Chapter one of A Prisoner of Morrow. This is a LibriVox recording. All
LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer,
please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by Tom Weiss. A Prisoner of Morrow
or in the Hands of the Enemy by Upton Sinclair, Chapter one, sighting
a Prize. About noon of a day in May during the recent year,
the converted tug Unkahs left Key West to join the blockading squadron off the northern
coast of Cuba. Her commander was Lieutenant Raymond and her junior officer naval Cadet
Clifford Faraday. The regular junior officer was absent on sick lead, and Cadet
Faraday had been assigned to his place in recognition of gallant conduct. The ropes
were cast off, and slowly the tug glided away from the dock and out
toward the open sea. It was not very long before the harbor of Key
West was left behind, and then began the long trip to Havana. It
was over a hundred miles and that meant seven or eight hours journey for the
Unkah's, But the Unca's was a good stout vessel unusually swift for a tug,
and she made the water fairly fly. When once she got clear of
the land, Cliff leaned against one of the rapid firing guns in the bow
and gazed longingly ahead. He was anxious to reach his destination. There were
wild rumors concerning Spanish fleets, Cadize squadrons, and Cape Verde's squadrons, and
Mediterranean squadrons, which were continually being sighted or heard of near by. And
for all Cliff knew the decisive battle of the war might be fought at any
time, and he felt that if it took place while he was absent,
he would never cease to regret it as long as he lived. The Uncas
could not do much such a battle, but she was anxious to do her
share. It was possible also that Morrow might succeed in provoking an attack.
The guns of the Havanad defenses kept blazing away at anything that came near,
and the American sailors were fairly boiling over with impatience to get a whack at
them, and at any time Admiral Sampson might give the word. So Cliff
was restless and impatient as he stood in the bow of the swift tug and
gazed southward. It was a rather damp place of observation the cadet had chosen,
for it had been blowing quite a gale that day, and the Uncas
was plowing her way through a heavy sea. The spray was flying over the
decks. But who would have thought of going below at such a time as
that? It was not Cliff's turn on duty. Lieutenant Raymond seemed to think
that after his struggle on board the Spanish Monitor, the young cadet deserved the
rest, but he was too eager and wide awake just then to wish to
take it. When the tug was well underway, the Lieutenant came out of
the pilot house and joined Cliff again, thinking of the whether mister Faraday,
inquired Lieutenant Raymond, No, sir, replied the Cadet. I was thinking
of Ignazio. I don't know how he happened to get into my thoughts,
but he did. Who was Ignazio? He's a Spaniard. I've had some
trouble with, answered Cliff. You may have heard about one of his exploits,
which one is that he made an attempt to assassinate rear Admiral Sampson.
Oh yes, I heard about that, said the officer. The Admiral told
me about it himself. I believe you were the person who interfered. I
had the good luck to be standing near, said Cliff modestly, And of
course I sprang between them, and the spy stabbed you, yes, in
the shoulder. But he did not hurt me very much. He must be
a desperate man he is. That's stabbing business seemed to be a favorite trick
of his. I hope I shen't have to face him again. Whether Ignacio
was a Spaniard or a trader Cuban, no one could say. Cliff had
first met him trying to lead astray an American officer who had been sent with
dispatches for Gomez, and Cliff had foiled the plot and had been Ignacio's deadly
enemy ever since. Cliff had been keeping a careful watch for him. He
knew that the vindictive fellow would follow his every move. Ignacio was acting as
a spy for the Spaniards, and so must have found it easy to keep
track of the cadets whereabouts, But so far Cliff had not met him.
We are likely to have a wild night of it, said Lieutenant Raymond.
The clouds seemed to get darker every minute. It'll be a night for the
blockade runners, was Cliff's answer. We may have some excitement. We'll have
it anyway, said the other. I don't know of anything I less rather
do than whether a storm while in among the vessels the fleet, it will
be necessary to stay on deck every instant of the time, keeping watch for
our very lives. I know how it is, the cadet added, I
was on the porter dining room one such night, and we captured a prize
coming out of Havana after almost running her down in the darkness. I heard
about it, said Lieutenant Raymond. You may repeat the performance tonight if you
have a chance. We aren't likely to meet with anything till we get there.
As the lieutenant said that, he turned and gazed ahead. The broad
Sea stretched out on every side of them, without a sign of smoke or
sail to vary the monotony of its tossing ways. But it always lends zest
to a trip like this. The officer at it to know that it's possible
you may run across a stray spaniard at any moment. It pays to keep
one's eyes open, and then you have the pleasure of chasing two or three
and finding there's some other nation's ship, said Cliff with a laugh. That's
about all we've done so far, said the lieutenant, But we're still hoping
perhaps you'll bring us good luck. I'll do my best, the cadet declared,
with a smile. Better get ready for it by resting a bit your
dinners below. Cliff took the hint and went below. The boat was pitching
so violently that he found eating a very difficult operation, and it was generally
so unpleasant in the little cabin that he was glad to go on deck again.
And then later in the afternoon, at four o'clock it came time for
him to go on duty. After that he had to remain outside, whether
he wanted to or not. The gale grew considerably stronger, and as the
darkness came on it got much chillier, but Cliff still paced up and down
the deck with a glass in his hand, watching for a sign of a
passing vessel or of the approaching Cuban coast. He was left almost alone on
deck as the weather got rougher for the crew made themselves comfort, now,
knowing what hard work lay before them through the stormy night. It was not
the custom on the vessel to keep the whole watch on duty except at night,
and Cliff had only the two sailors at the wheel and the lookout in
the bow for company. But if he felt any jealousy of those who were
below out of the cold, he had the grim satisfaction of being able to
disturb their comfort. Before very long. It was about half past four in
the afternoon, and suddenly the lookout turned and called the cliff. The eager
cadet knew what it meant. He seized the glass and hurried forward. He
followed the direction of the man's finger. I think I see smoke, sir,
was what the sailor said, and Cliff took a long look and then
turned his face, betraying his excitement. An instant later his voice rang through
the ship steamer ahoy off the starboard vow. End of chapter one recording by
Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter two of A Prisoner of Morrow by
Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom
Ways Chapter two, A long chase there was excitement on board of the Uncas
the instant Cliff's cry was heard, the sailors came tumbling up on deck,
Lieutenant Raymond among the first. He took to the last eagerly from the Lad's
hand, and anxiously studied the sky in the direction indicated. It's too far
west to be near Havannah, he exclaimed, and he stepped into the pilot
house to direct the vessel in a new direction. At the same time,
the smoke began to pour from the funnel, showing that those down in the
engine room had heard Cliff's hail, and so in a few moments the Uncas
was speeding away in the direction of the Stranger. And after that there was
a long, weary wait while the two vessels gradually drew nearer. All that
could be made out then was the long line of smoke, which always indicates
a distant steamer, but it took a sharp eye to make even that out.
This will be a long chase, said the lieutenant. If she takes
it into her head to run, we'll have a hard time to catch up
to her. Before dark, Cliff glanced significantly at the bow gun. If
we can only get within range, he thought to himself, we won't have
to wait to catch up to her. The lieutenant was standing by the pilot
house with the glass in his hand, and every once in a while he
would make an attempt to catch sight of the stranger's smoke stack. It may
be one of our own warships, he said, and if it is,
we don't want to waste any coal chasing her. But such was not the
case, and it was only half an hour or so before the lieutenant found
it out. The Uncas rose as a high wave swept by, and the
officer, who had the glass to his eye, gave an eager exclamation.
She's got one funnel, he exclaimed, and it's black with a red top,
and so it's not an American warship. And after that there was nothing
now to be done except wait until the two approached nearer. It was evident
from the gradual change of course the Uncas was obliged to make that the vessel
she was following was headed in a southerly direction that would take her toward the
western end of Cuba. Cliff thought to himself, perhaps she sighted us and
is running away. She must have been a very shy vessel to have taken
alarm at so great a distance, but from the slowness with which she came
into view, that seemed to be the case, and Cliff paced the deck
impatiently. It was not very much longer before he went off duty again,
but he did not go below. For perhaps an hour. He remained on
deck watching the strange vessel. It seemed an age, but Cliff had his
reward. The chase loomed gradually nearer the black and red smoke pipe came into
view, and then when the uncas rose, the top of the black hall
as well. And suddenly the lieutenant handed the glass to Cliff. You may
see now, he said, she is a merchant steamer, and she flies
the Spanish flag. Cliff nearly dropped the glass at those startling words. The
lieutenant said them as calmly as if he were telling the time of day.
You don't seem very much excited, the cadet thought, And yet the lieutenant's
statement proved to be true. It was several minutes before Cliff got a favorable
view, but he kept his eyes fixed on the smoke, and he finally
caught a glimpse of the hall, and sure enough there was the hated red
and yellow ensign, waving defiantly from the stern. It was blown off to
one side by the breeze and could be plainly seen. Cliff was fairly boiling
over with excitement at that discovery. We've got our prize, he chuckled,
I brought the luck, after all. Lieutenant Raymond was not nearly so little
moved, as he chose to pretend he had announced his discovery in that careless
way, half in a spirit of fun. The news got round among the
crew, and however the officer may have felt, there was no indifference there.
The engines of the Uncas began to work even more rapidly, and cartridges
were hastily brought up for the rapid firing guns. Nobody meant to let that
steamer get away. She must have suspected her danger by that time, for
the smoke grew blacker. But the crew of the Uncas knew that there were
few merchant ships could beat that tug, and they rubbed their hands gleefully.
There is something very aggravating about a race like that. In a rowing race,
you may break your back if you choose trying to catch the boat in
front, and even in a sailing race. You may do something, but
when it comes to steam, you can only grit your teeth and walk up
and down and watch, and try not to let anybody see how anxious you
are. In that way, half an hour passed, and mile after mile
of the storm tossed waters. By that time the hall of the vessel was
plainly visible on the horizon, and the Spanish flag was still waving from her
stern. Cliff had been gazing every once in a while at the lieutenant with
an inquiring look upon his face, but the officer had only shaken his head.
Not yet, he said, wait a little, and Cliff would then
take another stroll across the deck. But at last his inquiring look brought another
answer. Go ahead, said the lieutenant, and the cadet made a leap
at the gun. It was already loaded, and he sighted it himself.
He was no longer nervous and hurried. It was at least a minute before
he rose, and then at his signal, the sailor pulled the firing trigger.
There was a flash and a loud report, and everyone looked anxiously to
see the effect. Lieutenant Raymond, who had the glass, was the only
one who could tell, for the sea was so wild that the slight splash
could not be noticed. The shot, of course, fell short, for
the vessel was still out of range, but it hit right in line,
and the officer nodded approvingly. Now we'll wait, he said. She may
give up, but she didn't. So far as those on the uncas could
tell. The shot had no effect whatever. The vessel kept straight on in
her course. She's counting on the darkness coming, said the lieutenant. But
that was not the only reason why the Spaniard did not give up. Those
upon the uncas discovered another shortly afterward, the Cuban coast, exclaimed the officer.
Yes, the long, faint line of the shore was at last visible,
just on the horizon's edge. It lay to the southward, directly ahead.
What good will that do her, asked Clift. If she finds she
can't get away, answered the other, she may make a run for one
of the ports, or try to get under the shelter of the batteries.
For a while. After that, nothing more was said, and the tug
plowed its way through the tossing water. When the lieutenant spoke again, it
was to point to the gun. Try it again, he said, and
Cliff did try it. The two ships were then not over three or four
miles apart, and when the cadet fired again, he heard the lieutenant give
a pleased exclamation. There within range, and then Cliff got to work with
all his might. Had he had a calm sea, he could have raked
that vessel without missing a shot. He had only to experiment and get the
aim just right, and then leave the gun to stay in that one position
while he blazed away. But the Uncas, in climbing over the ways,
was now up and now down, so that sometimes the shots fell short and
sometimes they went high, But every once in a while he had the satisfaction
of hearing that he had had landed one. After that, the chase was
a lively one, for the Uncas kept blazing away merrily. The people on
board that fleeing vessel must have had a very large time of it that afternoon.
It was just what Cliff Faraday light. He was beginning to be quite
an expert in target practice, and he was willing to experiment with that ship
just as long as the ammunition held out. But his opportunity did not last
very long, for the land in front was neared very rapidly, and after
that there was less fun and more work. The stranger headed round gradually to
the west. She evidently had no idea of being driven toward Havana. The
uncas swerved more sharply in order to head her off. Lieutenant Raymond was in
the pilot house, and Cliff soon saw by the way he managed things that
he was an expert in all the tricks of dodging, and those who were
handling the merchant ship saw it too. They would have been soon headed off.
So they turned in another direction, quite sharply, making straight in towards
shore. Again. Under ordinary circumstances, with the short range that he had
by that time, Cliff could have riddled the vessel in short order, but
aiming in that sea was so far a matter of luck that comparatively little damage
could be done. No one knew what the enemy's last move could mean.
But we can go in any water that's deep enough for them, he thought
Cliff grimly as he blazed away, And so thought the lieutenant too, for
he was soon racing in. For perhaps ten minutes. Pursuer and pursued kept
straight on the firing, never ceasing for a moment. Perhaps she may run
on shore on purpose, said the lieutenant, coming out of the pilot house.
For a moment, on purpose, echoed Cliff. Yes, so that
we can't get the cargo, but she'll be beaten to pieces on the rocks.
Cliff objected, They may chance at anyhow. You see, they aren't
more than a mile or two from the shore now, and they're running in
still. If that's the trick they try, Cliff thought to himself, we
can stay out and have her hard to our hearts content and help the waves
to wreck her. But the Spaniard had a far better plan than that,
as her pursuers learned sometime later. Cliff studied the coast in front of them
as well as he could see without a glass. There was simply a long
line of sandy shore without a bay and an inlet of any kind, and
there were no towns or batteries visible. I don't see what she can be
hoping for there, he muttered. But he had no time to speculate in
the matter, for it was his business to keep firing. By that time,
the range was short and he was beginning to do damage. It took
an expert to fire at the instant when the tossing ship was leveled. But
Cliff had time to practice, and he soon got the knack of it.
And then it must have been exceedingly unpleasant living on that ship. One after
another, heavy six pound shots crashed through her stern, and even at that
distance it began to exhibit a ragged appearance. The cadet expected at any moment
to reach the engines or the rudder of the fleeing ship and so render her
helpless, but probably her cargo served to protect the former, and the rudder
was very hard to hit. She must have something important view to stand all
this, Cliff thought to himself, But I can't see what it is.
The chase at that time was a very exciting one. The Spanish merchantman was
dashing inshore at the top of his speed. About a mile or two beyond
it was the uncle's tearing up the water, plunging along at her fastest pace,
and banging away half a dozen times amitute with their bow gun. Lieutenant's
Raymond's eyes were dancing. Then he had taken the wheels himself and was hard
at work. And as for Cliff, he was so busily engaged that he
seemed to see nothing except the high stern of that runaway. But a fool,
he growled to himself. She'll be so torn to pieces she won't be
worth capturing. I wish I could kill the captain. But the captain of
that vessel knew his business, as those of the Uncas found later on.
He was a Spaniard and simply gifted with Spanish cunning. He had no idea
of running his ship aground, but he knew that coast perfectly, and he
used his knowledge. When he neared the land, the tug was still some
distance ascern As that did not suit the Spaniard's purposes. He very calmly slowed
up, and that in spite of the fact that the tug was so close
that the rapid firing gun was hitting him every other's shot that the vessel had
slowed up. Lieutenant Raymond, of course, could not tell. But he
wouldn't have cared anyhow, for he had made up his mind to go in
there, no matter what was there, torpedoes or the very old nick himself,
and he went. Perhaps five minutes more. The Uncas dashed in at
full speed, and the merchantmen still never swerved. There within a quarter mile
of the shore, gasped Cliff. He turned to his third box of cartridges
with a grim smile on his face. Or he knew that something must happen
soon. It did too, very soon. It began when the merchantmen suddenly
swung round the starboard. Aha, chuckled the cadet. They're as close in
as they dare, and now I suppose they'll run down shore awhile Lieutenant Raymond
was much puzzled to think why the vessel had risk going so close in that
storm, but he wasted no time in speculating, but drove the wheel around
with all his might. The Uncas swerved and sped over to shut the merchantmen
off. At the same instance, the reason of the whole thing was seen.
The Uncas was not a mile from shore, and as she turned her
broadside to the land, a massed battery in the sand let drive with a
dozen guns at once. The whole thing was so sudden that for a moment
it quite frightened the Americans. Cliff even stopped firing long enough to stare.
But the sudden alarm did not last very long. It left the men on
the Unca's lapping, for they had quite forgotten the character of the Spanish gunner's
aim. A shot tore through the tug's funnel, another chip to piece from
her bow, half a dozen shells whistled over her, and that was all.
Cliff turned calmly to his own gun again. If that's the best they
can do, he thought, They're welcome. But that was not the best.
It wasn't that the batteries were aimed better next time, they were aimed
far worse. In their eager haste, they did not even touch the Uncos.
But an instant later something happened that showed that the captain of the Spanish
merchantmen had one more string to his bow. He not only knew the location
of the batteries, but he knew the location of the sandbars. While his
own vessel sped on in safety. On board the Uncas, there suddenly came
a grinding thud, and an instant later, the tug stopped short, so
short it almost sent Cliff flying over the top of the gun he was working.
And at the same time a shout was heard from Lieutenant Raymond, one
that made the sailor's hearts leap up into their throats. We're aground. We're
aground and in front of a Spanish battery and of chapter two recording by Tom
Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot com. Chapter three of a Prisoner of Morrow by up
to Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom
Weiss, Chapter three, an Old Enemy. It would be hard to imagine
a vessel in a much greater predicament than the un was at that moment.
Everything was in confusion in an instant, that is, everything except one thing.
Lieutenant Raymond was too busy to notice the coolness of one person on board,
but he remembered it afterward, and with satisfaction. It was Cliff Faraday.
He picked himself up from the deck where he had been flung and took
one glance about him. Then he turned to the guns. Whatever the position
of the tug, his duty just then remained the same. He could not
free her, and so he did not waste any time rushing about. There
was that Spanish merchantman, calmly walking off to safety, and there was a
gleam of vengeance in the cadet's eye as he went to the gun again.
Those on board of the fleeing vessel had seen the success of their clever plan,
and they gave a wild cheer. It was answered from the shore batteries.
The steamer turned at once and headed out to sea. That put her
broadside to the Uncah's, and instantly the six pounder blazed away. That was
the time to do the work too. The vessel was quite near and a
fair mark. The Uncas was now steady too, Cliff thought grimly to himself.
One of the sailors saw what he was doing and sprang to aid him.
They banged away as fast as they could load at the same time the
Spanish batteries opened. They had a fair mark likewise, and plenty of time
to aim. It was a race to see who could smash up their prey
the quickest. Cliff would certainly have disabled the fleeing vessel if it had not
been for an unfortunate accident. What the accident was may be told in a
few words. It spoiled his chance. He turned away to get more cartridges,
and at that instant a shell struck the six pounder gun. It was
a miracle that Cliff was not hit. His uniform was torn in three places,
and his cap knocked off. The sailor next to him got a nasty
wound in the arm, made by a flying fragment, and that, of
course made the merchantman safe. She steamed off in triumph. It was bad
for the tug, too, for it showed the batteries were getting the range.
The flight of the Unkahs was a desperate one. She was being tossed
about by a raging sea and cut up by the fire from the guns.
Whether she had struck on rocks or sand or mud, no one had any
means of telling, but her engines were reversed the instant the accident occurred,
and a hasty examination of the hold showed that, whatever the danger was,
there was no leak. But that seemed cold comfort, for at the rate
the heavy batteries were blazing away, there was likely to be a number of
leaks in a very short while, and even a steel tug will not hold
together long with the sea pounding over her like this one was. Yet,
as it actually happened, that sea was the only thing that got the vessel
out of her unfortunate predicament. They were a great deal luckier than they would
have dared to hope to be, for when they realized they were aground,
there was not a man on board who did not think his last hour was
at hand. But as it actually happened, the sandbar upon which the tug
had driven lay some distance beneath the surface, and it had caught the vessel
by the keel. The engines throbbed wildly, doing their noblest to pull the
vessel off. And then one after another came the great waves, tossing her
this way and that, wrenching and twisting, lifting and lifting again, while
everyone on deck clung for his life. There was a minute or two of
agonizing suspense, while the shore batteries kept up a galling fire, and the
merchantman steamed out to sea, proud of her triumph. And then suddenly came
a wild cheer from the imperiled Americans. Then men fairly shrieked in a transport
of delight. She's moving, she started, She's safe, And the men
fairly hugged each other for joy, slowly, then faster, then faster still,
and finally at full speed backward. The gallant tug had torn herself loose
from the grip of the sand and was free. The baffled Spanish batteries redoubled
their fire at that one could almost imagine the gunners grinding their teeth with rage
as they saw their prey escaping. But grinding their teeth did not seem to
sharpen their eyes. Their aim was as bad as ever, and the Uncas
seemed like the proverbial man in the rainstorm who keeps dry by dodging the drops.
The confusion on board of the escaped vessel may be imagined how that triumphant
captain must have sworn Spanish oaths. It was a ticklish task that Lieutenant Raymond
had before him. Then. He knew there were sandbars about, but he
did not know where they were, and the task was to avoid them.
He did it by creeping along very slowly, in absolute indifference to the galling
fire from the shore guns. He knew that there must be a channel for
he and the span had come in by it. He had only a vague
idea where it was. But the Uncas stopped and then crept slowly forward,
heading north, and after five minutes of torment, they knew that they were
safe. They were far enough from shore to start up again and get away
from those Spanish guns. The gallant tug was quite battered by that time,
but nobody cared for that in the wild rejoicing that prevailed. The vessel swung
around to court. And now for that prize, muttered the lieutenant, and
he went for her too, full speed ahead. He was mad. Now
the vessel had gotten the start of about two miles. She had apparently exhausted
her resources in the neighborhood of Cuba, for she was heading north out to
sea again. And so it's only a question of time. Chuckle cliff,
we've got her. And so they had. The Spaniards must have realized it
two, mister Faraday, said the lieutenant. Try a shot from the starboard
gun. The shot was fired, and it did the work. The merchantman
had evidently had enough and saw that there was no further hope, for in
full view of the shore batteries, she swung round and came slowly to a
halt, a signal that she surrendered. It made the Americans give another cheer,
and it must have made the Spaniards on shore fairly yell, for they
began banging away even at that distance, though they couldn't come anywhere near the
tug As. For the Americans, they signed with relief. They had worked
hard for that victory, and they felt that they had earned it. The
race was over then, and they were happy. Cliff was so wearied by
his heroic labor at that gun he must have lifted and ram some two hundred
six pounder cartridges, that he sat down on the wreck of the machine to
wait until the two vessels drew near, and the lieutenant gave up the wheel
to one of the men and came out to look his capture over at leisure.
She was a fairly large vessel and seemed to have a big carrying capacity.
What she was loaded with no one could guess, but at any rate,
she was a big prize for a small crew like that of the Uncahs.
I think I'll retire from business after today. Cliff heard the old boats
in remark that personage had had one arm badly damaged in the struggle that had
taken place in the morning with a Spanish gunboat, but he seemed to have
forgotten his wounds in the general excitement. The little tug steamed boldly up toward
her big prize, which lay idly tossing on the waves. One could see
her officers and crew standing on deck watching the approach. I'll bet they feel
happy, Cliff muttered to himself. The lieutenant loaned him the glass. Then
he could see the faces of the men. There was one of them he
might have recognized had he been careful, But he did not recognize it,
and so he failed to save himself some mighty unpleasant adventures. Indeed, they
were all typical Spanish faces, dark and sullen, but there was one there
even darker and more sullen than the rest, And the owner of that countenance
had a glass in his hand and was staring at those on the tug.
Though the cadet did not know it, that man was at that instant watching
him, and there was an expression of furious hate on his face as he
looked. Lieutenant Raymond expected no further trouble, but he took no chances.
Men were stationed at the three remaining six pounders, and the rest of the
crew was armed in silence. The uncas steamed up to within a hundred yards
of her prize, and then came the signal to stop engines. It was
the time for a boarding party. Cliff, as junior officer, knew that
that was his duty, and without a word, he proceeded to get the
small boat off It was quite a task in that heavy sea, but the
eager sailors worked with the will, and though nearly swamped twice, managed to
get clear of the tug, and Cliff was seated in the stern heading for
the big merchantmen. Keep your eyes open. He heard the lieutenant shout,
they may make trouble, and Cliff knotted and the boat shot away. They
wouldn't catch him napping on board that Spanish vessel, not much, but they
come perilously near it all the same. It was a rough trip in that
tossing rowboat. It seemed to sink and then fairly bound up. On the
next wave. Its bow went down and its stern shot up. It did
everything except turn over, while the spray fairly flew over it. But the
sturdy sailors worked with a will, and the distance was not very great.
In a short time, the little craft shot round in the lee of the
spaniard a ladder there, shouted Cliff, and in a few moments the rope
ladder came tumbling down. It seemed to come with bad grace, though as
if it knew its owners didn't want to send it. The rowboat was backed
near and Cliff with a sudden spring caught the ladder and leaked clear of the
way. Before he went up. He turned to the sailors. Two of
you follow me, he commanded. He climbed quickly up the ladder and stepped
out on the deck, and gazing about him eagerly, he saw about a
dozen dark faced Spaniards gathered together and glaring at him. One of them,
wearing the uniform of the captain, stepped forward toward him. He was a
surly, ill looking man with a heavy dark mustache. He bowed stiffly to
the cadet. The signor takes possession, he said in a low voice.
Cliff was so busy watching this man that he did not look around the vessel.
But we must do so. We must glance for one instant at the
capston, which was just behind where the jaunty young cadet was standing. There
was an interesting person near the capston. Cliff did not see him, and
neither did the sailors, nor even the Spaniards on the vessel, for he
was crouching behind the capston, out of sight. He was a small man,
dark and swarthy. He was the same one we noticed glaring at Cliff.
He had recognized him and realized in a flash that the issue between them
was death. Death for one or else death for the other. For Cliff
knew the man and would secure him the instant he saw him. His crimes
were many, treason and attempted assassination. The worst for the man was Ignazio,
and his dark, beady eyes were glittering with hatred. As he crouched
in his momentary hiding place. He was quivering all over with rage. The
muscles of his sinewy arms were clinched and tense, and in his right hand
he clutched a sharp, gleaming knife, half hidden under his coat. His
glance was fixed on the figure just in front of him. The unsuspecting cadet
was not twenty yards away. His back turned to his crouching enemy, and
Ignazio bent forward to listen and wait his chance. The cadet, the object
of his hatred, was talking to the captain. The signor takes possession.
The latter repeated again, The signor does with your permission, said Cliff quietly.
You gave us quite a run, he added, after a moment's thought.
A Spaniard would not surrender to Yankee pigs without a fight, snarled the
other. You had best be a bit careful, was Cliff's stern response,
or you may find yourself in irons. The Spaniard relapsed into a sudden silence.
What ship is this, demanded the cadet, the Maria from where Cadiz
indeed, and bound where my yey a honda. Cliff gave a low whistle.
We caught you about in time, he said, with a smile.
You were nearly there. But I suppose the story is made up for the
occasion. What is your cargo? The captain went over quite a list of
articles. The sailors who were with Cliff chuckled with delight as they heard him.
We get a share in all this, Cliff heard one of them whisper
under his breath. Cliff smiled, and as soon as the captain finished,
he raised his arm and pointed to the stern of the vessel. You and
your men will go aft, he commanded, for the present, I will
see you shortly. The spaniard was on the point of obeying. He had
half turned, when suddenly, with a single bound, the treacherous Ignacio sprang
forward. His keen knife glanced in the air as he raised it in his
outstretched arm and leaped upon the unsuspecting cadet. Ignacio was clever at that sort
of thing. He had tried it before. His spring had been silent as
a cat's. Neither the sailors nor the officer hurt him, and the blow
might have fallen Cliff's only warning of his deadly peril. But unfortunately for the
desperate assassin, he had failed to let the captain of that vessel know what
he meant to do, and the captain, as he saw him leap,
realized in a flash that would mean an instant hanging for him, and a
look of horror swept over his face. Cliff saw it and whirled about.
He was just in time to find himself face to face with this deadliest enemy,
and the knife was hissing through the air. End of chapter three recording
by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter four of a Prisoner of Morrow
by Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by
Tom Weiss, Chapter four, in Command of the Prize. It was a
moment of horrible peril. Cliff's blood fairly froze, but quick as a flash,
his arm shot up and he caught the descending wrist. For an instant
the two glared into each other's eyes, straining and twisting, and then the
two sailors of the Uncas leaped forward and seized the battled spaniard, and almost
in the twinkling of an eyelid, Cliff Faraday was saved. He could hardly
realize what had happened, and he staggered back against the rail of the vessel
and gasped for breath. But that was only for a moment, too,
and then the blood surged back to his cheeks, and the cadet was himself
once more. He stepped forward, a calm smile playing about his mouth.
Bind that man, he said to the sailors. The two men were grasping
the sinewy cuban and holding him so tight that he could not move. They
almost crushed his wrist, and he dropped the knife with a hoarse cry of
pain, and Cliff picked it up and glanced at it for a moment,
then flung it far out into the sea. After that he turned to Ignacio.
You have met me once more, my friend, he said, and
this time you will not get away. And that was all the conversation he
had with him. Glancing about the deck, he picked up a piece of
rope and stepped toward the prisoner. He did not strike the fellow, as
the Spaniards seemed to think he would, but the sailors flung him to the
deck and Cli carefully bound his feet together. Then, while he fairly fumed
with rage and hatred, his hands were made fast, and he was left
lying there, shrieking curses in his native Spanish. Cliff turned to the captain
of the vessel. The man was frightened nearly to death and began protesting voluably.
I did not know it, Signor, he cried. Indeed, I
did not know it, Santa Maria. I don't suppose you did, said
Cliff, calmly. You did not act like it, but you will have
to suffer for it. Suffer for it, Madre di dios. No signor
what does the signor mean? Surely he will not hang me for this signor
will not hang you, said Cliff, unable to help smiling at the blustering
fellow's terror. Then what will the signor do? He will tie you like
ignazio. The man was evidently relieved, but he protested voluably he did not
want to be tied. Is it customary, he cried, said Cliff.
Neither is it customary to try to assassinate an officer after that? I think
common prudence requires it, but cried the man angrily. I will not submit,
Porthos, I will not. You will either submit or be made to,
said Cliff, or else sink to the bottom. And so the man
had to give up. Those two delighted tars went the rounds and tied every
single man on that vessel, hand and foot, and they tied them tight,
too, occasionally giving them a dig in the ribs for good measure.
And when they came to search them, Cliff was glad he had done as
he did, for quite a respectable heap of knives and revolvers were removed from
the clothes of those angry Spaniards, but it did not take long to tie
them up, and then Cliff felt safe. He took a few extra hitches
in the treacherous Ignacio, who was by far the most valuable prize of them
all. Admiral Sampson will be glad to get you, the cadet thought to
himself, and then he turned to examine the captured vessel. His sword in
his hand, he went down the forward companionway, where he met a group
of frightened firemen and stokers huddled below. They seemed to think the Yankee pigs
were going to murder them on the spot, but Cliff had another use for
them. Being able to speak Spanish, he found it easy to reassure them
in a few words, and sent them down to their work again. Then
he descended into the hold. He was worried lest the continuous firing he had
directed upon the vessel had made her unseaworthy, But apparently the holes were all
well above the water line, for there did not seem to be any leap,
and that was all there was to be done. Cliff knew that he
had the task before him of piloting that vessel into Key West. He was
not willing to let that ugly looking Spanish captain have anything to do with the
matter. Cliff had fancied he would rather enjoy that duty, but under the
circumstances of the present case, he was not so much pleased. For the
darkness was gathering then, and the cadet knew that he had a long,
hard night before him. It would be necessary for him to remain on the
vessel's bridge all through the stormy trip, and moreover, it would take him
away from Havana, the place of all places he was then anxious to reach.
But the duty had to be faced, and so Cliff sent one of
the sailors back to the Unkahs to report the state of affairs and ask for
a prize crew. It seems scarcely orthodox to send a small boat away without
an officer to command it, but that too was inevitable. The boat arrived
safely, however, and returned with three more men, all the little tug
dared spare. Lieutenant Raymond sent word to report at Key West with the prize,
but to steam slowly so as not to come anywhere near the shore before
daylight. Lieutenant Raymond was evidently a little worried about entrusting the big vessel to
an inexperienced officer like Cliff, and Cliff was not so very cock sure himself.
No one knew just where they were, and in the storm and darkness,
reaching Key West Harbor would be tasking up for an old hand. The
cadet realized the enormous responsibility thus thrown upon him, and he made up his
mind that eternal vigilance should be the watchword. If staying awake all night'll do
any good, he muttered, I'll do it. And then the small boat
dashed away to the Uncas again and Cliff was left alone. He stepped into
the pilot house of the steamer and signaled for half speed ahead. The vessel
began to glide forward again, heading north. The tug steamed away in the
direction of Havana. End of chapter four recording by Tom Weiss Tom's Audiobooks.
Chapter five of A Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is
in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weis. Chapter five, A Hail
from the Darkness. The four sailors who were with Cliff fully realized the task
which was before them. It was then about dusk and the night was coming
on rapidly. Two of the men were stationed as lookouts, and the other
two took the wheel. Cliff set to work to try to calculate as best
as he could how far and in what direction he was from Key West.
He wished to take no chances of running ashore or getting lost. Those and
the possibility of collision seemed the only dangers that had to be guarded against.
The possibility of meeting a Spanish vessel was not considered, for the chance seemed
very remote. The two lookouts were both stationed in the bow. That fact
and the other just mentioned, sufficed to account for the fact that the real
danger that threatened the crew of the merchantmen was not thought of or guarded against.
In the least, her cliff had no way of knowing that any trouble
was to come from behind him. But coming it was, and in a
hurry. Within the shelter of a narrow inlet just to one side of the
batteries that had made so much trouble for the Uncas had lain hidden and unsuspected
an object that was destined to play an important part in the rest of the
present story. It was a Spanish gunboat, of much the same kind as
the Unca's, only smaller. Hidden by the land. Her officers had eagerly
watched the struggle we have just seen. The Spanish vessel had not ventured out
to take part for one important reason. She had not steam up, but
she would probably not have done so anyhow, for the Uncas was the stronger
of the two, and so venturing out would have been little better than suicide.
The Spanish captain had a plan that put that one far in the shade.
The Uncas was still visible down the shore, and the merchantmen had hardly
gotten well started out to sea before great volumes of black smoke began to pour
from the furnaces of the Spaniard. Her men worked like fiends. Sailors pitched
in to help the fireman handle coal, while the shores of the dark little
inlet flared brightly with the gleam of the furnaces. Meanwhile, the officers,
with their glasses were feverishly watching the distant steamer, now hauled down to the
north and almost invisible in the darkness. It was about half an hour later,
perhaps even less, that the Spanish gunboat weighed her anchor and stole silently
out to the open sea. She breasted the fierce waves at the entrance to
the inlet boldly. A minute later she was plowing her way through the storming
sea. It was dark then, and she could see nothing, But her
captain had the course to a hair's breath. He knew which way his prey
was gone, and he knew to what port she was going. He knew
too that she would not dare go near the harbor of Key West until daylight,
and so if by any chance he missed her in the darkness, he
would still have another opportunity. And those on the shore who saw the vessel
glide away chuckled gleefully to themselves. It was something to look forward to a
chance to revenge themselves upon the impotent Yankees who had dared to elude the fire
from their guns. Meanwhile, the Yankees, totally unsuspicious of this last move,
were buffeting their way bravely ahead. The lookouts clinging to the railing in
the bow were peering anxiously ahead in the darkness, and the sailors in the
pilot house were wrestling with the wheel. It was quite a task to keep
that vessel headed straight, or she was going into the very teeth of the
gale. And as for Cliff, he was watchfulness personified. When he was
not eyeing the compass carefully, he was hurrying about the vessel now down in
the firerooms, making sure that those Spaniards were doing as they were ordered,
and again looking the prisoners over to make sure that the sly rascals had not
wriggled themselves free. It would be a fine thing to do, he thought
to himself, if they managed to recapture the ship. There was something quite
prophetic in that thought. It was hard to keep awake all night, but
a man can do it if he has to, even though he has been
working like a trojan all day. Cliff kept moving to work off the sleepiness
whenever he felt it coming on. I'll have time enough to sleep by and
by, he muttered. He was thinking grimly enough of how he would be
stalled in the town of Key West with his prize, waiting for a chance
to get out to the fleet again. The vessel did not attempt to make
more than half speed during the trip, and that against the storm was very
little. But there was no need to hurry, thought everyone, and so
for some two hours the vessel crept on, wearily, as it seemed,
and monotonously. The only thing to vary matters was when some extra high wave
would fling itself over the bow in a shower of spray. But that was
not a welcome incident, for it made it harder for the weary sailors to
keep the course straight. The cadet paced up and down the neck he had
been doing that for perhaps the last half hour, stopping only to say a
cheery word to the lookouts, and once to prop up Ignacio, who was
being rolled unceremoniously about the deck. The cunning spaniard looked so bedraggled and miserable
that Cliff would have felt sorry for him if he had not known what a
villain he was. He'd stabbed me again if he got a chance, he
mused, For Cliff had saved that fellow's life once, but it had not
made the least difference in his vindictive hatred. I'm afraid, Cliff muttered that
Ignacio will have to suffer this time. The spaniard must have hurt him,
for he muttered an oath under his breath. It would be wiser if it
was a prayer, said the cadet. Ignacio. You are near the end
of your rope, and you may as well prepare for your faith. The
man fairly trembled all over with rage as he glared at his enemy. Such
rage as his was, Cliff was not used to, and he watched the
man with a feeling of horror. I don't like Spaniards, was the abrupt
exclamation with which he turned away and Ignacio gritted his teeth and simply glared at
him, following back and forth his every move as a cat. Might I
might have a chance. Yet he hissed under his breath, karamba, if
I only had him by the throat. But Cliff paid no more attention to
the Spaniard. He had other things to attend to, things to keep him
busy. It was not very long before that was especially true, for some
interesting immense began to happen. Then they began so suddenly that there is almost
no way to introduce them. The first signs of the storm was when it
broke in the blackness of the night, nothing could be seen, and the
vessel was struggling along absolutely without suspicion, and Cliff, as we have said,
was walking up and down, engrossed in his own thoughts, almost forgetting
that he was in the open sea where a Spanish warship might chance to be
lurking. And so it was, literally and actually a thunderbolt from a clear
sky. The blackness of the waters were suddenly broken by a sharp flash of
light, perhaps two hundred yards off to starboard, and an instant later came
the loud report of a gun. The consternation of the Americans. It would
be hard to imagine. They were simply aghast, and Cliff stood fairly rooted
to the deck. His mind was in a tumult, but he strove to
think what that startling interruption could mean. They must have fired at us,
he gasped, and if there was any doubt of that, an instant later
came a second flash. To a merchantman in wartime, such a signal as
peremptory. It means slow up or else take the consequences. There were two
possibilities that presented themselves to the commander of this particular merchant ship. One was
that he had met an American warship, and the other it was far less
probable, but it was possible and terrible. They might have fallen into the
hands of the enemy. But whatever was the case, there was nothing for
Cliff to do but obey the signals. He could not run, and he
could not fight. If only I knew, he thought anxiously, And then
suddenly he learned, for a faint voice was borne over to him through the
gale. It was a voice that spoke English. Ahoy. There it rang,
and Cliff roared back with all his might, ahoy, what ship is
that? And his heart gave a throb of joy when he heard the United
States cruiser Nashville. Who are you? The Spanish merchantman Maria in charge of
a prize crew from the Unkahs. Whether all that was heard in the roar
of the storm, Cliff could not tell, but he put all the power
of his lungs in it. He knew that the story would be investigated,
and so he was quite prepared when he heard the response, lay to and
wait for a boarding party. And quick as he could move, Cliff sprang
to the pilot house and signaled to stop, and the vessel swung round toward
the stranger. The dime was cast for good or evil. They had given
up. For perhaps five minutes. There was an ancient silence upon the vessel.
Everyone was waiting anxiously while the ship rolled in the trough of the sea
and shook with the crashes of the waves. Her small crew were picturing in
their minds what was taking place out there in the darkness, their comrades struggling
to get a small boat out in that heavy sea. And then they fancied
them buffeting their way across, blinded by the spray and half swamped by the
heavier waves. They can't be much longer, muttered Cliff impatiently. Ahoy,
there a ladder. It seemed to come from the right, underneath the lee
of the merchantmen, and it was shouted in a loud peremptory tone that was
meant to be obeyed. A moment later, the rope ladder was flung down.
Cliff peered over the side. When he dropped it, he could make
out the shape of a boat tossing about below. He could even distinguish the
figures of the men in the boat, and then he made out a man
was climbing hastily up. He stepped back to wait for him. He saw
a blue uniform as the officer clambered up to deck, and then suddenly he
stood erect facing Cliff. The cadet took one glance at him and gave a
gasp of horror. It was a spat niche officer, and he held in
one hand a revolver and was aiming it straight at Cliff's head. End of
chapter five recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot com. Chapter six of a
Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This Liberbox recording is in the public domain.
Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter six repelling boarders. That had been a
cleverly managed stroke, and it left the young officer simply paralyzed. All he
could do was to stare into the muzzle of that weapon. He realized,
of course, in a flash, how he had been duped, and he
was in a trap. Half days he looked and saw a Spanish sailor in
the act of lifting himself up to the deck to join his superior, and
Cliff had no doubt there were half a dozen others following. There was,
of course, nothing that Cliff could do. A movement on his part would
have been sheer suicide. He thought the case was hopeless. He had let
himself be caught napping, But the cadet had forgotten that there were other Americans
on that vessel besides himself, and there were no revolvers threatening the others.
The rage of the Yankee tars at what seemed to them a cowardly and sneaking
way to capture the ship was too great for them to control. Prudence would
have directed surrender, for the Maria had not a gun on board, and
the Spaniard might blow her out of the water, but nobody thought of that.
The same instant, the Spanish officer presented his weapon and disclosed his real
nationality. There were two sharp cracks in instant succession from the bow of the
imperiled ship, and the officer staggered back with a gasp. He dropped his
weapon to the deck, reeled for an instant, and then vanished over the
side in the darkness. There was a moment of horror, and then Cliff
heard him strike with a thud on the small boat below. At the same
time, there was a bright flash just in front of Cliff, and a
bullet whistled past his ear. The Spanish sailor, who had only half reached
the deck, had fired at him. By that time, there was no
longer any hesitation as to what course to pursue. The sailors had decided it
by their fatal shots. It was resistance to the death, and Cliff whipped
out his own weapons and sent the sailor tumbling backward to follow his officer.
Then he drew his sword and with two slashing strokes, severed the ladder from
the yells and confusion that followed. There must have been quite a number clinging
to the rope. But where they were or what their fate was, nobody
had any time to learn. Everything was moving like lightning on the merchantmen.
Cliff leaped into the pilot house and signaled full speed. There was no further
need of lookouts and sowed. The two sailors rushed down into the engine room
to see that the order was obeyed. The big vessel started slowly forward.
The cadet sprang to the wheel, his mind in a wild tumult as he
strove to think what he should do. And if there were not confusion enough
at that instant, there were several loud reports in quick succession, followed by
deafening crashes as shots tore through the vessel. The Spaniards had opened fire.
But they'll have to stop and pick up that boat's crew, gasped Cliff.
We must get away, and that being the case, every minute was precious.
The vessel had swung round, but there was no time to turn.
She must run as she was for a while. And from the way the
vessel trembled and shook, it could be told that the irate tars down below
were making things hum. They may burst the boilers if they ken thought Cliff
grimly. The new course they were taking was south, exactly the opposite of
the way they had been going. But Cliff did not care about that.
The storm will drive us faster, he gasped, And every yard counts the
Spanish gunboat. Nobody on the Maria, of course, knew, but what
she was a big cruiser, fired only about half a dozen shots at her
daring enemy. Then the yells of the crew of the small boat must have
attracted her attention and forced her to desist for a moment. And now,
as our chance was the thought of the Americans, they were making the most
of it. That was certain. They were fairly flying along with the great
ways. Cliff himself was at the wheel, seeing that not an inch was
lost by steering wrongly. Will no soon, he muttered, Very soon,
of course, she'll chase us. The scene at this time was intensely dramatic,
for the big ship had glided out into the darkness, and those on
board of her could not see their pursuer. They had no means of telling
where she was, or whether they had escaped or not. They could only
keep on listening, anxiously, tremblingly, counting the seconds and waiting, almost
holding their breath. They knew what the signal would be, the signal of
their failure. If the Spaniards succeeded in finding them, he would open fire
and soon let them know. Cliff tried to guess how long it would take
them to pick up the unfortunate occupants of that small boat. They'll be raging
man when they do, he thought, gory, they'll murder every one of
us, for they would probably call the shooting of that officer a murderer.
It did not trouble Cliff's conscious, for he knew that a merchant vessel has
the same right to resist the enemy that a warship has. It was not
as if they had surrendered and then imitated the example of the treacherous Ignacio.
I wonder how Ignacio likes this anyhow, thought Cliff. But he had no
time to inquire the spaniards views on the struggle. Cliff was too busily waiting
and counting the seconds. He did not think it would be very long before
the enemy ships would be after them again, And yet several minutes passed before
any sign of the pursuit was given. Cliff began to think that possibly they
had eluded there would be captors, but his hopes were dashed, for suddenly
there came the dreaded warning shot, and it was fired from so close that,
though the Americans had been listening for it, it made them start.
It was evident that the enemy's vessel had come close to do the business.
Her first shot seemed fairly to tear the big merchantman to pieces, and Cliff
shut his teeth together with a snap. Wherein for it? Now, he
muttered, that settles it. There was no longer the last hope of escape.
There was no longer even any use of keeping on. There were but
two things to be considered, sink or surrender. There was a grim smile
on the cadet's face as he turned away from the wheel. Tell the two
men to come up from below, he said to one of the sailors,
and then he went out on deck, staring in the direction of the pursuing
vessel. There was no difficulty in telling where she was, for a continuous
flashing of her guns kept her in view. Cliff was cool, singularly cool,
as he stood in his exposed position. He was no longer anxious,
for he had no longer any hope. There was nothing on board the Maria
that could cope with the enemy's guns. There was only the inevitable to be
faced. The cadet soon guessed the nature of the pursuer from the way she
behaved. Her guns were all low down and close together. They were about
three pounders and rapid firing. It's a gunboat like the Uncas, He muttered,
gory, how I wished the Uncas would come back. But the Uncas
was then near Havana, far from any possibility of giving aid, and Cliff
knew it, so he wasted no time in vain regrets. By that time,
the Spanish vessel had gotten the range and her three or four guns were
blazing away furiously. The gunboat was alight with the flames of the quick reports,
and the sound was continuous. They aren't doing as well as I did,
Cliff said, But still they'll manage to do the work. And so
it seemed. For shot after shot crashed through the hull of the already battered
vessel. The Spaniards were mad. Evidently. There was no hail this time
and proposal to surrender, but only a calm setting to work to finish that
reckless ship. The sailors came on deck, and Cliff, when he saw
them, turned and pointed to the spaniard. There she is. Men look
her over for a moment, nobody said anything. The little group stood motionless
on the deck. They were in no great danger, for the firing was
all directed at the hall. Then suddenly Cliff began again, I guess this
vessel is about done for, he said, she will be either sunk or
captured. The only question is about us. What's to become of us?
I leave it to you. None of the men spoke for a moment.
I suppose Cliff said that we can manage to let her know we surrender if
we choose, We can scuttle the ship before we do it. But you
know what we may expect after our shooting those two men. They'll probably murder
us or do things that are a thousand times worse. Cliff stopped for a
moment, and then he turned think. For instance, he said, of
being at the mercy of that man. He was pointing toward Ignacio, who
lay near them, glowering in his hate. And the sailors looked and understood.
It's better to drown, sir, said one, And the rest thought
so too, and declared it promptly. Very well, then was the cadet's
quiet answer. We will stay on board. We have faced death before that
resolution made. There was little else left to be determined. We can sink
the ship, or wait and let them sink at the cadet said, or
else. There's one thing more. We are headed in the right direction and
smash her upon the rocks of the Cuban coast. And the sailors stared at
him for a moment eagerly. And stand a chance of getting ashore in safety,
they cried, at which the cadet smiled. I'm afraid there's very little
chance, he said, But it's as good as anything else. We'll try
it. Yes, sir, you too, go down to the engine room
again and keep things moving, and the others stay on deck and make sure
those Spaniards don't try to board us again. I can handle the wheel myself.
And with that the brave cadet turned away and sprang toward the pilot house.
And of Chapter six recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter
seven of a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in
the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter seven, A desperate chase.
That was a heroic resolution those five brave men had made, but it
was inevitable, for they did not mean that either they or that valuable ship
should fall into the hands of the enemy. And apparently the enemy knew they
did not mean to, for they kept battering away at the big hulk that
loomed up in the darkness, running close alongside and firing viciously. Every shot
made a deafening crash as it struck home. But the Americans did not mind
it, Especially when a man has made up his mind to die, he
is not afraid of anything. And the men on deck paced up and down
serenely, and Cliff tugged at the wheel with a positively light hearted recklessness.
It would have been a cold sort of person whose spirit did not rise to
such an occasion as that. The wild night and the furious cannonading, but
above all, the prospect of taking that huge ship and driving her forward at
full speed until she smashed upon the rocks with a rather inspiring one. The
reader may have heard about the man out west who drew an enormous crowd by
advertising an exhibition railroad wreck. Two empty trains crashing into each other at full
speed. This was a similar case. It does not often happen that a
man has occasion to drive a ship aground on purpose. The resolution to which
the Americans had come must have been playing to the unfortunate Spaniards who were tied
up on board the Maria. Their fright was a terrible one. Anyhow,
Cliff glanced out at them several times. Their presence was the only thing that
made him hesitate to do what he had resolved for. They haven't done anything,
poor devils, he thought to himself. I wish I knew what to
do with them. But there was only one thing that could be done.
That was to put them off in a small boat. And that would be
practically murdering them. They'll have to stay and take chances with us, muttered
Cliff, as if there were not noisy enough about that time. Those men
began to raise a terrific outcry, yelling and shrieking in terror. But nobody
paid any attention to them, except that the sailors took the trouble to examine
their bonds once more. It would have been more dangerous to let those desperate
fellows get loose, then, for the Americans had enemies enough to cope with.
As it was. All this while the Spanish gunboat had been firing away
with all her might and main. She would cut across the vessel stern and
sent her shots tearing through the whole length of the ship. Then she would
come up close alongside and pour a dozen broad signs in, and nearly all
the shots hit two. It was evident to those on board that the merchantmen
would not stand very much battering of that sort. Already one of the sailors
had come up to announce that two of the firemen had been struck. But
still the he toured desperately onward. Nobody cared very much how much damage was
done, except that they did not want the engines to be smashed until the
ship had reached the shore. As well as Cliff could calculate, roughly,
it ought not to have taken them an hour to return to the coast,
for they had to storm to aid them. That they could hold out that
long under the unceasing fire, he did not believe. But the Spaniards may
use up all their ammunition, he thought to himself. That was a possibility,
for he knew that the supply in the possession of Spain was a small
one, and the actual course of events made him think that his surmise was
true. The desperate chase kept up for perhaps half an hour, and then,
unaccountably, the spaniards fire began to slacken. Cliff could hardly believe his
ears when he heard it. What can it mean, he gasped. But
a moment later his surprise was made still greater, for one of the sailors
bounded into the pie house. She's giving up, sir, he cried,
giving up, Yes, sir, How in the world do you mean she
stopped firing, sir? And what's more, she's dropping behind. Cliff stared
at the man in amazement, dropping behind, and then suddenly he sprang out
to the deck. Take the wheel a moment, he cried to the sailor,
and he himself bounded down the deck toward the stern. He stared out
over the rail and clinging to it tightly to prevent himself from being flung off
his feet. He found that what the sailor had said was literally true.
The spaniard was now firing only an occasional shot, and she was at least
a hundred yards behind. What that could mean, Cliff had not the faintest
idea. Could it be that her engines had met with an accident, or
that she fancied the Merchantman was sinking. The cadet glazed down into the surging
water below him. He could see the white track of the big steamer and
knew that she was fairly flying along. He took one more glance in the
direction of the now invisible spaniard. The firing had ceased altogether, and like
a flash, the thought occurred to Cliff that whatever the reason for the strange
act might be, now was the time to save the Merchantman. We could
turn off to one side, he gasped, and lose her, and with
a bound he started for the pilot house hard aport, he shouted to the
man at the wheel, but before the man had a chance to obey,
Cliff chanced to glance out ahead into the darkness toward which the vessel was blindly
rushing, and the cadet staggered back with a gasp. A light, he
cried, A light, Yes, there was a dim, flickering point of
light directly in front of them. Where it came from, Cliff could not
tell, but He realized the significance in an instant. At the same time,
there was another sound that broke upon his ear and confirmed the guests.
It was a dull, booming roar. The man at the wheel heard it
too. It's breakers, sir, he shouted, Breakers ahead. They were
nearing the land, and then the significance of the Spaniards act became only too
apparent. The men who were running her had seen the light, and they
had no idea of being led to destruction by their eagerness to follow that reckless
merchantman, and so they were slowing up and keeping off the shore. There
was a faint hope in that the Maria might be able to steal away if
she were quick enough and turning. Cliff's order had been obeyed by the sailor
the instant he heard it. Cliffs sprang in to help him, and they
whirled the wheel around with all their might, but alas they were too late.
When a steamer waits until she hears breakers in a storm like that,
it is all up for her, for she must be near the shore.
Indeed, and plunging. As the Maria was urged on by wind and waves
and her own powerful engines, it was but an instant before the crisis came.
Cliff had half braced himself for the shock, but when it came,
it was far greater than he had expected. There was a crash that was
simply deafening. The huge ship plunged into the rocky shore with a force that
almost indoubled her up and made her shake from stem to stern. And she
stopped so abruptly that Cliff was flung through the window of the pilot house.
The deed was done and of chapter seven recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot
com. Chapter eight of a Prisoner of Marrow by Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox
recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter eight,
A dash for the Shore. Strange to say, Cliff was not much excited
at the terrific moment. The peril was so great that he was quite gay
as he faced it. He had risen to the occasion. He picked himself
up and stepped out to the deck. There he found a scene of confusion
indescribable. Above the noise of the breakers on the shore and the waves that
were flinging themselves against the exposed side of the ship. Rang the wild shrieks
and cries of the terrified Spanish prisoners. The vessel, after she had struck,
had been flung around and was being turned farther over every minute. The
violence of the storm that was struggling with her was quite inconceivable. The waves
were pouring over her in great masses, sweeping everything before them, and the
spray was leaping so high, and the flying storm clouds driving past so low
that there was no telling where the surface of the sea ended and the air
began. The big ship had landed among rocks, and every wave was lifting
her up and flinging her down upon them, with dull, grinding crashes that
could be both heard and felt. A moment after she struck, a man
came down up the ladder to the deck. It was one of the sailors,
and behind were the terrified firemen. She's leaking in a dozen places,
the man shouted. He clung to railing as he spoke, and a great
wave half drowned him, but he managed to salute, and Cliff saw a
look of wild delight on his face, one that just corresponded with his own
eager mood. She'll split in about half a minute, I fancy, the
cadet answered, and the Spaniards are welcome to what's left. We've done our
duty. And with that he turned to the pilot house, where the rest
of the men were grouped. They were gazing at him eagerly. Are you
ready, boys, Cliff shouted. Everyone knew what he meant by ready,
Ready to make the wild attempt to land and reach the shore through all those
wildly surging breakers. The very thought of it was enough to stir one's blood,
and the answer came with a vengeance. Aye aye, sir. Then
get out one of the boats, shouted Cliff. As he saw the men
struggling forward to reach the nearest rowboat, he turned suddenly on his heel.
He had something else to attend to for a moment. It was an errand
of mercy. Those shrieking wretches were all bound to the railing of the doomed
ship, and Cliff would never have forgiven himself if he had left them there.
Their faces would have haunted him, and he drew his sword and set
swiftly to work. He cut the captain loose and put a knife into his
hand. Get to work, he cried, Get to work. Cliff took
the risk of trusting the man, and went on leaving him with the weapon.
The cadet believed that he would be grateful for his release, and besides,
they were fellow sufferers then threatened with the same peril, and Cliff was
not mistaken. The man set hastily to work releasing his comrades, and in
less time than it takes to tell it, the terrified men were huddled together
on the deck. The cadet wasted no more time upon them. There are
three boats left for you, cried, save yourselves, and with that he
turned and made his way down to where his own men were struggling with one
of the small boats. There was one other thing, which, in the
wild confusion of that moment, Cliff managed to remember, needed to be attended
to. There was Ignacio. The treacherous Spaniard had nearly been swept off,
and he was half drowned by the floods of water that poured over the deck,
But his hatred of the Americans was too great for him to shout to
them for aid. What to do with that murderous villain was a problem that
worried Cliff. Undoubtedly the wisest thing would be to kill him. Then and
there death was the fate he certainly deserved, and Cliff half drew his sword,
but it was no use. He could not bring himself to do such
an act, and he flung the weapon back into the scabbard. To attempt
to carry him away was equally useless. The Americans did not expect to reach
the shore themselves, how lead them to his fate. Cliff muttered, the
Spaniards may help him if they choose, and with that he turned toward the
sailors again. The men had by that time nearly succeeded in getting the boat
away. They were working like trojans. Every wave that struck the ship helped
to fill the boat. Even before it touched the water. The spray poured
down over the slanting deck upon it, and the sailors had to empty it
several times while they were wrestling. Thus, the wind and water and rocks
had been getting in their work upon the doomed vessel. Lower and lower she
sank, harder and harder she pounded, and then suddenly a great billow heaved
itself with a thud against the bow and fairly hammered it around. One of
the sailors gave a yell, she split, and sure enough a great seam
had opened amidships, and the water surged in with a roar. The vessel
seemed fairly falling to pieces, and such being the case, the sailors had
no time to delay. The frail oat was lowered into the seething waters.
The men tumbled in and seized the oars. Cliff made a wild leap and
caught the stern just as one mighty wave raced by and whirled the boat away
from the vessel, and in one instant it was lost to sight and sound.
What was done by the Spaniards. No one could see a thing.
The Americans were fighting for their own lives. There was but one thing for
them to do. Pup for the shore. Sailors pull for the shore,
and the great sweeping breakers to aid them. In fact, they were flung
in so fast that they could hardly row. It was a thrilling struggle that
race with the giant waves. The sailors struggled with all their might keeping the
frail craft straight, and Cliff, with a bucket he had thought to bring,
was bailing frantically and shouting to encourage the men in. They swept nearer
with the speed of a whirlwind toward the shore. If its rocks, Heaven
help us, Cliff gas it seemed an age to him that brief struggle.
Breathless and eager, he watched the great whitecaps breaking, smiting against the stern,
struggling to turn that boat but a few inches so that they might catch
it on the side and fling it over. And meanwhile the wind and waves
and oars, all helping on, swept the boat bounding over the foamy crests,
sinking into the great hollows, leaping and straining, but still shooting on
in the darkness, And every second was precious, for the shore was not
far away. The roar of the surf grew louder louder, almost upon them.
And then suddenly one great seething billow came rushing up behind. Cliff saw
it and shouted to the men. In a second more, its white crest
towered over them. It was just on the point of breaking in a giant
cataract of foam. It would have buried the little boat and its occupants beneath
the tons of foaming water, but it was just a second too late.
The little boat's stern shot up from moment it was almost on end, and
then it rose to the top of the wave, and a moment later,
as the crash came and the sweet end toward shore began, the frail craft
was flung forward as if from a catapult, and in its shot was speed
that simply dazed the Americans. But it was toward shore. Towards shore,
they had passed the breakers, and Cliff gave a gasp of delight as he
felt the wild leap forward. It seemed but a second more before the rush
ended. The bow of the rowboat struck, and the frail object was whirled
round and flung over, its occupants, being fairly hurled into the air.
When they struck the water, it was defining themselves within a few feet of
dry land. They staggered to a standing position to find that they were in
water only up to their waists, and the great wave was tugging them out
to sea again. They struggled forward, wildly, clutching at each other.
A minute later, breathless, exhausted and half drowned, but wild with joy,
they staggered out upon a sandy beach and sank down to gasp for breath.
Were safe, panted, Cliff safe, safe, and on the island
of Cuba, the stronghold of their deadly enemies. End of chapter eight.
Recording by Tom Weiss, Tom's Audiobooks dot Com. Chapter nine of a Prisoner
of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter nine, The Enemy's Country. It must have
been at least five minutes before those exhausted men moved again. When at last
they managed to rise to their feet, it was defined themselves in the midst
of absolute darkness, with a wild sea on one side of them, and
on the other. No one knew what The faint point of light which they
had seen had now disappeared, But they took it to mean that there were
Spaniards in the neighborhood, and they did not fail to recognize the peril in
which they were. The firing had probably been heard, and the wreck of
the merchantmen scene. If so, the Americans could not be in a much
worse place. We may be right in front of a battery, whispered Cliff.
The first thing the sailors did was to see to their revolvers and cutlasses,
and after that they started silently down the shore We won't try to go
far, Cliff said, but we must find a hiding place. But in
that darkness to hiding places were themselves hidden. The best the Americans could do
was to stumble down the shore for a hundred yards or so, being careful
to walk where the waves would wash out their footprints. Then they were a
short distance from the wreck, and felt a trifle safer. We may as
well strike back in the country now, said the leader, at least until
we can find some bushes or something to conceal us. That was a rather
more ticklish task, and the men crouched and stole along in silence. They
had no idea what they might need. It was fortunate for them that they
were quiet, otherwise they would have gotten into very serious trouble. Indeed,
they stoled up the sandy beach a short ways, feeling their way along and
getting further and further away from the sea. They were struggling through soft,
dry sand, and then suddenly Cliff, who was in front, saw something
loom up before him, a dark line, and he put out his hand
to touch it. He found that the sand rose gradually into a sort of
drift or bank. It was high and seemed to reach for some distance.
The sailors stopped abruptly, and Cliff crept slowly forward, feeling along with his
hands. Suddenly the men heard him mutter a startled exclamation under his breath.
Men, he whispered, were in a terrible fix. I ran into a
gun, A gun, yes, a big one. We've struck a Spanish
battery, and we must be near some town. The sailors stared at him
aghast, and then suddenly came a startling interruption, one that fairly made their
blood grow chilled. Who goes there? It was a loud, stern hail
in Spanish, and it seemed to come from almost beside them. Quick as
a flash, the Americans dropped, crouching close together in the darkness. They
could hear the beating of each other's hearts. There were several moments of wagonizing
suspense. The Spaniard who had shouted out was evidently awaiting a reply, and
then suddenly he repeated his challenge, who goes there? And a moment later
came a sound of hurrying footsteps. What's the matter? Cliff heard a voice
demand. He was the only one in the party who understood Spanish and knew
what was said, but it was plain to the rest that it was a
conversation between a sentry and an officer. I heard a footstep, signor capitan,
cried the man Qui data, take care, it's very near. There
was a moment's pause. You must be mistaken, said the officer. I
am not mistaken, repeated the man firmly. Santa Maria, My ears do
not deceive me. You said to be watchful, for you have heard firing.
To that. The Americans had listened in trembling silence, but the next
made them jump. I will light this lantern, said the officer, and
the instant they heard it, Cliff rose silently to his feet. The men
did likewise, and began to creep softly off to one side. But careful
as they were, they could not help the grinding sound of their footsteps in
the sand, and it caught the quick ear of the Spaniard. Hear it.
He cried, corde us again. Somebody is stealing upon us, And
an instant later the air was rent by a sharp crack of a rifle the
sentry had fired. There was wild confusion at once, and the unfortunate castaways
were aghast. For an instant Cliff thought of charging the battery with four men,
but he realized the folly of that quickie cried, let us hide forward.
Lights were flashing and men shouting and running about behind the sand wall just
in front of them, but the sailors were still unseen. They broke into
a run and fairly flew down the shore. They fancied the whole Spanish company
was at their heels, but after they had run for some distance, they
found that they had not been pursued, for the enemy were so taken by
surprise at the sudden alarm that they were, if possible, more frightened than
the Americans. And so the men stopped for breath. They stared at each
other, as if hardly able to realize the peril into which they had so
suddenly been plunged. I think that was the quickest adventure I ever had in
my life, muttered Cliff. The suddenness of it made him laugh. They
had almost walked into a Spanish court. But it was no laughing matter,
certainly, it was a confounded piece of ill luck. For they'll be watching
for us now, muttered Cliff. I'm afraid that will settle us. They'll
follow our footsteps exclaimed one of the sailors. That was so, and it
was an unpleasant prospect. It was plain that if the Americans wished to find
any safety, they must get some distance away from that battery. Will make
one more effort to get back into the country, muttered Cliff at amid silence
and anxious suspense. They once more started up the sloping seashore. They crept
along, as it seemed, by inches, but fortunately they did not run
across any more guns. When they came across an embankment, it was of
solid earth and marked the end of the beach, and there were some trees
and bushes there. So the Americans began to feel more comfortable. For all
they knew, they might, in the darkness, have been strolling into a
town, but they were apparently out in the open country. There seemed to
be no people and no houses near, so they started boldly forward. It
was then late at night, a dark and damp and windy night, so
they were not likely to find many people wandering about. What we want to
do, Cliff said, is to get back in the country awhile, where
we can hide until morning. Then if we can find some Cubans, will
be all right. Cliff was about tired to death. He had done far
more work that day than any of those sailors, but there was no time
for resting them. He gritted his teeth and started. They took their bearings
from the sea, and then went straight on, watching and listening carefully,
but meeting with no trouble at first. Their walk led through what had evidently
once been a cultivated country, for it was leveled and had but a few
trees upon it. At present, however, it was overgrown with weaves.
Once they almost ran into a house, which it may readily be believed,
gave them a start. It was creepy business, anyhow, this stumbling along
through the enemy's country without being able to see ten yards in front. But
the house seemed to be empty. In fact, it could hardly be called
a house anymore, for it was half turned down. The Americans thought that
it was empty, for Cliff had stumbled and fallen with a crash over a
pile of dry sticks and rubbish. But when he rose to his feet to
listen anxiously, there was no movement or sign that anybody had heard him.
It probably belonged to some of the reconcentrados. He muttered. He was about
to turn and give the word to proceed. Then suddenly a new idea occurred
to him, and he gave a pleased exclamation. This is lucky, he
whispered, men, what is the matter with hiding there? That was a
rather startling proposition, for they could not be at all sure but someone lived
there, after all, But Cliff had come several miles by that time,
and he was disposed to be a trifle desperate. A person can get so
tired that he will be anxious to enter even a Spanish dungeon, in order
to get a chance to rest. We will search the house, he said.
If we find anybody, will hold them up and make them prisoners.
And if we do, we'll spend the night there. And then, without
another word, he started silently forward. The sailors were right behind him.
What was evidently the front of the house was the part that had been burned.
Cliff picked his way over the ruins and into the rear, where there
was a roof still remaining. There was a door there, half shut.
One may readily believe that in pushing it open, Cliff was rather nervous,
But nothing occurred to startle him, and so they went forward once more.
The place about him seemed deserted. Then suddenly Cliff did a startling thing.
He took a deep breath and called aloud anybody here? And then for at
least a minute or two the little party stood waiting in silence, but no
answer was heard. I guess it's deserted, Cliff said, Scatter and search
it thoroughly, and that was quickly done. To their relief, the Americans
found that the place was not inhabited, and that there was no one near.
That made sure. It may be believed that they wasted no more time
in delay. I don't think it will be necessary for us to keep watche,
said, our safety lies in our hiding. They made their way into
one of the smaller rooms of the little building, one which had a key
to the door, and having secured themselves as best they could from danger of
discovery, the wearied men sank down upon the floor and of Chapter nine recording
by Tom Weis Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter ten of a Prisoner of Morrow
by Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by
Tom Weiss, Chapter ten A startling discovery. It may seem strange that they
were able to sleep in the perilous situation they were in. But they were
men who were used to holding their lives in their hands. Ends They said
that Napoleon could take a nap during a lull in battle while he was waiting
for his reserves to be brought up. The men were cold and damp,
of course, but it was impossible for them to light a fire, even
had they dared to take such a risk. But the darkness was their principal
shield. But all the colds in the world could not have kept Cliff awake.
He and the rest of the men were soon fast asleep, hidden away
in the enemy's country and surrounded by perils innumerable, yet resting as quietly as
if they were at home, and none of them awakened either. As the
dark night wore on, the day began to break over the mountains to the
eastward, and the gay sunbeams streamed into the room to find the sailors still
undisturbed and unconscious. The sun had risen and was half an hour up in
the sky before any of the Americans showed signs of awakening. One of the
sailors turned over and then sat up and stared about him. It was not
strange that the man wondered where he was for a moment. He had been
through so much during the previous day. He found himself seated in a little,
bare apartment, half charred by fire, and having damped straw for flooring.
His companions, including the officer, were stretched out upon it. They
seemed in blissful ignorance of the fact that it was damped. The sailor rose
to his feet. He was rather stiff and sore and somewhat hungry, but
he felt that he ought to be glad to be alive, and then he
stole quickly over to the tiny window to look out. Naturally enough, he
was a little curious to see what sort of place it was they had hit
on. In the darkness. There was light, then, plenty of it,
too much, in fact, so the man thought it showed him everything,
and the everything must have included something rather startling, for the sailor acted
in a most surprising way. He took a single glance out of the window,
and then staggered back, as if somewhat had shot him. The man's
face was as white as a sheet. He stood for a moment seemingly dazed,
his eyes staring vacantly, and then suddenly he made a leap across the
room and seized Cliff by the shoulder. It was a startling way or Cliff
to be awakened. The face of that man had a sort of nightmare.
Look what is it? Cliff gasped quick the window, panted the sailor.
Look. The man, in his excitement, had awakened the rest, and
they were sitting up staring at him. Cliff, meanwhile, had rushed to
the window, and when he looked out, he acted just as the sailor
had done. It might be well to describe in a few words what he
saw. There was a small clearing around the deserted building, and beyond that
a heavy wood. Cliff remembered having made his way through those woods, and
now somebody else had done likewise. There was a squad of a dozen soldiers
stand on the clearing's edge, and they were Spaniards. Can they have surrounded
us, gasped the cadet. Or perhaps they don't know where here, whispered
one of the men. The full meaning of that startling discovery was made evident
to them an instant later, the officer of the Spaniards was standing to one
side, watching a man who, with bowed head, was carefully scanning the
ground, and he was coming slowly toward the building. They're tracking us,
whispered Cliff, And just then the man raised up his head and Cliff got
a glimpse of his face. The villain, He gasped. It was Ignacio.
Yes, it was the villainous Spanish spy. He and his Spanish companions
must have succeeded in getting ashore, and they had tracked their unsuspecting enemies to
their hiding place. I wish I had killed him, Cliff muttered after himself.
One of the sailors heard him, and he drew his revolver significantly.
It's not too late, sir, he said, But Cliff held up his
hand. No, no, he whispered, not yet, that suggestion called
him back to action. Not yet, because they had not yet been discovered.
Ignacio was apparently off the scent. He did not know whether his victims
had dodged a building or had the temerity to enter, and instantly Cliff leaped
forward over to the other side of the building. If none of the enemy
was there, it might not be too late for flight. If they are,
Cliff muttered to himself, By Jingo, they still got the building to
capture. Whatever was to be done had to be done quickly, for Ignacio
was a cunning fellow and wouldn't be apt to delay very long. Cliff glanced
out in the other direction and saw to his delight that the thicket came close
to the house and there were no Spaniards in sight. He called in a
low voice to the men, who stole silently over toward him. Quick he
gasped, for your lives. It was a thrilling moment, and Cliff was
trembling with eagerness. One by one, he watched the men crawl out of
the low window and gather in the shelter of the building, and a moment
later he himself dropped down. The instant he struck the ground, he started
forward to the woods, he whispered, and not a sound for your lives,
and the men sprang softly forward, not even pausing to glance over their
shoulders to see if they were discovered. Cliff fancied at that instant that he
was safe. The building was between him and the Spaniards, but he did
not know that at that moment Ignacio had observed a footprint in the damp ground
that made him aware that they had gone into the building. He rushed around
to the other side, just in time to see a blue uniform vanished in
the thicket. The next moment, a wild yell came from his throat.
Mirah, he shrieked forward. Here they are now, end of chapter ten.
Recording by to Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter eleven of a Prisoner of
Morrow Buy up in Sinclair. This librevox recording is in the public domain.
Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter eleven, A running fight. That cry seemed
the death knell of the Americans, and their hearts leaped up in their throats
when they heard it. For a moment, Cliff thought of stopping and giving
battle then and there, but he realized the hopelessness of that. It was
hopeless too to run with no place to run two but the sailors were already
dashing away through the woods, and the cadets soon caught up with them and
urged them on. The Spaniards broke into a run the moment they heard Ignazio's
cry. A minute later, they fired a volley into the bushes, probably
in order to alarm the country. It would have been hard for those five
fugitives to go any faster than they did. During the first few moments of
that chase, they heard their enemies banging away and yelling in their rear,
and they fairly flew over the ground. Keep together, handed, Cliff,
we may find someplace to make a stand. The ground over which they were
traveling was ill adapted for speed, or it was rough, and the bushes
were thick, but it was as fair for one as the other, and
the Americans tore their way through and stead on. The Spaniards in the rear
apparently knew of other troops in the neighborhood from the way they kept yelling.
Cliff groaned as he realized the hopelessness of their flight, for even if they
succeeded in shaking off their pursuers, the whole country was alarmed and hunting for
them, and they had no food and no one to guide them. But
the present evil was great enough for the furious Spaniards were hot on the trail
surrender. Surrender. Cliff heard the officers shouting a short way back. Chase
would have ended in no time had it not been for the woods, which
kept the fugitives out of sight so that they could not be shot, but
that was a protection that would not last forever. Cliff gave a sudden gasp
as he saw a clearing ahead of them, but it was only a small
one, and the Americans sped across it at the very top of their speed.
They hoped to reach the woods before their foes sighted them, and they
did. Then suddenly a new idea flashed over Cliff. Stop a minute,
he cried. Ready, The sailors saw him draw his revolver, and they
knew what it meant. They crouched into bushes, waiting, will show them
it isn't all play, Cliff whispered, and a second later, half a
dozen Spaniards dashed out of the woods. Fire roared Cliff. There was a
quick folly, and then instantly the fugitives sprang up again and sped on.
They left several of their enemies lying on the ground. That unexpected move had
evidently disconcerted the pursuers, who hadn't looked for a reception of that kind.
They were not heard on the trail again for fully a minute while the Americans
made the best possible use of their time. But the pursuers did not mean
to give up as easily as that, and they soon set out once more,
firing away as if a whole army were in sight. Their little success
raised the spirits of the gallant Tars considerably. They seemed to forget they were
in the enemy's country, and they chuckled gleefully to themselves as they raced on
through the woods. They were a pretty small army of invasion, but they
had lots of courage. But there is a limit to what courage can do,
and the unfortunate sailors soon learned it. They came to a second clearing
abroad Savannah. This time we'll have to run for our very lives, gasped
Cliff, for if they failed to reach shelter before the Spaniards came up,
the former situation would be just reversed, and the Spaniards could hide and fire
in safety. And so the men set out at breakneck speed, as if
they were in a hundred yards dash. I think we can make it,
thought Cliff. They seemed to be a long ways behind. The shouts of
the enemy indicated it. Cliffs Volley had seemed to deprive them of their former
confidence and rashness. But unfortunately they were not the only Spaniards in Cuba.
The firing had not failed to attract attention. The Americans had reached about the
center of the broad plain. There was high grass and cane upon it,
and that made even walking hard. But the men still plunged on bravely,
though they were gasping for breath. But then something happened that made them gasp
still more, for the shouts of the enemy in the rear were suddenly answered,
and the answer came from in front. The sailors halted and at each
other in consternation. Do you see anything, cried Cliff. All that could
be made out was a line of bushes and undergrowth marking the beginning of the
woods. But out of it came a confused battle of shouts, as if
the whole army were there and had been suddenly alarmed. They'll head us off,
asked the sailor. But they stood still for only a second. Now
was no time to delay. The pursuers in the rear were drawing closer every
instant. There was only one thing left. They were shut off in two
directions, but off to each side come gas, Cliff and the sailors whirled
about and followed him in the new direction. It was a hopeless hope,
but it was not yet time to give up, and so for perhaps a
hundred yards they raced on. They had heard a shout behind them, and
saw the Spaniards running out from the woods, both in front and behind.
Turn and fight them, shouted Cliff, like wild animals at bay. The
sailors faced about and jerked out their revolvers again. They were on the point
of opening fire, when suddenly, as if they were not in trouble enough,
there came a new development. There was a yelled behind them and a
crashing sound. Out upon the broad savannah galloped a whole troop of Spanish cavalry,
their car beings in their hands, and at their head rode a brightly
uniformed captain, waving his sword and galloping down upon the fugitives. Surrender.
He yelled, lay down your arms, and that was the last straw.
The sailors looked at Cliff, and Cliff looked at the sailors. The troopers
were not a hundred yards away, and there were fifty of them. I
guess we may as well give up, said Cliff grimly. We've done our
best, I think, and he turned toward the galloping men, dropped his
sword and revolver, and then folded his arms. We surrender, he called.
Come on, and a minute later Gallant five were surrounded by the cavalrymen,
who stared at them eagerly. Who are you, demanded the gruff captain,
an officer in the United States Navy, said Cliff promptly from the gunboat,
uncas, and what are you doing here? We were wrecked on the
coast last night. We surrender and we expect to be decently treated. You
are prisoners of war, was the officer's stern response, and you will retreat
it as such. Forward March end of chapter eleven. Recording by Tom Weiss
Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter twelve of a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair.
This librevox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss,
Chapter twelve, the first prisoners of War. The command had hardly been obeyed
when out from the brush at the further side of the savannah came the pursuing
Spaniards, and with them Ignacio. The latter made straight for Cliff with an
upraised dagger and would have killed the cadet then and there, if the commander
of the troop had not prevented him. Forcibly, you fool, he said,
don't you know the orders? What orders from Blanco. Prisoners are to
be brought to Havana. If you want to kill him, wait till you
get him there. And so the furious Ignacio was compelled to lead his enemy
alone. He now rode along behind the troopers, muttering curses under his breath.
But he knew that his time would come later. Moreover, he had
not so very long to wait for. The capture had been made quite near
to Havana. The country through which they were riding was broad and flat,
rising gradually to the blue hills at the southward. All about them it seemed
as if the land had once been under cultivation, but now it was over
own with rank vegetation. In the distance could be seen the buildings of a
little town for which they were heading. The Spanish cavalrymen rode along merrily,
their accouterments jingling. They were a dark skinned, black haired lot, and
most of them were small and not very sturdily built. The Americans had heard
it said that they didn't get enough to eat, and they looked it.
The prisoners were mounted upon spare horses and were kept well in the middle of
the group. Their hands were tied behind them, and one of their captors
had hold of the bridles of their mouths. Cliffs was a jaded old nag
and kept stumbling and stopping, making the task of riding a difficult one.
But he did not notice it very much, for he was busily thinking.
His present situation was indeed a discouraging one, and he felt its degradation keenly.
It was not that his conscience troubled him, for he knew that he
had done all that could be expected of him. But he was a prisoner
for all that, and he had before him all the horrors of which he
had heard so much. Still, there was no chance of escape, and
he could only bow to the inevitable. But he could not help feeling a
thrill of apprehension as he glanced behind him and saw the malignant Ignazio gazing at
him. But Ignacio bided his time and said nothing. Meanwhile, the troopers
trotted on. In about fifteen minutes. The little town drew near. Cliff
did not know the name of it, for he had no idea where he
had run ashore on the previous night, but he did not think he was
far from Havana. The arrival of the soldiers created intense excitement in the town.
Men and women and children embarking dogs rushed out to see them passed,
and when it was discovered that five Yankees had been captured, the cavalrymen received
ovation, but they made straight on to their destination. What it was,
Cliff had no trouble in guessing. There was a railroad station in the town,
and there the troopers came to a halt. Most of them dismounted from
their horses to rest, and the captain hurried off to attend to the task
of getting a train to take those prisoners to the capitol. Meanwhile, a
great crowd gathered about the little station. Most of them were ugly looking ragged
men, and they crowded around the prisoners and stared at them curiously. There
were looks of hatred upon their unpleasant faces, and their remarks, it may
be believed, were not complimentary. The Yankee pigs had met their match at
last, snarled one tobacco stained peon who had forced his way up close to
Cliff and they go to Havana as they wanted to put in another with a
leer. They were boasting they get there. There were some grins at that
sally, which encouraged the Spaniard to go on. How do you like it?
He inquired, sent to Maria. Couldn't you have run fast enough?
They won't run anymore, snarled another. They'll be put where they're safe.
An old woman with a haggard, savage looking face and a heavy stick shook
the ladder in the Americans faces as she cursed them in her shrills Spanish jargon,
and then suddenly came a loud cry from the outskirts of the crowd.
Stone the pigs, kill em, don't let him get away. Cliff could
not see the man who yelled that, but he knew the voice and realized
that Ignacio was getting in his fine work again, and he seemed likely to
be successful too, for the cry appeared to please the crowd. Yes,
yes, kill em swelled the muttering shout, and a moment later, someone,
perhaps Ignacio himself, flung a heavy stone at the Americans. It sailed
over the heads of the mob and struck one of the sailors a glancing blow
on the forehead. It made it ugly wound, and blood flowed. The
sight seemed to please the crowd, Hordius, They laughed, good for them,
keep it up. Perhaps the sight of blood enraged them, but at
any rate, their hostility became more evident. They shook their fists and muttered
savagely, and all the while Ignacio's voice chimed in, kill em, kill
em. The prisoners seemed about to have a very unpleasant experience. Indeed,
there was no one to restrain the crowd except the soldiers, and they sympathized
with the angry people, and the crowd seemed to know that they surged nearer
a prisons too good for them. They roared. The old hag was still
shaking her cane and yelling her maledictions. At that moment, a man snatched
the stick from her hand and aimed a blow at Cliff's face. The cadet's
hands were tied behind him and he was nearly helpless, but he managed to
turn and catch the blow upon his shoulders, and an instant later his foot
shot out and caught the enraged spaniard squarely in the stomach. The man staggered
back. Madre di dios. He gasped, He's killed me. Cliff's daring
action set the crowd in a perfect frenzy. Stoneham yelled Ignazio, and seemingly
all at once, they sprang at the prisoners with sticks and stones and knives
and fists. The soldiers made a feeble effort to stop them, but the
crowd saw them laughing as they did. So nobody cares about the Yankee pigs.
The crowd roared go for them. It would have gone hard with the
Americans just then had it not been for the fact that the captain reappeared.
He had no love to wasten them, but he knew his duty, and
he sprang forward with a stern command. Drive that crowd back quick, And
then the cavalrymen acted in a quite different manner. The angry mob was forced
away in spite of their protests. The sailors breathed somewhat more freely. Still,
it was to their leaf when they saw an engine and a single freight
car coming up the track. They knew that was for them, and that
they would soon be out of the reach of that mob. But not of
Ignazio. Cliff grown not of Ignazio. The private car intended for the strangers
came to a stop in front of the little station, and they were told
to dismount from the horses and enter. The crowd gave a parting geer as
they lost sight of them. Once inside, the sailors were gruffly ordered to
sit down and their feet were tied securely. A sergeant and three men were
detailed to mount guard over them, and then everything was ready for the start.
Cliff watched anxiously for one thing, he had an idea that his deadly
enemy might not succeed in following them the rest of the journey, But in
that he soon saw that he was mistaken. Ignacio had no idea of being
foiled in his vengeance. Just before the door of the car was shut,
his small, crouching figure entered. He stopped just long enough to clinch his
fist and shake it at Cliff, and then he retired into a corner to
snarl angrily to himself. A few moments later, there was a creaking of
wheels and the train had started. The roar of the crowd died away and
was succeeded by the sound of the rapid motion. The prisoners were on their
way to Havana, and I wish there'd be a wreck and end us before
we got there, mused Cliff. End of chapter twelve. Recording by Tom
Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter thirteen of a Prisoner of Morrow Buy Up
in Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom
Weiss, Chapter thirteen. Ignacio's plots for Cliff Faraday had not failed to learn
something of what a prisoner might expect in Havana. A classmate of his vic
Rollins, had spent a couple of months there and had emerged almost a physical
wreck, and Cliff could not tell how long he might have to remain.
The war had already been going on long enough for him to see that it
would last some time, and the amount of cruelty and starvation he had before
him was enough to make the cadet tremble. He knew that the severest privation
would fall to his lot. Ignacio could be trusted to see to that.
I don't think they'll dare to let him kill me, the American muttered,
But he'll probably get his satisfaction somehow. At any rate, it was plain
that the vengeful Spaniard meant to try. He soon set to work that Cliff
understood Spanish. He was well aware, but he did not seem to mind
it, for he began a conversation with the sergeant, and he did not
take the trouble to whisper what he had to say, though one would have
thought he would not care to have so villainous a plot known to anyone.
The officer in charge of the Americans was sitting near them, with his own
sword lying in his lap, and Ignacio crept over to him. Jose said
he, Jose, Garcia listened to me. What is it, Jose?
Have you been paid your wages for the last six months? The soldier gazed
at Ignacio in astonishment. Karamba, what's that to you? Nothing, Jose,
except that you need money, don't you. It was evident from the
look that came over the Spanish soldier's face that the answer he made was sincere
sent to Maria. He cried, yes, why would you like to make
some how much? Slowly, Ignacio reached his hand inside of his shirt and
pulled out a little bag. He loosened the mouth of it and took the
contents out. He spread them out on the floor of the car. It
is American money, he said, the money of the pigs. But it
is good money for all that. How much is there? Ha ha,
you are interested? Are you well well? Ignacio's dark eyes glittered as he
slowly went over the pile of bills. See, sergeant said he. Here
is a hundred dollars bill. Just think of it, look at it.
Think if I should get that bill changed into good Spanish gold. The British
Council would do it. Yes, he is a friend of the Yankees.
Yes, he would do it for me. And then here is fifty dollars
more. Look and count it. Think of what you could do with one
hundred and fifty dollars of the Yankees money. Think of what it would buy
food? And I know not what what a fine dress for your sweetheart to
take her away from that rival of yours. And it is all good money
too. How am I to know it? Karamba? Wouldn't you take my
word for it? You know me, Jose and what I do for Spain?
Do you not know that I am a friend of Blanco's hey, and
you know that he trusts me when he trusts nobody else. And how did
you get that money? How did I get it. I will tell yes,
poor Diaz, I will, and those Yankee pigs may hear me too.
Ha ha. There was what they called a traitor on the New York,
the Yankees flagship. She isn't much, but she is the best they
have. One of our little gunboats could whip her, or it would be
men fighting pigs. The sergeant's eyes danced, and will sink her too,
went on a dazio. Just wait. I saw her run away once from
a little gunboat. The Yankees build their boats swifter than ours so they can
run away. But anyhow, as I said, this man was working for
Spain, and he tried to blow up the flagship. US, cried the
sergeant, like we did the main exactly. It would have been another glorious
triumph for US and Jose Garcia. Who do you think it was that prevented
him? The man clinched his fist. I don't know, he cried,
But I wish I could get hold of him. You do, yes,
What would you do to him, Santa Maria? I get him by the
throat, you would, yes, And I would choke him till he was
dead dead, echoed Ignacio, with a hoarse cry of triumph, and then
he raised one arm, trembling all over with rage and hatred. Jose,
he half yelled, what is it? Suppose I should tell you? Jose?
Suppose I should tell you that the villain is here? Here? Yes,
by Heaven, he's here, Jose, that is he. And the
fellow pointed straight at Cliff, while he leaned forward and stared into the Spaniard's
face, eager to see what the effect of his announcement would be. It
must have suited him, for he gave a low laugh of fiendish chuckle.
Then he went on. And not only that, Jose, think of what
else he has done? Has he done war? Yes, poor ViOS,
he has. Listen, Jose, we have in our power the worst of
our country's enemies. Jose. He is a fiend, a perfect devil.
He has ruined nearly every plan I tried. Do you know if it had
not been for him, Yes, for him, I should have stabbed the
great pig, Admiral Karamba. Yes, not Samson. Yes, he the
villain who is blockading Havanah and destroying our ships. I had the knife at
his heart, and that Yankee pig prevented me. Do you wonder that I
hate him. No, I hate him too, yes, for you are
a true Spaniard. But about that money, Jose, I got it,
as I say, from this schwartz. For when this Yankee pig stopped him
from blowing up to New York, he ran away and hid, and he
paid me this for helping him to Cuba. Ignacio held up the bills before
the hungry eyes of the Spanish sergeant, and when he had given him time
to look at it and think of what it meant for him, Ignacio suddenly
bent forward and got close to him. Jose, he cried, it's all
for you. The man stared eagerly. What for, he cried, I
will tell you, said Ignacio. Once more. He slipped his hand under
his jacket. Look, said he, and he drew out a sharp,
gleaming dagger. He ran his fingers over the edge, hissing as he did
so, between his teeth. It is sharp, he muttered, haha,
sharp, and it will do the work. What work? Listen, Jose,
there lies the fiend of a Yankee. He is in my power at
last. He has battled me, ruined me. But now I have him.
Yes, he can't get away. Haha. I feel merry Jose is
my deadliest enemy. He is your enemy too, the enemy of our glorious
country. I hate him, so must you I do. Then listen,
I want you to take this knife, this nice sharp knife that I have
been grinding for him. Haha, Santa Maria, how sharp it is.
And I will put this money, all this money, into your hands,
and you will turn away so as not to see. And I will take
this knife in my hand so and I will creep over toward that fellow and
give him. Listen, Jose, you spoil it. He'll scream, he'll
turn pale and tremble like the coward he is. But he can't get away,
Jose. He can't get away. I got him, Jose. And
I'll unbutton his jacket, that hated Yankee uniform, and I'll take this knife
and i'll put it right close to his soft white skin. Then I will
press down down and you'll hear him scream as it goes in. He'll twist
the back out and shriek, but I will pin him to the floor and
then he will lie their, Jose, and we can watch him die.
Ha, Madre di dios, how I hate him. The Spaniard's rage had
been such that his face grew fairly purple, and he snatched up the knife
and started forward toward the cadet. How I hate him, he panted again.
What were the feelings of poor Cliff may be imagined. He was perfectly
helpless and could only lie still and gaze into the eyes of his deadly foe.
But there was someone else to stop Ignacio. The sergeant caught him by
the arm, So no, he cried, stop, what panded Ignacio?
Why they would punish me? But they need not know. The others will
tell nonsense, but they will. What cannot a knife kill more than one
man? Karamba? I will kill all five, but I was ordered to
deliver them alive. Ignacio was nearly frenzied at those objections. Jose, he
yelled, you are mad. We can fix it. I will fix it
with Blanco. Say they got loose, chewed the ropes and attack us.
I will swear they did, swear it by all the saints. And I
hate that yankee so Jose that I would cut my own flesh to make the
story seem more probable. I will say we had a desperate battle. Tell
them how you saved my life, and you will be promoted, Blanco,
will believe me, Jose. But the Spanish soldier shook his head dubiously.
I dare not, he said. The captain's last words were to deliver them
safely. But think of the money, Jose, think of the money.
Ignacio fairly ground his teeth with rage over the delay. He was like a
wild man. Puttias, it cried, how can you hesitate? It is
the chance of your lifetime, of your lifetime. The five unfortunate prisoners had
not all of them understood those words, but they had no doubt of their
meaning, and they lay watching Ignacio feverishly. It was as if they had
been charmed by a serpent. Their eyes followed his every motion. They realized
that at any moment the cunning villain might leap at them. But the sergeant,
though wavering, still shook his head. The men will tell, he
objected, Here is another hundred for them, gasped Ignacio. Each is all
I have for theeas What more? There was at least half a minute of
agony after that, while the man upon whom everything dependent wrestled with that temptation.
It was a great one, and Cliff felt a cold perspiration breaking out
all over him as he sat and watched. But the stolid sergeant was apparently
too much of a coward to take the risk. He said no, and
Cliff gave a gas wait and see Blanco. He said, I do not
dare to let you do it. And though Ignacio blustered and swore and pranced
about like a madman, the soldier was obdurate. The risk is too great,
he reiterated, I dare not. And so Ignacio once more slunk back
into a dark corner of a car and fell snarling to himself. But I'll
have him yet, Cliff hurt him. Hiss, I'll have him yet.
Just wait till we get to Havana. End of chapter thirteen. Recording by
Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter fourteen of a Prisoner of Morrow Buy
Up in Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by
Tom Weiss, Chapter fourteen, Bessie Stewart. The event to which Ignacio was
looking forward with so much pleasure was not long in taking place. The trip
by the railroad lasted about half an hour, only Ignacio would hardly have had
more than time to carry out his dastardly purpose before the train arrived. The
car came slowly to a stop, and the sergeant got up and opened the
door. Here we are, said he, and I am glad. Ignacio
was apparently glad too, since he had failed in his first plan. He
sprang up eagerly and watched the removal of the prisoners. The sergeant untied the
American's feet and gruffly ordered them to march with the soldiers before and behind.
They were led rapidly through the streets of Havana. If the arrival of those
prisoners in a small town created excitement, one may well imagine that the big
capital turn out a crowd to watch them. But there was almost no demonstration
against them. For the party hurried along rapidly, and Ignacio did not try
any of his tricks. He knew that his chance would soon come, and
he waited patiently. Cliff gazed about as he walked. He was listless and
hopeless, but he could not help feeling an interest in the city he had
heard so much of, and which he had been so busily helping to blockade.
But he had little chance to look about. He was marching down a
long street crowded with Spaniards of all sizes and shades, and then suddenly,
before a dark, heavy looking building, the guards came to a halt.
There was a heavy iron door in front of it that opened slowly. March
in, said the sergeant, and the prisoners, with bayonets at their backs,
were forced up steps and into the building. The door shut again with
a dull iron clang that sounded like a death knell to the cliff. Ignazio
entered two. He seemed to have the privilege of going where he chose.
The sentries who were guarding that door asked him no questions. It was apparently
some sort of a military jail to which they had been taken down a long
stone corridor. They were marched and then hauled it in front of a door.
The sergeant entered, an Ignacio after him. The rest waited outside.
It must have been at least fifteen minutes before anything more occurred than the sergeant
came out and ordered the prisoners to enter. Cliff As the officer entered first,
and he found himself facing a tall, military looking Spaniard with a resplendent
uniform and an air of authority. Who he was. Cliff had no idea,
but he was evidently in command of the place. He was a dark,
savage looking man, and his brows were drawn down as he frowned upon
the prisoners, and Cliff was not surprised. He's had Ignacio to tell him
about us, he thought to himself. Ignacio was standing just behind the officer.
There was a grin on his face and a look of delight. He
rubbed his hands gleefully as he watched what transpired. The Spanish officer glared at
his prisoners sternly. Cliff's bearing was quiet and dignified. So you are the
officer who commanded the Yankee pigs, growled the man. I am an American
naval cadet, was the response. The spaniard said nothing more for a moment,
but continued his piercing look. You put on a bold front, he
said. At last, you must have looked differently when you were running away.
The remark required no answer and got none. Cliff did not mean to
bandy words with the officer. If he wanted to taunt him, he was
welcome to do so. We treat our officers more politely, he thought,
But I suppose this is the Spanish way. Meanwhile, the officer went on,
you will be less impotent. Later on, he snarled, when you
learn what is in store for you, you've no idea. I presume I
understood that I was a prisoner of war, was the americans quiet answer.
And I understood that Spain considered itself a civilized nation, the Spaniard laughed softly.
A prisoner of war, he chuckled, So you really expect to be
treated as such? And after what you have done? What have I done?
Asked Cliff. Ignacio's eyes began to dance at that, for the officer
turned toward him. This gentleman said, the officer is one of our trusted
agents, and I have learned from him of your villany. Cliff was not
in the least surprised at that. It was just what he had looked for.
I should be pleased to learn, also, if I may, what
has this trusted agent told you? As he said that, he turned toward
the grinning Ignacio. But it was the officer who continued speaking. I suppose
you wish to deny everything, said he, But I assure you I will
do not the least good in the world, I presume not escaped Cliff's lips.
The Spaniard frowned. Angrily, but he went on without a change of
tone. You are captured, if I understand it, truly from a merchantman,
which you ran upon the rocks in order to prevent one of our vessels
from recapturing her. That is true, Cliff said, And you must have
thought it quite a smart trick. But according to this man here, you
previously had some fighting with our vessel. Would you mind telling me about it?
I would not, said Cliff. We were steaming toward Key West,
myself and these four men, being a prize crew from the gunboat Uncas,
we were hailed from the darkness by another vessel. Ah, and what was
the name of the vessel? I do not know, did you not ask?
I did, But she answered falsely. She pretended to be an American
vessel. The spaniard gave a sneer. So that is a yarn you mean
to tell, he laughed. That is what occurred, said Cliff quickly.
If you have heard otherwise, you have been told a lie, and my
men will bear me out in the statement. Indeed, I do not doubt
it. There was fine sarcasm in that tone, but Cliff did not heed
it. Would you mind telling me what this fellow, Ignacio has said,
he inquired, he says, responded the other that the vessel announced herself as
a Spaniard and called on you to surrender. You did sell, and then
when the boat's crew came aboard, you shot two of them and steamed away.
Is that so, Ignacio? It is, snarled the agent. I
will take my oath upon it. It was, of course a lie,
and it made Cliff's blood boil. The Spanish vessel had deceived them and tried
to capture them by stealth. The men of the Spanish boat's crew had been
shot while trying to hold up the American. But Cliff had expected that Ignacio
would tell such a tale, and so he was not surprised. The offense
with which the lad found himself charged was a terrible one, and he realized
that he could be hanged for it. Yet what was he to do?
I fear, He said to the Spaniard that it will do me a little
good to deny this story. That is true, said the other problem,
and his cruel eyes gleamed as he watched the prisoner. Did you deny the
shooting? He demanded? No, said Cliff, I do not you find
it easier to say that the men pretended to be Americans. I find it
easier because it is truer, was the cadet's answer. And then there were
several moments of silence while the three actors of this little drama watched each other
eagerly. Ignazio was fairly beside himself with triumph. He could scarcely keep himself
quiet, and under his bushy eyebrows, his dark eyes gleamed triumphantly. He
had played his trump card, and he had his victim where he wanted him
at last. To watch him under the torture of his present position was almost
as good as to watch him under the torture of the knife. For what
could he do. He might bluster and protest, all to Ignacio's glee,
but nobody would believe him. For Ignacio knew that the Spanish officer was glad
enough to believe the story the spy told him. His prejudice and his hatred
of Americans would turn the scale, and it would be fine to punish a
Yankee pig for such a crime as this. As for Cliff, he was
filled with a kind of dull despair. He knew the odds against him,
and realized that his struggles would be those of a caged animal. He had
done nothing but his duty, and the law of nations would have justified him.
But ignacios lie upon that one small point of what the Spanish gunboat had
done was enough to make him liable to death. The officers seemed to realize
the smallness of difference, for he turned to Ignacio, are you perfectly sure?
He demanded that you heard our vessel announce her identity. I am signor,
and what was her name? Cliff's eyes brightened at that. He thought
Ignacio would be caught there, but the cunning fellow was prepared and answered instantly.
The regina had chosen the name of a Spanish gunboat he knew to be
at sea, and the ruse worked. What more can you expect? Demanded
the officer of Cliff, And then the cadet looked up to make the last
effort for his life. As I have told you, he said, this
fellow's story is false, and now I will tell you why he has done
it. He has long been an enemy of mine, and he is making
an effort to ruin me. I foiled him. If you are going to
tell me about that, attempt of his to kill your yankee, Admiral,
interrupted the officer. I know it already, ed Ignacio, gave a chuckle
of glee. In fact, the officer added, I have learned of all
your adventurous young men, and I have no doubt you consider yourself quite a
hero after what you have done against Spain. But you will live to regret
it, I think. And Cliff saw that he had nothing to gain by
pursuing that tact any further. He was silent, or he knew nothing more
to do. The spaniard went on. I know also of another affair of
yours. He added, it seems that your pig government sent a naval officer
over to see that bendit Robbert Gomez, and our friend here, Ignacio,
was leading him into our camp. I believe that was it. Was it,
not Ignacio, it was Signor. And this yankee here met us and
wounded you and rescued the officer with the aid of some of the robber's men.
And that girl you told me about exactly, said Ignacio. What was
her name? The other continued Stewart. I think we will soon manage to
stop her tricks. I fancy Cliff had been listening to their conversation without any
particular interest. But suddenly, as he heard that last speech, his face
flushed. Crimson and he half staggered back. Bessie Stewart, he gasped under
his breath. The Spanish officer was looking at him, and he laughed as
he saw the American's thunderstruck expression. Ha ha, he chuckled, So you
are interested in her? Are you a sweetheart? Perhaps? Eh? Cliff
did not answer that. He was staring at the man in horror. Stop
her. What in the world could he mean? What could he know about
Bessie Stewart. The girl was a dear friend of Cliffs who had come to
Cuba to hunt for a relative of hers. Cliff had left her under the
protection of Gomez, and that was the last he had heard of her.
And here was the brutal spaniard mentioning her. How had he and how had
the villainous Ignacio learned about her? It was small wonder that Cliffs started back.
Bessie Stewart was the dearest friend he had. Meanwhile, the spaniard was
leering at him. The Yankee pig seems worried, he said, if that
girl is his sweetheart. He did not do wisely to leave her with the
band at Gomez, did he Ignacio no Signor was that person's grinning response,
For she will soon be somebody else's sweetheart, chuckled the other. That was
too much. Cliff had held himself back, for he did not wish those
cruel men to know he could torment him. But at the last remark,
he could no longer restrain his anxiety. He sprang toward the Spanish captain with
a pleading look on his face. Tell me, he cried, Tell me
where is she? The other's lip curled sneeringly as he stared at him.
You are very interested, said he. Well, to be sure, the
girl is pretty pretty as I ever saw. Unfortunately for her, but you
may see her again. I expect she is likely to be in the same
prison with you. Every drop of blood left Cliff's face at those terrible words.
Bessy Stewart in prison. Merciful providence, he gasped, and then once
more he sprang toward the Spaniard a look in his face, a look of
agony that would have touched a heart of stone. For Heaven's sake, sir,
he gasped, Tell me tell you what is she in Havana. The
spaniard laughed softly. Then he nodded toward Ignacio, ask him, He said,
he keeps track of such people for us. She has been here for
some time now, and people who get into our prisons don't ha, they
don't get out in a hurry. To them, Ignacio, no signor.
And then she is very pretty too, added the officer, with a laugh
to the agony those remarks were raising in the mind of poor Cliff. Those
two brutal men seemed quite insensible, or perhaps they were teasing him. But
if so, the officer had enough then, for he turned upon his heel
impatiently. Enough of this nonsense, he said, you need not worry about
your sweetheart, for you will probably be dead by tomorrow. And the man
turned to the soldiers. Those four prisoners, he said, pointing to the
sailors, will be kept here for the present. They will probably be exchanged
in a few days. We do not blame them for the crime this officer
here committed. As for him, he will probably be sent over to morrow
Castle tonight. And then the file of soldiers closed about the day's cadet and
led him out of the room. He was scarcely able to walk by himself.
The last sound that he heard as he left the room was the fiendish
chuckle of the triumphant Ignacio end of chapter fourteen. Recording by Tom Weiss Tom's
audiobooks dot Com. Chapter fifteen of a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair.
This Librivots recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter
fifteen in Morrow Castle. That certainly was a day of triumph for the vindictive
spaniard. Not only Cliff Faraday was made wretched, but there was his friend
too, and each a thousand times more unhappy because of the misfortune of the
other. Cliff as he went out of that room was almost dazed. He
could think of nothing. He scarcely heard the sailors sadly bidding him goodbye,
nor did he notice anything else until he heard the clang of a door behind
him. He realized then, from the darkness and silence about him, that
he was alone in one of the cells of the prison. It was not
for himself that the poor cadet feared. He could have marched out without flinching
and faced a dozen rifles aimed at his heart, but it was for Bessy
Stewart fallen into the hands of these brutal men. The fate that was before
her was enough to make Cliff wish her dead. He racked his brains trying
to think of how she could have come to Havana, could she have been
captured in a battle, and what had Ignacio to do with it? But
poor Cliff knew nothing and could think of nothing except that she was here,
and he powerless to aid her. His own fate was terrible enough, though
he hardly thought of that he was to be sent at night tomorrow. Many,
indeed, were the unfortunates who had come to take that sea trip in
the darkness and never come back, and sometimes not reached their destination either.
It was a terrible journey, that short ride across Havana Bay. But the
cadet did not even stop to realize that he had but one thought, and
that he kept repeating over and over to himself in a state of confusion and
despair. He never moved from his one position on the floor, and the
hours flew by unheeded. Once, and once only the heavy door of the
cell was opened, and that by a man who shoved in a pitcher of
water and a dish of food. He must have thought the prisoner was asleep,
and as a fact, Cliff was half unconscious. He was two dazed
to think of anything. He had no hope and no chance of life,
had nothing to think of except that Bessie Stewart was captured, and he could
not aid her. So the long day wore by. It was as a
man waking from a deep sleep that the wretched American looked up. When the
door of that cell was opened again, He found that the hours had flown
by, and that time for the trip tomorrow had come. If Cliff had
cared about anything, then he would have shivered with horror at that moment,
for it was surely gruesome and uncanny enough. Three men there were, dark,
silent, shadowy figures who entered the damp cell. The only light they
had was from a dark lantern, which they flashed upon the solitary prisoner.
They found him still lying on the floor, but he raised up to look
at them, his haggard, tortured face shining white in the rays of the
lantern. Yet up commanded one of the men, in a low muffled voice,
get up the face of the speaker was shrouded in darkness, but Cliff
recognized the voice, and a cold chill shot over him. Ignacio again he
gasped yes, and Cliff thought that this was the last that Ignacio had gained
his purpose. The task of murder was left to him, but there was
no chance of resistance. Cliff felt the cold muzzle of a revolver pressed to
his head, and so he put the thought away. One of the men
snapped a pair of handcuffs about his wrist, as if to make sure in
case the ropes were not strong enough, and then one of them seized him
by each arm, and Ignacio stepped behind with the lantern, and so out
of the cell they marched and down the long corridor and out of the building
into the open air. Cliff had a chance four but one deep breath of
it. A moment later he was shoved into a wagon that was in front
of the door. There he was seated between one of the men and the
chuckling Ignacio. The other man was driving, and they rattled off down the
street where they were going. The unfortunate victim had no idea, perhaps to
some lonely spot where Ignazio could torture him to his fiendish heart's content. But
there was no use in making an outcry, and Cliff realized it and sat
perfectly still. He would give his enemies no more satisfaction than he could help.
Cliff did not think that it could be the trip to Morrow that was
before him. It was too early for such a deed of darkness. If
he were dropped overboard upon the way, someone might see it. But as
it actually happened, Morrow was his destination, and he really reached Morrow too.
Perhaps the city jail was not considered strong enough for such a villain.
As he and the carriage stopped at a wharf, a small launch was waiting
there, and the party boarded her and were swept across to the other side
in a very short while. So in a little while the walls of Havana's
strongest dungeon shut upon Cliff Faraday. He was a prisoner in Morrow, famous
or infamous for its deeds of horror. For it was in this place,
as Cliff knew, that all the torture and cruelty of the Spanish nature had
been wreaked upon the unfortunate Cubans or Americans who fell into the hands of whaler
it was here that Ruiz had been murdered at hundreds of wretches, besides their
name and fate being hidden forever by the walls of that horrible place. And
Cliff was going then under the guidance of Ignacio. It was plain that the
fiendish man had secured his purpose, for he was in command of the little
party, and it was his to decide what was to be done with Cliff.
How the man had secured that privilege from the authorities, Cliff could not
hope to know that he had gotten it as a reward for some deed of
darkness, he did not doubt. Perhaps it was for capturing Bessie's Stuart,
was the thought that flashed over the lad again. When the black, silent
walls of moral loomed up before them and the great gate opened. Nobody asked
any questions of Ignacio. He showed a note and had passed him from century
to century, and the party passed down a flight of stairs into a cold,
damp stone corridor, black as night. Poor Cliff could not help but
think of his own fate. Then. Ignacio's cruelty and hatred were such that
no torture would be terrible enough for him, and he seemed to have his
prisoner entirely to his own discretion. The great vault through which they were going
echoed dimly to the footsteps of the party. They seemed to be down in
a sort of cellar, and they were winding their way through secret passages in
almost absolute darkness. But Ignacio knew the way. Probably the fellow had been
in those gloomy dungeons before. He stopped suddenly and flashed the lantern upon a
rusty iron door. It was solid and heavy, but Ignazio took a key
from his pocket and unlocked it. It swung back, creaking dismally upon its
hinges, and Ignacio flashed the light of his lantern in. He staggered back,
quite white with fright as he did so, for there was a series
of thumping, shuffling sounds, and a shrill noise that made his blood run
cold. But in a moment he again stepped forward, laughing under his breath.
Cordeus, he exclaimed the rats, they must be hungry, and he
stepped into the room. His foot splashed into a small puddle of water on
the reeking earthen floor, but he pressed on, flashing his lantern about the
granite walls. It was a tiny black cavern into which he had come.
There was a stone bench at one side of the horrible place, and in
the wall by it a heavy ring and a thick iron chain. It was
but a minute more before Cliff's ankles were locked fur in the ring, and
then he was utterly helpless for but a moment. Ignacio stood looking at him,
flashing the lantern full in his face. And then he turned and motioned
to the two men. Without a word, they faced about and stole away.
They went out of the door, and Ignacio, trembling all over with
his fiendish eagerness, shut the great iron barrier and locked it. And then
with a hoarse cry of rage, he faced about. Cliff Faraday was alone
with his deadly and merciless foe and the chapter fifteen recording by Tom Weiss Tom's
audiobooks dot Com. Chapter sixteen of a Prisoner of Varl buy up in Sinclair.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weise,
Chapter sixteen in the Dungeon Vaults. Ignacio was a horrible object to contemplate at
that moment, and it was but little wonder that Cliff turned sick and faint
as he watched him. The man seemed fairly turned into a devil. Then
he seemed insane. He was alone, absolutely alone with his victim, and
no one under heaven could stop him. He had the key himself, and
he had his prisoner iron bound and helpless. For several moments, the man
fairly danced about the place, yelling as if to prove to his hated foe
that there was no care for anything anymore. And then suddenly he made a
leap at him. He crouched in front of him until his gleaming eyes shone
into his face, and his hot breath could be felt his clawlike fingers.
He seemed scarcely able to keep away from Cliff. Yankee, he hissed in
a wild voice, Yankee, do you know where you are? The fiendish
man saw the white look on his victim's face, and he laughed. You
do know, he cried, You do know, ha, You are in
Morrow, deep in the lowest vault, and no soul can come near you.
Near you, hear me. He struck him in the face as if
to draw his attention. Listen, yes, stare at me. I don't
wonder you quake. You have defied me, ha ha, you have ruined
all my plans. But I've got you now, And oh how I will
pay you back. How I will twist you and tear you. You shall
pay for everything, and you may shriek and scream, and no one will
know it more than if you did not listen. And again from sure Bravado,
Ignacio raised his voice and shouted the sound died in the grave like cell
the granite and iron shut it in. You see, handed Ignacio, not
a soul heard, and you are mine. Ah, they hate you,
and they like me, for I told them about that girl. Ha.
Ignacio's face was almost touching cliffs as he hissed that you can't get away,
he yelled, And oh the things that I shall do to you. I've
got instruments upstairs to tear you, to pieces, burn your eyes out,
but never kill you. Oh no, And all night you will scream,
and all tomorrow if I choose, and I will watch you, I and
the rats, and the rats will eat you too. As if to add
horror to the devil's gleeful statement, a huge, slimy rat ran across Cliff's
body. Just then. It made him shiver all over, and Ignacio danced
about as he saw him. Ah, he cried, you begin, but
wait till I start, Wait till you begin to feel some agony, till
I begin to tear your eyes out. Then will you yell? When I
get through with you? Hai, When you are dead, perhaps weeks from
now, you won't mind the rats anymore. You may stay in here,
in this grave, for the Yankees to find if they capture morrow as they
say they will. Oh, I will make it a sight for them.
Cliff could not have stood strain of that horrible ordeal much longer. He would
have faded away. But then the fiendish spaniard's impatience got the better of him,
and he turned and crept toward the door again. I will get the
instruments, he whispered, hoarsely, the torture instruments sent to Maria. What
things they are? And how you will shriek. A moment later he turned
the key and stepped out. He shut the door and locked it, and
Cliff was left alone in all the blackness and horror of that slimy place.
Never, as long as he lives, will he forgive the agony of that
long wait. He sat straining his ears and listening for the first sign of
the fiend's return. He knew that he might come back any instant and begin
his horrible, merciless tormenting. Cliff knew that man for a devil incarnate,
he would sooner have looked for mercy in a Hyaena. For Ignacio was of
the race of the Inquisition, and of the horrors of the inquisition. This
was a fair sample. The wretched American knew that he was alone, and
that he could look for no rescue. He was buried in the very center
of the earth, or the center of hades, and his cries would be
heard only by Ignacio. Cliff knew also that the frenzied villain would make haste,
that he would come back, panting and eager, appalled. Half days
he sat and listened. The first thing he would hear would be the grating
of the key, and then would come horrors inconceivable seconds were years. At
that time. Cliff thought that his hair would turn white from the suspense.
And then suddenly he gave a guess. There he was. Yes, the
key was sliding in, and now it was turning, and then slowly the
door was opened, groaning and creaking, Cliff imagined the dark crouching figure he
had left the landard behind. While the deeds of darkness went on, the
tomb like cell was absolutely light, and Cliff could not see one thing.
But he heard the door shut, heard the key turned. He shivered as
in an a goof fit above the noise of the scampering rats. He heard
a soft, stealthy footstep as the man crept across the floor, and then
came the scratching sound of a hand running along the wall. He was feeling
for him, and a moment later Cliff gave an involuntary cry as he felt
the hand touch his face. Perfectly motionless and paralyzed, he sat and fancied
what might be going on in the blackness. After that, he felt the
hand passed downward along his body, felt it fumbling at the manacles that bound
his ankles to the wall of the cell. Then, to his surprise his
consternation, he heard a key softly turned. What happened then almost took away
his breath. The iron fell off. He was loose. Can he be
going to take me elsewhere? Cliff gasped, but he nerved himself for one
thing, gathered his muscles for it. Before Ignacio secured him again, he
would get a kick, one that would almost kill him. Eagerly, Cliff
waited to see what would happen next. But what did happen was more startling
and incredible. Yet he could scarcely believe his senses, for he felt the
hands running down his arm. They fumbled at his wrists for an instant,
and then, with a clatter, the handcuffs dropped to the ground. Merciful,
heavens, Cliff thought to himself, Can he be insane? For a
moment? He actually thought so. Then it flashed over him that perhaps the
fiend was torturing him with the most horrible of all tortures. Hope he'll wish
he hadn't, Cliff gasped as he braced his muscles. But that was not
the true solution of the mystery. There were stranger things yet, stranger and
stranger. The only things that bound Cliff now were the ropes that had held
his wrists. At first, he tugged at them, but in vain.
There was a moment's silent pause, and then, to Cliff's unutterable consternation,
he heard another sound, a sound from across the room, a low grating
sound. It left him breathless. Some one else was coming into the cell,
and with one rush, the true state of affairs swept over Cliff.
This isn't Ignacio, he padded, And a moment later he received proof positive
of that fact. For again the hand stole down his arms, and there
came a couple of quick slashing cuts that hurt his wrists more than the ropes,
but seconds were precious. Then in one of them, Cliff's hands were
free, and his pulses leaped as he felt the knife thrust into his palm.
He clutched it, and he heard one word whispered in English. Fight.
And then the dark figure stole swiftly over to the other side of the
cell. It was at the same instant that the door was opened and the
light of a lantern flashed in. It was Ignacio returning. End of chapter
sixteen. Recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter seventeen of a
Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This libre box recording is in the public
domain. Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter seventeen, Out of the Dungeon.
The furious Spaniard came in like some wild beasts, fairly gnashing his teeth and
snarling to himself in his rage. Cliff had but a moment, but he
was quick to think. He sprang back to his old position, slipping his
feet into the iron ring and putting his hands behind him, and Ignacio never
noticed any difference. In fact, he did not look at Cliff until he
had set down the lantern and shut the heavy door. He turned the key
again and then faced about, touching low and muttering to himself. He stole
swiftly across the floor, and his gleaming eyes flashed in the Cliff's face.
Yankee, He hissed, I am back, do you hear me? Ha
ha? As if to make sure that he had hurt him, he struck
him once more across the face. Listen. He cried, ha ha,
and trembled. Cliff's blood rose at that blow, but he held himself back
and watched and waited. That was a moment of peril for the treacherous spaniard.
What would have been his terror may be imagined had he known the victim
into whose eyes he was glaring, was clutching in one hand a sharp knife,
ready at any instant to plunge it. Into him, But the fellow
had no idea of his peril. He was at the very height of his
triumph, and his dark, beady eyes gleamed ferociously out of the shadows of
that damp and silent vaul. But he must have noticed that some of the
color had come back in the Cliff's face. You are still defiant, he
cried, You still do not tremble. But wait, wait till you begin
to feel what I have for you. Did you see those iron things I
brought in? Hah, there is one. I will fasten about your forehead
and draw it tight till your very brain verse, and then you will like
it. Hey? Will you turn pale? Then will you scream? Ha
ha? And I shall dance around you and watch you. Will you be
sorry you interfered with me? Then? Ignacio might have taunted his victim that
way for hours, but he was too eager and impatient. He whirled about
and sprang toward the door Santa Maria. He panted, I will get it.
I will begin, I must hear him yelling, and he snatched up
something from the floor, and, taking the lanyard in his other hand,
bounded back toward cliff. Are you ready, he exclaimed, Yankee pig begin
to scream, and he flashed the lanyard light upon him. That was the
crisis of the situation, for as the Spaniard looked, he made the appalling
discovery that his victim's feet were untied, and he staggered back, dazed.
Pardius, he guessed, and that exclamation was his last sound. Cliff had
nerved himself for the spring, for he knew that Ignacio might have a revolver,
and that no risk could be taken. But at that instant, a
dark, shadowy form rose up behind Ignacio, and one of his iron instruments
was raised above his head. It came down with a hissing sound and then
a heavy thud, and Ignazio dropped without a groan, without even a quiver.
He lay perfectly motionless. His villainy was at an end. Cliff had
sprung up as he saw that, and he gave a gasp of joy.
Then he sprang toward his deliverer. The shadowy stranger took no notice of him
at first, but stooped and picked up the lantern, turning the light of
it upon Ignacio. The villain's face was fixed in a look of horror.
It made both Cliff and the stranger shudder. The latter regarded it for a
moment silently. The cadet could not see, but he was fingering a knife,
as if undecided what to do. Who his mysterious deliverer was. Cliff
had no idea. The single ray from the lantern did not furnish light enough
for him to see anything, and the person had spoken but one word fight,
But the Cadet's heart was full of gratitude. He sprang toward the stranger.
Who are you? He cried, I owe my life to you.
Let me thank you. But the other motioned him back, and then for
a few moments there was a silence while both stared at Ignacio's silent form.
When the stranger moved, it was to point toward the door. Go,
he said to Cliff, in a low whispering voice, Go, we will
leave him here. And with that, the mysterious person unlocked the gray iron
barrier and followed Cliff out. The door clanged upon that ghastly scene, and
Cliff Faraday gave a sigh of relief. Yet there was so much before him
that he soon forgot that hideous nightmare. For where was he going, and
who was this stranger? And why had he rescued him? And what did
he mean to do to Cliff? Nothing could be learned in that dark corridor,
for Cliff could see no more there than inside of the room. But
the stranger stumbled on and Cliff followed. They came to an iron ladder leading
up to the floor above. Up that the man went, the cadet following
That took them to another long stone passage. Dark as ever on they went,
turning and winding about, but still not hesitating, and then suddenly the
man halted in front of a grated door. The key was in the lock,
and the door opened promptly as he turned it enter, said he.
Cliff went in, and he heard the door shut behind him. It lashed
over him, then that he had only been taken to another cell. But
when he whirled about, he saw that the stranger had entered two. The
dark figure brushed past him and went across the room. A moment afterward,
Cliff hurt him in the act of striking a match, and then the light
of a lamp lit up the little room. By it, the eager cadet
could see his rescuer, and he stared anxiously. Further secrecy seemed not intended.
The stranger faced about, and each looked at the other steadfastly. What
the mysterious man saw was a tall, handsome American in a blue uniform,
his face rather pale. Cliff, in turn, saw also a man in
a blue uniform. He had to take but one glance to see that he
was a lieutenant in the Spanish army. He was a tall, finely proportioned
man, rather young, and with a slight dark mustache. He had the
dark skin and the features of a Spaniard, but Cliff thought he had never
seen a finer looking military man. For a moment, Cliff gazed at him
in silence. Then he stepped toward him. Tell me, sir, he
said, why have you done this? The officer answered, in a low,
quiet voice. You will soon know, said he. Do not be
impatient. You have saved me from a horrible fate, said the cadet,
his voice choking. I do not know how to thank you. Do not
try, answered the other. You have someone else to think, and then
he became silent again, watching Cliff. He seemed to be very much interested
in him, from the way he studied the American's face, and once he
gave a slight sigh. Cliff looked at him in surprise, but the man
turned away and he went toward the door. I will return soon, said
he again, in that quiet, firm voice. Wait here. There was
nothing for Cliff to do but wait for When the door shut, he was
locked in the cell. That man's action was a mysterious one. Indeed,
it left the cadet plenty to think of. He saw now where he got
the keys. He was evidently one of the officers in charge of the castle.
But why had he done it? Cliff was utterly baffled before that question.
But it was not for very long, he soon learned, and in
a startling and unexpected way. Cliff had not noticed it. But there was
another door to that cell. It was behind him, leading to a small
room in the rear. While he stood there, motionless and lost in thought,
waiting for the spaniard's return, that door was silently opened, and a
figure stood watching him. And then suddenly it stepped out and came across the
room. The cadet heard it them and whirled about. He took one glance,
and then he staggered back with a cry of consternation. It was Bessie
Stewart. For one instant, the two stood and stared at each other,
as if to make sure that their eyes did not see them, And then,
with a cry of delight that came from his very soul, Cliff sprang
toward the girl. Bessie Stewart looked as if she had been through some terrible
ordeal, for her face was pale. The emotion of meeting Cliff almost overcame
her, and she burst into tears upon his shoulder. Cliff himself was so
dazed that he hardly knew what to think. He caught the girl in his
arms to keep her from falling. Bessie, he cried, how on earth
did you get here? The Cadet's brain was in a whirl at that moment
he began to see what the spaniard meant when he said it was for some
other person's sake that he had rescued Cliff. It was for her sake,
and it must have been by some terrible sacrifice that she had saved him from
the torture. Bessie, he cried, tell me that officer what the girl
looked up Through her tears, she exclaimed, it is all right. Wait,
And at that instant Cliff heard a key turn in the door and knew
that it was the man returning. Cliff gazed into the girl's face, and
he saw a look of joy upon it that partially reassured him. Then he
looked up and saw that the Spanish lieutenant had entered and was watching them.
In his quiet way. He studied the faces of the two. He saw
the look of happiness on Bessie Stewart's face, and he must have known that
it was because she had met the cadet again. Cliff saw him press his
lips together resolutely. The cadet was watching him with the intensest anxiety, for
he hoped in that man's actions to read the meaning of this mystery. But
the spaniard's handsome face showed little emotion, though his chest heaved and fell as
he stood there. And then suddenly he stepped forward toward the two. I
have brought it, miss Stewart, he said, with a dignified bow.
He held out a heavy cloth cape, which the girl flung over her shoulders.
Then, leaning on Cliff's arm, she stepped toward the door. Ready,
she said, and without another word, the officer turned and led the
way out of the cell. He shut the door and locked it behind him,
and then went on down the corridor. Cliff was mystified beyond expression,
but he asked no questions. The three went on silently. Bessie Stuart was
so weak that she had to be half carried. They had gone but a
short way down the long passage before they met a sentry with a gun upon
his shoulder. He glanced at them inquiringly, but the lieutenant was not one
who could be asked for explanations, and the soldier saluted and passed on.
They passed through two heavily grated doors, each guarded in a similar way,
but still not a word was spoken, and then suddenly saw the passage broaden
out into a wide hall, and a moment later he came to what he
knew to be the great door by which he had first entered. There were
two men standing on guardened either sentries or jailers. Cliff could not see which.
The party came to a halt. Garcia said the lieutenant, these are
two prisoners Americans whom I have been directed to take across the bay. The
man saluted and bowed respectfully. Have you the order? He inquired, I
have none. The commander had no time to give me one. There is
some hurry in the matter. I believe it is somewhat irregular, Lieutenant.
I will assume full responsibility, said the other quietly. The man scanned the
two prisoners closely. They are not even bound, he objected. I will
assume full responsibility, said the officer again. He spoke rather sharply, and
without another word. The man hastened to swing back the door, and the
three stepped out of that black prison into the open air and under the broad
sky of heaven. And the lieutenant turned toward the two Americans. You are
free, he said, quietly. Fly for your lives and of Chapter seventeen,
recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter eighteen of a Prisoner
of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Recording by Tom Weis, Chapter eighteen, Cliff Faraday's sacrifice. It is needless
to say that Cliff stared at the man in amazement, but an instant before
he had heard him state that he was willing to assume responsibility for them as
prisoners, and now he was saying that they were free, but there was
no time to ask any questions. Bessy Stewart was clinging to Cliff's arm and
urging him on, Have you got some place to hide us? She inquired
anxiously of the officer. It is hardly likely that I would lead you here,
was the other's quiet answer. Come. He led them away from the
prison. Short distance off there was standing a small closed carriage. Here,
it is, said the spaniard Stepan. Cliff helped the girl inside and then
entered himself. He expected the officer to follow, but he did not.
He clambered up with the driver, and the carriage rattled off down the road.
Cliff saw his chance. Then he turned eagerly toward the girl, Bessy.
He cried, for Heaven's sake, tell me what this all means.
Who is this man? And why is he setting us at liberty? The
girl sank back weakly in the seat. I will tell you the story,
Cliff, she said. There is plenty of time, for we have a
long ways to go. He is ruining himself for us, Cliff exclaimed,
for you, why he will be court martialed and shot if he lets us
get away. I know it, groaned the girl choking down a sob.
I know it. We talked it all over beforehand, but it was a
question of his life or mine. Are you sure he is not tricking us
yet? Us Cliff kidnapping us? The girl smiled, sadly, you do
not understand the circumstances, she said, Wait and let me tell you.
Cliff missed in his friend the old, self reliant manner that she had always
had. She was nervous and weak, and it was plain that she was
not well, and Cliff was trembling all over with anxiety as he watched her
go on. He cried, tell me, how did you get here in
the first place? You left me with, Gomez, began the girl,
taking a deep breath. I did not stay very long, for he was
marching about and I could not stand the strain. He wanted me to go
to one of the Cuban villages in the interior, where his family was,
but I was anxious to get back to the United States, and so I
came here to Havannah. To Havannah, yes, for I thought no one
would know me, and Ignacio saw you, yes, and recognized me.
But that was only the other day where where you Meanwhile, I had a
letter to the British Council, and I stayed at his home. There was
so much suffering in this city that I couldn't stay idle. I used to
go to hospitals to take care of the poor people, the Cubans, and
that was how I met Lieutenant Hernandez. Who is he? He is the
man who has rescued us. He had been hurt in the Mantauz's bombardment and
one of his arms was terribly cut. I took care of him. He
was there because the military hospitals were crowded, and Cliff, I I,
I guess he fell in love with me. The girl flushed as she said
that I should not tell. Perhaps she went on hastily, but it is
your right to know this, and you would not understand if I didn't tell
you. Cliff, he asked me to marry him. Cliff started and turned
pale. Bessy, Bessy, he exclaimed, in horror. The thought of
that girl's marrying the Spanish officer was terrible. It flashed over him that that
was the reason why the rest you had been attempted. Oh, Bessy,
he cried again. Cliff had never breathed a word of love to her in
his life, but all through their trying journey through Cuba, he had protected
her, fairly worshiped her, and he had thought she understood his feelings.
And now he thought that he had lost her. She had promised to be
that officer's wife. It was no wonder that he felt his hands grow icy.
His heart fairly stood still as he waited for the girl to go on.
I will tell you, said Bessy. You must know in the first
place that this man is a gentleman, a hero. In fact, you
will understand it when I tell you what he has done. Go on.
When he left the hospital, as I say, he begged me to marry
him, declared that he would resign from the army if I would. The
girl was breathing hard as she continued. It was evident that the subject pained
her. I felt so sorry for him, she said, in a low
trembling voice, for I think it has nearly broken his heart. I refused
him. I told him that I liked him, but I did not I
could not marry him. I had been kind to him because he was ill.
He swore that he would die for me and Cliff. I think he
has nearly carried out his promise. Bessy Stewart choked down a sob I refused
him, she said again, and then came the horrible Ignacio. He saw
me on the street. That was three days ago, and that same day
I was placed under arrest. What for why Ignacio knew that I had been
fighting with Gomez. You know, we had a fight with some Spaniards when
he was along, and so there was no chance for me. The British
counsel did all he could for me, but there was no hope. I
could not deny the charges. And oh, Cliff, I have had a
frightful time. I was taken over to those horrible dungeons in Morrow, and
I was sentenced to death. I was to be taken out and shot to
Morrow. The girl stopped for a few moments to recover her composure. And
how did you find out about me? Asked Cliff. I will tell you,
said Bessy, but first I must go on about this Lieutenant Hernandez.
I did not know it, but he was stationed over here, and when
he found out what had happened to me, he managed to come in to
see me. And then Cliff felt able to complete that story. I suppose
said he that he offered to free you if you would marry him. Bessy
Stewart smiled, sadly, you do not know the man, she said,
I will tell you what he did say. I can almost hear him saying
it. What Miss Stewart, he said, you have said you do not
love me, and I think you love some one else. I do not
know whom. But I will not make you unhappy by urging you any more.
I might take advantage of your present position to get you to promise to
marry me, but I will not. If you will be ready to night,
I will help you to escape and prove what I said about dying for
you. The girl stopped and sat silent, too much moved to speak,
and Cliff was too astonished. That was indeed the act of a noble nature.
The cadet saw it all then, why the man had freed them,
and why he and the girl were both so quiet and sad. Lieutenant Hernandez
had given his life for hers. It was fully a moment before anything more
was said. Then Bessy Stewart began again, in a low voice, about
you. She said, it was the lieutenant who told me quite by accident.
He said there were five Americans captured, one a cadet, and that
he was to be killed. When I asked the name, and he told
me, I fainted dead away, And I think that hurt the lieutenant more
than anything. Why I told him the story how you had twice rescued me
from this spaniards And he asked, He asked if you were his rival.
The girl stopped abruptly, and you said that I was, I hope,
said Cliff quietly. Most women would have been embarrassed by a question such as
that, but Bessy Stewart was not. There was some of the old time
self possession in her voice. As she responded. She turned and looked fairly
into Cliff's eyes. I knew you well enough to speak my mind, she
said, yes, I told him that you were, And then the two
sat perfectly silently, looking at each other. It was a very few words
they had said, but they covered a lifetime of feeling. In that quiet
way, and under those strange circumstances, Cliff had unboosomed his heart, and
Bessie Stewart had done the same. It was the first word that Cliff had
ever said to indicate how he felt toward her. For the two sat in
silence for a minute or so, and then Cliff went on, You told
this officer that I was his rival, said he that you loved me,
and that I was the only barrier to his hopes. I did, said
the girl, And he still was willing to save my life. You see
what he has done, answered the other. He said that he loved me,
that he would risk his life to make me happy. And here we
are, but not happy, Cliff added, half under his breath. Then
again there was a long silence. One cannot say much when one feels as
deeply as those two felt. Then Cliff thought of the heroism of that quiet
Spanish officer, and his heart went out toward him. He fancied what the
man's own feelings must be, the loneliness and the desolation he had ruined himself,
accepted voluntary disgrace and a shameful death, and all in order that a
woman who had been kind to him might be set free and made happy the
death. There could be no doubt when that officer was caught he would have
it to face, and he would face it for the sake of Bessie Stewart.
And moreover, he was aiding Cliff, his rival, the one who
was robbing him of his heart's desire. He was helping him to freedom so
that the cadet, when his work in the war was done, might claim
the woman he loved as his reward. That was heroism, Not the noisy
kind in the battle, which everyone sees and applauds, but the quiet kind
that knows it is right and cares for no one else. Cliff felt that
he could worship such a man as that, And it is needless to say
that his conscience troubled him. What right had he to accept such a sacrifice.
But the alternative was a terrible one. The lieutenant might flee with them
to the United States, And then Cliff could not finish the thought. It
made him shudder. Just then Bessie Stewart spoke again, Cliff. She said,
I have something to say to you, and I shall speak plainly,
for there is no time to hesitate. I have told you how I feel
toward you. I have told you that I loved you. Neither of us
would have declared our feelings, I suppose if it had not been for this
situation. But I have been with you for months and I have never known
you to do anything I could not admire. And mine is no childish fancy,
Cliff, for we have been doing the work of men, you and
I Cliff. The girl choked back a sob and then went on, we
must stop, She said, stop where we are. Cliff knew what was
coming, and he felt his blood surging. Bessy Stuart's hand was in his,
and it was trembling. For a moment, she could not speak,
the words would not come. But then with that terrible self command she sometimes
displayed, she mastered her and turned to look into her companion's face. Cliff.
She said, you know what I mean. You must let me marry
this officer. Cliff had known, and so he did not move when he
heard those awful words. He sat perfectly, motionless, almost frozen. He
felt the girl's hand turned cold in his. The carriage rolled on, and
for at least one long, long minute, there was not a sound.
The girl was listening, trembling again, and Cliff, half dazed, was
thinking to himself, thinking again and again of that death knell. You must
let me marry this officer, And it was true. Cliff knew it.
It was his duty, and the feeling lingered in his mind that if he
had half the heroism of that Spaniard, he would have said so long ago.
At last he spoke. His mouth was dry and his voice husky,
but he forced the words out, and they were the right ones. Yes,
said he You must marry him, and we must never meet again.
And then once more came the terrible silence. Bessie Steward heard him choke down
a sob, and her heart was ready to break, for this Cadet was
the dearest friend she had. She had been through terrible dangers with him,
coming to love him more every day as she saw the brave man's daring,
and no one could ever know now how she felt toward him. But there
was her duty, and though she was nearly ready to faint, she sat
perfectly motionless by his side. And so for two or three minutes they rode
on in silence. Then suddenly they heard the driver of the carriage stopping his
horses. We are there, said Cliff in a husky voice. He turned
to look at the girl once more. He found that she was gazing at
him, and their eyes met. There was anguish in both of their faces.
Miss Stewart could scarcely see for her tears, but Cliff took her hands
in his all the emotion of his lifetime seemed crowded into that moment. He
bent toward her, and their lips met in one trembling kiss, And then,
with a set look on his face, the cadet rose from his seat
and opened the door of the carriage, which had stopped and of Chapter eighteen
recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot com. Chapter nineteen of A Prisoner of
Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording
by Tom Weiss. Chapter nineteen a farewell, Cliff found Lieutenant Hernandez waiting for
them to come out. Both he and the driver had descended from the carriage.
It was quite dark where they were, apparently surrounded by a lonely woods,
but by such light as there was. Cliff looked at the officer anxiously.
Now since he had heard that story, he was more than anxious to
study his face to see what manner of man this was. The lieutenant still
wore the calm, quiet look. He seemed almost inspired. If you will
follow me a short distance, he said, we shall reach a place where
we can remain concealed until morning. He started across the country after a few
words with the driver of the carriage. They had not gone very far before
the faint roaring of the breakers on the beach became audible. You see,
said the Spaniard. We are near the sea. We are only about four
miles from Havana Harbor, and you may make an effort to reach the blockading
fleet in the morning. Obviously, it would not do to try it in
the darkness. They might be run down or lost, or fired on,
or swept out to sea. But it will be daylight in a few hours,
said the lieutenant. And then the three went on in silence until suddenly
a small hut loomed up in the darkness. It is deserted, said their
guide. We can conceal ourselves there. And accordingly they crept through the low
doorway, and, finding the place covered with straw inside, sat down to
wait. There was no conversation among them, for each one of the trio
was wrapped in his own sad thoughts. The place was in absolute darkness,
and so they could not see each other. But Cliff was revolving a plan
over in his thoughts, and it was not very many minutes before he made
up his mind. He rose to his feet again. Excuse me for a
while, he said, I will return, and with that he hurried out
of the hut. Bessy Stewart knew why he had gone, and after a
moment's silence, she turned toward the lieutenant. My friend has left, she
said, in order that I may have a chance to talk to you.
The officer answered nothing. The girl went on slowly. Lieutenant Hernandez, she
said, will you answer me a question? What is it? What do
you intend to do? How do you mean? I mean that you will
be court martialed if you return to Havana, Yes, said the other,
I know that. Do you mean to return there? Such are my plans
at present? Was the quiet response. Miss Stewart thought a moment before she
began again. Lieutenant Hernandez, She said, at last, you have been
a hero to day. I have done my best, said the man.
You have done what few men would have. You have given your life for
our safety. Yes, answered he I have. But there are other heroes,
Lieutenant Hernandez said the girl, you have inspired us too. That is
what I wish to speak to you about. I have a better plan than
your return to Havanah, what is it? Come to America with us?
And then then I will do my best to repay your favor. I will
do as you have asked me. You mean, I mean that I will
marry you the day that we arrive. The girl said those words in a
low, earnest tone. She saw the officer give a start. She even
fancied she heard his heart begin to beat louder, but he said nothing.
The two sat as they were in silence. The spaniard was having his struggle.
Then the pause continued for at least five minutes. It was broken only
once. Does Cadet Faraday know of this, asked the officer. He does,
said the girl. We talked it over in the carriage, and he
said that he was willing to give you up. He did. I am
glad that I saved him, muttered the man. Bessy Stuart was a little
puzzled to catch the drift of that last remark, but she soon saw what
it meant. She was quite startled by the decision to which the spaniard came,
Miss Stewart. He began, in a low trembling voice, this is
indeed a reward for my help helping you. I cannot tell you how much
I appreciated. It shows me that those I helped were worth helping, and
it makes me all the more sorry. Sorry, yes, sorry, that
it cannot be. The girl gave a slight guess what cannot be. I
cannot marry you. I will not. The officer paused for a moment,
then he went on. It is plain to me, he said, that
you have worshiped this cadet. I do not blame you after what I have
just seen of him. I have heard of his bravery too, and he
is worthy of you more so than I am. As I say, Miss
Stewart, you love him and you do not love me. You make this
proposal to me from a sense of duty, and I cannot think of accepting
it. You would never be happy again. The girl started to protest,
but the lieutenant held up his hand to stop her. No, he said,
there are more reasons, even stronger ones. I could not think of
going to the United States. I could not think of turning traitor to my
country. You forget, since I have helped you that I am still a
Spaniard, and while this war continues, I shall remain with my countrymen.
But they will kill you. They may do what they please with me.
It is not for me to say I have done my duty. I will
not become a traitor. The officer was silent for a moment, sadly staring
ahead in the darkness. You Americans forget how we Spaniards feel, he began
slowly. You think us foolish to fight for a dying country. I know
that it is dying, for I am not one of those who blind their
eyes than boast. I know that we are bankrupt and disorganized, our men
dying, and our enemies closing in on us. We cannot keep up with
modern nations. But Misstewart, it is still Spain, my native land.
My friends are there, my memories are there, and Spain's enemies are mine.
There was a gleam in the proud Castilian's eye as he said that,
but then he sank back again with a sigh. It is useless, he
said. Foolish if you will, and I am tired of the struggle,
tired of weeping at my country's trials for follies. I shall be glad to
leave. I can die without a murmur. When I go back to Havana,
I shall have no one to care about me, and it will soon
be over. The man stopped abruptly. I am through, he said.
You say you have no one to care for you, said the girl,
I will care for you, but the officer only shook his head. I
should ruin your hopes, he said. You must not think of me at
all. If I came, I should have no way of taking care of
you. I will stay in Cuba, and remember that I have done this
to make you happy, because I love you. If I leave you unhappy,
I shall know that I have died for nothing. And there the matter
ended. The calm officer only shook his head to all of Bessie's arguments.
He had his mind made up as firm as adamant. It seems strange that
the girl should be trying to persuade him to marry her, but in her
earnestness she never thought of that. The man's sacrifice quite appalled her. She
felt that she was not worth it, and she did all she could to
persuade him of her sincerity, But Lieutenant Hernandez was unmoved. I know that
you love him, he said, and I know that your heart is ready
to break at the thought of leaving him. I can see it in the
way you look at him. I knew it when you fainted when I spoke
of his danger. And I do not blame you, for he is a
braver man than I. But I will not be coward enough to separate you.
You would hate me, hate you, yes, and every decent American
too. What else has any man for a traitor? I should kill myself
for shame. No. No, And the girl realized, to her despair
what he said was true. But oh how her heart went out to that
man. The officer rose to his feet just then, as if to close
the painful discussion. Bessy Stewart rose too, and she held out her hand
to him. She took and kissed it reverently. Then, his face still
calm and dignified, he stepped to the door. It is best, he
said, that I should go. Can you not wait to see us start?
Asked the girl. You will find a boat on the shore just in
front of you, began the other, And you had best start as soon
as it is light. But there is nobody about here, and you are
not in any danger. As to my staying, I will watch you from
the woods a short ways back. It would not be well for me to
stay here, or I am human. The man paused for a moment as
he gazed into the girl's beautiful face. I am very weak, he said,
with a sad smile, I might accept the reward you offer, and
with that he bowed, then turned resolutely on his heel and strode away into
the darkness. As he did so, he passed Cliff, and Cliff as
he saw him leave, rush toward the dark figure that stood in the doorway
of the hut. What had been Cliff's agony of mind may be imagined.
When he saw the lieutenant going away, it had flashed over him that perhaps
he refused the act of treason implied in his going to America, and Cliff's
heart began to throb once more with a wild hope he had tried so hard
to suppress. Bessie. He panted, Bessie, what did he say?
He has gone back to Havana, was the answer. For an instant,
the two stood staring at each other, their hearts throbbing with an emotion they
were ashamed to call joy. Cliffs saw the girl's slender figure trembling, and
he sprang forward and caught her in his arms. Just as she fainted dead
away end of chapter nineteen. Recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com.
Chapter twenty of a Prisoner of Marrow buy up to in Sinclair. This LibriVox
recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter twenty An
Unexpected Peril. How the long hours between then and sunrise passed away? Those
two hardly knew. Bessie Stewart, exhausted by her long nervous strain, sank
into a restless slumber, and Cliff sat with his eyes fixed on the gradually
lightening doorway. Cliff wanted to feel happy, but he scarcely dared, for
he had before his mind the thought of that lonely Spanish officer waiting somewhere in
the distance to see them depart and leave him to his fate. It was
a solemn thought, and it made Cliff tremble. He almost wished that the
man had not rescued him. But then again he thought of Ignacio and his
frenzied cruelty, and he felt that he would have died himself to save any
man from such a fate as that. And now it was done, and
there was no undoing it. There was no way of aiding the lieutenant,
no way of persuading him, nothing but death for him to face. But
as Cliff sat there through the early hours of the morning and gazed upon that
silent figure by his side, he felt that his love for that girl was
consecrated by that hero's sacrifice. There was a light of high purpose in the
brave man's eyes. He was accepting his life and hers at the cost of
another's, and the terms were such as made him feel the meaning of his
existence. It was to be no child's play, no blind hunt or pleasure,
or wealth or fame, but a life with a purpose and meaning,
a struggle for the right. I think his face will always be watching me,
but Cliff and there were moments in his after life when the thought that
that quiet Spaniard's eyes were watching made him shrink from the base things of light.
The light that shone in from the eastern sky gradually grew brighter and brighter,
and Cliff awakened from his solemn reverie to the duty that lay before him.
Then he had Bessie Stewart to protect and to lead. From that position
of Harold. It would indeed be a frightful calamity. He thought, if
that sacrifice of Lieutenant Hernandez should avail nothing, if that girl should fall once
more into the clutches of the Spaniards. For they are not all like that
man, thought the lad And so he weighed nervously until the light was bright
enough, and then very gently he awakened her and assisted her to rise.
The girl was weak and exhausted, but she gathered her strength for this last
final effort. We have not far to go, Cliff said, and we
will soon be saved. The two haulted for a moment at the doorway of
the hut and gazed out in a faint gray light. They could not make
out the line of the shore beyond, but they heard the noise of the
breakers and knew that it was not far away, and so, half carrying
his friend, Cliff set out in the direction of the sound once. Only
he turned again, that was to take a parting look in the direction he
knew Lieutenant Hernandez to be. But he could make out only a dim line
of woods behind him. No one could be seen, and the place was
lonely and silent and grave. But Cliff fancied those quiet eyes were watching him
from the distance. There was no time to be lost, however, for
no one knew when they might chance to meet with some of the enemy.
They were in the midst of a thickly settled country, and so they made
their way swiftly down to the shore. There they found a row boat drawn
up on the beach a little beyond them. Cliff was startled to see a
figure standing by it, but it proved to be only a boy, and
he hailed them, and then disappeared. Cliff knew that he had been sent
there to guard the boat. It was more of the lieutenant's thoughtfulness. The
sight of that guarantee of safety revived Bessy Stuart's spirits considerably. Her step grew
quicker, and in a few moments they reached the spot. There were a
pair of oars in the boat, which was a small one. Without a
word, Cliff set to work to put it off from the shore. That
was as hard a task as could have been given him, for great waves
were rolling upon the beach. But Cliff was an athlete and a sailor besides,
and the realization of their danger nerved his arm. He seated the girl
in the bow and ran the boat out with a rush, he caught a
favorable moment. He plunged on until the water was up to his waist,
and then he leaped into the boat and seized the oars, just as another
great wave swept them in towards shore again. But Cliff pulled for his life
and held his own, and when the current set out again, he breasted
the line of breakers and reached the sea beyond. Bessie Stewart sat perfectly motionless,
grasping the gunwale until she saw that they were safe. Then she gave
a slight gasp and closed her eyes wearily. Cliff had but one object,
and that was to get as far from the coast of Cuba as he could.
Stroke that he rode put him further away from that dreaded shore, and
he knew, though he could not see them, that far out to sea
lay the vessels of the blockading squadron once inside of them, and the anxious
fugitives were safe. And so Cliff put every ounce of muscle he had into
that task. Not a word more was spoken, but the man's lips were
set in a desperate resolve, and as broad back heaved as he caught his
way on, there was a heavy sea, and progress was frightfully slow.
Now that they were so near to safety, to be recaptured would be frightful,
indeed, But yet the cadet knew that Spanish soldiers on the shore might
catch sight of them at any moment and come rushing down the beach to open
fire. Cliff had rescued one man from just such a plight as that,
and so as he rode he glanced nervously along the shore, but he saw
no one, and no one saw him. The light brightened until he could
make out everything along the coast, but there was no sign of anyone's having
noticed them, And so, with his heart growing lighter at every moment,
Cliff tugged at the oars and forced the frail boat ahead through the waves.
It was but natural that his relief should be great, for his adventures upon
that island had been terrible ones. Indeed, a warship is far from a
safe place of residence, especially in war time. But Cliff felt that if
he once got under the American flag again, all his worry would be at
an end, and so every stroke nearer was a cause for joy. For
perhaps five minutes he rode on in silence, by that time he was some
distance from shore, though their progress was slow in the heavy sea, but
they felt that they were safe. They felt that there was no longer anything
to be feared, and there was a silent prayer of thanksgiving in Cliff Faraday's
heart. And such being his feelings, the reader may imagine the horror and
consternation that swept over him a moment later, for an appalling discovery was made,
one that seemed fairly to freeze Cliff's blood. He was struggling with his
back toward Bessy Stewart, and the joy that was in his heart was turned
to horror by hearing the girl give a shrill scream. The cadet whirled about.
He saw the girl, her face transfixed and white as a sheet,
pointing with a trembling finger off to starboard. Cliff followed the direction of her
gaze. What he saw made his brain reel, made him almost totter backward
into the boat. Not half a mile away, coming straight down the coast
and bearing down upon them at full speed was a vessel, a low gun
boat, and high above her bow was floating a Spanish flag. Cliff stared
at the frightful apparition, as if he had seen a ghost. What it
meant to him may be imagined the failure of all their hosts, their capture
and death, and there was not the slightest possibility of escape. Perfectly wild
with terror, the agonized cadet whirled about, gazing seaward, with a faint
hope of the possibility of their being seen by some American vessel. But the
great horizon was not light enough for them to be sighted, and all hope
was gone. Bessie Stewart continued pointing to the vessel as if she were paralyzed
by fright row row. She shrieked and Cliff seized the oars frantically, but
he knew it was utterly useless. The gunboat was coming on like a racehorse,
and scarcely had he taken two strokes before the matter was settled finally,
for there came a puff of white smoke from the Spaniards bow, and almost
at the same instant, with a deafening, blinding crash, a solid shot
struck the tiny rowboat. It plunged through, almost tearing the frail craft and
half hurling splinters about and sending the two horrified occupants tumbling into the water and
of chapter twenty recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter twenty one
of a Prisoner of Marrow by Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the
public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter twenty one Recaptured by the enemy.
Cliff was so broken hearted at that sudden ending of all his hopes that
he scarcely cared whether he was drowned or not. But he saw Bessy Stuart
struggling in the seething waters, and toward her he struck out desperately. It
took the cadet but a moment to reach her side. The shattered wreck of
the wooden boat was floating near, and to that he struggled, helping her
on, and they reached it in what sounds like mockery to call safety.
The girl scarcely knew whether it were best to hold on or to drown,
but instinctively she clung to the side as the great ways swept over them,
and the two fixed their eyes upon the approaching vessel. She came on swiftly,
shearing the water with her sharp bow, and Cliff could see half a
dozen men standing in the bow watching them. Perhaps they have heard of our
escape, he growled, and come after us. The vessel was not coming
from Havana, but the cadet knew that a telegram might have sent it out.
At any rate, they were recaptured, and the horrors of Morrow were
before them again. Steadily the gunboat drew nearer. The two half drowned Americans
were reached in a minute or two, and the vessel slowed up, and
a rope was thrown to them. Cliff, desperate from despair, seized it
and drew himself close. A couple of Spanish sailors leaned down from the low
side and lifted first a half unconscious girl, and then the cadet up to
the deck. And then, weak and pale and dripping wet, they confronted
a tall, ugly looking Spaniard with an officer's chevrons. He stared at them
curiously. Who are you, he demanded, and Cliff, grim with desperation,
looked him in the eye and answered boldly, we are a merry Perkins
said he prisoners. Yes, from where Morrow Castle? The spaniard looked the
amazement he felt, Moral castle, He echoed, humph, how did you
get out? Take us back there and you'll find out, was Cliff's defiant
answer, and with that he turned toward the girl to wipe her dripping hair
from her face. He expected that the man would continue questioning them, but
he was mistaken. The Spanish gunboat had done a risky thing running out as
it had, and her officers were anxious to get back. The man turned
away and hurried off. A sailor with a pair of handcuffs approached Cliff,
and the cadet quietly allowed his wrist to be secured. Bessy Stewart was fortunately
spared that indignity. The sailor gruffly ordered them to go below. The vessel
meanwhile, had resumed her trip. She had been running along close to the
coast under cover of the darkness of the previous night, and now she turned
to steal back. Cliff's heart was heavy, and he was miserable beyond description,
but he turned and silently followed the sailor to the companionway. They did
not go below at once, however, for just then something occurred that made
the sailor stop the man, who at first spoke to Cliff. The captain
apparently had been sweeping the shore with his glass, and just then he gave
a startled exclamation. Everybody heard him, and the Spanish sailor stopped and turned
to look. Cliff was so listless and despairing that he did not take the
trouble to do likewise, But when he heard the exclamations of the men,
he felt his heart gave a leap. They were staring at a man on
the shore. What in the world can be the matter with that, fellow,
cried the captain, Santa Maria. He is calling to us, exclaimed
another. He must be crazy, declared a third. The captain, with
his glass could see more plainly than the others, and his astonishment grew greater.
Why he's a Spanish officer or lieutenant, I think, and he is
trying to hail us. What can it mean? Perhaps he's got despatches,
suggested some one. It flashed over Cliff in an instant what that meant?
And Bessy Stewart heard him give a muffled exclamation of delight, for he could
see a blue uniformed figure running down the shore and waving its arms wildly.
Its lieutenant Hernandez. He panted, and there was a wild gleam of hope
in his eyes as he realized what that meant he might rescue them again.
Feverishly, Cliff watched to see what the gunboat would do. The captain continued
staring and muttering exclamations of astonishment. I wonder if he does want us,
he cried, hordeus, I do think that's it, And a second later
he made up his mind and whirled about hard aport. He roared, and
Cliff's heart leaped with joy as he heard that order. The sailor was so
much interested in that strange incident that he let his prisoners remain on deck while
he stood and stared. The Spanish vessel raced swiftly in toward shore, and
the stranger, as soon as he saw that, stopped his frantic gesticulating and
stood still to wait. The captain ran in as close as he dared,
and then stopped. He stepped into the bow. What do you want,
he roared, Send a boat, The man shouted back, I must come
aboard quickly. The captain muttered an exclamation of astonishment under his breath, but
his curiosity alone would have been sufficient to move him. The gunboat's wary boat
was quickly gotten away as for Cliff, he was simply wild with delight,
for he could see that it was Lieutenant Hernandez. After all. Bessy Stewart
was so overcome by the sudden shock of the discovery that she was scarcely able
to stand breathlessly. The two watched the rowboat speeding in. The lieutenant waited
out as far as he could, and when the boat reached him, he
climbed into the bow. In a few moments he was speeding back to the
gunboat, and when he stepped on board, he found the captain staring at
him. Lieutenant Hernandez. He gasped, yes, said the other with a
bow, but he scarcely glanced at the man until his eager eyes had sought
out Cliff and Bessie. When he saw them alive and unhurt, a look
of relief swept over his face, and then he turned to the captain.
What in the world is the matter, the man cried. The other nodded
toward the two Americans. It is about them, he said, What about
them? Why did you stop them? Stop them? Why? They are
Americans? And they were prisoners in morrow. I know that, said the
officer, But they were released. What yes? And I was charged with
the duty of seeing them safe on board the American ships. The Spanish captain
stared in amazement. Karamba, he muttered, why didn't they say so?
I don't see that you gave them a chance, said the other. You
fired on them too soon. But I had no idea of this, cried
the other. To doubt that story never once entered his head. He seemed
to know who the lieutenant was. What in the world world am I to
do, he asked, after a moment. I don't see that. There
is but one thing, said the other. Take them back to Havanah and
let them be sent from there, asked the captain. No, said the
lieutenant quietly. That will not do, for the government has pledged its word
that they shall be on the ships by daybreak. To make haste is very
important. But what else? Give them your small boat? Karamba. I
haven't got but one, and how will I ever get it back? The
lieutenant was puzzled for a moment, but suddenly he hit on a daring scheme.
Captain, he said, my orders are from General Blanco himself. He
charged me, above all things to see these people safe at once, even
if I had to go out to the ships with them. I don't see
that. There is but one thing we can do. What is that we
will have to hoist a flag of truce and take them out on this vessel.
The captain started, Can we trust the Americans? He gasped. They
are expecting us, said the lieutenant, And then for a minute the captain
was silent. When he spoke, it was to the man at the wheel,
steer us out to the Yankee fleet, he said, it will have
to be done, and run up that white flag. Perhaps ten minutes after
that, the blockading squadron sighted a Spanish gunboat coming toward them with a flag
of truce. The New York steamed to meet it, and the vessel came
alongside, and without a word of explanation, the two prisoners were sent aboard.
Cliff and Bessie both glazed longingly at the noble hearted lieutenant as he stood
on the deck and watched them leave. Their look said plainer than words come
with us. But he only shook his head. And when he saw the
two disappear upon the deck of the big cruiser, and when the gunboat was
well on her way back to shore, he turned with a slight groan and
went below. Cliff and Bessie wondered with anxiety and sorrow what would be his
fate. They dreaded for him the worst tortures of Castle Morrow, But the
heroic Spaniard escaped that in a way that Cliff learned a few days later.
End of chapter twenty one. Recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com.
Chapter twenty two of a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox recording
is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter twenty two,
petting a cable. The Cadet's report was soon made. Under ordinary circumstances,
he would have been ordered to report back to the Unca's, but that staunch
little gunboat was then miles beyond the western horizon. Moreover, the Admiral had
other work for the cadet. As to Miss Stewart, there was a parting
between her and Cliff that was such as should have been acknowledged lovers. But
it was a parting of the most decided kind, for his duty lay in
the war hers on land. She was sent to Key West on a cruiser
that was then leaving the squadron to recall what the young man and the girl
said to each other, cannot concern us here, for we have now to
do with Faraday's experience as a sailor. His love affair had to await the
events of war, and so may the story of it. Cliff's next service
began on the morning following his escape. A small boat left the flagship and
headed for Point Rubolkava on the Cuban coast. It was bent upon a dangerous
mission, so hazardous in fact, that volunteers had been called for to man
the boat. The first one to offer his services had been Cliff Faraday.
There was no lack of followers among the brave American tards. Fifty offered themselves.
A moment after the cadets stepped forward, and the task was to select
from them twelve men to form the boat's crew. It is necessary to cut
the cable as a war measure, said Rear Admiral Sampson, when the selection
had been made. You will proceed cautiously towards shore and grapple for the cable.
If you find it, cut it. If not, you must go
ashore and locate the landing place of the wire. Are you ready for the
service? Ie, sir? Came the ready response. Rear Admiral Sampson looked
upon the brave, eager faces of the men for a moment with evident satisfaction.
There is danger of discovery an attack from the shore batteries, he asked.
Success will depend upon your quickness and skill. The men well knew the
danger that lay before them, but there was no sign of faltering upon their
faces. Rather, there was an eagerness for instant action that was not lost
upon the commanding officer. Then go, he exclaimed heartily. The boat was
lowered and quietly set out upon its mission. It was in charge of a
lieutenant, and Cliff Faraday, in recognition of his being the first to volunteer,
was placed beside him in the stern to steer the boat through the rough
waters. It was still dark, though the eastern sky gave promise of the
near approach of day. The time had been selected to enable the boat to
near the shore without great danger of detection in the dim light. But by
the time they should succeed in grappling the cable there would be sufficient light to
enable them to complete their task. All seems quiet on shore, said Cliff
after a time to the lieutenant, as they both peered forward at the coastline
now looming up before them. The Spaniards don't seem to be looking for us,
true, responded the lieutenant. It looks that way, but you can't
sometimes always tell. They may have a surprise for us if they don't shoot
any straighter than they had been doing, said Cliff, with a laugh.
They'll never touch us. That's true, too, assented the lieutenant. But
still you must remember the main, interrupted Cliff. Yes, remember the main.
But as I was saying, these fellows might possibly aim at something else
besides our boat and hit us accidentally. At any rate, I hope they
don't see us. We are not out to capture a fort armed as we
are with nothing but revolvers, and in this open boat we would be an
easy prey to decent marksmanship. Still the boys like action, said Cliff.
We may have plenty of it, yet, replied the Lieutenant, with a
suspicion of uneasiness in his tone. Meanwhile, the boat, guided by Cliff's
hand, had drawn nearer the shore. They could see plainly the outlines of
the fortifications, which had been recently battered by shell from American gunboats, and
which they knew the Spaniards had attempted to repair, but as far as they
could see, all was quiet there. The boat was following what was supposed
to be the course of the cable, and the men were constantly seeking to
secure it with their grappling irons. The crew proceeded cautiously but expeditiously with its
work, the boat passing to and fro across what they supposed was the line
of the cable. How is it, Wilson, at last, said the
lieutenant, speaking to one of the men who was leaning over the side of
the boat. Struck anything Yet not yet, sir, was the response.
Nearer and nearer to the shore came the boat, the men wholly continuing their
labors, seemingly as unmindful of danger, as though the coast was not lined
by hostile forces. The sun peeped above the face of the water to the
eastward, and the darkness slowly receded before it. Every detail of the frowning
fortification ashore was now plainly visible to the boat's crew. Cliff looked intently along
the shore, but there was no hostile movement to be seen. But he
realized that the fast growing light of the rising sun must betray their presence to
the enemy. If any such were on watch, what a fine target we
would make for them, too, he thought, and close range at that
his thoughts were interrupted by an exclamation from one of the men who had been
previously addressed by the lieutenant. Harah cried the man, I've got it.
The boat was quickly brought to a standstill, and willing hands at him.
In a few moments, the heavy cable appeared above the surface of the water
and was drawn up to the boat. Now, men quick with the sauce,
cried the lieutenant excitedly. Quick work, and will be done and away
before the Spaniards discover us. It required quick work, indeed quicker than any
of the brave boat's crew than thought. The lieutenant had no more than given
his orders when an interruption, startling and unwelcome occurred. He had been anxiously
scanning the outlines of the fortifications and congratulated himself that no movement was visible in
that quarter. The Spaniards were napping, he thought, and all was well.
But the reverse was the case, as he quickly discovered. No sooner
had one of the sailors began to saw away at the cable than Suddenly,
and without warning, a shower of bullets rained around them in the water,
and the ominous boom of a cannon from the shore told they had been discovered.
A massed battery to the left, cried Cliff, they have ambushed us.
This was true. The Fort of Occations, which had alone received the
lieutenant's attention, remained silent, while from the left a concealed battery kept up
a raking fire upon the small boat and the intrepid crew. The Spaniards had
not yet gotten the range. It is true, but it was a tight
place to be in in an open boat, unarmed, helpless, and exposed
to the raking fire from shore. But the men in that boat were full
of nerve. Not once did they falter, while the shells and shot whistled
and burst over their heads, beyond them, and even among them. Hurry
up, Wilson, cried the lieutenant to the sailors sawing the cable. That
cable must be cut before we leave the spot. I I, sir,
responded the other. If it kills every man of us, it began to
look as if that would be their fate. The Spanish shot and shell,
which at first fell harmlessly into the water now dropped nearer and nearer. Cliff
heard an awful buzzing and whizzing sound in the air, and seemed to feel
something hid him in the face and head. It was not his first time
under fire, and he knew that a shell had passed near them. The
fire from shore increased in rapidity and with more accuracy. From another quarter,
a jut of land nearer to the boat, came a fusillade from Mauser rifles,
and their bullets passed near the heads of the American crew. It was
a hot place, but the men worked coolly on determined that their orders should
be executed at all hazards by rapid work. One piece of the cable was
cut, but that was not enough. Another cut must be made at least
fifty feet away, so that the Spaniards could not repair it by splicing.
As the last strands parted and the free end of the cable fell back into
the water, it was discovered that the sailor held the shore end in his
grasp, and that to complete their work they must now draw closer to the
fire of their enemies. Fifty feet nearer shore, exclaimed the lieutenant, and
the crew grasped the oars and unflinchingly began to carry out the order. The
shots of the Spaniards began to tell. Bullets splintered the sigh to the boat,
and they had not moved but a few feet from the spot when another
volley severely wounded two of the men. Wilson, the man who had been
so active, fell into the bottom of the boat, severely wounded in the
shoulder, and another sailor, who was near where Cliff sat, was shot
in the thigh. But the boat kept on rowing nearer and nearer. Cliff
resigned the tiller to the lieutenant while he bound up the men's wounds and comforted
them as best he could. Then he jumped back to the tiller. This
was an unfortunate move for him, for in that position he and the lieutenant
were the most conspicuous figures in the boat, and the Spanish rifle wind were
making every effort to pick off the officer. A bullet intended for the lieutenant
struck Cliff in the arm as he took his place. Are you wounded?
Shouted the officer above the din, noticing that Cliff momentarily paled. It is
nothing, replied Cliff, resolutely, clinching his teeth and continuing to guide the
boat. Just then the welcome sound of the firing of a cannon to seaward
reached their ears. It is the New York, cried Cliff. She is
taking a hand in the scrimmage. It was true, with deadly accuracy,
the flagship was hurling shrapnel shell over the heads of the Blue Jackets into the
battery on shore. And thus between the two fires, the little band in
their frail boat continued coolly with their labors, Cliff assisting those who became wounded,
wholly unmindful of the fact that he himself was bleeding freely. But it
was soon over. The terrible havoc of the well directed shrapnel shot from the
New York quickly silenced the masked battery and dispersed the gunners, and the cutting
of the cable received no further interruption from the Spanish forces. They were enthusiastically
received upon their return to the flagship, bearing a section of the cable to
be cut up as souvenirs. The wounded were tenderly cared for, and Cliff
himself examined the nature of his own injury. Fortunately, though it had freely,
it was but a slight flesh wound, which had him no uneasiness after
being properly bandaged. This operation was just completed when a jaunty young ensign appeared,
and, turning to Cliff, said he at Faraday, you are requested
to report to the Rear Admiral at once. Cliff saluted and promptly followed the
officer. End of chapter twenty two. Recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot
Com. Chapter twenty three of a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This
librebox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter twenty
three a perilous detail. Cliff did not have long to speculate upon the cause
of the summons. The ensign led the way to the Rear Admiral's cabin,
knocked, and with Cliff closely following, entered. He then looted and went
out again, leaving the cadet alone with the officer. Rear Admiral Sampson noticed
the paleness of Cliff's face and thoughtfully directed him to sit down. I hear
that you were wounded while cutting the cable, He said, at once you
were under hot fire while it lasted and I am proud of the way the
men behaved. I am told that you did not give up the tiller in
spite of your injuries. Cliff, though pleased to receive the praise of the
Rear Admiral, bore himself modestly. It did not seem to him that he
had done any brave act. My wound was slight, sir, he said
quickly. It has been properly dressed and gives me no trouble. I am
glad to hear that, replied the officer, for I have an especial mission
upon which I desire to send you, but of course would not think of
your going if it should endanger your health. Other danger you do not seem
to fear. Cliff reassured the officer that he was ready and able to undertake
any mission entrusted to him. It is briefly, this continued the Rear Admiral.
While you were out with the boat, I received a communication by the
despatch boat saying that a courier from the Cuban Chief Gomez is to be at
a certain spot near the coast to night, bearing important despatches from the insurgents.
It is necessary that we send some one to meet him, and your
previous experience on Cuban soil and your knowledge of the Spanish language recommend you as
the leader of the party. Are you prepared to go? There may be
danger, Cliff eagerly interrupted him. To his mind, it seemed a great
honor, as it really was to be placed in command of so important a
mission, and he counted no danger great enough to cause him to hesitate.
He told the Rear Admiral as much forgetting, in his eagerness for active service,
that he was but a cadet. Then it is settled, said the
Rear Admiral. Tonight, the New York will reach a spot nearly opposite the
place of meeting, and you will be ready with a party of ten,
whom you may select. Here is a diagram of that part of the coast,
indicating the appointed spot where the courier is to be met. He handed
Cliff a roughly drawn map, which the latter examined curiously. I know the
spot well, he exclaimed, after looking at the diagram for a moment.
All the better, said the Rear Admiral. Then, after some further directions
and instructions from the officer, Cliff saluted and took his leave, happy in
the thought that he had been singled out for such important duty, and that
he would have this opportunity of active work. He was really glad, though
he would hardly admit it to himself to be permitted to seek some rest during
the day, for his wound was painful, if not serious. It was
late at night when, with the picked company of ten men all armed,
Cliff parted company with the flagship and steered his boat toward the shore. The
New York had dropped them near the appointed spot, but it had been deemed
prudent not to take the ship near enough to attract attention to the intended destination
of Cliff and his crew. They therefore had considerable distance yet to row before
touching land. I know the coast pretty well along here, thought Cliff,
as he set in the stern tiller, ropes in hand. Who will get
there all right? Success depended upon their own efforts, for the New York
slowly steamed away along the coast, and in the opposite direction. Cliff and
his party sped along without any uneasiness. It was night, and darkness favored
them. There was no reason to think that their presence there was suspected for
their purpose known. Still, for all this evident security, Cliff kept a
sharp lookout for any of the enemy who might be prowling along like himself,
or worse still, who might be scouring those waters with one of those silent
little terrors or torpedo boat. All went peacefully until they were within less than
a half a mile of their destination, had quite near shore. Then suddenly
a rifle shot rang out upon the shore, and sounds of voices came to
their ears. The Spaniards had discovered them, perhaps not, thought Cliff.
Hopefully, Silence everybody, he said, addressing the men, and listened.
Instantly, the men ceased rowing, and every one strained his ears to hear
the sounds from shore. That there was a company of the enemy at that
point was evident from the noise of many voices and the confused sounds that were
borne to the listener's ears. They have discovered us, whispered Cliff to the
one nearest him. I caught a few words of Spanish that convinces me that
the sentry has heard our oars. Not a sound. Now, they can't
see us in the dark and will think it all a mistake. It was
a waiting game that Cliff had set out to play, and it seemed the
only thing that could help them. Under the circumstances. It was out of
the question to think of attacking the Spaniards, superior, at least in numbers.
There was other work for the night. Violently, the American crew waited,
listening for every sound. Soon these voices died out, and Cliff concluded
that they could venture to move once more. Rope quietly was his whispered order.
I'd like to give them a volley, but that would spoil our plans.
The men cautiously plied the oars and were soon steering softly toward their appointed
place of landing. But quietly as they moved, the sound was borne ashore,
and they had not proceeded many boat lengths before another shot echoed across the
water to thunder with the Spaniard, exclaimed Cliff, out of patience, with
the fresh outbreak, he's firing at random. Go ahead, we'll meet them
further down the shore if they're not satisfied. This sentiment met the approval of
the men, and they bent to the oars with vigor and spirit. They
were gliding swiftly across the water, and had nearly reached their landing place when
Cliff heard a noise that put him on the alert. Do you hear that?
He exclaimed, After hastily stopping the rowers, the men rested on their
oars and listened sounds like the throbbing of an engine. Sir at last,
said one of the men. It's a boat. Sure, yes, But
friend or foe, exclaimed Cliff, it's not the New York. She went
in the other direction, and I don't know of any more of our boats
in this place. Perhaps the New York is coming back, ventured one of
the men. No, replied Cliff. She's not been here for at least
three hours. By that time we will be ready to return to her.
It must be a blockade, runner, suggested one of the men. Well,
I don't see as it makes any difference, said Cliff. Finally,
if it is, we can't stop her. She can't be after us,
for I am sure no one of the enemy knows our mission. There is
our landing place. We must hurry or we will be late. With this.
He turned the prow of the boat towards shore and gave orders to proceed.
A few minutes later, the boat grated upon the beach, and the
sailors sprang ashore. There was no one to dispute their landing the coast.
This point was wild and uninhabited, and but a short distance inland was the
spot appointed for the meeting with the insurgent courrier. Cliff hid the boat among
some bushes and quickly led the men up the steep bank toward a clump of
trees. This is the spot, he exclaimed, as they reached it,
and we are evidently ahead of time. No one was in sight. As
far as the eye could penetrate the darkness. There was barely enough light from
the moon, just emerging from behind a cloud to enable the sailors to take
some notice of the surroundings. Where they stood near the sparse clump of trees,
it was smooth and level, but close to one side of them rows
a ridge of ground, forming a natural rampart. It almost seemed as though
Spanish forms might at any instant appear upon it. Behind threatening guns seaward.
The view was unobstructed, and as Cliff turned his gaze in that direction,
he could see the moonbeams reflected on the heating bosom of the waters. He
saw another side an instant after that caused him to utter an exclamation of surprise.
Far out to seaward, the beam of a searchlight suddenly shot across the
water. It swept from side to side in a gradually widening radius, until
after a few moments its glare fell upon a steamer, whose hulk rose up
between it and the shore. It is one of our ships chasing a blockade,
runner, cried Cliff. She was trying to sneak out, but is
caught in the act. The little party on shore watched with eager eyes.
The chase is shone by the bright beam from the warship's searchlight. In the
excitement of the novel sight that was afforded them, they for the moment forgot
why they were there. Then a strange and mysterious thing happened. As they
watched the pursued vessel. They suddenly saw a flash from a gun on the
side facing the land. What fools, cried Cliff, firing toward the land
instead of at our ship. The fool Spaniards must be rattled worse than usual.
That beats, he did not the sentence. As he spoke, the
shell fired from the ship crashed through the trees, and landed almost at his
feet. The fuse was burning and spluttering, and it seemed ready to explode
on the instant, carrying death and destruction to the little party. It was
a perilous moment. Several of the men instinctively dodged and seemed on the point
of running away. Cliff saw his peril in an instant and the only hope
of averting it without a moment's hesitation, He sprang forward and picked up the
shell as it seemed about to burst. With a mighty effort, he hurled
the spluttering missile over the ridge of earth that he had noticed to one side,
and then, with an involuntary sigh of relief, he instinctively huddled with
the balance of the party in an expected attitude, waiting for the explosion on
the other side of the rampart end of chapter twenty three recording by Tom Weiss
Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter twenty four of a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton
Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss,
Chapter twenty four The Cuban Courier. But the explosion never came. The
party waited breathlessly expecting to hear a deafening sound from the shell and to see
the earth thrown up in showers about them. From a safe place of vantage.
They felt it was a sight worth seeing, and felt personally aggrieved when,
after waiting an unconscionable time, all was quiet on the other side of
the natural rampart of earth. Cliff had been surprised and puzzled in the first
place to see the ship firing away from its antagonists instead of toward it,
and was now more than ever perplexed. To add to the mystery, the
ship did not fire another shot, either at its pursuer or in the opposite
direction. Its only purpose now seemed to be to get away from the American
ship. It seemed to stand a good chance of doing it, too,
for it was evidently a very swift boat, and the pursuing vessel was still
far away. That's the queerest thing that ever happened, exclaimed Cliff, when
a sufficient time had elapsed to enable the shell to explode. If it was
ever going to what possessed them to fire over here? And what's the matter
with the shell? I'll investigate the ladder at any rate, it's within easy
reach, though it seemed as though more than enough time had passed to give
the shell a good opportunity. Still, Cliff, for reasons of prudence,
concluded not to be too exacting on the thing, but to give it a
fair chance. He didn't want to crowd it too close, so he waited
a while longer, and then cautiously climbed up the side of the embankment and
peered over there. In the moonlight, he could see the shell lying quietly
upon the ground. There was no smoke now rising from it, and the
fuse had evidently burned itself out. It seemed to harmless enough piece of steel.
Now. He waited but an instant and then vaulted over on the other
side. His curiosity had been aroused regarding the matter, and he, for
the time being lost all interest in the chasted sea, as well as the
appointed meeting under those trees on shore. When he picked up the shell,
he was more surprised and mystified than ever. What does this mean, he
exclaimed aloud, A round shell of the old fashioned type instead of the conical
ones used nowadays. Why a shell like this has not been used in any
navy for ages? He had been too excited at the moment of picking up
spluttering shell to note its size or shape. But now he saw at a
glance that the one he held in his hand was obsolete and out of date.
It was well enough for the old fashioned smooth bore guns, but those
of modern make had no use for them. As he puzzled over the mystery
surrounding the projectile, he suddenly heard a whistle from the other side of the
embank. He recognized it as the signal from the insurgent courier, and at
once was alive to the importance of carrying out the instructions that had been given
him. He hastily dropped a shell upon the ground and sprang up and over
the ridge of earth. He gave an answering whistle, and soon a form
cautiously appeared from among some bushes not far away. Altokiva called Cliff before the
newcomer had advanced the step, this was the challenge, meaning who goes there?
The response came promptly, Kuba, this is the countersign of the insurgents,
and Cliff knew that it was the courier who had reached the appointed rendezvous.
He called out to him to advance, and in the moonlight appeared the
figure of an insurgent soldier, a bombus, as he is called in that
country, a figure with which American tars were to become more familiar as the
war progressed. His equipment was typical of the insurgent soldier. Beside a pair
of linen trousers and a knitted woolen shirt, he wore a short blouse called
mumbisa. This was a small shirt like vest with pockets front and back,
opening at the belt. A handy way of carrying their cartridges, devised by
them through necessity during the previous Ten Years' War. A panama had turned up
in front and fastened with a silver star, completed his attire. For as
to his feet, they were innocent of a covering, rather a summary outfit,
thought Cliff as he took it in with a glass, But he knew
that it was sufficient for the needs of the insurgents in that climate. At
that brave hearts beat under the unpretentious mumbisa, and brave deeds were done by
the poorly equipped soldiers of the Army of Liberation. The newcomer was diffusive in
his greeting. I bring you greeting from our brave General Gomez, he exclaimed
in Spanish greetings to our noble friends and allies. Cliff received him cordially,
but lost little time in preliminaries. Much more time had already that he'd been
consumed, and he had calculated upon, and he was anxious to have his
business over with, and returned to the flagship with the important despatches for which
he had come. I am honored by your words, he said in reply
to the other Cuban. Liberty is assured by force of American arms, and
at the same time we have our own score to settle with Spain. It
will be done, said the Cuban. But to business, continued Cliff.
You have some papers for me, have you not, yes, replied the
courier, raising his blouse and drawing forth a package of papers from its place
of concealment, Important dispatches from our General for your gallant Rear Admiral. Besides
much information concerning the Spanish fortifications and troops, there are details of our own
plans and preparations, which it would be ruinous to have falled into Spanish hands.
I'll see that the Spanish don't get them, he said, with a
confident air be cautious, exclaimed the Cuban. The enemy have made one effort
to intercept them. I was pursued a mile back from here, but my
knowledge of the country enabled me to give them the slip. It was that
encounter that delayed me. This was a danger that had not been reckoned on.
Every preparation for the transfer of the papers had been arranged with utmost secrecy.
But the dispaniards know of your mission here, asked Cliff, in some
surprise. I know, not, replied the other. It is incredible how
they could have discovered it. But I do know that I encountered the detachment
of their troops, and that they pursued me. Then they may be following
you to this point, exclaimed Cliff. I think, not, replied the
Cuban. I made a wide detour and know the ways of the land too
well to leave any trail. Nevertheless, said Cliff, our business is transacted,
and the sooner we go our respective ways, the better. The papers
are now in my care, and I shall run no risk of their falling
into the hands of our enemies. You are a wise officer, exclaimed the
courier, and before we part, allow me to present you this it may
interest you. With this, he drew from his mambisa a paper, which
he quickly unfolded. It proved to be a sheet about ten by fourteen inches,
and Cliff could see, as he examined it, by what light the
moon afforded that there was printing on both sides. This said the Courier,
somewhat proudly, is the first copy of Las Villas ever printed. It is
set up and printed at General Gomez's headquarters under his own direction. It contains,
besides orders and an address from our beloved General, an account of your
intrepid Dewey's victory at Manila, Ah. That was a magnificent victory, yes,
ascended Cliff, and there will be others. The American battleships are invincible,
exclaimed the Cuban, with enthusiasm. With such noble allies, we cannot
fail to secure our liberty. We are no longer instruments, but members of
the regular army of Cuba. God bless America. The Cuban seemed in a
fair way to continue his rhapsodies indefinitely. But Cliff, having secured the papers
for which he came, was now intent upon delivering them as soon as possible
to the rear admiral. He therefore intimated as much to the courier, and
the latter took his departure. Cliff watched him disappear among the trees in the
direction by which he had approached. Now men, said, he addressing his
companions to the boat, The New York will soon be back, ready to
receive us. But they had not taken more than a few steps towards the
shore, when Cliff suddenly stopped, as if remembering something. Hold on just
a minute, he explained that shell, I have special reasons for wanting to
carry that along. It will take but a minute to find it. As
he started toward the ridge of earth beyond which he had thrown it, they
were all startled to hear the sounds of musketry, apparently near In hand,
one volley was quickly followed by another. Cliff sprang upon the embankment for which
he had started, and looked off beyond the clump of trees in the direction
from which the sounds came. He was in that position but a moment or
two. A half dozen reports in quick succession readed his appearance. One bullet
passing through his cap, he dropped on his feet to the ground beside his
companions. The Spaniards, he exclaimed, hurriedly, at least a hundred of
them, from what I saw, They were hurrying in this direction, and
not far away. They were on the alert on the instant. The sounds
that reached their ears told them unmistakably that the force of the enemy far outnumbered
their own and were rapidly approaching. Should they await an attack or run for
the vote? End of chapter twenty four recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot
Com. Chapter twenty five of a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter twenty
five. In the name of humanity and the sailors of the main, They
must have followed the courier in spite of his cleverness, exclaimed Cliff. And
if they have tracked him, they know where we are. The question is
shall we meet them here or take to the boat and run the risk of
being shot down without a chance to defend ourselves. The danger is yours as
well as mine. What do you say? But before the men could reply,
a rousing cheer from the Spanish soldiers rang out upon the air. The
little band of Americans expected to see the forms of their enemies appear among the
trees at every second in an impetuous charge upon them. They had no doubt
that the cheers were the signal for the attack. But to their amazement,
the sounds of approaching steps died out. Cliff's practiced ear told him that the
enemy had halted, but at the same time he recognized marks of enthusiasm among
the Spanish forces. What could it mean? Do they think they can scare
us off by yelling at us, exclaimed Cliff contemptuously. They don't know us
if think so, That's all. The group of Americans listened intently. There
was no doubt of it. The Spaniards had hauled it. After their vociferous
cheers. Cliff decided to find out what it meant. If the Spaniards were
preparing a surprise for him, he intended finding it out. Cautiously. He
climbed upon the little rampart of earth and looked away beyond the trees where he
had first seen the approach of the enemy. In the moonlight, he could
plainly distinguish the forms of the soldiers there were not as many as he had
first supposed. They numbered not more than fifty. In the midst of them,
he recognized the figure that explained the cause of their mysterious conduct, and
at the same time aroused his fighting instinct. He quickly rejoined his companions,
his eyes ablaze with the fire of combat. They have captured the courier,
he explained to his waiting companions. That was why they cheered so lustily,
A lot of jubilation over the capture of one man. They don't have such
good luck very often, exclaimed one of the men. They fired enough shots
to repulse a whole regiment of insurgents, exclaimed Cliff. But it was all
for the benefit of this one Mambzie. I don't believe they saw me at
all, but that bullet through my cap was one of their stray shots.
But they must know we are here, exclaimed the men. I doubt it,
replied Cliff. Else, why do they halt so near and not charge
on us? Shall we force the fight and go to the rescue of our
Cuban friend. How many are there of them, asked one of the men.
Only about fifty, and there are eleven of us here. We can
set them on the run. Let's do it. We have done almost as
much on other occasions, said Cliff. But now we are armed with only
our revolvers. They are five to one. We have plenty of ammunition.
Spoke up the men eagerly. You know we took an extra supply. But
there is another thing we must bear in mind, said Cliff, who had
been doing some quick thinking. I'd like nothing better than to give them a
life highly tussled, but here are these important dispatches. They must not fall
into Spanish hands. The New York will soon be due. If we delay,
we might miss her. That's so, exclaimed the men. But we
can fire one volley at them anyhow, one volley would do no good.
It would simply betray our presence. Either we must fight to the end,
or else sneak off to our boat before they discover us. The idea of
having a lot of the enemy so near at hand and not offering them battle
went against the grain of all of them. They were not deterred by the
superior numbers of the Spaniards, but Cliff's words about the importance of seeing the
dispatches safely in the rear Admiral's hand had some restraining effect upon their ardor.
Cliff, with all his bravery, was naturally prudent, but was strongly tempted
to make one effort to release the captive Cuban. He was their friend and
ally, and in his heart Cliff felt that if the captive were one of
his own men, there would be no thought of hesitancy or delay. One
minute, he said, after weighing both sides of the equation, I'll take
a look and see what they are doing. He sprang upon the embankment and
peered off toward the enemy. The main body of the troops were resting on
their arms, apparently satisfied with the capture of the solitary Cuban. Cliff,
however, could see that several of the soldiers were moving about from side to
side, close to the ground, as though hunting for some object among the
grass. Cliff was puzzled to think what they could be seeing, but he
felt convinced that the Spaniards had no idea of the near proximity of the Americans.
Everything seemed to prove that, and Cliff was not slow to make up
his mind. There was time yet for some quick action. They don't know
we are here. Men he exclaimed when he rejoined the others. The Cuban
will not betray us. We can surprise them, and if we can sweep
down on them with a rush and create noisy enough about it, we can
make them think. The whole ship's crew after them will do it. Chorused
the men eagerly then forward to the rescue, cried Cliff, leading the way,
but quietly through these trees until we reached the other side. It would
seem a foolhardy thing to do to invite battle with such an overwhelming force,
when they might quietly reach their boat and make away without detection. But their
blood was up, and there was a friend and ally in peril of a
Spanish dungeon or death. Without a moment's hesitation or further thought, they advanced
silently through the sparse woods, revolvers in hand. They were few in numbers,
but determination was written on every face. They reached the further edge of
the clump of trees without giving a sound that would betray their presence to the
enemy. Here they formed in line under Cliff's leadership, shoulder to shoulder,
ready for the charge. The moon had gone behind a cloud, but here
and there they could detect the glistening of a hostile bayonet and the sound of
Spanish voices. They did not pause to contemplate the scene. The time for
action had come. The stars are fighting with us, exclaimed Cliff. The
Spaniards will never know how few we are in this darkness. Now all together
a rousing cheer, and at them at the signal, A shout as of
a hundred voices startled the unsuspecting Spaniards. Fire cried Cliff, and a volley
from their revolvers carried consternation into the Spanish ranks. The shots had told,
groans of the wounded mingled with the hoarse startled commands of the officers. A
moment later a return volley rang out upon the ear, but the bullets flew
harmlessly among the trees. The Spaniards, in their fright, were firing wildly.
The Americans returned the fire and kept it up as rapidly as possible,
yelling for all they were worth. This noisy charge had the effect Cliff had
reckoned upon. The Spaniards were thoroughly frightened, and Cliff's sharp ear told him
that some of the soldiers were already on the run, and that the officers
had difficult in keeping them all from retreating. Cliff knew very well that if
the enemy had any idea of how meager were his forces, they would be
bolder, and, instead of trying to get away, would sweep down upon
him with overwhelming force. He, however, was too shrewd to give them
a chance of finding that out. A bold dash would keep up his bluff,
and now was the time to put it into execution. Drawing his sword,
he started toward them, shouting at the top of his voice. Up
in Adam, boys, he roared charge. Then, facing about for an
instant, he added, in a lower tone, yelled like sixty. With
a wild shout, the little band rushed forward, firing their revolvers as they
advanced in compact line. This bold dash had the desired effect. The enemy
could be heard retreating in disorder before them with redoubled clamor. The Americans pressed
forward, spurred on by the excitement of the chase. The moon at this
point emerged from its retirement and showed them the moralized ranks of the fleeing Spaniards,
But unfortunately it also showed to such of the enemy as looked back at
their pursuers what a handful of men had caused such terror and habit. Cliff
felt that his bluff would now be called. But the beams of the moon
also showed another scene that aroused all the Americans indignation and fairly made their blood
boil with rage. In spite of the panic, the Spaniards had retained hold
of their prisoner. But the first sight that Cliff saw as the moon shone
out clear once more, was one of the Spanish soldiers deliberately placing his revolver
against the unfortunate Cuban's head and sent a bullet crashing into his brain. Treachery,
base treachery, cried Cliff, beside himself with indignation and horror at the
scene assassination of a prisoner of war boys. Shall we allow such a vile
deeds go unavenged? The others had also seen, and there was no need
to ask the question. But the answer came prompt and without a descending voice.
No, by thunder never then at them to the death, cried Cliff,
leading them on in the name of humanity and the sailors of the main.
The blood curdling atrocity had made demons of them all, and with a
horse. Shout, they sprang to the charge. End of chapter twenty five.
Recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter twenty six of a
Prisoner of Morrow, buy Upton, Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the
public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter twenty six, A game of
bluff. Cliff urged his little band of Avengers forward with no thought of danger
or of the consequences. The inhuman scene he had witnessed drove from his mind
all thoughts of the flagship or the porton papers he carried upon his person.
Such barbarity called for vengeance, and that brave American handful of American tars meant
to wreak it on their treacherous foes, or die in the attempt. Come
on, shouted Cliff wildly, give it to him, don't let a man
escape. A well directed volley was the answer to his command that sent death,
dealing bullets among the frightened soldiers just before them. But unfortunately for the
heroic little band, they were now fighting in the open, and their strength
was known to the enemy. A little further ahead, Cliff could see that
a Spanish officer had succeeded in rallying some of his men, and they were
now forming in solid line to repulse the charge of the Americans. The first
result of this was a shower of bullets from the Spanish rifles that fortunately for
the most part, went wide of the mark, but one slightly wounded a
sailor at Cliff's side, as a sharp exclamation of pain quickly told him.
It also aroused his native caution. What was the use he quickly thought of
holding his men there in the full glare of the moonlight as a target for
the enemy's gun when a more certain conflict could be carried on from the shelter
of the trees just behind him. He had too few men to risk losing
any on those on even terms. He quickly ordered his men to drop back
into the woods, but it was with great difficulty at first that he could
enforce his commands upon the now thoroughly aroused sailors. They wanted to continue their
impetuous charge, but a second volley from the remaining troops showed them the wisdom
of Cliff's decision, and with a return volley, they fell back into the
darkness and shelter of the trees. Now, boys, cried Cliff, every
man behind a tree, it fight for all you are worth. Let every
shot tell. The wisdom of Cliff's stand became at once apparent from the ambush
of the woods. They could fire with little fear of stopping a Spanish bullet
with their own bodies. And they did fire, and that to good purpose.
The Spaniards were now bolder and bore down upon the ambushed Americans with some
semblance of order. But at each volley from the sailors there was a wavering
in the ranks of the foe, and Cliff could see that more than one
dropped wounded from the ranks. We'll lick em yet, cried Cliff, with
enthusiasm. Keep it up, boys, But the Spaniards advanced steadily in spite
of their losses. They too were fully aroused at the thought that they had
been so roughly handled by such a small number of men. Cliff and his
gallant band were compelled to drop back from tree to tree. It began to
look as though the Spaniards would in the end become victorious. But with the
Americans it was due or die. There was no hope of help or succor
from any source. No reinforcements were at hand, and none could be sent
in time from the flagship. Even did those on board suspect the plight in
which that boat's crew found itself. But desperate cases required desperate measures, and
Cliff was equal to the emergency. When it became evident that the Spaniards would
indeed fight, Cliff's busy brain thought of a means to turn the tide of
the conflict. It was a slight hope, to be sure, but the
only one that presented itself. He smiled in spite of himself, in view
of his meager forces, at the thought that the only way to achieve victory
was by a flank movement. I'll take two men, he said, hurriedly,
and slip around behind those fellows. The rest of you keep up your
fire here, and if our lungs hold out, we'll make them think we
have reinforcements. It was a very risky move, but with two companions,
Cliff put it into execution at once. They hurried through the woods so as
to flank the enemy, an easy task, as the latter were now well
up to the little grove. As they reached the edges of the woods,
which would bring them in the enemy's rear. They set up a mighty shout
at nam Boy's Cliff yelled at his imaginary forces, come on, we've got
em. Then in Spanish, he cried, so that the enemy could hear,
surrender you, Stan, Your twelve men have held you, and now
will take you. He had reached the edge of the clearing and paused a
moment, facing around and beckoning to his imaginary reinforcements. The Spaniards were completely
bewildered. The fire from those that Cliff had left behind continued without intermission,
and the Spaniards could not but think that the vociferous sailors in their rear were
new arrivals. They could not, in the first place conceive of the daring
and hardihood that would lead a dozen men to oppose their forces unless reserves were
near in hand, And now thought they these reinforcements had arrived, Cliff and
his companions made noisy up to give color to this belief, and without stopping
to see what there was behind the demonstration, the Spaniards took to their heels.
They are not men but devils, Cliff heard someone say in Spanish,
as they dropped their rifles and start on the run. Even the officer who
had succeeded at once in holding a remnant of his panic stricken forces together,
now gave up the fight and sprinted away as fast as the rest. Every
man seemed to be looking for his own safety, and they did not pause
to see what was behind them. Here and there, it is true one
of the fleeing Spaniards could be seen helping a wounded companion in his flight,
but as for further resistance, there was none. Cliff could not forbear to
laugh at the odd sight of an army in a foot race to escape a
few American sailors. American bluff has won the day, he laughed. Our
Cuban friend's death has been avenged, and that without the loss of a man
on our side. The Spanish are good sprinters at any rate, said one
of the men, as they started with Cliff to rejoin their companions. Here
Cliff had all he could do to restrain his followers from continuing in pursuit of
the enemy. No, said he, in response to the earnest pleading,
We had better leave well enough alone. These Spaniards say we are not men
but devils, and I guess they don't care for another interview the New York,
no doubt, is waiting for us, and these dispatches are yet to
be delivered. There was no use to grumble, so the party set out
on the return to their boat. They were highly enthusiastic over the good work
done under Cliff's leadership, and we're proud of his pluck as well as the
good general ship he had shown. The tide of battle had carried them some
distance from the spot where they had met the Cuban courier, and further still
from where they had concealed their boat. But they picked their way expeditiously through
the woods and reached the beach without further incident. They were near the clump
of trees which they had recognized as that behind which they had hidden the boat,
when Cliffs stopped with a sudden exclamation gory. He said, I have
forgotten that shell. It won't take but a minute to return for it.
What's the use, sir, ventured one of the men. As you said,
we'd better let well enough alone and not run any further risk or a
shell that don't even explode. That's just the reason why I want it,
said Cliff. That shell is more important than you might think, I'll But
here occurred an interruption that opened up more startling possibilities and drove the unexploded shell
from the attention of all. It was in the shape of an exclamation of
surprise and alarm from one of the men, who had gone a few steps
in advance of the others and had reached the boat's hiding place as Cliffs spoke.
It arrested Cliff's attention at once. What's the matter? He called?
Sharply, the boat, Sir, cried the marine, appearing from behind the
bushes. What of it? It's gone gone, yes, Sir. Cliff,
followed by the others, hastened to the spot the man had spoken the
truth. The boat, which was now their sole dependence, was no longer
There they looked in blank amazement at one another and at the spot where they
had fastened it in fancied security. What could it mean? End of chapter
twenty six recording by Tom wys Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter twenty seven of
a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the public
domain. Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter twenty seven, in which Cliff meets
with a surprise. They were now in a perilous position. They could not
return to the flagship, and at any moment the Spaniards, finding they were
not pursued, might pluck up courage to seek them out and try conclusions with
them once more. If they should find them on that narrow strip of beach,
the story of the conflict might be a different one. And then the
disappearance of the boat itself pointed to enemies they had not counted upon, who
could have found and taken it. Well, now we're in a pretty pickle,
exclaimed Cliff, when he became satisfied that the boat had really been taken.
Perhaps, sir, this is not the place where we left it,
ventured one of the men catching at that faint home. I wish you were
right, said Cliff. But there's no doubt about it. The boat has
been taken. There's no doubt of it. The men echoed, the boat
is gone. But to make assurance, doubly sure, they searched the beach
under Cliff's direction, examining every clump of bushes that was large enough to conceal
the boat. But the result was a foregone conclusion. The boat was gone.
Now, what's to be done, Sir asked one of the men.
What indeed, something's got to be done, said Cliff with determination. We've
got to get off this island before daybreak. It's easy to dodge the Spaniards
in the darkness, but entirely a different matter by day. Besides, we
seem to have enemies down here as well as back there on the hill.
He was scanning the water earnestly as he spoke. It was time, he
knew, for the flagship to return to her position opposite that point and await
the return of Cliff and his crew. Was she there? He could not
tell the face of the moon, and obscured by clouds as it had been
most of the night, and it was impossible for Cliff to discern any object
at a distance across the water. He strained his eyes trying to catch a
glimpse of the ship they had left not many hours ago. But the thought
occurred to him, what good will it do if I do see her?
But even as he looked, the sky suddenly brightened. In a tiny spot
out to sea, A long pencil of light shot up from the water,
and a cloud was tinged with a steck of dull white light. It's the
New York, cried Cliff, the signal of her searchlight to return. They
watched that tiny beam of light as though there was hope of sucker in its
rays, until it suddenly disappeared and all was dark as before. Now they
are waiting for our appearance, said Cliff, But unfortunately we haven't got wings.
Hello, what does that mean? Cliff had turned suddenly in a listening
attitude toward the land. The others had heard the same sound that had attracted
Cliff, the solitary report of a rifle shot not far in their rear.
The Spaniards must be returning, said Cliff. They have made up their minds
that we had no reinforcements because we did not pursue them further. I'll go
up and reconnoiter to see what they are up to. I'll go, sir,
volunteered one of the men before Cliff could get away. You stay here.
You may be able to see some way of getting us off With this.
He cautiously hurried up the side of the bank, leaving Cliff and his
companions in the shelter of the bushes below. With ears alert to any sound
by land. They anxiously strained their eyes across the water, could any way
be found across the expanse that lay between them and the flagship. All were
silent for many minutes, and then at last the searchlight of the flagship flashed
out once more and swept across the waters before it disappeared. So near and
yet so far, exclaimed Cliff. They are getting impatient for our return.
If we could signal them, suggested one of the men, they would send
about. But we have no means of doing that, said Cliff. We
can't shout at them, and a pistol shot would not be heard except by
our friends the enemy. Perhaps they will send about anyhow, persisted the hopeful
member of the crew, perhaps ascended Cliff after they get tired of waiting for
us. In a short time, the scout returned with news that was at
least disquieting in their situation. The Spaniards are after us, sir, he
reported. They seem to have rallied most of their men and are now near
the woods where we met them, cautiously advancing. They have scouts out looking
for us. For I barely escaped running into one of them. They have
guessed the trick we played on them, said Cliff, and it will go
hard with us if they find us. How near are they? Did you
say? They seem to be in the woods now, But they are advancing
steadily. They are scouring the place thoroughly, and maybe down on us any
moment. Well, boys will do the best we can if they do get
here, said Cliff quietly. A calm settled upon the band, for now
they knew their situation was critical. Their ammunition was nearly exhausted, and if
the enemy should succeed in attacking them from the vantage of the hillside, there
was little hope of a successful resistance. Should they succeed in eluding the enemy
in the darkness, there was no doubt that daybreak would seal their fate.
There's no two ways about it, exclaimed Cliff. We got to get off
this island, and that pretty soon. See, sir, cried the hopeful
member, who had been intently gazing across the water. They have sent a
boat. Cliff looked in the direction in which the other was eagerly pointing.
Sure enough he could discern the outlines of a boat slowly moving toward them,
some little distance from shore. An involuntary little chair went up for the others
as they too saw a boat approaching. We are saved, exclaimed Cliff,
and these dispatches will soon be in the rear Admiral's hands. But suddenly,
the eager watcher saw the boat stop, then, after a few moments,
mirror around and continue its course down the coast until it was almost abreast of
the spot where they stood. Then it has suddenly stopped, and, after
a moment's pause, retraced its course. What's the matter with those fellows,
exclaimed Cliff. Are they afraid to land? Hadn't we better signal them,
Sir, suggested the man. They don't know where we are. The boat
had again turned as was apparently patrolling up and down, seemingly waiting for just
such assistance in locating the position of the waiting soldiers. But just as Cliff
was about to retract their attention by a mighty shout, his practiced ear caught
sounds from the hill above that caused him to stop. The Spanish soldiers were
unmistakably advancing silence. He cautioned in a whisper, the Spaniards are on the
hill above us, and the slightest noise will betray us. But the boat
sir, exclaimed the man. We must signal it. I'll bring it here,
said Cliff, with a sudden resolve. He began investing himself of his
blouse and trousers as he spoke. What do you mean to do, sir,
asked the men wonderingly. Swim for it, replied Cliff. That's the
only way. But sir, don't delay me, said Cliff, every moment
is precious. Now. With this, he quietly slid into the water and
with quick, powerful strokes, shot through the waves toward the boat. Cliff
was in his element in the whole ship's crew. None excelled him in swimming
and diving, and it was with a feeling of confidence that he forced his
way through the water. He made not a sound as he went along,
for it was to avoid alarming the Spaniards that he had hit upon this plan.
The boat was not far from shore, and he reached it in a
few moments. He was overjoyed to recognize that it was as he expected,
one of the boats from the flagship. There were two occupants of the boat,
one at the oars and the other in the stern. Cliff did not
recognize them, but he did not pause on that account, time was precious,
and the boat begotten to shore in the balance of the party. Taken
aboard without delay. Vote ahoy, he exclaimed joyously, as he reached the
side, without having been seen by the occupants. Take me aboardman, and
then pull for the shore for all you are work. Cliff's sudden appearance and
the words he spoke had a startling effect upon the oarsman by whose side Cliff
made his appearance. The latter started with an oath, and as Cliff seized
the side of the boat and raised himself partly from the water, his gaze
fell upon the glistening barrel of a revolver, and back of it he saw
a face distorted with rage and hate. Karamba fell upon Cliff's ears. It
is an Americano death to the American gigs. The occupants of the boat were
Spaniards. End of chapter twenty seven. Recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot
Com. Chapter twenty eighth of a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This
LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weise, Chapter twenty
eight A Struggle against Odds. The position in which Cliff found himself was so
startlingly unexpected and so full of peril, that for a brief instant he almost
unnerved him. Had he suspected the possibility of the boat being manned by Staniards,
he would have given up the thought as soon as he recognized it as
one belonging to the flagship. It seemed natural that a boat should be sent
to look for them after their protracted absence, And it was a decided shock
to find that he had fallen alone and unarmed, in the way of his
enemies. But his surprise affected him, but for an instant he did not
propose to be shot down if he could help it. The report of the
pistol that met Cliff's gaze rang out upon the air, but the bullet did
not reach its intended mark, like a flash if had released his hold upon
the boat and dropped beneath the water just in the nick of time. The
Spaniard peered over the side of the boat in the darkness, expecting to see
Cliff's form appear on the surface, and hoping to see his life's blood staining
the waters, a testimony to his marksmanship. How could he have failed to
send that bullet crashing through the American's brain, thought he But nothing of the
sort happened. Cliff not only was not wounded, but was chipper as a
lark. When he disappeared, he dove under the boat and rose again on
the opposite side. The spaniard would look in vain in that spot or his
intended victim. But the spaniard in the bow discovered Cliff's head as it appeared
for an instant above the water. With an imprecation of wrath. He called
his companion's attention to the spot, but one of them was armed, it
seemed. The other rushed to that side, but when he looked in the
direction indicated revolver in hand, Cliff had again disappeared. The American lad was
as lively as a cricket, and busy thoughts surged through his brain. In
the first place, he did not propose being a target for a Spanish bullet.
But above all he wanted that boat, and like the cowboy when he
wants a revolver, wanted it bad. How can I get it? He
thought, as his dye brought him up near the bow of the boat.
Help came from an unexpected source. For a few moments after he was driven
by a new peril to attempt the only plan that could accomplish it. The
agency that led to his delivery was a shark. It was not the everyday
business of his sharkship that of saving an imperiled life, for those inhabiting those
waters are especially hungry and voracious. But it happened this way. As Cliff
was quietly keeping himself afloat at the bow of the boat, confident that in
that position he ran little risk of immediate discovery by his enemies. The plans
and schemes revolving in his mind were brought to a sudden standstill by a sight
that filled him with horror. A sharp triangular fin, cutting the water like
a knife, flashed past him. Merciful Heaven, he muttered under his breath.
A shark death faced him on every side. To be sure, he
might frighten the shark by churning the surface of the water, but that very
act would betray him to a no less certain death at the hands of his
enemies. His resolve, a desperate one that caused him the shutter as he
formed it, was reached on the instant the broad back of his enemy,
who sat in the stern, was within easy reach and inspired his action.
Quick as a flash, Cliff grasped the stern of the boat with one hand,
and with one mighty effort, raised himself high out of the water.
Before the spaniard could divine what was happening, Cliff's free arm was thrown around
the fellow's neck, and he was drawn back into the water behind him.
An instant after, Cliff clambered over the stern into the boat, with a
shudder at the thought of the face that awaited the luckless spaniard, he addressed
himself to the work that lay before him, and there was plenty of it,
and lively too while it lasted. The other Spaniard, who had been
peering into the water ahead, turned sharply around when he heard the noise made
by the splash of his companion, and in the act involuntarily dropped the revolver.
What must have been his feelings upon beholding the lithe and dripping form of
the plucky young American emerging from the sea may well be imagined, but Cliff
did not pause to study the effects. He seized an oar and sprang toward
his remaining foe. Surrender you, villain, he cried in Spanish. As
he advanced, the Spaniard seized an oar, and with an oath, sprang
toward the American, and there on the quiet bosom of the water, in
the dim light of night, ensued a stubbornly contested duel, in which oars
took the place of broadsword and saber. Cliff fought savagely and desperately. His
blood was up, and he knew that now ever, he was fighting for
his life. But in the end it was fortune that favored him. A
chance blow upon his antagonist's head rendered the latter unconscious, and victory again perched
upon the young American's banner. There was no time for exaltation, even if
he had felt that way. The work had been too serious, and necessity
for action was too imperative. Satisfied that he had nothing to fear from his
enemy, now lying helpless in the bottom of the boat, Cliff seized the
oars and turned the boat towards shore. It was trying work for one man
to row that boat, even the short distance that lay between him and shore,
especially after the ordeal through which he had passed, But excitement void him
up and he made good progress. His companions in the shade of the bushes
where he had left them had witnessed his exciting duel, and were wrought up
to tense excitement. How they bemoaned the fact that they were not there to
help him. It became evident that there were other spectators too, for no
sooner had Cliff seized the oars and began to row for the shore, than
a volley of bullets rattled out across the water from the hill that had witnessed
such thrilling scenes earlier in the night, the Spanish soldiers had discovered Cliff.
In the face of this, Cliff redoubled his efforts to reach the beach and
rescue his companions, who might any moment be attacked by the soldiers in their
rear. But the enemy's attention was concentrated upon Cliff and his boat, and
he shot through the waters in a perfect hail of missiles. They spattered into
the waters all around him, but wide of their mark. He reached the
shore, and as he sprang upon the ground, his faithful little band could
not repress a cheer at his bravery and plood, But he urged them on.
Not a moment could be lost. The enemy shut off temporarily by the
overhanging hill might be down upon them any second. Cliff gathered up his clothing,
and at a word they all sprang to their places, and the boat
leaped the water with a bound and was away to the flagship. Cliff cried
and then uttered an exclamation of alarm. The Despatches. He cried as he
felt among his clothes they had been left behind. At a word, the
boat was turned around and shot swiftly toward the beach. Yelling Spaniards could be
heard racing down the hillside. They had discovered the landing place, and bullets
began again to rain about the water. It seemed sure death to return in
the face of that fire, but the intrepid crew sped on. The despatches
must not fall into Spanish hands. The boat grated on the sands, and
Cliffs sprang out. One instant brought him to the spot where his clothes had
lain. Fortune favored him. As he felt along the ground, his hand
touched a package of papers, the Despatches. He cried as he sprang to
his place in the stern of the boat, which had been turned ready for
the start. He gave the word, and away they sped this time with
the flagship as their goal. Spanish bullets flew after them, but they were
safe. It was only when they were, for a moment brought out into
bold relief by the searchlight that again began to play from that flagship, that
bullets of the enemy came near their mark. And then the firing ceased and
the boat spat on an enthusiastic and jubilant crew. It was only Cliff seemed
in the dissatisfied mood gory. He suddenly exclaimed, I came off without that
shell. After all, you seem to lay great store by that, sir,
said one of the men. I do, said Cliff, but will
not return for it. Just now to the flagship. Not many minutes later
they were safe aboard the captured Spaniard in proper custody, and best of all,
the dispatches were personally delivered by Cliff to the rear admiral. But Cliff
was not entirely satisfied and of Chapter twenty eight recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks
dot Com. Chapter twenty nine of a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by tom Weys, Chapter
twenty nine, Cliff's second expedition. In spite of the glorious work accomplished in
those few hours, Cliff felt chagrined that he had, in the excitement of
the struggle on the boat and under fire of the Spanish soldiers on shore,
been forced to return to the flagship without the shell. He had thought considerably
about it, even during the stirring scenes through which they had passed. He
had his own ideas about it, and wanted to put them to the test.
Everything connected with it indicated to his mind some mystery, the solution of
which would materially help the American forces. In the first place, the way
in which it was brought to his attention was unusual, to say the least,
That a ship being pursued by a hostile craft should deliberately fire away from
the pursuer and toward the land was peculiar, even for a Spaniard. It
was ridiculous to think that the shell had been aimed at Cliff and his party,
for even had it been broad daylight, the American boat's crew would not
have been visible to those on the Spanish ship. It was merely a coincidence
that Cliff happened to be where the shell landed. No thought Cliff as he
revolved this in his mind. That shot was not aimed at our forces.
There was some other reason for firing it. What that was he could merely
conjecture, and he was not entirely clear in his own mind that the mysterious
purpose had been carried out to the satisfaction of those on the Spanish boat.
Cliff felt convinced was evident from the fact that not another shot was fired.
Then the shape of the shell was an important factor. They are not using
those round ones nowadays, thought Cliff. This one must be used for a
special purpose. What that is, I'm going to find out. The arrival
of the Spanish soldiers and the peculiar actions before the little battle that followed also
demanded explanation. They didn't know we were there, mused Cliff, or they
would not have been so easily taken by surprise. Why were they there?
Their capture of the Cuban courier was accidental. I'm sure they were on some
other mission. Last of all, the theft of the ship's boat and the
strange behavior of the two Spaniards who had taken it and whom Cliff had been
forced to overcome, added a peculiar feature to the affair. Taking it all
in all, Cliff felt that though they had bravely avenged the murder of the
Cuban and had brought the despatches safely to the Rear Admiral and with them a
prisoner, still an important object had not been accomplished. He meant to return
for that unexploded shell in the face of every difficulty, and put his ideas
to the test. He had this purpose in view when he delivered with his
own hands the dispatches to the Rear Admiral. Rear Admiral Sampson glanced quickly over
the papers after they were handed to him, and seemed highly pleased. These
are of the utmost importance, he exclaimed. With this information, we will
be the better able to act in conjunction with the insurgents when the proper time
comes. Cliff knew the papers must indeed be of a special value from the
Rear Admiral's manner, for it was decightedly unusual for an officer of such importance
to unbend to that extent with an ordinary cadet. The Rear Admiral was evidently
more than satisfied with the result of Cliff's mission. After a hasty examination of
the papers, he turned to Cliff, who had remained standing, and asked
some particulars of his meeting with the Cuban courier. Then Cliff briefly but graphically
told of his receiving the papers from the hands of the insurgent, and of
the latter's tragic death so soon after, at the hands of the cowardly Spanish
soldier who held him as a prisoner of war. Rear Admiral Sampson's blood fairly
boiled as Cliff gave him the details the cowards. He exclaimed with clenched fist,
it was barbarous, but Sir, continued Cliff, it has been avenged.
And then he briefly and with modest demeanor, told of their attack upon
the company of Spanish soldiers and their victory over them without the loss of an
American life. More than one Spaniard had gone to his death to atone for
that cowardly assassination. The Rear Admiral was plainly interested, and at his request
Cliff gave the particulars of his subsequent adventures and of the narrow escape in the
boat from the Spanish soldiers firing upon them from the hill and shore. Admirable.
Admirable, exclaimed the Rear Admiral, when the brief narrative was finished.
I am proud of the bravery of yourself and the men with you. And
now, if you please, sir, said Cliff, calmly, I want
to go back there. Back there, exclaimed the Admiral. Where do you
mean, to the spot where I met the Cuban? Replied Cliff, what
do you mean? According to your account? The place is swarming with Spanny's
soldiers, not many of them, Sir, said Cliff, and it is
not my intention that they should see me. I left something behind that I
think is important. Then he told of the shell that came crashing through the
trees where they stood, and of a series of incidents that had prevented his
examining it as fully as he wished. He insisted strongly that the recovery of
the shell was of the greatest importance, and intimated something of his ideas concerning
the mystery, that it suggested he spoke to such good purpose that at last
the Rear Admiral was disposed to grant his wish but it would be better to
wait until you have had a chance to rest a bit, said the latter
tomorrow night. For instance, delay is dangerous, sir, I think,
said Cliff. Others are seeking it, I know, and it may not
be there unless I go at once. There are still several hours of the
night left, and I can easily accomplish it. The Rear Admiral had evidently
been impressed with what Cliff had told him concerning the shell, and at last
agreed that he should go about it in his own way. Very well,
then, he said, at last, take a boat's crew and go at
once, if you please, sir, exclaimed Cliff. I would rather take
one of the small boats and go alone. One man can move about with
less fear of detection. Young man, you are undertaking a very dangerous mission,
exclaimed the Rear Admiral. But you seem to have the pluck and I
have confidence that you can take care of yourself. Do then as you wish,
but take some signal rockets with you. Don't hesitate to use them if
necessary. We will be ready to send you assistance if needed. Cliff,
highly pleased at the confidence that was reposed in him, salute it. Respectfully
and hastened away to prepare for the venture. In a few minutes he was
ready, The boat was lowered, and for the second time that night,
he left the flagship to face fresh dangers on the shore. But this time
he was alone. Success and safety depended upon his unaided efforts. End of
chapter twenty nine. Recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter thirty
of a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This librevox recording is in the
public domain. Recording by Tom Weis, Chapter thirty The battle in the brush?
Was it a foolhardy venture? He thought, as with steady stroke he
forged a head away from the flagship and towards the shore he had so recently
left, amid the clatter of hostile bullets. The enemy now must be on
the alert, and he might be detected and captured the instant his boat touched
shore, and he was not blind to the dangers that might confront him on
land. I'm in for it now, at any rate, he thought,
and I've got to succeed. This mystery must be solved, and I believe
the result will show that it is worth all the risk. Darkness favored him,
and besides, he was alone, and for that very reason could move
around with less risk of discovery. Once he reached land, he knew exactly
where he had dropped the shell, and it would not take long to get
it. It was therefore with confidence that he urged the boat forward. It
was a long pole for the flagship lay well out to sea, but Cliff
did not seem to feel the strain. He drew near the shore without detecting
any hostile movement or hearing any sound that would lead him to think that the
enemy were on the lookout. He decided that it would be prudent not to
land at the same spot as previously. He therefore steered for a clump of
trees a little farther down the coast, and still not a great distance from
the hill where the shell lay. Not a sound from the enemy reached his
ears as his boat upon the sandy beach, and he sprang out to secure
the painter to a bush. Then, feeling that his revolver was ready and
handy for business, he cautiously began to steal his way through the shrubbery that
fringed the shore. These screened his advance, and soon he was ascending the
steep bank in the direction of the previous encounter. He was getting further away
from his boat and nearer and nearer to his destination. All serene so far,
he muttered, as he advanced steadily without any adventure. The Spaniards must
have gone. But suddenly, as he was about to step from the concealment
of the trees into a slight clearing that lay in his path, he heard
a sound that caused him to dodge back. Quickly. Looking out, he
saw a figure close at hand and slowly approaching. A step further and Cliff
would have brought himself directly within the other's view. It was not Cliff's purpose
to invite an encounter. Although he grasped his revolver in readiness for an emergency,
he desired ed rather to avoid it and to quietly make his way to
the spot where the shell lay. That, once secured, he felt that
he could in the same way return to his boat and to the flagship.
He therefore silently waited in his place of concealment to see what the enemy would
do. The latter evidently had not heard Cliff's movements, and continued slowly to
advance stooping occasionally and peering from side to side. I think I know what
you're after, muttered Cliff below his breath. But you won't find it here,
nor me either, he added, as he began to edge away from
the position he held. As he did so, the other turned and slowly
continued his course in the opposite direction. The coast was again clear, and
Cliff lost no time in putting what distance he could between himself and the unwelcome
visitor. His course, too, led him toward the mound of earth,
behind which lay the object of his coming. When he reached the spot where
he had met the Cuban courier, he found it deserted. The Spaniards,
after the escape of Cliff and his men, had evidently withdrawn. With a
light heart. He sprang toward the rampart of earth and began to ascend its
side. In one minute, It is mine, he thought, exultingly,
and then back to the flagship and the test. But a surprise was in
sore for him. As he bolted over the top of the mound on to
the other side. He landed almost into the arms of a man who was
just ascending that side. The man was unmistakably a spaniard, and from his
hands there fell a round shell that rolled away across the ground. The encounter
was startling to both, but Cliff was the first to recover his wits.
His quick eye detected the fallen shell, and he divined the fellow's purpose.
Before the other could recover from his evident fright, Cliff sprang upon him.
So you have found it, he muttered, as he closed in upon the
spaniard, But findings not keepings this time. Cliffs attack brought the Spaniard quickly
to his senses, and he was not slow to defend himself. In a
flash, he drew his revolver, but Cliff was too quick for him.
The latter knocked the weapon from the fellow's grass before he had a chance to
fire him. Cliff's own weapon was within easy reach, but for several reasons,
he did not care to use it. He wanted, among other things,
to avoid a pistol shot, which might attract others to the spot.
The contest must be one of muscle against muscle, and to unusual strength,
Cliff added a surprising agility that came in good stead In such a struggle.
They grappled and there in that enclosure formed by the mounds of earth on several
sides, the two began the furious hand to hand battle, the result of
which long hung in doubt. The Spaniard was no mean opponent and fought with
enraged fury cliffs to sound. The exertions during the past hours had been enough
to exhaust the strongest and sturdiest, and he was compelled to acknowledge to himself
as the progressed that it had made inroads upon his strength. Back and forth
across the little enclosure, the pair fought fiercely. Once Cliff slipped and fell
beneath his opponent, but an instant after he was upon his feet, his
keen eye followed his antagonists every move. He was watching for a chance to
deliver one blow that would settle the combat. Several times he had landed upon
the Spaniard's head and face, inflicting severe punishment, but not enough. At
last, the moment came. The opening presented itself in the Spaniard's guard,
and with all the strength that was in him, Cliff shout out his right
hand. It went home with a force that seemed to lift the fellow high
into the air. His fist met the spaniard's chin, and the latter fell
backward to the ground. It was a clean knockout. Breathing heavily, the
fellow lay where he had fallen, unconscious of his surroundings. Cliff was panting
from the exertion he had received some punishment. The wound in his arm was
throbbing fiercely, but he paused only enough to see that the fellow would not
give him further trouble, and then hurried towards the spot where the shell had
rolled. I guess that'll hold you for a while, he muttered, looking
at his fallen foe as he started away. But he'll come out of it
after a time. He had it gory, how my arm aches all the
way up to the elbow. It took but a moment for him to find
the shell, for he had seen it roll from the other's hand. And
that's it, he exclaimed, as he picked it up. I'd know it
in a minute by its shape and weight, rather light for a cannonball.
But he did not wait to examine it there. There would be time enough
for that. When he reached the flagship, with a parting look at his
unconscious antagonist, he started away. I'm sorry, my dear sir, he
exclaimed sarcastically, as he looked back on reaching the top of the rampart.
You seemed so attached to this shell. I'd like to take you along with
it, but as I can only take one at a time, I'll contempt
myself this. Then he turned his back upon the scene of his contests and
started for his boat as expeditiously as due caution would allow. He met with
no obstacle in the way, and found the boat just as he had left
it. He threw the shell in the stern, and with a feeling of
exaltation, sprang in after it and seized the oars. A few steady strokes
and he was on the way toward the flagship. But there had been a
change in those quiet waters while he was on the land. He had not
gone many boat legs from shore before he discovered looming up before him a slowly
moving steamer. It was apparently hugging the coast and proceeding with as little noise
as possible, a boat trying to run the blockade. Exclaimed Cliff as he
backed water and rested upon his oars. She'll succeed too, unless one of
our ships should happen to discover her with its searchlight, and then his responsibility
in view of the discovery he had made, flashed upon him. I must
warn the flag ship at once, he exclaimed, seizing the oars and sending
the boat forward with a spurt. But after a couple of strokes he suddenly
stopped again. What a fool I am, he exclaimed. By the time
I can row out to the flagship, it will be too late. They
must be warned instantly, and there is only one way of doing it.
He reached for the signal rockets he had brought at the rear admiral's order.
Should he fire them. Those on board the strange boat that was nearly abreast
of him did not know that he was there. If he gave the signal,
it would betray his presence and no doubt lead to an attack upon himself.
In his open boat, Cliff looked far out to sea for a moment,
half hoping to see the flash of the searchlight play upon the water and
lead to the detection of the strange craft. But the delay was only momentary.
It is my duty to warn the ships, he exclaimed, as he
set up a rocket in the stern, and, drawing a match from his
pocket, struck it upon the seat of the boat. Here goes a moment
later, with a sharp whirr and a flash of light, the rockets shot
up into the air. A second and third followed. Then Cliffs sprang back
upon his seat and seized the oars. The signal had been given. He
had done his duty, at whatever risk there might be to his own safety.
End of chapter thirty recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter
thirty one of a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This libre box recording
is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter thirty one,
Captured Cliff had elected to imperil his own existence rather than allow one of the
enemy's boats to pass that blockade without warning to the American ships. But he
had no intention of lying idly by in the path of the high hostile craft.
He waited but a moment after the glare of the last rocket had died
out in the air, and then bent to the oars and urged the boat
toward the open sea beyond. And then he had every confidence that he had
little to fear from the enemy's boat. They'll have all they can do to
look out for their own safety. Now, he thought, without paying any
attention to me, the New York has seen the signal and will not be
slow in making out the cause. Then look out, mister Spaniard. But
there was more taking place upon those waters than Cliff was cognizant of, and
peril came from an unlooked for source. His decision to send up the warning
signal had been quickly formed after his first discovery of the strange vessel. He
had seen at a glance that it was not a warship but a merchant steamer.
It was moving slowly and apparently seeking as much as possible the concealment afforded
by the shadow of the coast. Every feature about it showed that it was
trying to quietly steal out past the blockading vessels. Cliff had not delayed,
but on the impulse of the moment, had sent up the signal rockets while
he was yet between the ship and the shore. But a few steady strokes
would carry him beyond the enemy and toward the flagship, he thought. But
to his surprise he noticed, on glancing over his shoulder as he drew nearer
to the vessel, that the latter was moving slower than before, and in
fact had just stopped. This was puzzling to him. For now, if
at any time the boat should be showing its utmost speed, those on board
must surely know from the signals that they had been discovered and that pursuit would
instantly follow. A few words will explain the situation to the reader. The
vessel was, as Cliff suspected, endeavoring to steal out past the American ships
which were known to be in the vicinity. But a short time before Cliff
had left the shore for the second time, the blockade runner had slowed down,
and a boat manned by half a dozen soldiers had been sent ashore.
An officer in the Spanish army with important dispatches was to be taken aboard at
a point not far from where Cliff had landed. The work of the Spanish
boat's crew had been expeditiously performed, and when Cliff sent up his signal,
they were returning to the ship. Unnoticed by Cliff in his excitement at the
time, they were close to one side of his boat. At that fateful
moment, a pistol shot suddenly ringing out in the air, and a bullet
flying not far from his head apprized the cadet of danger from that quarter.
The Spaniards, as was natural for them to be, were aroused to a
high pitch of excitement against the youth, whose vigilance promised to set all their
plans at naught. With a hoarse yell of rage, they tugged at the
oars, and their boat fairly leaped through the water. After the intrepid young
cadet Cliff saw the movement and redoubled his efforts at the oars. It was
a race for his life, one against seven. With frantic energy, he
tugged at the oars, and his boats shot forward with encouraging speed. At
that moment, the searchlight on the flagships and its rays across the waters in
answer to the signal, and a dazzling stream of light played upon the scene.
It brought in clear relief the form of the waiting steamer and the two
boats racing so desperately near at hand. What a thrilling scene it must have
been to the officers on the bridge of the flagship, as with glass in
hand they watched the exciting race, But it was not given to them long
to note the cadet's desperate struggle for freedom, or to marvel at his great
endurance. The race was a short one, and the result of foregone conclusion.
There was no hope of Cliffs escaping from the pursuing boat with its crew
of fresh and eager oarsmen. The latter closed in upon him with a leap
and a bound, and soon where within oar's length of him. He recognized
the uselessness of trying to escape from them, was determined not to surrender without
a struggle, even in the face of great numbers. He dropped his oars
and sprang to his feet. Facing his enemies, he drew his revolver,
but before he could use it, one of the Spanish sailors, who had
risen in the boat, knocked it from his grasp with his oar. The
boats were now side by side, almost touching, and the dark hulk of
the steamer was not many feet away from the latter. Arose a loud cheer
as they saw that Cliff had been disarmed, and above the noise, Cliff
could hear a few words of command from the Spanish army officer who sat in
the stern of the boat at his side. It was to the sailor who
had sprung up to attack Cliff. Don't shoot, he said, take him
alive. Cliff had seized an oar when his revolver fell with a splash into
the water, and there was no doubt that he intended using it. But
two can play at that game, and the Spanish sailor, forbidden to shoot,
attacked Cliff furiously with the oar, which he still held in his hand.
Cliff dodged, but as he did so, another sailor aimed a blow
at his head. The aim was good, a sharp pain shot through the
young cadet's head. He reeled and all became dark before him. With a
faint moan, he fell senseless into the bottom of his boat. The contests
had been short and well. It was for the Spaniards that such was the
case. Already, the flickering of the searchlight told that the flagship was hurrying
to the scene. The Spaniards realized the importance of quick action. They had,
on the impulse of the moment, retaliated upon Cliff, because it could
take but a few minutes, and because they felt that the chase would end
not far from their waiting vessel. They congratulated themselves that it had indeed brought
them almost to the ship's side, and now they lost no time in getting
themselves and their prisoner aboard willing hands. Assisted from above, a couple of
strokes of the oars had brought them to the ship's side, with Cliff's boat
into in obedience to a command, Cliff's boat, with its unconscious burden,
was raised bodily to the deck. The captain thought he could use it in
his business. A moment later the Spaniards with the army officer, reached the
deck and the ship's captain signaled to go ahead. All now was excitement on
board the Spaniard beyond securely fastening the arms and legs of their unconscious captive where
he lay. They paid but little attention to Cliff. They were all too
wrapped up in thoughts of escape from the cruiser, whose piercing searchlight was streaming
upon them. Among the crew there was here and there a murmur against a
delay that had been caused by stopping to take on the army officer, and
with this was coupled a note of resentment against the young cadet whose appearance on
the scene promised to spoil all their plans, but the captain's orders were carried
out promptly, the more so as their own safety depended on it. They
were not without hope of making good their escape in the end, For the
he knew what speed their craft was capable of. It was a fast boat,
and the throbbing of the engines told that she was being urged to her
full speed. Amid intense excitement of crew and officers. The wild dash for
freedom and safety had begun. Through all this confusion and flurry, the cadet,
whose prompt signaling had occasioned it, lay helpless and unconscious. The steady
thump of the machinery below, which was steadily carrying him further and further from
his friends, made no impression upon his ears, nor was his mind aroused
by the excitement of the chase or the hope of rescue. But the race
had not been long under way before he began to show signs of returning consciousness.
He stirred uneasily in the bottom of the boat where he lay, attempting
to move his pinioned limbs. Then a long drawn breath, and he opened
his eyes slowly. The noise from shipboard fell upon his ears, and the
sounds confused him. His surroundings zzled him, and his mind at first could
not grasp the situation. Where was he? Then, with a rush of
recollection, came the remembrance of the attack upon him in the open boat.
His enemies had triumphed, he thought, and left him a helpless victim to
drift about upon the open sea. But whence those sounds. He painfully raised
himself to a sitting posture and looked out. To his astonishment, he found
himself an boat upon the deck of a swiftly moving steamer. Then he saw
it all and realized what had happened. He caught a glimpse of the rays
of the searchlight that still streamed across the water. At a moment after,
heard the boom of a cannon out at sea the New York. He exclaimed,
she is in pursuit, but she's too far away and can never catch
this fast boat. The only chance of her stopping it is with one of
her big guns. And then, involuntarily he shuddered as he thought that,
bound and helpless, he would share the fate of the Spanish crew if a
shot from the flagship should penetrate the ship's side and send it to the bottom.
He moved a little towards the stern of his boat as best he could
to get a better view of the light that showed the approaching flagship. As
he did so, he struck a round, hard object that lay behind him,
the unexploded shell. He exclaimed as he recognized what it was. I
still have that with me at any rate. And then he began to tug
at the ropes that bound his arms in a frantic effort to loosen them.
The rapid throb of the engines below and another boom of cannon from out to
sea told that the chase was becoming a hot one. End of chapter thirty
one, recording by Tom Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot Com. Chapter thirty two of
a Prisoner of Morrow, buy Upton, Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in
the public domain. Recording by Tom Chapter thirty two, Cliff Faraday's test.
The excitement among the crew of the Spanish steamer was intense as they watched the
light from the flagship and noted the course of the projectiles that came toward them.
For this reason, they had not observed Cliff's movements and gave themselves no
concern about him. Whatever may have been his intended course of action, he
was at last compelled to abandon it. Strained and tugged as he would at
the cords that bound his arms, they remained intact. Nor could his ingenuity
devise any way of releasing himself from their hold. Though hastily tied, the
knots had been put there to stay, and Cliff at last realized that it
was a hopeless task to try to undo them. But though he could not
free his arms and legs, he could use his eyes, and the scene
was one thrilling enough to rivet his attention. The fast moving steamer urged to
its utmost speed, the exclamations of hope and fear among its crew. The
more majestically moving flagship, whose deficiencies of speed were more than atoned for by
the range of her guns, suggested possibilities to one in Cliff's position that might
well set one's heart to beating wildly. If the steamers should escape by reason
of superior speed, it would bring joy to the crew, but disaster to
Cliff, their helpless prisoner. If, on the other hand, a shot
from the flagship should sink the Spanish boat, Cliff perforce would share death with
them. Little wonder that, as brave as he was, he struggled anxiously
to free his arms and legs from their bonds. The New York can never
catch us, he exclaimed, when he had settled down to watching the flagship
as best he could. She is too far away at this boat is too
fast. There was little need of the searchlight now, as dawn was approaching
the forms of the ships could be distinguished in the uncertain light. Without its
aid. Cliff had been watching the flagship, which was astern, but now
looking forward he saw a beam of light in that direction. It was several
miles out to sea and shot across their path. That must be the Wilmington,
he exclaimed, cheered by a suddenly revived hope. She can cut across
our path and all may yet be well. He looked back at the flagship
and saw the red and the blue signal lights flashing their message to the ship
ahead, which was, as Cliffs surmised, the Wilmington. They also carried
a message to Cliff. Nor was their meaning lost upon the Spanish crew.
They have signaled the Wilmington to intercept her, exclaimed Cliff, but it will
be a close race. He heard the signal from the excited captain of the
Spanish boat for more speed, and the throbbing of the machinery told that they
were endeavoring in the engine rooms to carry out the order. It seemed as
if the engines were already doing their utmost, but Cliff could notice a slight
increase in the headway they were making. Was a fast boat, and no
mistake, Cliff thought, as he anxiously strained his eyes to see what the
Wilmington was doing. Answering signals told that she had received the order from the
flagship and that those orders would be obeyed. Cliff fervently hoped that she would
be successful. He hated to think of the possibility of a hostile ship succeeding
in running the blockade, and now this patriotic impulse was heightened by the fact
that he was a helpless prisoner on board the very boat that promised to accomplish
that feat. For as he watched the race, there was a growing conviction
in Cliff's mind that the Wilmington was so far out to see that she could
not hope to stop the Spanish steamer except by the power of her guns and
a hole in the side of the enemy's vessel. However desirable under ordinary circumstances,
did not coincide with his hopes or ideas. On this occasion, he
had no desire to share a watery grave with his cat. The two boats
were heading for the same point, the Wilmingtons seeking to block the path the
other was following. One of her guns spoke out, but the shot fell
short. She was not enraged. Faster went the Spanish boat, and nearer
to the objective point, raced the two vessels. Cliff breathlessly watched the pursuing
craft, whose success meant so much to him. Could she win? The
Spaniards shared his excitement and watched their opponent with fully as much eagerness. At
last, they broke out into a cheer. Cliff was not slow to understand
its import The Spanish boat was making really a phenomenal run, and had reached
the point where it was evident that if they maintained their speed, they would
soon be passed the dangerous line that, once reached, they could show the
Yankee boat a clean pair of heels. Cliff's spirits fell when he realized that
the Spaniards had good cause for their jubilation. There was no doubt now that
the steamer could pass the danger line and then away. The Wilmington two seemed
to realize that there was no hope of catching up with the other vessel for
now. The cannon boomed out in rapid succession. They were rapidly drawing nearer
and within range. A shot swept across the Spaniard's bow, but on she
went. Then another struck the bridge upon which the captain stood the glass in
hand, and he had a narrow escape from flying splindors. But the goal
was too near for them to stop, and he signaled for more steam.
Cliff could not but admire this officer's pluck. Under other circumstances, he would
have said that the Spaniard deserved to win. The vessel seemed to struggle to
do what was demanded of her, and sped on. Another shot from the
Wilmington rattled across her bows, but the crew answered with a cheer. Five
minutes more and they would be round the point. And then what would happen
then was never to be known. Suddenly, a loud explosion was heard from
below, and the whole frame of the steamer shook from end to end.
Men rushed on deck in a panic and wildly proclaimed the cause. A steam
pipe urged beyond its strength had exploded, carrying destruction with it. The race
was lost, and the captain promptly hauled down his flag, But as he
did so, he gave orders to steer toward the land, and the steamer
came to a standstill not far from the shore. The Spanish army officer carrying
the dispatches entered a boat that was quickly lowered, and when the prize crew
from the Wilmington board at the steamer, he was safe upon land, and
his escape was assured. When the officer in charge of the prize crew had
finished the four melodies, Cliff attracted his attention. The cadet had apparently been
forgotten by his captors in the excitement of the chase and the calamity that had
come upon them. The American officer was astonished beyond measure to find one wearing
the familiar uniform in such a plight on that boat. Why, mister Faraday,
he exclaimed, upon learning Cliff's identity, and having released him from his
bonds, we were not aware that they had an American on board as a
prisoner. I thought not from the way you were firing at us, said
Cliff, with a smile. I thought more than once that you would send
this particular American to the bottom along with a shipload of the enemy. You
were firing too accurately to suit me this time. Well, the American boys
do come pretty near hitting what they aim at, responded the officer, evidently
pleased at the compliment to their marksmanship. But I am curious to know how
it has happened that we find you here. Cliff then briefly told of the
adventures that followed his finding of the unexploded shell, which he picked up from
its lodgment in the boat and held in his hand. So you have risked
your life for that piece of steel, exclaimed the officer. What can have
been your purpose in that? Does it not strike you, sir, that
there is something peculiar about it, as Cliff as the other examined it,
Yes, replied the officer. It is decidedly out of date and might be
interesting as a relic, but not of sufficient importance to risk one's life.
For I had an idea that there was a mystery about it. That was
well worth solving, replied Cliff. And with your permission, sir, I
will put the matter to a test as you like, responded the officer,
with the air of a man who is indulging some childish fancy. Cliff was
not slow to take advantage of the permission granted, and carried the shell to
a table that stood upon the afterdeck. The officer, meantime, paying no
further attention to him, but attending to some further detail of transfer. Cliff
had procured a fuse and inserted it into the shell, and was upon the
point of lighting it when the officer appeared. Stop sir, He commanded,
will you blow us all the destruction? Others standing near made a move to
stop Cliff, but it was too late. The fuse was burning rapidly.
With a cry of alarm and amazement. The officers, American as well as
Spanish, sprang to one side and dodged in great fright. But Cliff calmly
stood by, his arms folded and a confident smile playing about his lips.
He was putting his theory to the test. End of chapter thirty two,
recording by Tom Weiss Tom's Audiobooks, Dot com chapter thirty three of A Prisoner
of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain.
Recording by Tom Weiss, Chapter thirty three, The mystery of the unexploded shell.
Mingled with evident fright and alarm. There was upon the face of each
a look of incredulity. At wrath of the cadet had his adventures and narrow
escape turned his brain, And where they now at, the mercy of a
maniac was in the minds of all. They had not long to wait.
The fuse burned rapidly and spluttered to the end. And as they all involuntarily
ducked their heads at the impending explosion, a peculiar thing happened. When the
fire from the fuse reached the shell. There was a sharp clicking sound,
and those who were looking at the shell saw it suddenly opened like a book,
and from its hollow interior fell a roll of paper upon the table.
This cliff seized and waved over his head in triumph. Harah, he cried,
it is as I suspected secret dispatches from the enemy that are worth all
they have cost. The officers were struck dumb with amazement, and stood and
stared at the smiling young man as though they could not believe their eyes.
But after a time they crowded around him and examined the shell curiously, and
then the papers that Cliff held in his hand. The papers were evidently written
in Spanish, and though the American officers could not read them, they now
had conceived sufficient confidence in Cliff to believe that they were indeed of importance.
The shell, whose quest had caused Cliffs so much peril and danger, was
a curious affair. It had been cunningly contrived for the purpose it had so
admirably fulfilled. Though very much in appearance like the old fashioned round shells,
it was in two parts, ingeniously hinged, so that when closed it required
very close scrutiny to detect the scene. It was hollow and consequently light in
weight. This fact had first arrested Cliff's attention, and had set his thoughts
to work upon the mystery that was connected with it. In the opening where
the fuse was inserted, there was a concealed mechanism so arranged that it might
not be detected or opened with the finger, but would readily give way to
the force of a slight explosion in that small cavity. If it should fall
into strange hands unfamiliar with its design, it was meant to defy all efforts
at opening it. Cliff was the recipient of many expressions of praise from the
American officers upon his ingenuity in fathoming the secret that was so cunningly devised,
and they questioned him at length. That is indeed wonderful, said the superior
officer, But how did you ever guess the purpose for which it was intended?
Or the method of opening it? Cliff then explained the circumstances connected with
its appearance at his feet among the trees where he was awaiting the Cuban courier.
I thought it was strange that a ship being pursued should fire a shell
at the land instead of at its enemy, he said, And when I
picked it up, I was struck with its peculiarities. But my examination was
interrupted by the arrival of the Spanish soldiers. We were kept busy for a
while suing them, and did not have much time to pursue this mystery.
The officers smiled knowingly at this, for he had gathered enough from Cliff's previous
narrative to know that the little band of sailors had done great feats that night.
The shell not exploding, continued Cliff, led me to think that perhaps
it was not intended to explode just then. And when I saw that the
Spanish soldiers seemed to be hunting for something there, I jumped to the conclusion
that it was this identical piece of steel they were after that explained their presence
there and their peculiar behavior. And what could the Spaniards want with that shell
if it did not contain something of value to them and of greater value to
the American cause you reasoned well, exclaimed the officer, and so you decided
to risk going back for it, and your ideas have come out triumphant through
the test. But young man, don't try any more experiments like that when
I'm around. They all laughed heartily at this sally, at which Cliff joined
in. But it was decidedly a peculiar way to send dispatches, continued the
officer. And it would seem as though it was uncertain and unnecessary as well.
There seemed to me to be a good reason for it, Sir,
said Cliff. I figured that that boat had been sent to deliver the despatches,
with instructions that if they were pursued, to fire the shell at a
point agreed upon and then make their escape. They were pursued and did fire
towards shore, and the soldiers in waiting evidently saw the flash and knew about
where to hunt for it. I think, sir, that when these papers
are examined, it will be found that they contained information that the Spanish army
ashore once the worst way. This proved to be the case. Cliff was
given custody of a peculiar shell and the papers it had contained, and,
after a little delay, was taken in the boat to the Wilmington. Signals
were exchanged between this vessel and the flagship, and in due time Cliff was
rowed to the ladder and ordered to report to the Rear Admiral. He turned
the shell and its contents over to that officer with an explanation of all that
had taken place. I see that you had good cause for desiring to go
back to find this shell, said the Rear Admiral, when Cliff had finished.
WE have learned from the prisoner whom you secured after a struggle in your
boat, that they had stolen your boat to facilitate the transfer of some papers.
They were late and miss seeing the boat that fired this shell. Now
that you have secured these papers, I will call your knowledge of Spanish into
requisition and allow you to transcribe these for me. And this Cliff did,
and when he had completed the task, it was found that the most important
work he had done that night was in securing that shell and unraveling its mystery.
As he issued from the Admiral's room, Cadet Wells, one of Cliff's
best friends, approached him. Faraday, old fellow. He said, I've
got news that will interest you. I'm listening. It's about that exception among
Spaniards, the lieutenant who helped you and this steward escape. Ah, what
of him, asked Cliff eagerly. You know he left us on a Spanish
boat that brought you over under a flag of truce. Well we couldn't touch
that boat then, of course, But yesterday she ventured too far out and
the New York sunk her. We saved all her crew, and from one
of them I learned what became of her. Nandez it seems he sought a
lonely part of the boat while she was on the way from us to the
shore, and knelt to prey. An officer of the boat saw him thus
and withdrew. A moment later, all hands were startled by a pistol shot.
Hurrying below, they found Lieutenant Hernandez prone on the deck, a calm
smiled on his face, a bullet in his brain. Faraday was deeply affected,
and thus he said, gravely perished one of spain real heroes. This
is the end of a Prisoner of Morrow by Upton Sinclair. Recording by Tom
Weiss Tom's audiobooks dot com.