Part 12 (1/2)
”And a Britisher?”
”Yes.”
”Good! Put it right there.” The lieutenant shook him heartily by the hand.
A moment later the men threw open the magazine, in spite of the terrible risk they ran, and flung the contents of their buckets upon the explosives. Then they raced to the deck again for a fresh supply of water, and did not cease from their arduous labors till all danger of another explosion was at an end.
Flinging his bucket away, Hal now made a tour of that part of the s.h.i.+p which was not in flames. Then, having helped to lift three injured men into the boat, he descended himself, and at the quartermaster's order they returned to their own s.h.i.+p. A few minutes later, Captain Sigsbee, the commander of the _Maine_, stepped sadly from her deck, and was rowed away, the last living man to leave the terrible scene.
As for Hal, he slipped into a fresh suit of clothes, and for hours worked with the other pa.s.sengers endeavoring to alleviate the sufferings of the poor fellows brought aboard the s.h.i.+p. Then, tired out with his labors, for he had taken a prominent and a large share in the work of rescue, he retired to the upper deck, with Mr. Brindle, Gerald, and Dora, and flung himself into a chair. But though utterly fatigued, he was too horrified by the ghastly tragedy he had witnessed, and too shaken by all that had happened in the past few hours, to be able to get to sleep. It was out of the question, so that instead of going straight to his bunk, he felt that he must stay in the open air, where he could rest, and at the same time talk over the occurrence with his friends.
”I've a weight here,” he cried peevishly, striking himself on the chest.
”The horror of it all distresses me. What a terrible calamity!”
”Aye, what a misfortune! What an inhuman deed!” replied Mr. Brindle, in a voice which faltered in spite of himself. ”Think of it; try to realize the cruelty of it all. In the times of peace, in the cause of good-will, and in the earnest attempt to bring alleviation of suffering to a long-stricken people, the poor lads of my adopted country are cruelly blown to pieces, sent into eternity at the very door of those who have invited them. They came with nothing but friends.h.i.+p in their hearts, expecting to meet with the same. The shock of the news will be felt from east to west, and from north to south, and everywhere will be received at first with incredulity, and later with loathing and scorn, for never was such a dastardly deed committed.”
”Committed by whom? What do you mean?” asked Hal, in astonishment. ”Do you really think that the explosion was arranged--that it was not a pure accident?”
”I do; unhappily, I do,” answered Mr. Brindle sternly. ”How could it have been otherwise? It is sad, far too sad for words, and I shall be mistaken if to-night's work does not prove the cause of a war between Spain and America.”
”But why war, Mr. Brindle? Had matters come to such a pa.s.s that the destruction of the _Maine_ would set the countries at each other's throats?”
”Perhaps not that, Hal, for the aspect of affairs of late was distinctly brighter. Still, I think I am right in saying that the wrath of the American people will be so great when the news is known, that serious trouble will be inevitable. But come, let us to our bunks. To-morrow we will talk the matter over.”
”To our bunks, dad! I could not possibly sleep!” exclaimed Dora.
”Nor I,” chimed in Gerald.
”And I must confess that I am too troubled and too disturbed to sleep,”
said Mr. Brindle.
”Then why not fill the time in till morning dawns by telling us about this affair?” cried Hal. ”We are all agreed that we cannot sleep; we have done our utmost for those who suffered during or after the explosion, and now we have nothing to do but to lounge here, and fume and fret till to-morrow. Be kind to us, Mr. Brindle. Stir your memory, and let us know the ins and outs of the whole story.”
”Well, I will; and if I try your patience, bear with me a little,”
replied Mr. Brindle. ”The quarrel is not of a day's making, nor does it turn upon one single point. Cuba is the cause of it all, and as we are here, perhaps no more fitting spot could be selected for a description of the rebellion and bloodshed which have caused trouble between Spain and America.”
CHAPTER IX
”THE EVER-FAITHFUL ISLAND”
Dressed in a clean suit of white, with wide-open waist-coat and expanse of glossy s.h.i.+rt, the whole set off by a black evening bow, Mr. Brindle stalked moodily up and down the deck for several minutes, his hands thrust into his pockets, and his chin resting upon his chest. He was evidently in deep thought, and Hal, with Dora and Gerald close at hand, watched him curiously, wondering when he would commence to speak.
”It is hard to know exactly where to start,” he said at last, coming to a stop in front of them, where he leaned against the s.h.i.+p's rail, and producing a cigar, bit off the end with a nervous snap. ”It is difficult, I confess, to fulfill my promise. To begin with, I am shaken by the horrible calamity we have witnessed to-night. My grief is great and heartfelt for those poor fellows who have been so ruthlessly slain, and loathing and contempt for the inhuman wretches who perpetrated the ghastly deed are so much in my thoughts that I find it difficult to fix my mind upon the subject before us, or grasp its details with sufficient clearness to narrate them to you in lucid form.
”Still, a promise is a promise, and I will therefore do my best to tell you why there is bad blood between Spain and America, and why I fear war in the immediate future.
”Just fancy, this, the most beautiful, and once the most prosperous, of Western isles, is still known in Spain as 'the ever-faithful island of Cuba'! And yet there is scarcely a single Spaniard who is not conversant with the true state of affairs, and is not very well aware that Cuba is in revolt, and has been so for close upon fifty years. Go to the country of the Dons and question her lower cla.s.ses--I mean the poor people who exist by tilling the soil, or earn a livelihood in factories or workshops. I will answer for it that hundreds, aye, thousands even, curse this fair isle, curse the government that rules it so evilly, and the necessity that has called, and still calls, for their sons to go across the seas and die, in the depths of jungle and mora.s.s.
”Looking back as I do at this moment, I feel that all this suffering, all this misery and heart-ache, are Spain's just reward. The great man of Genoa, Christopher Columbus, who explored these Western seas in the fifteenth century, would have pa.s.sed by the lovely sh.o.r.es of this gorgeous island and refused to annex it for his adopted king and queen, if he had foreseen the future.