‘What now?’ Cotter cried in anguish.
‘Starboard your helm,, Joe shouted. He knew his little cannons would have no effect on the Spanish armour. But there were other targets. ‘Mr Cotter, man your forward gun. We’ll close the Pluton.’
The coxswain gulped: the Pluton was at least three times their size, but he obeyed. The torpedo boat hurtled at the destroyer, which was not going so fast as might have been expected — Joe surmised that the quality of the coal they had taken in Santiago had not been very good, another reason for the amount of smoke they were making.
‘Open fire,’ he bawled, and Cotter immediately began pumping shells into the large vessel. The Spaniard replied with her heavier guns, but her shooting was wild, hampered by the fact that the huge Indiana; with her twelve-inch guns, had also selected her as a target. Within what seemed a very short space of time she was on fire, and turned away from the fray, driving straight at the shore, striking a few minutes later with a horrifying crump which shattered her bows and had her lying half on her side in the shallow water, a blazing wreck, while her men scrambled desperately for the beach.
‘Look out astern,’ Midshipman Lucas shouted, opening fire without waiting for orders. Joe swung round to see the Furor bearing down on him, out to avenge her sister. The Indiana had by now raised enough steam to join the other ships in the pursuit of the Spanish cruisers, who were conducting a running battle as they raced along the coast in an effort to double Cabo Cruz, and the only heavy ship in the vicinity was the New York, rushing back from Daiquiri to the sound of the guns. But she too was concerned entirely with the larger enemy vessels, and the smaller ships would have to fight it out amongst themselves. ‘Starboard,’ Joe commanded, and the Dahlgren fell to her right as she came round in a right circle, just in time, for the Furor had loosed a torpedo of her own, which went skimming by only feet away, also to explode on the rocks by the shore.
‘Keep firing,’ Joe bawled at Cotter, and the quickfirer’s barrel raced back and forth as she was loaded and fired time and again. As usual, Cotter’s shooting was remarkably good, and almost his first shot must have struck a ventilator to the engine room, bringing up a huge cloud of smoke. Instantly the Furor commenced to lose speed, and Joe was able to bring his ship round in a tight circle, both his guns blazing away at a range of less than a mile, watching the shells smashing into the destroyer and the ship itself visibly disintegrating before his eyes. The two vessels were now so close that Joe could clearly see the shot which cut the Spanish helmsman in half and shattered the steering gear, leaving the destroyer a helpless wreck, steam escaping from her fractured pipes, while with every second she sank lower into the water; she had obviously opened a seam, and her pumps could no longer cope.
‘Cease firing,’ Joe commanded. ‘Stand by to pick up survivors.’
The Dahlgren slowly approached the blazing wreck, and Cotter put down the boat. Several men were picked from the water, others preferred to swim to the shore. Joe had the prisoners sent below under guard, watched the end of his late adversary, as water seeped over her stem, and she began to tilt, and then went under with a rush, leaving a cloud of steam and disturbed eddies.
‘Good shooting, gentlemen,’ he told his officer. ‘Now let’s have some speed, Chief. There’s a battle going on.’
In fact the battle was all but over. The Spanish ships had neither been fast enough, heavy enough, nor accurate enough in their shooting to have a chance of engaging the Americans successfully. The Dahlgren had barely got under way again to pursue the big ships along the coast when they sighted the wrecks of the Infanta Maria Teresa and Admiral Oquendo, both smashed on the rocks, shattered and burning. The other torpedo boats were attempting to rescue survivors, so Joe put on speed again, as he could see smoke coming from about ten miles away. Here he found another blazing wreck, the Vizcaya. He reduced speed to close her and see if her people needed help, and saw that indeed they did. Most of the survivors had made for the shore, and there, gathered to meet them, were a horde of ragged men and women. Even as Joe watched he saw knives flashing and the helpless seamen being cut down — at this distance from Santiago the guerrillas had felt it safe to come down to the shore and join in the fight … according to their own ethics.
After it was over, he thought. The murdering swine! ‘Put a shot over their heads,’ he told Cotter.
The shell, exploding on the cliff behind them, gave the insurgents pause for thought, and they stared at the American warship in surprise. Then one or two shook their fists while the others resumed murdering and robbing the exhausted sailors, who could be seen begging for mercy.
‘God damn,’ Joe said. ‘Mr Lucas, put a boat down, take ten men armed with rifles and bayonets, and disperse those people. Do not hesitate to shoot to kill, if you have to. Mr Cotter will cover you.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Lucas called eagerly, and a few minutes later was pulling for the shore, his revolver already in his hand.
‘Prepare to fire, Mr Cotter, but see if Mr Lucas can drive them off first,’ Joe said. ‘Take her closer, cox.’
At dead slow, the Dahlgren followed her boat towards the shore, halting when the water was obviously too shallow to be risked further. By this time Lucas and his men had landed. The midshipman had sensibly grounded the boat a few yards up from where the murders were taking place, and disembarked all his men. One of the guerrillas approached him, waving his arms, and Lucas also waved an arm, pointing at the hills and clearly telling the man to take his companions away. The man made a threatening gesture, and Lucas struck him smartly across the head with the barrel of his revolver. The guerrilla fell, and then got up again and ran back to his friends. They in turn formed a threatening body, and began to move towards the sailors, some fifty of them. With admirable coolness Lucas formed his men into a line, and took his place beside them. Then he levelled his revolver, and called upon the guerrillas, for the last time, to disperse or be fired into. The Cubans hesitated, muttering amongst themselves, until a bolder spirit waved a machete and dashed forward.
‘Fire,’ Lucas shouted, while Joe held his breath.
The rifles rippled, again and again. A good score of the guerrillas fell, and the rest turned and fled.
‘Oh, well done,’ Joe said. ‘Recall him, Mr Cotter, with the wounded and those of the Spanish sailors who have survived.’
Suddenly his ankle started paining him again, as he leaned on the bridge and stared at the burning Vizcaya, at the bodies floating in the sea, at the dead men stretched on the shore. The exhilaration of battle had completely disappeared. The Spanish fleet had been destroyed. Even the Cristobal Colon, which had disappeared to the west, was being chased by the entire fleet, and would certainly be caught. Thus in fact, however long it still lasted, the war was won. Without a navy, Spain could do nothing to help its people in Cuba, while the American strength would build from day to day.
And it was still hardly noon.
*
Admiral Sampson visited each of his ships in turn, personally to congratulate their officers and men. ‘I think we will have to get you something bigger than a torpedo boat, Joe,’ he said. ‘You’re finding it all too easy.’
‘I would like to commend Ensign Cotter and Midshipman Lucas for their accurate shooting and coolness under fire, sir,’ Joe said.
‘I’ll make a note.’ Sampson could not help but look pleased, even if some of the correspondents had called it Commodore Schley’s victory, because the Admiral had not come into the battle until it was already decided. But that was for the historians to debate. He had been given a job to do, and he had done it. ‘We have destroyed an entire fleet, at a total loss to ourselves of one man killed and one wounded,’ he said. ‘I reckon that has got to be the most decisive victory in naval history. I congratulate you, and your men, Lieutenant McGann. I congratulate the entire fleet. Now tell me, how is your ankle?’
‘Nothing I can’t cope with.’
Sampson nodded. ‘Because I’d like you to get back to D
aiquiri, if you would. The news that the guerrillas have been murdering Spanish sailors on the beach is most disturbing, especially when added to your information from this man Lisle. I am very concerned about what happens when Santiago surrenders, as it must do soon. We must not have a massacre there, Lieutenant. I want you to impress that risk on General Shafter, and then go and see your friends Garcia and Diaz, and impress it on them as well. I will hang anyone found murdering a civilian or a surrendered soldier or sailor. Anyone who is considered guilty of crimes against the Cubans should be properly accused and then brought to trial. Make that clear.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Joe said.
*
It was the next morning before he had coaled his ship and got back to Daiquiri, which gave his ankle twenty-four hours of rest and enabled much of the swelling to go down. When he got ashore he found General Shafter in a grim mood. ‘Sure you’ve gained a great victory,’ he said. ‘But that doesn’t help Santiago to fall. I have the city surrounded on all sides now, if you count the guerrillas, but Linares won’t give in, and there’s still this talk of a relief column coming down from Havana. Do you know how many men reported sick this morning, Lieutenant? Three hundred. At that rate I won’t have a man fit to carry a gun in a fortnight.’
‘Well, sir, don’t you suppose that if things are bad here, they have to be a lot worse inside the city?’ Joe argued. ‘If they’re surrounded, they must be having a food problem as well. If we just keep the pressure up … ’
‘I have to have men to keep up the pressure,’ Shafter grumbled. ‘I’ve sent despatches to Tampa informing General Miles of the situation, and informing him too that if I don’t get reinforcements I’m going to have to abandon the siege and pull back to Guantanamo, and there put myself in a state of defence until the rest of the army can arrive. Meanwhile, I need your guerrilla friends to maintain myself here. I’m sorry, Lieutenant, but I’m going to have to ask you to go easy on them. I don’t like using them any more than you do, but I don’t have any choice. If they get rubbed up the wrong way and quit, then we’re in deep trouble.’
‘And if Linares does surrender,’ Joe said. ‘The insurgents will be in the city before we can say knife.’
‘That’s a bridge we are going to have to cross when we come to it. I can’t do without them. I reckon the best thing you can do is talk some sense into their leaders.’
Joe nodded. ‘I certainly mean to try to do that, sir,’ he agreed. And immediately after lunching he rode into the hills. The guerrilla forces were easy enough to locate, for as Shafter had said, they were holding the railway line north of the city, and the hills to the west, preventing any help from getting in, or anyone from getting out. They recognised Joe’s naval uniform as he rode over the track, and soon he was surrounded by an eager crowd of men, telling him how they had watched the battle. Pedro Garcia was less pleased. ‘I have had reports from my men on the beaches that you fired into them when they were engaging Spanish forces,’ he said.
‘I fired into them when they were murdering Spanish sailors,’ Joe said evenly.
‘Bah,’ Garcia said. ‘The only good Spaniard is a dead Spaniard. That is what you said about the Indians, eh? And that is how you conquered the west.’
‘Times have changed,’ Joe told him. ‘I think what you want to consider is that there are a lot of our fellows who are saying right now that the only good guerrilla is a dead guerrilla. And I have to tell you, tell you both,’ he said, staring at Rafael, ‘that any Cuban caught murdering a Spaniard who has surrendered is going to be hanged on the spot. That is an order from General Shafter.’ He had no doubt that the unhappy general would be horrified to hear what he was saying — but he also had no doubt that these bandits would understand only a superior strength and ruthlessness to their own.
‘General Shafter,’ Rafael shouted. ‘Who the devil is this General Shafter? You are talking to the future President of Cuba.’
‘I have also to tell you that it is the general’s decision that when Santiago falls,’ Joe went on, continuing to speak very evenly, ‘you will hold your men in the hills, and not attempt to enter the city until told to do so by us.’
‘You will attempt to stop us entering our city?’
‘We will stop you entering your city,’ Joe said. ‘Until it is properly secured and the fives of its citizens, all its citizens, are safe. Any guerrilla attempting to come down from the hills until given permission to do so will be shot on sight.’
‘You … ’ For a moment Joe thought his brother-in-law was going to strike him, but then Rafael thought better of it. He turned and stalked away, as he had outside Daiquiri.
‘You had better attempt to talk some sense into him,’ Joe told Toni and Jack. ‘The general means what he says. And the only way he has any hope of attaining any office, much less the presidency of a free Cuba, is to co-operate, because we don’t intend to let this country revert to anarchy when the Spanish leave.’
‘He is very angry,’ Toni said. ‘I really don’t know what he will do.’
‘In that case, I think you had better get out of here, with me,’ Joe said. He looked at Lisle. ‘Both of you.’
‘I will see it out,’ Lisle said. ‘I may be of some help in stopping trouble.’
‘I will stay with Jack,’ Toni said.
Joe looked from one to the other in total frustration.
But Garcia grinned. ‘I will speak with Rafael,’ he said. ‘We do not want to fight with the Americans, senor lieutenant. You tell your general this. We will watch the north, and we will stay in the hills.’ His grin widened. ‘We can be patient, when it comes to settling old scores. You are not going to stay in Cuba forever, eh?’
Joe understood that was a problem the politicians would have to deal with. He had carried out his mission. He kissed Toni, shook hands with Lisle. ‘Just inform Rafael that if anything happens to either of you,’ he said. ‘I am personally going to break his neck.’
*
He rode down to Obrigar on his way back to Daiquiri, to see Christina. She was sitting on the slope beneath the house, gazing at the distant ships. ‘I saw the beginning of the fight,’ she said. ‘Was it very dangerous?’
‘Not if you happened to be an American,’ he told her, and put his arm round her shoulder to hug her. ‘We’ve won, you know. They’re dead, even if they haven’t yet got the sense to he down.’
‘You have not yet taken Santiago,’ she said.
‘We will, pretty soon, I reckon.’ He knew he was about to break his promise. ‘Christina, Toni told me, about the baby.’
She turned her head to look at him. ‘It is your child, Joe.’
‘I never doubted that. I am so happy. For us both.’
‘I am happy too,’ she said. ‘I never expected to have a child, after … everything that has happened. I am so happy that it is yours.’
He held her hands. ‘Christina … do you know that you have never told me that you love me?’ She inhaled, her nostrils flaring in that most delightful way they had. ‘I will love you, Joe McGann. I know that. When I can love.’ He realised that she had virtually said, when you bring me the head of Juan Lumbrera. So, none of them would ever be the same again.
*
He found General Shafter in an even more pessimistic mood than when he had left, for the general had received a communication from General Miles in Tampa commanding him under no circumstances to abandon the siege, but rather to carry it to a successful conclusion as rapidly as possible no matter what it cost. As for reinforcements, some were on the way, but he was required to make a maximum effort immediately. ‘Maximum effort,’ he growled. ‘With a third of my men on their backs, and with those Dons sitting behind cannon and machine guns and stone walls, staring down at us. Trouble is, nobody in the States thinks the Spanish can fight. We know better.’
‘With respect, sir,’ Joe said. ‘There is one way that General Linares can be forced to surrender.’
Shafter looked at him.
‘In
form the general that unless he surrenders the city within forty-eight hours, you intend to bombard it, sir. The fleet can support you.’
‘Bombard the city? God Almighty, Lieutenant, it’s full of civilians. How the hell can I start blasting them?’
‘I think it is the presence of those innocent women and children that Linares is counting on. Call his bluff, General, with a bluff of your own.’
‘Bluff, eh? And what if he says, do your worst?’
Joe shrugged. ‘Maybe then’s the time to make a decision.’
Shafter conferred with his officers, and then sent the ultimatum, informing General Linares that if the city was not surrendered immediately, he would begin to level it. The reply arrived that evening, General Linares declined to surrender, and suggested that if the Americans really intended to shell the city, they should give the civilian population time to evacuate, and arrange their rail transport to Camaguey and then the north of the island. He also pointed out that once the civilians left the Spanish lines, their safety would be the responsibility of the American army.
‘God damn it to hell,’ Shafter raged. ‘Why the devil did I listen to some two-bit Navy lieutenant. Talk about calling our bluff!’
‘Refuse it,’ snapped General Wheeler.
‘How the hell can I do that? Linares has already wired the exchange of notes to Havana. The whole world will know their contents by tomorrow morning. If we start shooting now we’ll all be branded as murderers.’
‘I’d say let the women and children come out,’ Roosevelt argued.
‘That’d be throwing away one of our trumps,’ General Kent argued. ‘We know they’re pretty short of rations in there. If we let Linares cut his feeding problems by half he’ll hold out that much longer.’
‘But that isn’t material, if we mean to take the city by assault rather than starvation,’ objected General Lawton. ‘With our sick list they can probably hold out longer than we can.’
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