When Santiago Fell: or, The War Adventures of Two Chums

“Oh, that would be different!” I burst out. “I would fight for our country every time.”

Alano laughed more loudly than ever. “That’s just it – you would fight for the United States just as we are now willing to fight for our beloved Cuba.”

I had to smile, for I saw that he was right. Cuba was as much to him as our United States was to me, and let me add that I am a Yankee lad to the backbone, and always hope to be.

Having passed the end of a large plantation, we came to several storehouses, which were wide-open and empty, and here we pitched our camp for the night.

“How close are we to the spot where my father was taken?” I asked of Alano’s father after supper.

“We have passed that locality,” was the answer, which surprised me not a little. “By to-morrow noon I hope to reach a village called Rodania, where I will be able probably to learn something definite concerning his whereabouts.”

This was certainly encouraging, and I went to bed with a lighter heart than I had had since leaving the old convent. Hope in a youthful breast is strong, and I could not but believe that so far all had gone well with my parent.

Fortunately, the storehouse in which I slept with Alano and Captain Guerez was a clean affair, so we were not troubled as we had been at Molino with vermin. We turned in at nine o’clock, and ten minutes sufficed to render me forgetful of all of my surroundings.

I awoke with a cough. I could not breathe very well, and sat up in the darkness to learn what was the matter. The wind had banged shut the storehouse door, and it was strangely hot within.

“I’ll open the door and let in some fresh air,” I said to myself, and arose from the bunch of straw upon which I had made my bed.

As I moved across the storehouse floor I heard several of the horses which were tethered outside let out snorts of alarm. Feeling something was surely wrong, I called to Alano and his father.

“What’s the trouble?” cried Captain Guerez and Alano in a breath.

“I don’t know, but the horses are alarmed,” I answered.

By this time all were aroused by a shout from Jorge, who had been left on guard. As we stepped into the open air, he came running up from a path leading into the immense sugar-cane field back of the storehouse.

“Fuego! fuego! [Fire! fire!]” he shouted at the top of his powerful lungs.

“Where?” demanded Alano’s father quickly.

“In the fields! A band of Spanish guerrillas just came up and set fire all around.”

“That cannot be, Jorge. This is the plantation of Señor Corozan, a stanch supporter of Spain. They would not burn his fields.”

“Then they are rebels like ourselves.”

This last remark proved true, although we did not learn the fact until some time later. It seemed Señor Corozan had left the plantation immediately after refusing the demands of a Cuban officer for food for his soldiers, and in consequence the rebel had dispatched a detachment to burn up everything in sight. It was a wanton destruction of property, but it could not very well be avoided, through the peculiar conditions under which the war was being carried on.

Just now, however, there was no time left to think of these matters. A stiff breeze was blowing, and looking over the sugar-cane fields we could see the fire leaping from place to place. Then, turning about, we made another discovery. The very storehouse in which we had been sleeping was on fire. The smoke from the smoldering straw was what had caused me to cough and wake up.

“To horse, everyone!” shouted Captain Guerez. “We had best get out of here, for there is no telling how far this fire extends, or how the wind may shift around!”

Everyone understood what he meant – that we were in danger of being caught in the midst of the conflagration; and everyone lost not an iota of time in loosening his animal and saddling him. In less than three minutes we were off, and riding down a narrow trail between the fields with all the speed at our animals' command.

As we passed along, the sky above us grew brighter, and we could hear the crackling of the cane in the distance. Then I felt a live ember drop upon my neck, which raised a small blister before I could brush it off.

“Jupiter! but this is getting hot!” I gasped, as I urged my horse on beside that of Alano. “I wonder if there is any danger of that fire catching us?”

“I don’t know, I’m sure,” he panted. “The only thing we can do is to ride for the hills, where the fire won’t have such a chance.”

On and on we went, now in a bunch and then again scattered into two or three groups. To gain the hills we had to cross a bit of a valley, and here our poor horses sunk into the mud half up to their knees.

Captain Guerez had been riding in the rear, but now he went ahead, to shout a word of guidance to the men in advance. Alano dashed on with his father, expecting me to follow. But my horse had become temporarily stuck, and ere he could extricate himself I had to dismount.

Once free again, I was on the point of leaping into the saddle as before, when a turn of the wind brought a shower of burning embers in a whirl over our very heads. I ducked and shook them off, letting go of my steed for that purpose.

It was a foolish movement, for the embers also struck the animal, who instantly gave a snort and a bound and ran off. I made a clutch at his tail as he passed, but missed it, and a second later I found myself utterly alone, with the fire of the sugar-cane fields hemming me in on all sides!

CHAPTER XXV.

ESCAPING THE FLAMES

My situation was truly an appalling one. Here I was, with the fierce fire from the sugar-cane fields swirling about me, my horse and companions gone, left utterly alone, with the horrifying thought that each moment must be my last.

As the horse disappeared in a cloud of eddying smoke, I attempted to rush after him, only to slip in the mire and roll over and over. When I scrambled up I was covered with mud from head to foot, and the live embers from the burning fields were coming down more thickly than ever.

But life is sweet to all of us, and even in that supreme moment of peril I made a desperate effort to save myself. Seeing a pool of water and mud just ahead of me, I leaped for it and threw myself down.

It was a bath far from sweet, yet at that time a most agreeable one. I allowed what there was of the water to cover my head and shoulders and saw to it that all of my clothing was thoroughly saturated. Then I arose again, and, pulling my coat collar up over my ears, leaped on in the direction taken by my companions.

The air was like that of a furnace, and soon the smoke became so thick I could scarcely see the trail. The wind was blowing the fire directly toward me, and to have stood that onslaught for long would have been utterly impossible.

But just as I felt that I must sink, and while I murmured a wild prayer for deliverance, the wind shifted and a cooling current of air reached me. This was wonderfully reviving, and, breathing deeply, I gathered courage and continued on my way.

Almost quarter of a mile was covered, and I had gained the base of the hills, when the wind shifted again, and once more the fire rushed onward and it became so hot I could not breathe except with difficulty.

“Mark! Mark! where are you?”

It was a most welcome cry, coming from Captain Guerez. In an instant more Alano’s father dashed up through the smoke.

“Captain Guerez!” I gasped, and ran up to his side. “Save me!”

“Where is your horse?” he asked, as he caught me up and assisted me to mount behind him.

“He ran away.”

No more was said. Turning his animal about, Captain Guerez dug his spurs deep into the horse’s flesh, and away we went up the hillside at a rate of speed which soon left the roaring and crackling sugar-cane fields far behind.

In fifteen minutes we had joined the others of the party, on a plateau covered with stunted grass and well out of reach of the fire. Here it was found that my runaway horse had quietly joined his fellows. I was tempted to give him a whipping for leaving me in the lurch, but desisted upon second thought, as it would have done no good and I knew the animal had only done what I was trying to do – save my life.

“That was a narrow escape for you, Mark!” cried Alano, as he came up with an anxious look on his face. “You ought to be more careful about your horse in the future.”

“You can be sure I will be, Alano,” I answered; and then turned to Captain Guerez and thanked him for what he had done for me.

It was hardly dawn; yet, as all had had a fair night’s rest, it was determined to proceed on our way and take a somewhat longer rest during the hot noon hour.

“This fire will necessitate a change in our course,” said Captain Guerez to me.