Our involuntary bath had done me good, and I stepped out feeling brighter and better than I had for several days. I was becoming acclimated, and I was glad of it, for had I been taken down with a fever I do not know what I would have done.
Alano was as eager as myself to reach the old convent on the river, and we kept close upon Jorge’s heels as our guide strode off down the mountain side toward a forest of sapodillas and plantains.
“I trust we find everybody safe and sound,” I remarked. “The fact that your father thought it best to conduct your mother and sisters to the convent would seem to indicate he was disturbed about their safety.”
“I am hoping he did it only to be clear to join the rebel army,” replied Alano. “I hope both your father and mine are in the ranks, and that we are allowed to join too.”
I did not wish to discourage my Cuban chum on this point, yet I had my own ideas on the subject. I was not anxious to join any army, at least not while both sides to the controversy were conducting the contest in this guerrilla-like fashion. I was quite sure, from what I had heard from various sources, that up to that date no regular battle had been fought in the eastern portion of Cuba, although the western branch of the rebel army, under General Gomez, was doing much regular and effective work.
The reasons for this were twofold. In the first place, General Gomez' forces were composed mainly of white men, while a large portion of the soldiers under General Garcia were black. Nearly all of the Americans who came to Cuba to fight for Cuban liberty, came by way of Havana or Jibacoa and joined General Gomez, and these fellows brought with them a large stock of arms and ammunition. It was said that there were three armed men in the West to every man who had even a pistol in the East. Many of the negroes were armed only with their machetes, which they tied to their wrists with rawhides, that they might not lose this sole weapon while on the march or in a skirmish. To shoot off a cartridge in a pistol without doing some effective work with it was considered under General Garcia and his brother officers almost a crime.
The guerrilla warfare in the mountains I felt could be kept up for a long time, perhaps indefinitely. The Spanish troops had sought to surround General Garcia a dozen times, only to discover, when too late, that he and his men had left the vicinity. The Cuban forces moved almost always at night, and often detachments of soldiers were sent off on swift horses to build false campfires dozens of miles away from the real resting-place of the army.
In the valley we crossed through a large coffee plantation. In the center was a low, square house with several outbuildings. The house was closed tightly, and so were the other buildings, yet as we drew close I fancied I heard sounds from within.
I notified Jorge, and a halt ensued. Hardly had we stopped than the door of the house flew open and out rushed half a dozen well-dressed Spanish soldiers.