"I am, and who are you?"

"Walter Russell, cruiser _Brooklyn_. Oh, but am I not glad to get back among the boys again!"

"From the _Brooklyn_? What are you doing ash.o.r.e here?" questioned the marine, a bronzed but evidently a good-natured man of middle age.

"It's a long story. I've been a prisoner twice, and I was afraid I was about done for when the guards up and ran away from the prison and let me and a crowd of Cubans escape. How can I get back to my ship?"

"You're asking me too much now. Go down yonder and report to our commander. I reckon there ain't no call to rouse up the corporal of the guard, with everybody utterly worn out. You're true blue--I can see that by the cut of your jib."

Inside of five minutes more Walter found himself surrounded by half a dozen officers, including a major of marines, who questioned him closely regarding his adventures and concerning the various detachments of Spanish soldiers that he had encountered.

"You've been through a good deal, lad," said the major, slapping Walter on the shoulder. "I dare say you wouldn't like to go through it again."

"No, indeed! The Spaniards are--are brutes!" exclaimed the youth. "I only hope we send them from Cuba a-flying. I think they and the Cubans must have been fighting for the past three years like a lot of cats and dogs. It's high time Uncle Sam took a hand." This reply brought forth a hearty laugh from those gathered around. Walter, young as he was, had hit the nail right on the head, as later events proved.

The major of marines did not see how the lad could be transferred to the _Brooklyn_, which was a good many miles off, in the direction of Santiago. "You'll have to remain here until some boat bound for Commodore Schley's flagship chances along," he said. "At present only the _Marblehead_, _Suwanee_, and _Porter_ are here, but others are coming and going constantly."

"And what of the army of invasion?" asked Walter, with keen interest.

"I believe it has already left Key West. I know it started from Tampa several days ago."

"Was the Seventy-first New York with the troops?"

"They were. Why do you ask?"

"My brother is a member of that regiment. Hurrah! He'll be down here soon," concluded Walter.

He was now dismissed, and lost no time in hunting up one of the marines'

cooks, who speedily filled him up with meat, bread and b.u.t.ter, and coffee. "We're not living like kings, you see," said the cook, but grinning to see how the food disappeared.

"You're living like kings in comparison to the way the Cubans and the Spaniards are living. If the army comes up and besieges Santiago, I'll wager the city will go hungry in no time," returned the boy.

During the balance of the day the marines were kept busy resisting several additional attacks from the Spaniards. The onslaughts were heavy and determined, but each time the enemy was beaten back, and at nightfall Old Glory still waved from the flagstaff where it had originally been run up. A foothold had been gained by our side which was not to be taken from us.

Walter had selected a cosy corner to rest in and was sleeping soundly when a sudden alarm rang out. "The Dons! They are coming over a thousand strong! To arms, everybody!" And then came a grand rush.

The report was true; the Spanish column had organized a midnight attack, feeling they knew the ground much better in the dark than would their opponents. On they came, yelling like demons, while the marines stood their ground firmly and fearlessly.

"I must do my share of fighting," thought the boy, and bounced up with the rest. He had already been supplied with a carbine and ammunition, and now he lost no time in attaching himself to the nearest company at hand. "Don't send me back, captain; I can shoot as well as the rest, I think."

"All right, lad, come on," was the answer. "Company, attention! By columns of fours--forward, march!" And away they went, up a small hill.

Then came the order to halt, and the company broke up into a broad skirmish line. "Take aim! Fire!" And then and there Walter did his first actual fighting for Uncle Sam and our own glorious stars and stripes.

The determined front shown by our marines non-plussed the Spaniards for a few minutes, and they came to a halt. But then they advanced again, and the fire from each side became hot and irregular.

The battle had thus waged for the best part of an hour, and the Americans felt that they must be beaten back by sheer force of numbers, when reenforcements came up, and in addition one of the warships steamed close to sh.o.r.e, and threw the rays of her powerful searchlight upon the enemy. As soon as the Spaniards were located the warship trained its rapid-firing guns inland, and then the enemy beat a hasty retreat.

"Hurrah! The fight is ours!" shouted Walter, enthusiastically. "See them run!"

"It was lucky for us the warship came up," put in a marine beside him.

"Those dagos ain't going to give ground without a big fight, that's certain."

It was nearly daylight when the company returned to the camp and was dismissed. Walter was more worn out than ever, but too excited to sleep.

"At present I'd just as lief be a marine," he observed to his side partner in the contest.

"Oh, don't worry, your ships will have their hands full when Cervera takes it into his head to come out and fight," was the answer. "You'll have no such walkover as Dewey had at Manila--I'll promise you that."

At noon a lieutenant of marines came up to where Walter stood, watching a drill which was in progress. "Are you Walter Russell, of the _Brooklyn_?" he asked.

"I am, sir," and Walter saluted.

"Then you had better hurry down to the sh.o.r.e. There is a steam launch there, and I heard the officer in command say he was bound for the _Iowa_ and the _Brooklyn_. If you want to get on your ship, I presume he will take you along."

Walter waited to hear no more, but ran for the landing-place with all possible speed. The boat had come in with despatches and was to leave again inside of ten minutes. The officer in charge was close at hand, and the youth's situation was speedily explained.

"All right, I'll take you," was the brief answer. "Go aboard and forward." And the officer turned away. Walter did as directed; and a few minutes later the steam launch left the landing-place and steamed down Guantanamo Bay toward the ocean, or to be more particular perhaps, the Caribbean Sea.

CHAPTER XXIV

BACK TO THE "BROOKLYN" AGAIN

The steam launch was the neatest craft of the kind Walter had ever seen, and he had come in contact with a great number while sailing on Lake Erie. It was fifty-five feet long, about twelve feet wide, and as beautiful a boat as a designer could plan. It was manned by eight stalwart men, all well drilled to their duties, and carried in addition six marines, each of whom was a sharpshooter, and also a rapid-firing gun of small caliber.

The launch rode the waves like a thing of life and easily made ten miles an hour. Soon Guantanamo was left behind, and they began to creep up the coast in the direction of Baiquiri. In the bow was a lookout, who had a marine gla.s.s which was constantly turned sh.o.r.eward.

"A flag!" said the lookout, about noontime, and immediately the launch came to a stop.

"Where is it, Parkhurst?" asked the officer in charge of the craft.

"Yonder, just below that stretch of rocks, sir," answered the lookout, and handed over his gla.s.ses. The commander of the launch took a long look, then ordered the craft turned to starboard, and they steamed into a little harbor not a great distance from a tiny Cuban settlement. A small boat was thrown out, the commander and two launch hands leaped in, and it at once advanced. Then those on the larger craft saw a dozen men rush from the shelter of some brush, one holding a white and the other a Cuban flag.

The small boat was beached in true nautical style, and the Cubans and Americans entered into a conversation lasting the best part of half an hour. Letters were exchanged, and then the party broke up as rapidly as it had gathered. Although Walter did not know it, the letter delivered by the American commander was for the rebel leader, General Calixto Garcia, while that received in return was for Admiral Sampson and General Shafter. All related to the landing of the army of invasion, now so close at hand.

The conference over, the launch darted on her way, and dinner was served, to the officers and sharpshooters first, and then to the crew and Walter. "Oh, we're doing some fine work along this coast," said one of the crew to the youth, while eating. "Those Dons will be greatly astonished some day--when our boys in blue fall on 'em."

It was night before the _Brooklyn_ came into view, looking exactly as she had when Walter had so unceremoniously left her. How the youth's heart beat at the sight of his ship! How would those on board receive him, and what would they say when his story was told?

"Russell!" exclaimed the officer of the deck, when he came up over the side. "Why, we all thought you had fallen overboard and been drowned."

"I came pretty near being drowned," was the reply. "You can't imagine, sir, how glad I am to get back!"

"But where have you been?"

"I've been on the _Merrimac_, among the Cubans and the Spaniards, and in a Spanish prison, besides being down to Guantanamo Bay with the marines from the _Panther_, sir."