|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 26
There were several reasons why the _Speedy_ should stop at Key West.
One was that she might receive mail and despatches for the blockading
fleet. Another was to procure a bale of hay and some corn for
Se�orita, since, in their hurried departure from Tampa, these had been
forgotten, and thus far she had been fed on sea-biscuit. A third
reason was that Ridge might procure a saddle and bridle, besides a few
other necessary articles of outfit for his proposed trip.
He had already been furnished with his bogus despatches to Spanish
commanders, every word of which he had carefully read, to see that they
contained no compromising errors, and with a supply of money. Now he
provided himself with a repeating-rifle in a water-proof case, a
revolver, fifty rounds of ammunition for each, an India-rubber poncho,
a small quantity of quinine, a phial of powerful cholera mixture, a
stout sheath-knife, and a tin cup.
Within an hour the _Speedy_ was again off, running out of the south
channel, past the grim walls of old Fort Taylor, and a few miles
farther on passing Sand Key light, which rises from a bit of coral reef
barely lifted above the wash of a tranquil sea. At that time this was
the most southerly point of United States territory. In the deep water
just beyond Sand Key lay a great battle-ship, tugging sullenly at her
pondrous anchors, and looking like some vast sea monster, uncouth and
relentless.
From here it was eighty-five miles in a straight line to Havana, and
within five hours Ridge was thrilled by the sight of a cloud-like speck
that he knew marked the highlands of Cuba. Gradually the coast was
revealed, then came the low-trailing smoke of ships on blockade as they
patrolled wearily before the entrance to Havana Harbor, and after
awhile the outlined cathedral spires of the city itself. There lay the
wreck of the _Maine_, and there waited the Spanish army that
Captain-General Blanco had sworn should yield its last drop of blood in
resisting an invasion by the hated Yankees. There also the guns of
time-blackened Morro sullenly faced the floating fortresses that only
awaited a signal to engage them in deadly conflict.
Running close to Commodore Watson's flag-ship, the _San Francisco_, the
_Speedy_ broke the tedious monotony of blockade by delivering an
eagerly welcomed mail, with its wealth of news from the outside world.
Then the saucy craft was off again, headed to the eastward. Matanzas
and Cardenas, both under blockade, were passed during the night, and
while off the latter place Dick Comly told Ridge the story of his
classmate, Ensign Worth Bagley, who lost his life on board the
torpedo-boat _Winslow_, in Cardenas Bay, on May 11th, or less than one
month before, and who was the first American officer killed in the war.
"They only went in to find out who was there," began Comly, "the
_Wilmington_, _Hudson_, and _Winslow_. The last, being of least
draught, ran ahead, and got within range of some hidden batteries
before she discovered them. She was turning to go out when they opened
fire. In a minute the little ship was riddled by shot and shell. Her
commander was wounded, her steering-gear had gone wrong, her engines
were crippled, and she lay helpless. The _Hudson_ ran up to tow her
out of range, and poor old Bagley had just sung out for them to heave
him a line, as the situation was getting rather too warm for comfort,
when a bursting shell instantly killed him, together with four of the
crew. In spite of the hot fire, the _Hudson_ ran a line and brought
out what was left of the _Winslow_ and her company; but you'd better
believe the little craft was a mighty sad-looking wreck. Hello!
What's that?"
A string of colored signal-lights had flashed out for a moment directly
ahead of the _Speedy_, and then disappeared. The strangest thing about
them was that they had been shown just above the surface of the water,
instead of from a masthead, as would usually be the case on a war-ship.
The _Speedy_ had been slipping quietly along, showing her regular side
lights, which, as she was of low freeboard, must also have appeared
close to the water from a short distance, and might have been mistaken
for a signal. Now she quickly displayed the night-signal of the
American blockading fleet, as well as her own private number, but no
answer came to either. By the time the _Speedy's_ crew were at
quarters it was evident, from muffled sounds borne down the wind, that
the stranger was a steamer in full retreat.
"Give her a blank shot," ordered Captain Boldwood, and the words had
barely left his mouth before the forward six-pounder gun had roared out
its summons to halt; but the stranger paid no heed.
A solid shot, well elevated, had as little effect. By this time the
despatch-boat was rushing ahead at full speed in the direction the
unknown steamer was supposed to have taken. Suddenly her search-light,
sweeping the black waters with a broad arc of silver, disclosed a
shadowy bulk moving swiftly at right angles to the course they were
taking, and heading for a beacon blaze that had sprung up on the
starboard or in-shore hand.
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|