Chapter 22

THE ROUTING OF THE ENEMY.

Boom!

The Spanish gunners had fired the cannon perched on the bluff, its muzzle pointed directly for the doors of the old convent.

Hardly had we heard the report than there was a crash and the splinters flew in every direction. The shot had struck the frame of the doors and shattered it badly.

A cry of rage went up from the Cubans, and, rushing to the loopholes left in the blocked-up windows, they sought to pick off the gunners with their carbines. But the Spaniards prudently kept out of sight, so this movement was useless.

“Two more shots like that, and the doors will come down,” muttered Se�or Guerez, with a grave shake of his head. “I wish we had a cannon to fire in return.”

A consultation was held, and all of the women and children were told to retire to an inner room of the convent, where the damage done by the cannon might not reach them.

This had scarcely been accomplished when the Spaniards fired a second shot. But their aim was poor, and the ball only plowed up the ground fifty feet outside of the courtyard.

Se�or, or rather Captain, Guerez, as I should now call him, collected his men together, and a short but exciting debate took place, only a few words of which were plain to me. Alano’s father favored leaving the convent by a rear passage-way leading to a woods and surprising the enemy by coming up in their rear.

Just as a third shot from the cannon struck the roof of the convent and tore off a corner of the stonework, it was agreed upon to carry out this project. Four men were left to exhibit themselves occasionally, so that the Spaniards might think the soldiers still there, and Alano’s father asked me to remain with them.

“I do not advise you to take part in the fighting,” he said. “But if you find it necessary to defend yourself, you’ll find guns in plenty in the dining-hall closet, with cartridges in one of the drawers.”

In less than ten minutes the company of soldiers, fifty-six strong, were on their way, leaving the convent as silently as shadows. The moment the last of them had taken to the passage-way, the entrance was closed and bolted, and I found myself left behind with the women and children and the four guards, none of whom could speak a word of English.

After firing the third shot the Spaniards paused, probably to hold a council of war. To divert suspicion from the movements of Captain Guerez and his men, the four guards and myself passed out in plain sight of them several times. Of course we did not remain long, nor did we show ourselves in the same place twice. Our appearance called forth half a dozen shots from as many muskets, but we were too far off for these to have any effect. One bullet did hit near where a guard had shown himself, but its force was spent and it did no damage.

Nearly half an hour had passed, when suddenly we heard a yell and a wild shouting, and all of the Spaniards dashed into view, running hither and thither as though panic-stricken. Captain Guerez had surprised them completely, and they thought it was a re-enforcement for the old convent and not the soldiers from that place themselves. A hundred shots rang out, and, using a field-glass, I saw that the Spaniards were completely demoralized. They formed into a hollow square once, but this was speedily broken up, and then off they rode and ran, helter-skelter, down the bluff and across the river, some fording and some swimming, for their very lives.

The engagement had lasted less than quarter of an hour when some of the Cubans came riding toward the convent gates, bringing with them several wounded men—some of their own party—and three of the Spaniards who had been captured.

Captain Guerez had, in the meantime, followed the Spanish leader across the stream. The pursuit was kept up for nearly half an hour, at the end of which time the Spaniards were driven so far off it was likely they would not dare to return for a long while, if at all.

When Alano’s father came back it was found he had received a sword thrust through the fleshy part of the leg. The wound was not a dangerous one, but it was painful, and his wife and daughters did all they could to ease his sufferings.

“I am sorry for your sake, Mark, that I am wounded,” he remarked, as he rested upon a cot. “I will have to keep quiet for a few days, and thus our quest after your father will have to be delayed.”

“You wouldn’t dare to leave here just yet anyway, would you?” I asked, much disappointed, yet feeling that it was no more than I could expect.

"Hardly, my boy. I do not expect those Spaniards to return; we have given them far more than they expected. They would not attack us without re-enforcements, and there are no other Spanish troops within a good many miles."

Now that the old convent had been once attacked, it was decided to keep a strict watch, day and night, upon the roof and through the grounds. A detail of men was formed, instructions to keep a constant lookout given, and then Captain Guerez passed over his command temporarily to Lieutenant Porlando.

The remainder of the day passed quietly enough, I occupying the time in repairing my clothing, which needed many a stitch. In this work the elder of Alano’s sisters helped me, Se�ora Guerez keeping by her husband’s side and having the younger sister to assist her.

I found Inez Guerez a most companionable girl. Her stock of English was as limited as was my knowledge of Spanish, yet we managed to make each other understand, laughing roundly over the mistakes we made. When I mentioned Alano and told what great friends we were, tears stood in her dark eyes, and she said she trusted he would soon reach the old convent in safety. My father and she had also become great friends, and she said she hoped he would escape from his Spanish captors ere they had a chance to thrust him into a dungeon at Santiago.

Having had no sleep the night before, I retired early, and was soon in the land of dreams, despite the many misgivings I had concerning my father’s welfare. Fervently I prayed that he might escape from the Spaniards who held him, and that we might speedily be reunited.

When I awoke in the morning the sky was darkly overcast and it was raining furiously. The downpour caused the river to rise, and the lower end of the old convent was partly under water.

A fair breakfast was had, consisting of coffee, bread, and some fried plantains, which to me tasted particularly fine, and then I went to Captain Guerez, to find him much improved and in good spirits.

“We would not go off anyway in such a storm as this,” he said, as he sipped a bowl of coffee. “It will be fresh and cool after it is over, and by that time I think I will be able to ride once more, and I think my cousin will come to remain with my wife and girls.”

The downpour up to noon was terrific, then the sun came out strongly, and the hills and valleys were covered with a heavy mist as the water evaporated. By sundown it became cooler, and the roof of the old convent proved a most delightful lounging place.

We were all out there, watching the shadows as the sun set behind the hills in the west, when one of the guards announced that two men were approaching from a trail leading through the woods to the northwest. A field-glass was at once procured, and Lieutenant Porlando took a long look at them.

“A black and a boy,” he announced in Spanish, and I leaped forward and begged for the use of the glass for a minute. My request was readily granted, and I waited for the two newcomers to reappear among the trees.

“They are Alano and Jorge!” I exclaimed a minute later.

“Alano!” cried my chum’s sisters. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, it is Alano, and he carries his arm in a sling.”

And down we rushed in a body and asked to be let out of the courtyard. Inez was the first to emerge into the open, and off she rushed at full speed, to find herself a minute later in Alano’s arms, with Paula close behind.