First Part.
CHAPTER I.
“THE ONLY AMERICAN IN HAVANA.”
“Stop!”
A boy of some eighteen or nineteen years rushed frantically out upon a wharf bordering the harbor of Havana.
“Hold on!”
Elbowing his way through the dark-skinned crowd, he reached the string-piece, now waving his arms wildly.
At the top of his voice came the fervent appeal:
“Don’t leave me behind!”
Unheedful of the Spanish crowd about him, the boy gazed anxiously at the fast receding stern of the United States steamer Fern.
That crowd was bent on mischief. It had jeered itself nearly hoarse when the little steamer left her berth.