With contracted brows and frowning face, the captain-general of Cuba scans a mass of official documents that lie upon his desk. Gen. Truenos is plainly displeased with the condition of affairs on the island. When he sailed from Cadiz it was to “put down the rebellion in three months,” as the Spanish press boastfully asserted, but Truenos realizes that it is not now a matter of weeks or months, but of years, ere the red and yellow of Spain will wave again unchallenged over the gem of the Antilles.
In the meantime, Gen. Truenos gathers from the papers before him that some of the matured plans of the Spanish have been checkmated through treachery in some quarter, and he is not enchanted with the glimpses he has obtained of the manner in which his subordinates conduct a campaign.
An officer enters the room with a dispatch and the captain-general reaches impatiently for the missive.
“Caspita!” he growls, as he glances over the contents. “Murillo at least is alive to what is transpiring under the very noses of my generals. I wish that I had more like him.” Then to the officer: “Send Gen. Velasquez to me at once.”
As the latter answers the summons, Truenos hands him the dispatch, with the query: “Has the supply train left for Santiago?”
“It left last night, your excellency.”
“It must be stopped. As you will see by Murillo’s dispatch, the rebels have learned of the train’s departure and a courier is now en route from Santiago to notify that infernal El Terredo. If that courier is not intercepted, the supply train must be recalled or held. The dispatch contains a description of the rebel messenger. Now, then, to action.”
Truenos unfolds a large map of the island, and as he runs his finger along the line which indicates the railroad, another dispatch is handed in. The captain-general tears it open and reads:
“Reported that El Terredo is encamped near Jibana, with a large force of insurgents.
Alvarez.”