As soon as the fellow’s flogging was over, he was turned out of the camp and told that his services were no longer required. Then, the scattered mules having been secured again, we once more set out on our march towards the interior.
The sun had now attained to a considerable altitude in the heavens, and as there was an absence of wind, even upon the heights, the heat and glare became intense. Not a single grumble was heard, however, the men being much too gay and light-hearted to care whether they were baked like salamanders or not. Our spirits were kept up by the novelty and excitement of active service on shore and the assurances of the guides that ere long we should reach the outskirts of a forest, which it would be necessary to traverse, and where plenty of shade would shield us from the sun’s overpowering rays.
“Give me old Father Sol and an open country,” observed Ned Burton to me, “in preference to jungle and the shade of trees. I’d sooner chance a sunstroke than the ambush of a skulking enemy!”
“You think they may lie in wait for us,” I said. “If they do we shall give them a drubbing.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” said my coxswain. “These Cubans, I believe, are as wily as sarpents; and as to drubbing them and their mutinous pals, it’s just a question of whether they’ve the sperrit to meet us in the open or not. If they have, well, we shall just eat ’em up. Trust the Rattler boys for an out-and-out shindy, Mr. Darcy.”
I was on the point of replying to my coxswain, when my attention was entirely absorbed by the sudden apparition of a large and compact cloud of horsemen emerging from behind some steep scarped rocks immediately in front, and some four or five hundred yards distant from the head of our column. They appeared to be about to charge us.
“Cavalry, as I’m a living sinner!” exclaimed Ned, slipping a cartridge into his rifle. “I’m jiggered if that don’t beat everything!”
It was certainly strange to find that the enemy had already secured some mounted allies. It looked as if we should find this expedition no child’s play—in fact, a great deal more like catching a Tartar.
“Prepare for cavalry!” thundered the gunnery lieutenant. “Keep steady, men, and we’ll soon send them to the right about.”
The horsemen were evidently provided with carbines, for as they wheeled up into position they fired a wild volley at us, and then dashed forward at full gallop straight in our direction.