Chapter Five.
His Spanish Majesty’s gunboat Tiburon.
Meanwhile the saloon party on board the Thetis, having comfortably bestowed themselves in capacious basket chairs under the awning on the top of the deck-house when the yacht got under way, watched with mingled interest and amusement the strenuous pursuit of their own vessel by the Spanish torpedo boat; and when at length Milsom gave the order for the yacht’s engines to be first stopped and then sent astern, they with one accord rose to their feet and brought their glasses to bear upon the torpedo boat, intent upon seeing what would next happen. For although darkness had by this time fallen, the night was beautifully fine and clear, and the mellow lustre of the innumerable stars shed a soft light upon the scene that enabled the watchers, with the aid of their powerful night glasses, to perceive with very tolerable distinctness whatever might happen within so short a distance as a quarter of a mile, or even twice as far. Presently Jack spoke.
“She has stopped, I think,” he said; “at all events I can no longer distinguish the phosphorescent wake made by her propeller; and if that is the case we shall have no more trouble from her. Of course it would have been easy enough for us to have made this pursuit impossible, by removing her propeller when we were working at it yesterday; but the thought occurred to me that, had we done so, the removal might have been discovered, and in that case it is quite possible that suspicion, even though of a very vague and doubtful character, might have fastened upon us, with the result that at some future time, when it may be vitally important for us to repeat the trick, such precautions might be taken as would render its repetition impossible. As it is, the craft has been under steam for a couple of hours, during which, to all appearance, nothing was wrong with her. I do not think, therefore, that anyone is in the least likely to connect us with the mishap.”
“No,” agreed Milsom, “the thing was most excellently done, Jack, it could not possibly have been better managed; and the mishap will wear the aspect of an ordinary accident of the sea. You have a longer head upon you than I can boast, my lad; I should never have thought as far ahead as you did. But I think we are far enough away from that boat now to allow of our resuming our voyage.” And he signalled to the engine-room, first to “Stop”, and then to go “Full speed ahead.”
“Port your helm, Quartermaster,” he said to the helmsman, “until she heads due north, and then give her a very small touch of starboard helm—just enough to enable us to make a wide circle round that torpedo boat out yonder—until her head works round to south-west by west, when you can steady her at that. That course,” he explained to his companions, “ought to run us within sight of the light on Jutias about three bells in the middle watch.”
“And when do you suppose we shall reach our destination, Captain?” asked Don Hermoso.
“The Laguna de Cortes? Oh! about breakfast-time to-morrow morning, if we keep the boat running at full speed, and do not meet with any interruption on the way,” answered Milsom.
“Hillo!” exclaimed Jack; “see that rocket, Phil? It looks as though it might have been sent up by the torpedo boat. She will be somewhere out in that direction, won’t she?”
“Ay, there or thereabout,” answered Milsom, glancing into the compass bowl to get the bearing of the rocket. “That means that they’ve just discovered the loss of their propeller, and are in trouble about it.”
“I hope that the crew of the boat are in no danger,” exclaimed Don Hermoso anxiously. “I have no wish that they should come to harm—”
“No need to worry yourself about that, Señor,” answered Milsom. “The weather is fine, and the boat, no doubt, sound enough. The worst that is likely to happen to them is that they will have to stay where they are until something comes along and tows them into Havana.”
At this moment the dinner gong sounded, and the little party retired below.
When Jack went up on deck next morning, as the ship’s bell was striking eight, he saw that the yacht was running along, with her head to the eastward, within about half a mile of some low land, dotted with trees, which stretched ahead and astern of her for several miles on their port hand, terminating at each extremity in a low headland. Inland, at a distance of about twenty-five miles, rose a long range of hills, or low mountains, which appeared to rise to a height of something between two thousand and three thousand feet.
“Good-morning, Jack!” cheerily exclaimed the skipper, as Singleton ran up the ladder on to the top of the deck-house. “Glorious morning, isn’t it? But it is going to be roasting hot a little later on; the sun has a sting already, in spite of this piping easterly breeze.”
“Yes,” agreed Jack. “And if it is hot here, what must it be ashore? But where are we now, Skipper?”
“Pretty close to our destination, I’m thankful to say,” answered Milsom. “That point astern is Cape Corrientes, the point ahead is Mangle Point, four miles beyond which is Cape Frances, where we shall run in upon the Bank, or shoal, which extends eastward for something like one hundred and sixty miles to the end of the Jardinillos. Those hills, inland there, are called the Organ Mountains; though, to my mind, the name is much too grandiloquent for such insignificant elevations. I hope that pilot chap who is to take us into the lagoon will be keeping a bright lookout for us; I have just been having a squint at the chart, and I tell you, Jack, that I don’t half like the idea of taking this little beauty in over that precious Bank, where it would be the easiest thing in the world to rip the bottom out of her on some unsuspected upstanding coral snag. I mean to go dead slow all the while that we are on that Bank, I can tell you, although I happen to know the greater part of it as well as I know my own back garden. And it is perhaps because I know it so well that I like it so little. Ah!”—as the yacht swung round the point which she had been approaching, and opened out for another about four miles farther on—“there is Cape Frances; and there is the Bank showing up plainly enough. That is it, where the colour of the water changes from dark blue to almost white. And now it is time for us to hoist the signal by which the pilot is to identify us. Mr Perkins, have the goodness to bend on Y and run it up to the fore truck, if you please.”
A minute later, Don Hermoso and Carlos made their appearance on the top of the deck-house, just as Y—a rectangular flag composed of red and yellow diagonal stripes—went soaring up to the fore-mast-head.
“Good-morning, Jack! good-morning, Captain!” said Don Hermoso. “Is that red-and-yellow flag the prearranged signal agreed upon for our identification by the pilot and the people on shore?”
“It is, Señor,” answered Milsom. “There is Cape Frances, on our port bow—no doubt you recognise it—and if your pilot is keeping a proper lookout, he ought to spot us immediately upon our rounding that point.”
“And no doubt he will, Captain,” returned Don Hermoso. “So that is Cape Frances? No, I do not recognise it, Señor, for I have never before passed it at sea. And those are the Sierras de los Organos yonder, and the Sierras del Rosario farther on to the right. I recognise them, of course. And—yes, surely—just to the right of that isolated peak I can see what must certainly be the town of Pinar del Rio! We are not far from home now, Carlos, and if all goes well with us to-day we ought to-night to sleep in our own casa, and see dear little Isolda once more. The child will rejoice to have us with her again.”
“Yes,” said Carlos, “and I shall not only rejoice to see her again, but to know that you are once more on the spot to look after her. In her last letter to me, received at Key West, she mentioned that Don Sebastian Alvaros has been a most persistent visitor to the house ever since we left Cuba, and I have my doubts of that man. I did not mention the matter to you when I received the letter, as I did not wish to make you feel uneasy; but now that we may hope to be at home to-night I think it only right that you should know.”
“Ah!” remarked Don Hermoso; “I will see that Don Sebastian’s visits are discouraged henceforth. It is true that I know nothing against him—indeed, he is spoken of as a very promising officer—still, like yourself, Carlos, I do not altogether trust him; he is not precisely a desirable acquaintance, and I will endeavour to make him understand that he is not wanted at the hacienda.”
At this moment the Thetis passed Cape Frances and opened out into the Bay of Cortes.
“There is our destination, gentlemen,” said Milsom, pointing to a projecting bluff some eight or nine miles up the coast. “That bluff is Piedras Point; and beyond it is the Laguna de Cortes—or the Pirates’ Lagoon as some people call it. And here we are at the edge of the Bank; from this point onward I intend to proceed very cautiously indeed.”
So saying, he laid his hand upon the handle of the engine-room telegraph and rang down for “Half speed”, calling down the voice tube a moment later for the engines to be run dead slow. And as the yacht slowed up she passed from the dark blue of the deep water to the pale, whitish blue of the shallow water that covers the immense coral reef known locally as The Bank.
“Mr Perkins,” shouted Milsom, “I must have a man as lookout at the foremast-head, if you please. You had better bend a boatswain’s chair on to the gaff-topsail halyards, and send him up in that, as I shall require him to stay there until we are safely at anchor. And when you have done that, rouse your cable on deck, and see everything ready for letting go. Jack, I can spare eyes for nothing but the ship just now, so oblige me, will you, by taking the glasses, and say whether you can see anything in the shape of a boat coming toward us with a flag flying. And, between whiles, you may just look carefully along the coast to see if you can spot a guarda-costa hovering about. We don’t want to be caught napping in the act of landing this stuff.”
Jack took the glasses out of their case and swept the whole of the visible coast, but for some time without result; there was nothing under either sail or steam to be seen in any direction. At length, however, when the yacht had arrived within about two miles of Piedras Point, a small pirogue under sail suddenly shot out from behind the point, heading to the southward close-hauled; she carried a sprit-mainsail and a jib, and at the top end of the sprit there fluttered a diminutive replica of the red-and-yellow flag which was flying from the fore truck of the yacht.
“Ah!” exclaimed Jack, as he brought his glasses to bear upon the boat; “here comes your pilot, Phil, at last, and he is flying the ‘all right’ signal, so I suppose we may take it for granted that the coast is clear.”
“Yes, I see him,” answered Milsom. “Keep her away a couple of points, Quartermaster, and give that boat a chance to fetch us. She is coming alongside. Masthead there. Keep a very bright lookout, my man, for sunken rocks; there are plenty of them to be found here if they are looked for.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” answered the man. “We have passed a few already; but I didn’t say anything, because we weren’t headin’ so as to hit ’em.”
Ten minutes later the pirogue was close at hand, and Milsom rang down the signal to “Stop”. The pirogue was a very quaint-looking craft, of about twenty feet in length by some five feet beam, formed out of a solid log of wood which had been roughly trimmed with an axe to form the bottom portion of her, with a couple of planks above to form her top sides. Although the trade wind was blowing quite fresh, this queer-looking craft carried no ballast, properly so-called; but to prevent her from capsizing a couple of negroes stood on her weather gunwale, holding on to ropes attached to her masthead, and leaning back almost horizontally out over the water. A third negro, attired in a picturesquely dirty shirt, and trousers rolled up above his knees, and with a most shockingly dilapidated straw hat on his head, steered the little craft by means of a broad-bladed paddle laid out over the lee quarter. Primitive, however, as the craft was in appearance, she came through the water at a most astonishing rate, and presently shot up alongside under the lee of the yacht, the two negroes who acted as ballast smartly recovering themselves and springing inboard as she did so. A rope’s end was thrown down into her, and the picturesque individual who had been steering her nimbly climbed up the side of the yacht and stepped on deck, where he was met by Don Hermoso.
“Buenos dias, Señor!” exclaimed the fellow, doffing his ragged head-covering with the flourish and grace of a grandee. “Cuba is ready!” (This was the password that was to prove the bona fides of the man.)
“And we also are ready,” answered Don Hermoso. “Is the coast clear?”
“Quite clear, Señor,” answered the man, who, by the way, was a turtle fisher, inhabiting a hut on one of the small cays that stretched across the entrance of the lagoon which the yacht was approaching. “A gunboat has been cruising about the bay of late, but she steamed away yesterday morning, after communicating with the shore, and we have seen nothing of her since.”
“Then we had better proceed forthwith, and get our work over whilst the opportunity is favourable,” remarked Don Hermoso. “What is your name, by the by?”
“Pedro, Señor—Pedro Velasquez,” answered the man.
“Good!” said Don Hermoso. “Follow me up to the bridge, Pedro.
“This is our pilot, Captain,” he continued, introducing the negro to Milsom, who looked at him quizzically and responded to his bow by somewhat curtly bidding him “Good-morning!”
“He says that the coast is clear, so we may as well proceed forthwith. How do we steer, Pedro?”
“Keep an offing of a mile, to allow of room for turning, and to get a straight run in. For the present we may head for that white building on the hillside yonder,” answered Pedro.
This being clear to Milsom, the latter touched the telegraph, and the yacht proceeded, with the pirogue astern in tow. Presently three small cays detached themselves from the mainland, revealing a fine spacious expanse of land-locked water behind them; and when, a little later, the Thetis had brought the largest cay fair abeam, the pilot waved his hand, the helm was put hard a-starboard, and the vessel’s bows were pointed straight for the channel between the northernmost cay and the mainland.
“We must enter the channel very slowly, Señor,” cautioned Pedro, “for the navigation of it is rather awkward, and I doubt whether a vessel of this size has ever before been taken into the lagoon.”
With her engines going dead slow, and occasionally stopping altogether to deaden her way, the yacht crept cautiously along until, having passed the critical danger-spot, she slid into the lagoon, which was now seen to be a sheet of water some four miles long by about two miles broad, trending due north and south, with a creek in its north-west corner, toward which the bows of the vessel were turned, the speed being quickened up to about eight knots. Ten minutes later the pilot gave the word to be ready to anchor; the engines were stopped and then sent astern, and a minute afterwards, the yacht having been brought to a standstill, the anchor was let go, and the voyagers found themselves riding in a fine, snug harbour, absolutely safe in all weathers, and perfectly screened from the view of anything and everything that might chance to pass outside.
No sooner was the anchor down than the creek abreast which the yacht was moored began to swarm with boats of all shapes and sizes, which came hurrying out to receive and transfer to the shore the cases of arms, ammunition, dynamite, lead, and supplies of all kinds which lay snugly stowed away beneath the floors of the ship’s saloons; while the entire strength of the yacht’s crew was employed upon the task of breaking out the packages and conveying them on deck. The boats’ crews were all coloured men, and mostly negroes; but in the leading boat there came a mulatto bearing a letter from Rabi, the then leader of the insurgents, to Don Hermoso, authorising the bearer, one José Seguin, to receive the contraband, which was now passed down into the boats with all possible speed, as a rumour had reached the place that a strong body of Spanish troops was in the neighbourhood, and might make its appearance at any moment. It did not turn up, however, and by two o’clock in the afternoon every scrap of incriminating material was out of the yacht and on its way to the headquarters of the insurgents, somewhere up in the Organ Mountains. Every scrap, that is to say, except the four 12-pound quick-firers and the two Maxims, with their store of ammunition, which constituted the armament of the yacht. These weapons had not thus far been mounted, it having been deemed inadvisable to make so unusual a display as that of an armed yacht in the harbour of Key West, lest undue attention should be attracted to the vessel, and inconvenient questions asked. But now, by Milsom’s advice, they got the weapons up and mounted them, so that, in the event of the vessel being searched by the Spanish authorities, there should be nothing in the nature of concealed weapons on board to afford an excuse for the making of trouble. Thus, by the end of the afternoon watch the yacht was again spruce and clean as a new pin, and made a very brave show with her brand-new, silver-bright guns grinning threateningly out over the rail, and the two Maxims all ready for action on the top of the deck-house. Her appearance said, as plainly as words: “Touch me who dares!” yet her armament was not boisterously aggressive, considering that her presumptive owner had set out from England with no very settled programme, but the possibility that ere he returned he might be moved to visit spots where, despite the rapid spread of civilisation, might is still right.
The hurry and confusion incidental to the landing of the yacht’s cargo of contraband had been so great that any such orderly meal as the usual luncheon had been out of the question, and everybody had eaten and drunk as they worked, snatching a mouthful or a gulp when they could; the little saloon party were consequently now gathered on the top of the deck-house, getting an early afternoon tea, while the anchor was being hove up by means of the steam windlass, prior to the vessel proceeding to sea again. Don Hermoso had been congratulating himself and everybody else upon the ease and complete success with which the yacht’s primary mission had been accomplished, and had also expressed himself very nicely as to the magnitude of his obligation to Jack and Milsom for the invaluable assistance which they had rendered, without which, the Don declared, the adventure could never have been brought to a successful issue. “And now, my dear Jack,” he continued, “I have two further favours to ask you. The first is that you will have the goodness to land Carlos and myself as soon as may be at Calonna—which is about twenty-two miles to the eastward of this—in order that we may take the train thence to Pinar del Rio, in time, perhaps, to reach home to-night; and the second is, that you will favour us with your company for as long a time as you may be disposed to stay. Then, having landed us, Captain Milsom can take the yacht round to Havana, when, if the island proves to be sufficiently quiet to allow of the vessel being left in Perkins’s charge, we shall feel happy if he also”—with a bow to Milsom—“will honour our poor house with his presence for a time, until, indeed, the yacht is again required for service.”
Jack accepted the invitation promptly and unhesitatingly: Carlos and he were old chums, and indeed almost like brothers; while as for Don Hermoso, Jack had seen enough of him during the voyage out to have contracted for him a feeling of the highest regard and esteem. He knew that the invitation was as earnest and cordial as words could make it; and the conversations that had been engaged in from time to time on board the yacht had caused him to become profoundly interested in Cuba, and filled him with an intense desire to see the island, and, if possible, be an eye-witness of its struggle for liberty. Milsom, on the other hand, while perhaps as keen as Jack to see all that there was to be seen, was, above and before all things else, a sailor; his acceptance of Don Hermoso’s invitation, therefore, was qualified by sundry conditions, every one of which had reference to the question of the safety of the yacht.
By the time that the conversation had reached this point the anchor was a-trip, and Milsom went to the engine-room telegraph, while the quartermaster climbed up to the bridge and stationed himself at the wheel. Velasquez was no longer on board, Milsom having informed him that he could now dispense with his services—for it was one of Lieutenant Philip Milsom’s characteristics that when he had once witnessed the navigation of any particular passage he could at any time thereafter perform the same feat of navigation himself; he therefore now took sole charge of the yacht and skilfully navigated her out of the lagoon and into the open sea, setting the course for Calonna, after which he again calmly seated himself at the table and asked for another cup of tea.
The yacht, running at about eleven knots, had accomplished a little more than half the distance between the lagoon and Calonna when smoke was seen ahead, and a few minutes later a steamer was made out coming toward them. There was nothing alarming in this, of course, for small coasting steamers are constantly plying between the various ports along the coast of Cuba: but it was not long ere it became apparent, from the rig of the approaching craft—which was that of a three-masted schooner—that she was a Government vessel, probably a gunboat; and Milsom made no secret of his relief at the fact that everything of a compromising nature had been safely got out of the Thetis. Any doubt that might have existed as to the character of the stranger was soon dispelled; for when she arrived within about a mile of the Thetis she hoisted the Spanish naval ensign at her mizen peak and, slowing down, rounded-to athwart the yacht’s course, at the same time hoisting the international signal, “Heave-to; I am sending a boat!”
“What is the proper thing to do, Phil?” demanded Jack, when Milsom read out the interpretation of the signal. “He has no right to stop us, has he?”
“Certainly not,” answered Milsom. “If he suspects us of an intention to smuggle he may follow and watch us, of course; but to stop us in this high-handed fashion is coming it rather too strong. He knows that we are an English yacht, for there are our ensign and burgee to bear witness to the fact. Nevertheless, since we have happily got rid of everything of a compromising nature, we may as well heave-to and allow him to board us, when you, Jack, in your character as owner, may make as much fuss as you please—the more the better—and threaten to report him, also to complain to your Government of the insult and outrage to which he has subjected you. In short, ‘bluff’ him for all that you’re worth.”
“All right!” said Jack, “I will. When—”
His further remarks were cut short by the flash of a gun and a jet of smoke spouting from the bows of the gunboat; and the next instant a twenty-four-pound round shot came ricochetting toward the yacht, missing her by only about a dozen yards!
“Confound the fellow’s impudence!” exclaimed Milsom, as he dashed at the bridge telegraph and signalled to stop the engines. “It would rightly serve him if we were to return his fire. But perhaps the wisest plan and the most dignified will be to stop and let him come aboard. But give it him hot for firing upon the British flag. Make him sit up! I only wish that I could jabber Spanish as fluently as you do; I’d scare him out of his skin!”
As the yacht, with the way that she had on her, gradually drifted down toward the gunboat, it was seen that the latter was preparing to lower a boat; and presently a gig, manned by six oarsmen and a coxswain, was hauled up to her gangway, down the ladder of which an officer in lieutenant’s uniform presently descended, stepping into the boat, which then pushed off and headed toward the Thetis. Meanwhile, Milsom having said a few hasty words to Perkins, the yacht’s gangway had been thrown open and her accommodation ladder lowered, and when presently the Spanish boat dashed alongside and hooked on, Jack and Milsom were standing just inside the gangway, waiting to receive the officer. He was a rather good-looking man, somewhere about thirty years of age, and as he sprang up the ladder and in on deck he touched the peak of his uniform cap by way of salute: and Milsom saw his eyebrows go up as his eyes fell upon the two quick-firers that graced the yacht’s after deck.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen!” he said, in almost perfect English; “what ship is this?”
“Leave him to me, Jack,” whispered Milsom, upon discovering the welcome fact that he could make himself understood; and without waiting for Jack’s consent he stepped forward and answered:
“This is the English yacht Thetis, of the Royal Thames Yacht Club, as you may see by looking at that ensign. And what ship is that, sir; and what does the captain of her mean by firing upon us?”
“That ship, Señor, is His Spanish Majesty’s gunboat Tiburon, sent out especially to look for your vessel,” answered the officer. “My Government has received positive intelligence from a reliable source that you have on board a large consignment of arms and ammunition destined for the use of the Cuban insurgents; and our instructions are to seize your
vessel and take her into Havana. We fired upon you because you were somewhat slow in obeying our summons to stop.”
“Oh!” said Milsom, “so that is how matters stand, is it? And do you suppose, sir, that Great Britain will allow her flag to be fired on without having something to say about it?”
“Great Britain will scarcely be willing to protect a vessel which, under the shelter of her flag, is engaged in succouring those who are rebelling against the rule of a friendly nation!” remarked the officer. “And, in any case, we are prepared to take the consequences of our acts. We know this so-called yacht to be a smuggler of contraband of war, and we intend to seize her.”
“What if I were to tell you that we have not an ounce of contraband of war on board?” enquired Milsom.
“My captain would simply not believe you, Señor,” answered the Spaniard. “You will therefore be pleased to regard this vessel as a prize, and yourselves as prisoners!” and he stepped quickly to the gangway and called to the armed crew of the boat to come out of her. As he did so, Milsom put a whistle to his lips and blew a short, shrill blast. There instantly followed a rush of bare feet along the deck; and as the Spaniards passed in through the yacht’s gangway they found themselves confronted with some thirty stalwart British seamen, with drawn cutlasses in their hands and revolvers in their belts.
“Caramba! What does this mean, Señor?” demanded the Spanish lieutenant, starting back in dismay at this unexpected dénouement.
“It means just this, Señor Teniente,” answered Milsom; “we don’t intend to stand any nonsense of any description. You go back to your ship and tell your captain that, since somebody seems to have sent him out on a fool’s errand, my owner here, Señor Don John Singleton, will—purely as an act of courtesy, mind you—permit him, or you, to search this ship from stem to stern and from keel to truck, in order that you may thoroughly satisfy yourselves that we have no contraband, whether of war or otherwise, on board. But there will be no seizure of this ship; understand that! Such an act would be an outrage to our flag; and, as you may see, we are both ready and willing to resist it! Also, you will please tell your captain that we demand an ample apology for his high-handed behaviour in daring to fire upon us.”
“Carrajo! Señor, those are very big words; and you ought to be perfectly certain of yourself before you use them. They are offensive, sir; and a Spanish officer allows no one to use such words to him with impunity!” exclaimed the Spaniard.
“Sir,” retorted Milsom, “the behaviour of your captain in firing upon this yacht was offensive; and he will find that he cannot treat Englishmen in that fashion with impunity. There is a right and a wrong way of doing these things, and your captain has chosen the wrong way; he will therefore be made to suffer for it.”
“We shall see, Señor Englishman; we shall see,” returned the Spaniard. “Then, am I to understand that you refuse to surrender your ship?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Milsom; “that is precisely what I wish you to understand. And I wish you to understand, further, that if you dare to attempt force, I will treat you as a pirate, and sink you, despite your flag. You see that I have the means and the power to carry out my threat—” waving his hand first towards the guns and then towards his men.
“Very well, Señor,” answered the Spaniard, livid with rage at being thus hectored before his own men, “I will tell my captain what you say; and it will be for him to decide how he will deal with you. If it rested with me, I would blow your ship out of the water. And I shall remember your face, Señor; and it may be that some day we shall meet on shore.”
“I expect to be in Havana to-morrow, or next day, Señor Teniente, and it will afford me the greatest pleasure to meet you there,” answered Milsom. “Good afternoon, and don’t forget to tell your captain that if he chooses to come on board in a friendly way, my owner here will be very pleased to see him, and to show him all over the ship. He can look into every nook and cranny of her if it will afford him any satisfaction to do so.”
The Spanish lieutenant bowed without speaking, signed to his men to go back into their boat, and followed them down the side. Five minutes later Jack and Milsom saw him gesticulating violently on the gunboat’s quarter-deck as he related to the commander of the craft his version of the recent interview.