail until your country was satisfied of my honest intentions. She is more than a match for the ships of our enemy, but our men are poorly trained, our officers are half-hearted and incompetent, mere adventurers. They would willingly fight against their country if they believed it would be to their personal advantage.”
The two boys felt a deep sympathy for Captain Garcia. They saw in him a man of a thousand, differing materially from the majority of his race. Honorable, brave and loyal, he was ready to die for his cause. Believing he was sailing toward his death, they had known him for over twenty-four hours and had not, until this minute, heard one word of complaint.
The sound of many people talking loudly, with excited cries and exclamations, struck upon their ears.
The captain’s grave face turned a shade paler.
“What is that?” he cried.
Phil knew immediately that O’Neil’s strategy was bearing fruit.
“Let’s see,” he proposed, advancing to the hatchway.
They descended the ladder and stood in astonishment at the sight presented.
O’Neil had indeed succeeded. He had placed a crew at one of the six-inch guns and was making the men go through the drill in American style. The native sailors were laughing with excitement. They were as happy as if they were playing at some athletic game.
Phil glanced anxiously at Captain Garcia. The latter’s face had dropped its careworn expression. His eyes brightened.
“Ah, if I had a crew like that man,” he sighed.
Phil was silent. The time had not arrived to offer the aid of himself and his two friends. He knew the pride of the race to which the captain belonged. He knew by his face that he was a pure-blooded Castilian.
Some hours later in the cabin the expected question that Phil had waited for was asked.
“Mr. Perry, will you and your friends teach my men to use our guns?”
Phil readily agreed.
“That removes a great burden from my mind,” exclaimed Captain Garcia gratefully. “When will you begin?”
“Now, at once,” answered Phil promptly. “I must be given authority to order the men about, and to do this I desire to be given the temporary rank and wear the uniform of your first lieutenant. My friend, Mr. Monroe, must have the rank of lieutenant, and O’Neil an ensign. In this way only can we control our pupils.”
The captain was in high glee. He fell in immediately with the spirit of the undertaking.
Donning the uniforms, which fortunately were in store on board, the Americans set to work to carry out the scheme outlined by Phil.
The battery was divided into two divisions, one of which was to be commanded by each of his companions with the native officer as assistant. Phil himself was to be near the captain and was also to control the fire of the broadsides.
The next night our friends had reason to congratulate themselves upon their wonderful progress. The crew were imbued with a lively interest and fell to with a will to perfect themselves.
“My country can never repay its debt to you, señors,” the captain exclaimed to the lads after they had returned from their last drill. The enemy would be encountered the next morning, if their commanding officers had the courage to fight. “I do not now fear the outcome. My greatest fear has been swept away; it was that if the shells of our enemy were to hit us too frequently our men might become demoralized and in spite of me haul down our flag. There can be no danger of that now.”
The next morning all hands were called before dawn and preparations were made for the coming battle. The lads were consumed with excitement as they moved among the willing sailors. The rapid shooting with which Phil hoped to overwhelm their two antagonists was provided for by placing at the guns a quantity of reserve ammunition. O’Neil went among the men joking with them and telling them what was expected of them. Their Latin blood was aroused to the highest pitch of excitement.
“Do you see these guns?” he cried, changing his voice to a harsh tone, pointing to two revolvers in his belt. “I have twelve dead men here. The first dozen men who show cowardice are as good as dead right now.”
By sunrise the low land of the Bay of Rio Grande was in sight. The red-roofed town, nestling against the side of the dark green of the forest, reflected the slanting rays of light.
The “Aquadores” steamed boldly toward the forts at the entrance.
Phil felt confident that Sydney and O’Neil would give a good account of themselves in the battle, the outcome of which meant so much to the Americans.
As he took his station on the high bridge near the captain, the fire control instruments in his hands, his pulses throbbed with an excitement, the height of which he had never known before. Was this the feeling men had on the eve of their first battle?
The cruiser drew nearer to the defending forts. The range finder showed five thousand yards was their distance from the cruiser.
Suddenly a brown puff of smoke belched from one of the forts, and the screech of a huge shell sounded ominously.