Robert Conroy - 1882 - Custer in Chains

“Will the Americans fight for us?” Gomez bluntly asked as he twisted his trade-mark handlebar mustache.

Marti shook his head. “The Americans will fight for themselves. If we are useful, then they will support us. Our friend Cardanzo spoke with their Secretary of State and it is his impression that President Custer’s government would like to drive Spain out of Cuba and annex it themselves. Their Secretary Blaine hinted at Cuba being the foundation of an overseas American empire.”

“Then why should we help them?”

“Custer and Blaine do not necessarily have the support of their congress in this endeavor. There are many in that body who do not want to acquire any territory outside America’s continental boundaries. There was concern when the U.S. bought Alaska from the Russians and that was only fifteen years ago. Nothing has changed. Custer and Blaine have gotten their war and it is likely that they will expel the Spaniards, but it is not certain that they will replace them permanently.”

Gomez nodded. “Then you’re saying we should fight on the side of the United States and gain their undying gratitude.”

“Yes, general. It will definitely strengthen our hand with their congress if we are perceived as the brave independence fighters. Actually, general, we don’t have much of a choice. I do not see us standing aside while two powers fight over Cuba. Nor do I see us fighting for Spain to keep the Americans out. Even if we exchange Spanish sovereignty for American, I do not think it would be for very long. Besides, the Americans would definitely be the more gentle overlords.”

Gomez snarled. “I do not want any foreign overlords in Cuba. But you’re right. We must be pragmatic. Yes, my forces will ally with the Americans if and when they arrive. May I assume that you will be active in Washington instead of here in Cuba?”

Marti smiled and ignored the implied slur on his lack of military experience. “I will do what I do best and that is to be an advocate of a free Cuba.”

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 do wade out to where their three ships’ boats had been anchored and guarded, and then 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 affect 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 just might have been an American or two around, and they might just have killed your men, but that does not necessarily mean that the Yankees plan on attacking us at Matanzas.”