Robert Conroy - 1882 - Custer in Chains

“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 and uses 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 to they have?”

“Like I said, they have four cannon, 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 cannon 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 happening on the smaller Spanish boat, but it did look like she was pulling away and starting to wallow. White smoke came from where her engine was 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 and 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 on 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 wasn’t what she looked like.

“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. “Senor 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 was actually 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 show up, 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.