The “army” was, in reality, not much more than an unorganized body of densely ignorant natives who, as practically the only compensation for their supposed loyalty, were allowed to carry guns, which they did not know how to use. I taught them how to march without getting in each other’s way, how to handle their arms without shooting themselves, and as much discipline as they were amenable to, but I fear my efforts did not go much beyond that even though they did effect a decided improvement. One of my first recommendations to the President was that he buy and fit out two small gunboats with which to patrol the coast and hold in check such revolutionary centres as Monte Cristi, under threat of bombardment. They could also be used, as I pointed out, to transport troops quickly to rebelliously inclined districts. The President thought well of the plan and, though I advised steamers, he directed that the “Juliette,” for which he agreed to pay a fair price, be converted into such a craft. I ordered five small rapid-fire guns sent from England to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and, the revolutionary spirit seemingly having subsided with the improvement in the army, took the “Juliette” there in the Summer of 1873, to have her decks strengthened and mount the cannon. We returned early in the Fall to find that the smouldering revolution had burst into a flame and a large force was marching on Santo Domingo City, and only a few miles away. When I reached the palace the President and his brother were vehemently but vainly advising each other to be brave.
“What shall we do—what shall we do?” demanded the President as I entered the door.
“It strikes me that it might be a good scheme to fight,” I replied, with no attempt to conceal my disgust at their attitude. “In fact, I should say it is up to us to fight, and fight until we are all bloody, if we have to.”
“Yes, yes, but where?” queried the trembling chief executive.
“Go out and meet them,” I advised. “They probably will not be looking for us, as I judge that would be a departure from the established Santo Domingan method of warfare, and we may be able to take them at a disadvantage.”
“No, no,” urged the panic-stricken Minister of War, “let us wait until they get into the city and then bombard them with your guns.”
“Which would mean,” I said, “killing four or five of your own people to every one of the enemy. I am not used to that way of fighting and don’t know how to do it.”
They told me there were about three thousand men in the attacking force. We had more than four thousand men under arms, which gave us the advantage of numbers. The city had no defences worthy the name and I insisted that the thing to do was to go outside and fight it out in the open, while the doughty General, who seemed to be seeking delay more than anything else, was in favor of making a rough-and-tumble of it in the town. The President, who had imbibed something of American ideas during his three years’ residence in New York, and who had apparently regained a little of his nerve while we were canvassing the situation, agreed with me, and, against the continued objections of his brother, we went out to meet the attacking army.
Gen. Baez commanded our centre and right while I commanded our left flank. His reason for wanting to postpone the action was quickly apparent, for he was an arrant coward. He began to give way, before a force that was inferior in both numbers and discipline, with the firing of the first gun, and fell back so rapidly that before I realized it my command was flanked and almost cut off, with the sea on one side of us and the enemy on two others and rapidly closing up the fourth. My men fought surprisingly well until they suddenly discovered that they were almost surrounded, when they promptly went into a panic. Most of them dropped their guns and ran for the city, with an activity of which I had not dreamed them capable, while nearly all of the others, in regular South American fashion, about-faced and joined the rebels on the spot. In a few minutes I was captured, along with about a hundred men who were so numbed by fear that they could neither run nor fight, and had not enough discretion to join the enemy. I was furious over the cowardice of Baez and put up the hardest fight I was capable of, with the satisfaction of putting six or eight blacks on a permanent peace basis, but with my revolver empty and my sword broken I was overwhelmed by the inky cloud. Gen. Baez galloped back to the city and he and his bewildered brother, the President, had barely time to board a small schooner and sail for Curacoa before the capital was in the hands of the rebels. Gen. Ganier d’Aton, a tool of Pimental and Cabral, was at once proclaimed President, and hailed by the populace with the customary acclaim.
Instead of being killed at once, as I had expected to be, I was taken to a small fort on a hill near the town where, on the trumped-up and altogether false charge that I had fomented trouble and brought on civil war, I was tried by drum-head court-martial and sentenced to be shot at sunrise. The verdict was, of course, dictated by revenge, and execution of it was delayed because they wished to gloat over me for a while. This was a little the most serious predicament I had ever been in and, with the idea of taking every chance that was open to me rather than with any distinct hope that it would be answered, I gave the grand hailing sign of a powerful secret order which I had joined while in Caracas. I thought I saw a sergeant raise his eyes but, as he gave no further sign, I concluded that if there had been any movement it had been one of surprise and not of recognition. I was placed in a large sala with windows opening on the courtyard and blank walls on the other three sides. The windows were barred and after satisfying myself that they were secure, and that there was no way of escape, I laid down and smoked, reflecting that if my time had come there was no way of interfering with the programme scheduled for the break of day. The soldiers were drinking and celebrating their victory with shouts and songs, which lessened in volume and vehemence as the night wore on, but two sentries who paced back and forth in front of my room and met under one of the windows religiously kept sober. Now and then a drunken coterie would press their dirty faces against the bars to hurl at me denunciatory bursts of Spanish eloquence, to which I vigorously replied, but these enlivening visits grew less and less frequent, as the consumption of tafia rum increased.