At last, on the 14th of July, General Toral gave up the struggle, and three days later the American troops marched into the city and hoisted the glorious Stars and Stripes over the civic-government building.
It was a grand time, never to be forgotten. As our boys came in the soldiers of Spain went out, giving up their arms as they left. Twenty-four hours later, I received an order which permitted me to call upon my father and Burnham.
“Mark! alive and well!” burst from my parent’s lips on seeing me. “They said you were dead—that a shell had killed you.”
“That shell did not kill me; it gave me my liberty,” I answered, and told my story, to which my father and Burnham listened with keen interest. My father was much broken in health, and as soon as I could I had him removed to a hotel, where care and good food soon restored him to his accustomed vitality.
The Cuban troops, as a body, were not permitted to come into Santiago at once, the authorities fearing a riot between them and the Spaniards, but Alano and his father visited us, and a joyous reunion was had all around.
“Cuba will be free now,” said Captain Guerez. “If Spain knows when she has enough, she will now bring this war to a close.”
Alano’s father was right; the Santiago campaign was the first and last to be fought by the American troops on Cuban soil, and soon after Spain asked that a peace commission be appointed to settle the matter without further appeal to arms. This was done; and the war ceased. Cuba was granted her absolute freedom, with the United States to protect her until all internal difficulties were settled and she was fully able to manage her own affairs.
Alano and his father remained in the Cuban army, and were later on stationed but a short distance away from the plantation owned by Captain Guerez. Thus they were near their home and able to visit constantly the other members of the family, who at that time returned to the plantation. Burnham remained in Santiago, reporting constantly for the newspaper he represented.
Two months after my father was released from prison we set sail for the United States. Mr. Raymond accompanied us, and we made the trip in the Rosemary, under our former friend Captain Brownley, who had succeeded, though not without much difficulty, in having both himself and his vessel released.
“How good to be back home again!” I cried, as we stepped ashore. “Foreign countries are all well enough, but as for me—give me our own United States every time!”