◆ Chapter 6 ◆
Ryder got his men up and marching on the road to the harbor well before dawn. Breakfast was a few swallows of bad coffee and a stale cold biscuit along with plenty of grumbling from the sleepy troops who openly wondered just what the hell was the hurry. It was Ryder’s goal to beat the rush to the ships and avoid the chaos that embarking so many men at the same time would entail.
Unfortunately, a number of other regiments had the same idea. Thousands of men converged on the limited number of places where small boats could tie up and send men out to the transports. Instead of trying to use one of the few inadequate docks, Ryder had arranged for the men to wade out to where their three ships’ boats had been anchored and guarded, and then to be rowed to the transports. They grumbled some more about getting wet, but their complaints were ignored and all were on board by noon.
Sarah’s brother had done an excellent job maintaining control of the ships assigned to the regiment. A steady stream of boats took his now fifteen hundred men out to the vessels that would carry them to Cuba. They’d be cramped and uncomfortable, but the ships were sturdy and as safe as they could be.
The ship that would carry Ryder was the Aurora. She’d been chartered by the Navy, and her skipper and owner was a Baltimore native named Wally Janson. Janson was a stocky middle-aged Swede with thinning white hair. Barnes said he had a reputation as a firm but fair disciplinarian and had done an excellent job of allocating space for men and supplies. Once again, young Major Barnes had done good staff work.
Janson invited Ryder to join him on the cramped bridge. “Colonel, insofar as this regal craft is leased to the Navy, I’m supposed to obey Navy regulations. However, some of them are nonsense. If you want to come up here, you don’t have to ask permission. Just try not to break anything and definitely don’t spit on the deck.”
“Much appreciated,” said Ryder who found everything on the ship fascinating.
“Are you going to spend the night on board or are you going ashore to make goodbyes?”
Martin grinned. “Ashore sounds like a wonderful idea. Obviously, this armada isn’t going anywhere tonight and rank does have its privileges. However, if everyone can’t sleep ashore then I won’t either. I will go ashore for a few hours but will be back well before midnight.”
“You going to say hello to Custer? I understand he’s going to be at Fortress Monroe and will wave bye-bye to the ships as they pass.”
“I’ll let you have that honor, Captain Janson.”
As they talked, rioting had broken out as some of the later arriving units tried to bull their way onto ships that had been assigned to others. Several soldiers had been either been pushed or thrown into the Chesapeake. Ryder was certain that not all of them had been pulled out. What a hell of a way to start a war, he thought.
Protected by armed soldiers, the Aurora’s boat took Ryder back to shore and he walked the couple of miles to the hotel where Sarah and Ruth had rooms.
Sarah met him in her suite. Ruth was there as chaperone, something that both thought was silly considering that they were all adults and that the women were widows. Sarah greeted him sedately but her smile was warm and her eyes were moist. “I don’t want you to go. This is just beginning for us and I don’t want it interrupted.”
“I think I’ll go for a walk,” Ruth said with a knowing grin. “Don’t do anything too terribly foolish,” she added as she left.
In an instant they were in each other’s arms and kissing passionately. She could feel him aroused against her and smiled to herself. She recalled the first time she had realized what effect she was having on her husband and how confused she’d felt by both his and her reactions.
“I’m tired of being a good girl,” she said as she pushed him down onto the couch. “Tonight, I would like to be just a little scandalous.”
Ryder grinned as he pulled her down on his lap. “Fine by me,” he whispered in her ear as he slid his hand beneath her dress and up her leg. She gasped with pleasure as he found a tantalizingly bare spot.
* * *
Spanish generals Weyler and Villate looked up as Major Gilberto Salazar entered their office in Havana’s ancient and gloomy Morro Castle. Villate commanded all of Cuba while the younger Weyler was in charge of the army and the defenses of Havana.
“We have read your report,” Weyler said after returning Salazar’s crisp salute, “and, while it is interesting, we cannot necessarily agree with your conclusions. Yes, the Americans may land near Matanzas, but they may also land at a hundred other spots along the very long Cuban coast.”
“Three of my men were killed at Matanzas,” Salazar said stiffly. “That must count for something.”
Villate, much larger and older, sighed. “Cuba is again in a state of turmoil. Rebels are attacking isolated posts everywhere. It is entirely possible that this is what happened to your men and that it has nothing to do with the Americans. Neither you nor your men are popular with the population. In fact, they hate you. It’s possible that they were merely targets of opportunity and do not imply the likelihood of an American landing.”
“Sir, under intense interrogation several people said they witnessed an American in the area.”
Weyler shrugged. “We don’t doubt that the Americans are checking out a number of places as landing spots. We also don’t doubt that your methods of interrogating people would result in them admitting to murdering their own mothers and eating the remains in order to stop the agony. There might have been an American or two around, and they might have killed your men, but that does not necessarily mean that the Yankees plan on attacking us at Matanzas.”
Villate concurred. “Cuba is an island almost seven hundred and fifty miles long. Its coastline is more than double that and is impossible to defend. The Americans can land anywhere they choose; therefore, we must keep our soldiers close to Havana, where they can respond to the invasion when it occurs. We can rule out nothing, not even Santiago, which is five hundred miles away. We have nearly fifty thousand men at Santiago, which means that they are effectively out of any coming campaign for Havana. Yet, if we draw them closer to Havana, the rebels under Gomez will seize Santiago. And yes, the Americans can land there, take the damn place, and force us to either negotiate a treaty or send an army five hundred miles to liberate it.”
“The Americans will not land at Santiago,” Salazar said, barely controlling his anger. “Their President Custer is an impetuous fool who will attack where we are strong in order to go for the jugular and end this war quickly and gloriously. Just consider what he did when he nearly got killed by the Indians.”
“We agree with your assessment of Custer,” Weyler said with a laugh, but quickly turned solemn. “And that is why we have nearly a hundred thousand men in the Havana area. As you know, however, our soldiers are far from the best. They are poorly trained and equipped and very far from home. To counter that, when the Americans land we will attack them with overwhelming strength. If we win, the Yankees will either surrender or withdraw. If we lose, we will pull back to Havana and make them dig us out.”
Salazar did not like what he was hearing. What was happening to the glory that was Spain? “And what will our navy be doing during all of this?”
“Not much of anything, I’m afraid,” said Villate. “Even though we are reasonably certain that the American transports have left port and are on their way, we will wait for proof. Sadly, it turns out that our two so-called battleships are inferior to any of the three armored cruisers that the Americans bought from the British. It is rumored that the American ships have also bought the new Armstrong breech-loading cannons from the British. Therefore, the Navy will avoid battle until the last moment. Worse, the Navy doesn’t know what to protect, either. Nor can they send our small fleet out to intercept them. The ocean is too vast and they could easily miss the American ships. They too will wait for the Americans to arrive and then help us dislodge them.”
“What about the French?” Salazar asked. “Weren’t they going to help us by providing us with ships?”
“They were,” said Villate, “but the French are too busy being French. They are equivocating and will likely not sell us anything until the war is over.”
Salazar was aghast. What was he hearing? “Sirs, are you implying that we will lose this war?”
Villate shrugged. “Who knows what might happen when armies actually start fighting, so, yes, we might lose this war. And before you argue that premise, let me remind you that there are many who blame your impetuous actions for causing it in the first place. There are those both here and in Madrid who would have shipped you to the United States to be tried by them if their request for your extradition hadn’t been such an arrogant demand. If it is forced upon us as a condition of ending a war that is unfavorable to Spain, we will happily trade you for peace.
“Therefore,” Villate continued, “I strongly suggest that, if we are not victorious, you manage to get yourself killed in battle. If that happens, we will put up an appropriate statue celebrating your heroism.” That last comment was said with a sneer. Salazar’s ability to avoid battle was a strong rumor.
Weyler stood and walked to a large map of Cuba that had been pinned to a wall. “We will concede the point that Matanzas is an attractive and likely target, Major. We will assign two regiments of militia to support you. Along with your existing unit, you will have two thousand men. Do not promote yourself. You will still be a major although you will command what amounts to a brigade. You will take charge of defending Matanzas. You will not have enough men to stop an invasion, but we hope you can at least slow them down.”
“I will do more than that,” Salazar said fervently. “I will kill them.”
* * *
For the first several days, the trip from the Chesapeake and down the Atlantic coast had been pleasant. Even though most of the soldiers had never been out to sea and the majority of them had gotten seasick, the nausea passed fairly quickly.
But then came the storm. It appeared as a line of black clouds on the horizon that crept inexorably and threateningly towards them. As it overwhelmed the host of transports, the waves became choppy and intense and the ship seemed to vibrate from the impacts. Captain Janson quickly ordered everyone not involved in working the ship to go below where there was relative safety from the threat of being swept overboard.
As the wind-whipped seas attacked the Aurora, everyone again became ill. Ryder had hoped to be able to control his heaving stomach, but he lost. He made it to his cramped quarters and vomited into a bucket. The stench of hundreds of others doing that same thing made him even more nauseous. Soon, the transport was wallowing in the vomit of hundreds of men. Worse, Ryder quickly realized there was no place to empty the damn bucket.
Somehow it became night and still the storm lashed at them. Finally and just about dawn, he felt the winds slackening. A sailor looked in on Ryder and barely stifled a grin. The bucket had spilled and there was caked vomit on his uniform. Had the sailor laughed, Ryder was certain he would have killed him. If he’d been able to stand up, that is.
“Colonel, the skipper wants you on deck.”
Ryder groaned. “Tell him I’d like to be buried on land and not at sea, or is there something else he’d like to discuss.”
Now the sailor did grin, but shut it down quickly. “Sir, he thinks there’s a Spanish gunboat bearing down on us.”
* * *
On deck, the seas were still heavy but it no longer mattered. Any stomach problems quickly disappeared when Ryder saw the small but lethal-looking vessel heading in their direction. The invasion fleet had been scattered by the storm and only a few ships were visible, and none of them were American warships. They were sheep without a shepherd.
Janson handed over his telescope. “I did some studying of Spanish ships after signing on with the Navy, and I’ve also been to Havana on a few occasions. The Spanish have a number of gunboats like the one bearing down on us and they’re designed to intercept smugglers. They’re not very large, maybe sixty feet, and they have a crew of about thirty. Most of them carry four small cannons, two on each side, along with some swivel guns that are murderous at close range. They have very limited coal capacity so that means we must be fairly close to Cuba. Either that or those bastards were using their sails to conserve fuel. Oh yes, they can do at least a couple of knots faster than we can.”
Ryder returned the telescope. “What do you suggest?”
“Barring a miracle, Colonel, we cannot outrun them, although we will continue to flee with the hope that one of our missing escorts will discover us. Realistically, we have but two choices. We can surrender or we can fight.”
Ryder idly reached for his sidearm, then remembered it was still in his small cabin. “What’s your preference?”
“This ship is my livelihood and the crew are my friends, at least most of them. If we surrender, the ship is forfeit and we will be put in prison for God knows how long, doubtless until the end of the war and that could be years. Hell, they might even ship us to Spain for the Inquisition to play with. They say it doesn’t exist anymore, but I don’t quite believe it. I’ve always wanted to be taller, but not because of the rack. And I sure as hell don’t want to be burned at the stake.”
“Damn it, Skipper, that’s if they don’t kill us outright like they did the men of the Eldorado,” snapped a sailor who’d been standing close by.
“A good point,” said Janson, “In fact, that Spaniard coming at us might just be the one who butchered those boys.”
“That leaves fighting,” said Ryder. “I have more than four hundred men wondering what we’re going to do and there is a Gatling gun in the hold. May I suggest bringing it on deck and then use your men’s skills to tie it down so we can swing it from one side of the ship to the other? I will also bring up about fifty of my best shots and have them ready as well.”
Janson laughed. “You didn’t look like the type who surrendered easily.”
It took the better part of an hour to haul the gun on deck, secure it, and cover it with a tarpaulin. Shooters were given rifles and assigned spots on the deck. Until the Spaniard came close enough, they were to remain hidden.
“I’ve never seen a Gatling,” Janson said.
“The Navy has a number of them. We use them to repel potential borders. The Army has a small number but hasn’t quite figured out how to use them. The French and Germans have their own variants and used them to slaughter each other in their last war.”
The enemy gunboat was much closer than before. Ryder didn’t need a telescope to make out the men lining her hull. If his ideas didn’t work, he and his soldiers could be slaughtered.
“Captain, what guns do they have?”
“Like I said, they have four cannons, six- or nine-pounders, and they are likely very old. However, they are better than what we have, which is nothing. I don’t believe they have a bow-chaser, which means they’ll have to come alongside to use their guns.”
“What’s their range?”
“On a good day, maybe a mile, mile and a half. But they’re riding low in the water so their effective range will be much less than that. Add to that the fact that the seas are still running and that the Spaniards are notoriously bad shooters, they’ll have to get really close to stand a chance of hitting us.”
Ryder felt a twinge of hope. Maybe this could be pulled off after all. Slowly but surely, the gunboat continued to gain on them. A puff of smoke erupted from her bow. “Just a signal gun, Colonel. He wants us to heave to. I suggest we ignore him.”
The gunboat was a half mile of her port side when it finally ran parallel to the Aurora. The two gunports were open and the guns were run out. Janson looked through his telescope and shook his head. “I think those cannons were with the original Armada,” he sniffed.
One of the guns fired, and the shell splashed in front of them and short. A moment later and the second gun fired. The shell hit just in front of their bow, showering them with water.
“Shit,” said Janson, “they’re either better than I thought or they’re damn lucky.”
The gunboat closed the range until they were only a couple of hundred yards away. The guns fired again and one shell smashed into the Aurora’s wooden hull. They could hear cries and screams from below. Ryder hoped they were screams of fear and not pain.
“Now!” yelled Ryder. Soldiers whipped the tarp off the Gatling while others raised up to fire their rifles. “Gatling crew,” he reminded them, “sweep the deck and bridge. Riflemen, aim for the gunports and keep firing into them. It doesn’t matter if you can see anyone or not. Just keep shooting.”
Noise and smoke wreathed the Aurora as the Americans blazed away. It was hard to see what effect the shooting was having on the smaller Spanish boat, but it did look like she was pulling away and starting to wallow. White smoke came from her engine and she began to slow down. Better, it looked like no one was controlling her.
Janson was astonished. “Jesus, Colonel, I think we actually may have hurt the bastard.”
He had no sooner said that when the gunboat blew up before their eyes. Parts of the gunboat along with bodies flew through the air. In only a few seconds the sea was clear. All that remained was debris and a few heads bobbing in the water.
Janson ordered the Aurora about to pick up survivors. They found five, but two died of their wounds within minutes. One of the survivors was the captain, who was pathetically grateful to be saved.
Janson grabbed Ryder’s arm. “Look over there. Another ship and this time it’s one of ours.” It was the Navy’s steam sloop Powhatan. “About time they showed up. Now let’s get to Cuba before something else goes wrong.”
* * *
“Good God, Haney, what the hell are you doing here?”
Diego Valdez looked confused while Haney laughed. “I might ask the same thing about you, Kendrick. What the hell are you doing in Havana?”
“At this point, Sergeant, it’s been sincerely recommended that I depart before getting shot or hanged. I was told to come to this barn and that I’d meet two men who’d take me to where I would meet up with the American invasion force. If you’re not aware, we’re in a barn on the estate of one Gilberto Salazar, and he’s the son of a bitching prick who murdered the men on the Eldorado.”
“Jesus, Kendrick, you do hang around with good company.”
At that moment, Juana entered the barn. She had heard the comments. “When you are through with this pleasant reunion, may I suggest you take the horses you are going to pretend to steal and ride as far away from here as possible? Gilberto the prick, as you call him, is now in Havana and closeted with generals Weyler and Villate and will be home fairly soon along with several men of his guard. He will not get what he wishes from the generals, so he will be in an even fouler temper than usual. He will not hurt me,” at least not very much, she thought, “but he would possibly kill any or all of you. He would take great pleasure in making your deaths take an eternity. So for God’s sake, hurry.”
Juana wheeled and returned to the main house. Kendrick thought she might have been crying. “Skinny, nasty thing, isn’t she?” Haney commented.
“She’s a lot better than that,” Kendrick said. Haney caught the wistful look in the other man’s eyes and smiled to himself. He thought he understood. Kendrick clearly had feelings for the hard-looking woman. Maybe she was more than she seemed.
“You want me to kill her husband?” Haney asked.
Kendrick was shocked at the thought—and at his reaction. Yes, it would be lovely if Gilberto Salazar somehow found himself dead. “Not today,” he said as he reluctantly declined the offer. But maybe some nice sunny day in the future, he thought.
Valdez brought out three saddled horses. Haney examined them and said they were superb mounts. “Señor Salazar has only the best,” Valdez said with mock solemnity.
They mounted and rode away. It was fifty miles to Matanzas and the roads were poor. It would take them at least a day, maybe more if they had to evade Spanish patrols.
“We will ride slowly and carefully,” said Valdez. “Haste will attract attention and we do not want that. I will ride behind you as befits a loyal and faithful ignorant Cuban servant. Once away from the city, I will try to make contact with my people. Sergeant Haney, I assume that you want to go back to Matanzas, where I picked you up.”
Haney smiled. It was good to be back on a horse, particularly a superb one. Only steal the best, he thought, and then wondered if it actually was stealing since the angry woman had told them to take the horses.
“Matanzas it is, Diego. Just try not to kill anyone on the way.”
* * *
The storm that had scattered the American transports and warships made it impossible for a coordinated landing to occur at Matanzas. The chaotic situation confronted the American command with a dilemma. If they waited offshore for the rest of the ships to arrive, there was the real possibility that the Spanish army would appear in force and the landing be bloodily repulsed. Go in too soon and the American army might be defeated in detail before if got organized.
What forced the decision was the fact that the Spanish navy was out there someplace. Nobody was certain whether their two battleships had left Havana or not. Nobody wanted Spanish wolves in among the helpless transports, and there was less than total confidence that the escorts could defeat the enemy before they inflicted severe casualties among the heavily laden transports. The U.S. Army would, therefore, land everything it had as quickly as it could and hope the rest of the ships showed up soon.
As the Aurora eased its way into the crowded bay and anchored, Janson took in the scene and smiled grimly. “We were damned lucky, you know. One shell in the right place and we would have had a hold full of dead and wounded.”
Ryder agreed. How could he not? The one Spanish shell that had penetrated the Aurora had injured four soldiers but only one of them seriously. Most of the screaming and hollering had come from men who were shut up in a dark and nearly airless hold. They’d been scared out of their wits and panicked.
Janson continued. “Just like the Spanish gunboat, we’re a wooden ship and a fire could have started that would have killed a lot of people. I made a comment about surrendering and being taken to Havana, but it later occurred to me that the Spaniards might have thought it expedient to sink the ship. In that case, almost all of us would have drowned.”
Ryder hadn’t thought of it that way. “Obviously you’re telling me we didn’t have enough lifeboats.”
“Who does? Even ships carrying a large number of passengers don’t have anywhere near enough lifeboats, and until just recently, the Aurora didn’t carry passengers. The Aurora has enough for her crew and that’s all. No matter what I would have tried, most of your men would have drowned.”
With most of his men disembarked and the ship in a safe anchorage, Ryder had himself rowed to shore. It took a while to find anything resembling a headquarters, but he finally located General Terry who, as usual, looked overwhelmed and distraught.
“About time you got here, Colonel, although I should first congratulate you on destroying that Spanish ship. Excellent job. Lord only knows how many of our men you saved. You and Captain Janson will get medals and commendations. The word’s going around the beach and people think you’re a hero again.”
“I was just trying to stay alive, sir.”
“And that’s excellent motivation, Colonel. Now here’s what I want you to do. Despite the fact that only one of your battalions has been landed, I want you to proceed as quickly as you can and seize Mount Haney.”
“Mount what?”
“Yes, Ryder, your beloved Sergeant Major Haney returned a few hours ago with a detachment of Cuban rebels who can help us, and a reporter named Kendrick who will likely be a royal pain in the ass. Haney said that the little hill he named for himself dominates the area and should be occupied as soon as possible. He thinks, and I agree, that if the Spanish occupy it in strength, we will have to attack and force them off, and that will cost many casualties. Much better if we make them do the attacking.”
“Where’s Haney now?”
“With your men and hopefully getting them organized.”
Ryder found Haney and four companies of confused infantry waiting orders. Haney had already told them to fill their canteens with water and their pouches with ammunition. Ryder guessed it to be a couple of miles to the hill and, although it didn’t look like a difficult climb, he knew better.
By the time they reached the base of the hill, they were drenched with sweat and gasping for breath. The oppressive Cuban heat had quickly sapped their energy. He was about to call a halt when one of the Cuban rebels came and said that a Spanish force was approaching the other side of the hill.
Shit, Ryder thought. “Everybody up and move out. Last one to the top of the hill gets busted to private.”
“What if you’re already a private?” someone yelled.
Ryder laughed despite his discomfort. “Master Sergeant Haney will think of something, won’t you?”
“Damn right, sir. Now get off your asses and up that fucking hill!”
It was steeper than it looked and far more humid than it had been on the beach. Even Ryder was exhausted and there were far too many contenders for last man for Haney to count even if he had wanted to. By the time they reached the crest and were able to start downhill, a number of soldiers were gasping and actually crawling on their hands and knees. All were filthy and covered with mud and bugs.
“Ration the water,” Ryder ordered, even though he knew it was futile. Men were already swallowing heavily from the little bit they had in their canteens.
Ryder looked for the military crest, the point beneath the actual crest and the most effective spot to place their defenses. He was about to order a patrol farther downhill when shots rang out. Puffs of smoke showed from trees only a little more than a hundred yards away. Brief flashes of white Spanish uniforms could be seen through the foliage. Without orders, his men dropped to the ground and returned fire. More Spaniards could be seen joining the first group and he realized that they’d made the top first by only a few moments.
Someone screamed. One of his soldiers had been hit. Haney dropped down beside Ryder. “I don’t think there’s all that many of them, sir. I think if we rush them all shooting and screaming they’ll run away. At any rate, clearing the hill’s a lot better than sitting here and shooting at each other.”
“Agreed,” said Ryder. He sent runners to the company commanders and impatiently bided his time until he got word that everyone understood.
Now came the truly dangerous part, he thought. “What the hell,” he said to no one in particular. He stood and blew hard on a whistle. Responses came from either side of him and he could sense rather than see several hundred soldiers emerging and moving forward.
Ryder drew his pistol and waved it, “Faster, men, faster! And yell, damn it!”
Four hundred men screeched and hollered and ran towards the Spanish, shooting as they went. The Spanish returned fire raggedly and a couple of his men fell. In seconds, though, they were in the Spanish position. There were indeed not that many of them and they were retreating as quickly as they could from the insane Yankees. One turned and fired his rifle. The shot seemed to whistle just above Ryder’s head. Ryder paused, steadied his shaking arm and emptied his revolver at the man, who grabbed his head and fell backwards.
It was over. Haney reported one dead and three wounded among the American force. Ryder swallowed. These were the first casualties the First Maryland Volunteers had suffered in combat. They wouldn’t be the last.
Ryder walked to the man he’d shot. One bullet had entered the man’s left eye and another had plowed through his chest. Either could have killed the Spaniard, not that it mattered. Ryder thought the man looked about thirty and wondered if he had a family. He ordered himself to stop thinking like that. It wasn’t the first time he’d caused men to die.
A corporal came up and said that a larger enemy force was approaching the hill but appeared to have stopped well out of range. Ryder took his binoculars and found the enemy. It looked like at least a battalion of Spaniards and, yes, they were pausing. It didn’t look like they were in any great hurry to take their turn storming Mount Haney.
Ryder gave orders to form a perimeter and dig in as best they could. The men needed no urging and a rough barricade and shallow trench quickly appeared.
A short while later, Major Barnes arrived. He was leading a column of huffing infantry. “I got the second battalion and the third is getting organized. They’ll be along shortly.”
“Excellent, Major. Now send men back to bring up as much water as they can carry. Then we set up a steady stream of supplies from the bay to here. I also want patrols out to learn just what the damned Spanish are up to.”
Haney knelt down and handed him a canteen. Ryder took a swallow and nearly choked. “What the hell is this?”
“Irish whisky, sir. I save it for special occasions and I think this warrants it. We just won the first round of fighting between them and us and the men are right proud.”
Ryder laughed, agreed, and took another swallow, this time more slowly. They’d only won a skirmish against an outnumbered handful of Spanish, but, yes, it did feel good and so did the whisky. Better, he still had half a canteen full of water to drink after he had another swallow of Haney’s whisky.