The general freight agent was bluffed into believing that unless the two cars were instantly set where they were wanted his whole railroad would be tied up. The quartermaster was hypnotized and dropped formality, putting all the clerks to work upon papers and making out the necessary bill of lading, invoices, etc., in time to catch the 4 o’clock train. He also issued the necessary transportation for the officer and men of the detachment from Tampa to Port Tampa, accepting the first endorsement above as sufficient orders for that purpose.
One member of the detachment, Priv. Murray, had been very ill with what we afterward learned to call the Cuban fever, and, while apparently convalescent, was entirely too weak to accompany the detachment. He was a splendid fellow, and the tears rolled down his emaciated face when he was told he must remain behind. He was furnished with a descriptive list and a letter was written to the chief surgeon of the Division Hospital, requesting him to send an ambulance immediately for the sick man. One member of the detachment carried this letter to Tampa Heights, and so sharp was the work of getting away that this man had to board a moving train as it was pulling out to keep from getting left; but Priv. Murray was taken to the hospital and cared for, and Priv. Bremer did not get left.
The detachment reached Port Tampa about sundown, and Maj. Cushing, who had charge of the loading of the transports, at once authorized the cars to be set alongside the Cherokee. The ammunition, guns, camp equipage, men, and all were promptly put aboard. The training in packing and unpacking the guns was the only thing which enabled the work to be done in the limited time allotted. Not so much as a ten-penny nail belonging to the detachment was left behind.
During the night the troops that were to occupy the Cherokee came on board, and it was found the next morning that five or six tons of regimental baggage had been piled on top of the guns, making it practically impossible to disembark, even if such a movement should be ordered.
Wrecked Locomotives and Machine Shops at Baiquiri.
CHAPTER IV.
THE VOYAGE AND DISEMBARKATION.
It seemed that the work had been accomplished none too soon, for on the morning of June 7th orders came to the Cherokee to leave the slip and proceed down the bay. There were on board at this time, beside the little Gatling Gun Detachment, the 17th Infantry, under command of Col. Haskell, and a battalion of the 12th Infantry, under command of Col. Comba, who was the senior officer on board. The ship was frightfully crowded. The berth deck and lower deck had been arranged for the accommodation of the men by nailing rows of two 2x4 scantlings just far enough apart to leave room for a man to lie down, and fastening three tiers of bunks to these scantlings. The men were packed in these bunks like sardines in a box. The ventilation was conspicuous by its absence, the heat below deck was frightful and the misery entailed by such accommodations was beyond description. But the men were very cheerful, and, being allowed the privilege of the upper deck, very little in the way of complaint was heard. Everybody was anxious to be off. The hope most frequently expressed was for a quick passage and a sharp, swift campaign. It was easily foreseen by the officers on board the ship that a long sojourn on shipboard under such conditions would have a very bad effect on the men.
The ship dropped down the bay to the quarantine station, starting about noon, and there lay to, waiting, as was supposed, for the remainder of the fleet. Suddenly, about 8 p. m., one of the torpedo cruisers came tearing down the bay under full steam, and we heard the message sounded through the megaphone: “Return to port. Three Spanish cruisers within three hours’ sail of the offing.” It was a thrilling moment. Officers and men were lounging, taking, as they supposed, their last view of the American shores, without a suspicion of present danger, when they were rapidly brought to a realizing sense that “war is hell,” by a notice that the enemy was upon them. Whether they were in danger or not, the danger was deadly real and imminent to them at the time.