Elsie's Winter Trip

by Martha Finley

  CHAPTER XI.

  The "Dolphin" and her passengers and crew reached Porto Rico in safety,having made the voyage without detention or mishap. The yacht lay inthe harbor of San Juan for nearly a week, while its passengers madevarious little excursions here and there to points of interest uponthe island. Then the yacht made its circuit, keeping near enough tothe shore for a good view of the land, in which all were greatlyinterested--especially in those parts where there had been somefighting with the Spaniards in the late war.

  "Now, father, you are going to take us to Santiago next, are you not?"asked Lucilla, as they steamed away from the Porto Rican coast.

  "Yes," he replied, "I am satisfied that you all take a particularinterest in that place, feeling that you would like to see the sceneof the naval battle and perhaps to look from a distance upon some ofthe places where there was fighting on land."

  "It will be interesting," said little Elsie, "but, oh, how glad I amthat the fighting is all over!"

  "As I am," said her father; "but if it wasn't, I should not think oftaking my family and friends to the scene."

  "That was a big battle," said Ned. "I'm glad I'm going to see the placeof the fight; though I'd rather see Manila and its bay, because BrotherMax had a share in that fight. Uncle Harold, you came pretty nearhaving a share in the Santiago one, didn't you?"

  "I was near enough to be in sight of some of it," said Harold; "thoughnot so near as to some of the fighting on the land."

  "That must have been a very exciting time for you and your fellows,"remarked Mr. Lilburn.

  "It was, indeed; there was slaughter enough on land," said Harold; "andthough we were pretty confident that victory would perch upon ourbanners in the sea fight, we could not hope it would prove so nearlybloodless for our side."

  "The sea fight?"

  "Yes; that on the land was harder on our fellows, particularly becauseour unreasonable Congressmen had failed to furnish for them thesmokeless powder and Mauser bullets that gave so great an advantage tothe Spaniards."

  "Yes, indeed," said the Captain, "that absolute freedom from smoke madeit impossible to tell exactly whence came those stinging darts thatstruck men down, and the great penetrating power of the Mauser bulletmade them doubly deadly. They would cut through a palm-tree withoutlosing anything of their force, and, in several instances, two or moremen were struck down by one and the same missile."

  "It was very sad that that gallant young soldier, Captain Capron, waskilled by that first volley," remarked Violet.

  "Yes," said her mother, "I remember reading the account of his death,and that he came of a family of soldiers; that his father, engaged withhis battery before the Spanish lines, left it for a brief time and cameover to where the body of his son lay on the rank grass, and, lookingfor a moment on the still features, stooped and kissed the dead face,saying, 'Well done, boy, well done.' That was all, and he went back tothe battle."

  "Yes, mother," said Harold, in moved tones, "my heart aches yet when Ithink of that poor, bereaved but brave father. Ah, war is a dreadfulthing, even when undertaken from the good motive which influenced ourpeople, who felt so much sympathy for the poor, abused Cubans."

  "The Americans are, as a rule, kind-hearted folk," remarked Mr.Lilburn, "and I doubt if there are any troops in the world superior tothem in action; not even those of my own land."

  "No," said the Captain, "they were brave fellows and good fighters,having seen service in our Northwest and Southwest, on the prairies,among the mountains and on the Mexican frontier, so that war was no newthing to them, and they went about it calmly even in so unaccustomed aplace as a tropical forest."

  "Papa, that Captain Capron wasn't instantly killed by that Mauserbullet, was he?" asked Grace.

  "No; he was struck down early in the action and knew that his woundwas mortal, but he called to a man near him to give him the rifle thatlay by the side of a dead soldier; then, propped up against a tree,he fired at the enemy with it until his strength failed, when he fellforward to die."

  "What a brave fellow! It is dreadful to have such men killed," saidGrace, her voice trembling with emotion.

  "Another man, Private Heffener, also fought leaning against a treeuntil he bled to death," said Harold. "Then there was Trooper Rowland,a cowboy from New Mexico, who was shot through the lungs early in thatfight. He said nothing about it, but kept his place on the firing-linetill Roosevelt noticed the blood on his shirt and sent him to thehospital. He was soon back again and seeing him Colonel Roosevelt said,'I thought I sent you to the hospital.' 'Yes, sir; you did,' repliedRowland, 'but I didn't see that they could do much for me there, so Icame back.' He stayed there until the fight ended. Then he went againto the hospital. Upon examining him the doctors decided that he must besent back to the States, with which decision he was greatly disgusted.That night he got possession of his rifle and pack, slipped out of thehospital, made his way back to his command and stayed there."

  "Perhaps," said Grandma Elsie, "you have not all read Marshall'sexperiences then and there. It happens that I have just been re-readingan extract which has interested me greatly. Let me read it aloud thatyou may all have the benefit of it. It is a description of the scenein the field hospital where badly wounded men lay crowded togetherawaiting their turns under the surgeon's knife. Shall I read it?"

  There was a universal note of assent from her hearers, and she began.

  "There is one incident of the day which shines out in my memoryabove all others now, as I lie in a New York hospital, writing.It occurred at the field hospital. About a dozen of us were lyingthere. A continual chorus of moans rose through the tree-branchesoverhead. The surgeons, with hands and bared arms dripping, and clothesliterally saturated, with blood, were straining every nerve to preparethe wounded for the journey down to Siboney. Behind me lay CaptainMcClintock, with his lower leg-bones literally ground to powder. Hebore his pain as gallantly as he had led his men, and that is sayingmuch. I think Major Brodie was also there. It was a doleful group.Amputation and death stared its members in their gloomy faces.

  "Suddenly, a voice started softly:

  'My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty, Of thee I sing.'

  "Other voices took it up:

  'Land where my fathers died, Land of the Pilgrims' pride----'

  "The quivering, quavering chorus, punctuated by groans and madespasmodic by pain, trembled up from that little group of woundedAmericans in the midst of the Cuban solitude--the pluckiest, mostheartfelt song that human beings ever sang. There was one voice thatdid not quite keep up with the others. It was so weak that I did nothear it until all the rest had finished with the line:

  'Let Freedom ring.'

  "Then, halting, struggling, faint, it repeated slowly:

  'Land--of--the--Pilgrims'--pride, Let Freedom----'

  "The last word was a woeful cry. One more son had died as died thefathers."

  There was a moment's pause when Grandma Elsie had finished reading, andthere were tears in the eyes of many of her hearers.

  It was Harold who broke the silence.

  "That battle of Guasimas was a complete victory for our forces, butdearly paid for," he said; "of the nine hundred and sixty-four menengaged, sixteen were killed and fifty-two wounded; thirty-four of thewounded and eight of the killed were Rough Riders."

  "And a scarcity of doctors seems to have caused great suffering to ourwounded men," Grandma Elsie said, with a sigh.

  "Yes; there were too few of us," said Harold, "and, through somebody'sblundering, needed supplies were also scarce. I think our men werewonderfully patient, and it is hard to forgive those whose carelessnessand inefficiency caused them so much unnecessary suffering."

  "Yes, it is," said his mother; "war is a dreadful thing. How thepeople of beleaguered Santiago suffered during the siege, andespecially when they were sent out of it that they might escape thebombardment. Think of eighteen to twenty thousand having to take refugein that little town, El Cane
y, foul with the effluvium from unburiedmules and horses, and even human victims of the battle; houses socrowded that they could not even lie down on the floors, but had topass their nights sitting on them; and food so scarce that one smallbiscuit sold for two dollars, and seven dollars was refused for achicken."

  "It was dreadful, dreadful indeed!" said Mrs. Lilburn.

  "Yet not so bad as it would have been to let Spain continue heroutrageous cruelty to the poor Cubans," said Evelyn.

  "No," said Lucilla, "I should be sorry, indeed, to have to render upthe account that Weyler and the rest of them will in the Judgment Day."

  "I think he is worse than a savage," sighed Mrs. Lilburn. "I shouldthink if he had any heart or conscience he would never be able to enjoya morsel of food for thinking of the multitude of poor creatures--men,women and children--he has starved to death."