Chapter 21

THE ATTACK ON THE OLD CONVENT.

“My father a prisoner!” I gasped out, when I could speak.

“Yes, Mark.”

“And how was he captured? and why?”

“It is rather a long story. But tell me, where is Alano?” And now it was Se�or Guerez' turn to become anxious.

In a few words I explained matters, to which the planter listened with close attention. His brow darkened when I mentioned the Spaniards up at the coffee plantation.

“I know them,” he said. “We are expecting an attack from them every day.”

“An attack at this place?”

“Yes.” He turned to his companions, and introduced me to Father Anuncio and to Lieutenant Porlando, both of whom shook hands warmly when they were informed who I was. “You see, many of the planters have brought their families here,” Se�or Guerez went on, "and the Spanish think to subdue us if they can make our wives and daughters prisoners. But that shall never be while we have strength to fight."

“Tell me of my father,” I said impatiently.

“Come inside, my boy,” said Alano’s father; and giving Bumbo a bit of silver I sent him off, and followed the others into the courtyard, in the rear of which was the convent building proper, although wings extended out upon both sides.

In a shady corner I was introduced to La Se�ora Guerez and to Alano’s two sisters, Inez and Paula, two girls of ten and twelve, now quite as dark as their father and mother, and very beautiful, with their black wavy hair and sparkling eyes full of good humor and merriment. Mother and daughters could speak a little English, and for Alano’s sake they fairly made me feel like one of the family.

I was impatient to hear about my father; and as soon as the se�or had told the others of what I had said concerning Alano, Se�or Guerez told me his story.

“As soon as we felt that the war was going to be severe and probably of long duration,” said he, "your father and I telegraphed to Dr. Walford to keep you at Broxville Academy until you heard from us by letter. Two days later came a return message stating that you had already gone to New York and taken steamer for Cuba. The worthy doctor could not tell by what route you had gone.

"This being the case, your father and I concluded to let you come on, and I dispatched Pedro, one of my faithful servants, to meet you at Santiago de Cuba and conduct you in safety to the plantation, where your father was still down with his broken leg, which was, however, mending rapidly.

"Several days went by, and matters became very troublesome about my plantation. Some of the men had joined the Cuban forces under Brigadier General Jos� Maceo, a brother to the late Antonio Maceo, and my neighbors begged me to join also and become captain of a company of white Cubans—they not caring to serve under Maceo or Garcia and also not caring to go as far west as where the forces under General Gomez were located.

"While I was deliberating, a body of Spanish guerrillas came along and burned down two of my largest storehouses and threatened my wife with violence. This angered me, and I got my gun and shot two of the rascals—one in the leg and the other in the shoulder. A battle royal ensued between my workmen and the guerrillas, and the guerrillas received the worst of the encounter and were forced to retreat, with three men wounded and one man dead.

"This settled the matter, and I joined the Cuban forces under Garcia without delay. Your father also took part in the battle and saved my wife from great indignities. When I called my white men together, and my white neighbors, they speedily formed a company of volunteers, and I was chosen the captain, with Lieutenant Porlando for my first officer and your father for second lieutenant. We were all supplied with good horses and first-class weapons, and the very next day after effecting our organization defeated a body of the Spanish troops and drove them ten miles up the road and away from the mountains which General Garcia is using as a stronghold.

“As it was perilous in the extreme to leave the women-folks home alone while the men were away, it was decided by me and my neighbors to bring them all here and leave them with Father Anuncio and a strong guard. It was believed that no one would dare molest any woman while sheltered by this old convent. There are within the walls over a dozen ladies and nearly thirty children, besides a company of picked men and six men who were wounded at one time or another.”

“But my father?” I put in, as the se�or paused.

"I am coming to that, Mark. It was two days ago that our company was in the vicinity of Guantanamo. I had received valuable information concerning the contemplated movements of the Spanish troops, and this information I wished to place in the hands of General Garcia and his staff. Your father offered to find a certain captain, while another of the company rode off to find the general.

“Your father was accompanied by a private named Hawley, an American who settled near me several years ago. The pair were gone about six hours when Hawley came riding back to our camp, severely wounded in the thigh. He said they had met a company of Spanish soldiers, who had discovered them ere they were aware. Your father had been taken a prisoner, while Hawley had had a hard time of it to escape.”

“And have you heard of him since then?” I asked anxiously.

"I heard from him yesterday. Some of our soldiers, while tramping through the woods, came across a Spaniard who was severely wounded. They treated him as well as he could possibly expect, dressed his wounds, and gave him a supply of water and bread and meat; and in return he told them about their prisoner, your father. He said your father was to be sent on to the authorities at Santiago as an American spy."

“A spy!”

“Yes, my boy, a spy. It is, of course, a foolish charge, but I am afraid it may cause your father a good deal of trouble.”

“Why, they place spies in dungeons and often shoot them, Se�or Guerez!”

“Let us hope for the best, Mark,” he returned soothingly.

“Would they dare shoot an American citizen?”

“Unfortunately your father was caught wearing a Cuban uniform and with our flag pinned to his hat—as I have it.”

I bowed my head, and something like tears started to my eyes. This news was awful. Supposing my father was shot as a spy? I would be left alone in the world. Overcome by my emotions, I felt compelled to turn away, when Se�or Guerez placed a kindly hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t be too downcast, my boy. It may not go so badly with your parent, and I will do all I can for both of you. As soon as I can arrange certain matters with the men who are in charge here, I will follow up those who have your father in charge and see if he cannot be rescued.”

“Oh, will you do that?” I cried, catching his hand. “You are more than kind, Se�or Guerez!”

We were about to continue the conversation, when the lieutenant to whom I had been introduced came rushing up all out of breath. He had been walking down by the river, field-glass in hand, and had made an important discovery, which he imparted to the others in Spanish.

It was to the effect that a large body of Spanish soldiers were riding through the woods, back of the river, and it looked as if they were bound for the old convent. They were heavily armed, and on the back of a mule could be seen a small cannon.

“As I expected,” muttered Se�or Guerez. “I’ll take a look at them.”

He ran up to the roof of the convent, glass in hand, and, nobody stopping me, I followed him. A long, searching look and he dashed down the glass, hurried below, and issued a dozen rapid orders.

Men flew in all directions, some to get their guns and pistols, and others to shut the gates leading to the courtyard and to place square bits of blocks into the deep windows.

I tried to get an explanation from somebody, but all were too busy. Se�or Guerez was the only one who gave me a hint of what was wrong.

“'Tis a body of Spanish soldiers led by a priest who is a rival to Father Anuncio. He wishes to get the good father to give up this old convent, which means that we must vacate too. It is a ruse of the enemy.”

No more was said. Quarter of an hour later a white flag was waved and a man came up to the old convent gates. A short talk ensued between him, Se�or Guerez, Father Anuncio, and several others, and then the man withdrew.

Hardly had he gone than all of us heard the cracks of a dozen or more guns, and as many bullets flattened themselves on the convent walls.

“They have opened the fight,” remarked Se�or Guerez grimly, while several of the women and children shrieked. “Now we will show them what we can do.”

He selected the best of his soldiers, and placed them at convenient loopholes in the upper part of the old building. Weapons were ready for use, and at a word of command the fire of the Spaniards was returned.

A yell of surprise and rage went up, and there immediately followed another volley of musketry from without. This was returned, and this sort of thing lasted for quarter of an hour, when the enemy retired behind the bluff I have previously mentioned.

But they did not remain quiet long. Presently, looking through his field-glass, Se�or Guerez announced that they had succeeded in mounting the cannon they had brought along. The weapon was duly loaded and sighted, and we awaited with thrilling interest the effect of this rather formidable weapon.