A barefooted man, in shirt and trousers only, and carrying in his hand the sheathed sword of a Spanish infantry captain, which he had evidently snatched from his tent pole as he sprang from his camp bed, stepped forward, and, announcing himself as the senior surviving officer, demanded to know who Jack was, and what he wanted.
“I am,” said Jack, “the commander of a body of negroes, of whom you see a detachment before you. We are in arms against Spain, as are thousands more of the inhabitants of this island, because we very strongly object to the cruel tyranny and oppression with which we have been governed, and demand our freedom. Your march through the country has been marked by violence and outrage of every conceivable description, and you have left in your track nothing but death and desolation. The measure of your iniquity is full, and Cuba will endure no more. Your General Weyler has declared a war of extermination against Cubans, and you who execute his murderous mandate must pay the penalty. Yet, since it would be manifestly unfair to punish the innocent for the guilty, and since I am convinced that many of you have only obeyed your general’s orders most unwillingly, I will spare those of you who will surrender, and execute only those who, by refusing, exhibit a readiness to persist in their iniquitous deeds. And do not look for any help from your comrades yonder; they triumphed temporarily, achieving a victory by sheer force of numbers, but since you and they parted company they have fallen into a trap—and now those who still live are prisoners. Will you join them; or will you go the way of those others who have to-night laid down their lives at the behest of a man who knows not the meaning of mercy? Let those among you who are willing to surrender throw up their hands.” The officer turned and looked behind him: every man under his command had thrown his hands above his head! It was enough; his humiliation was complete. Drawing his sword from its scabbard, he placed the point on the ground; then, bending the blade into the form of a bow, he gave the hilt a sudden, peculiar thrusting jerk, and the blade snapped in twain. Then, tossing the hilt from him, he exclaimed, in a tone of concentrated bitterness, “I surrender!” and burst into tears of anger and mortification.
Chapter Twenty.
The end of the struggle.
The prisoners, about a hundred in number, many of whom were less than half-dressed, were now allowed five minutes wherein to retire to their tents and assume their clothing; after which they were formed up four deep, and marched off in the direction from which Jack and his party had come, a young, swift-footed negro having been dispatched on ahead with a note from Singleton for Carlos, informing the latter of the capture of the camp and its occupants, and suggesting that he should bring his prisoners down to the compound adjoining the warehouses.
With the arrival of the prisoners and their armed escort within half a mile of the spot where the bamboo bridge crossed the river, they began to come upon the first evidences of the recent fight, in the shape, first, of widely scattered units, and then of little groups of two or three dead or wounded. The first they were obliged to leave, for the moment; but the wounded were, by Jack’s orders, now sought for and succoured, so far as succour was possible by unskilled hands, by being, in the first instance, borne closer to the river, and having their fiery thirst temporarily assuaged, and, later on, by having their wounds dressed, so far as the conveniences available permitted. With so large a number of wounded, this labour of mercy necessarily occupied a considerable amount of time, so that it was broad daylight when at length Jack conducted his prisoners into the compound and marched them into an empty and partially ruined storehouse which Carlos had already caused to be prepared for their reception, the prisoners which the young Cuban had brought down from the defile having already been lodged in an adjoining building. Then came the question of feeding the hungry—a very formidable task, considering that practically all the food on the estate had been destroyed by fire on the preceding night. This difficulty, however, was overcome by Jack revisiting the captured camp with a party of a dozen of the least exhausted negroes, and collecting a wagon-load of foodstuffs which, with half a dozen oxen, they drove on to the estate by way of the lowered drawbridge. Then, with infinite labour, the wounded were once more sought out, and carried into one of the storehouses which had suffered least from the fire, where they were attended to, so far as they could be, by a band of their compatriots who had volunteered for the service, and who had given their parole that they would not again take up arms against the Cubans. And next came the terrible task of burying the dead, which was also done, under Jack’s supervision, by the prisoners, kept in a proper state of submission by a strong guard of armed negroes. It was by this time considerably past mid-day: at least half of the negroes, who had fought so stubbornly and well in defence of the estate, had had an opportunity to snatch a few hours’ sleep, and were consequently in a condition to again mount guard over the prisoners; and then, and only then, did Jack and Carlos retire to their rooms, and flinging themselves, still dressed, upon their beds, sink at once into absolute oblivion.
The two young men were aroused about nine o’clock that night to partake of food, when they learned that Don Hermoso had taken over the direction of affairs; also, that the wounded were for the most part doing well, having been taken in hand by a Spanish surgeon who, himself one of the wounded, had been brought in from the field of battle, and, having been attended to by Mamá Faquita, was now sufficiently recovered to be able to do duty. This was a quite unexpected bit of good news for the two young men; but there was bad news also for them, in the fact that the unfortunate Señora Montijo was in a state of such high fever that the Spanish doctor was deeply concerned as to her condition, which became still more critical as the night wore on.
Before again retiring to rest, Jack “went the rounds”, as he expressed it, and saw for himself that everything was satisfactory; and he did the same the first thing upon rising the next morning. Then he, Don Hermoso, and Carlos held a consultation as to how the prisoners were to be disposed of, the difficulty of feeding and controlling so large a number being one that was likely to grow daily: and it was finally decided that, as the rest of the army had by this time passed on, and were scarcely likely to return over the same ground, the sound prisoners, together with those of the wounded who were so slightly hurt as to be able to travel, should be set at liberty and escorted for some few miles on the road to Pinar del Rio by a strong band of armed negroes, whose duty it would be to see that the released men did not attempt to rejoin the main army; that as soon as those were disposed of, the estate—which was practically destroyed, and therefore could not very well be further injured—should be abandoned to the Spanish doctor and such assistants as he could persuade to remain with him to look after the wounded; and that, as soon as the Señora’s health would permit, Don Hermoso, Carlos, and Jack should attach themselves to one of the guerrilla bands who were hanging upon the skirts of the main Spanish army and harassing it night and day. The only difficulty in the way of this programme was the question of what to do with the Señora; but this was disposed of by a suggestion from Jack that the lady should be conveyed to the Laguna de Cortes, where the Thetis was due to arrive in about a fortnight, and be put on board the yacht.