A Young Volunteer in Cuba

Front matter

A YOUNG VOLUNTEER IN CUBA

OR

Fighting for the Single Star

Chapter 1

A YOUNG VOLUNTEER IN CUBA

CHAPTER I

BEN REACHES A DETERMINATION

"Then you have decided, Mr. Snodgrass, that you will not go into business in New York again?"

"That's it, Ben. I have found competition in the hardware trade too keen here, and now that this fire has wiped out the store and its entire contents, I shall wait until I can adjust matters with the insurance companies and then return to Buffalo and open again at the old stand."

"I'm sorry to hear this, sir. It will throw me out of a situation."

"That is true, Ben, and I am sorry too. If you cared to return to Buffalo with me, I would willingly give you an opening there, for you have proved yourself a first-rate clerk since you have been with me. But I suppose you don't care to go back, do you?"

Ben Russell shook his head decidedly, and a some- what bitter look crossed his frank and manly face. "No, sir, I don't want to get within a hundred miles of Mr. Job Dowling," he answered. "He's the meanest guardian any one ever had, and he treated Larry, Walter and me most shamefully, as you know. If I went back, he would compel me to live with him and that awful Irishwoman, Mrs. Rafferty, whose cooking wasn't fit for a dog to eat, and I don't know but that he might have me arrested for running away."

"Your guardian is certainly a peculiar man,—very miserly, if I may use the term. Didn't you tell me that there is a matter of fifteen thousand dollars in the bank coming to you three boys?"

"Yes; Uncle Job has it safely invested. But he thinks money is only to save, not to spend. He would live on a dry crust rather than break a dollar bill to buy a loaf of bread."

"Then his Irish housekeeper can't be altogether to blame for the cooking," smiled Richard Snodgrass. "But it is a shame to grind you and your two brothers down in this fashion, when your mother left you so well off. I don't know but that you might apply to the court for relief."

"I've been thinking of that; but Larry, Walter, and I are separated now, and it would cause a lot of trouble. I would just as lief make my own way until we are all of age."

"Have you written to your guardian lately?"

"I wrote two weeks ago, telling him I was doing fairly well, and adding that if he wished to write to me he could address the letter to the general post-office; for I don't want him to find out just where I am. I haven't as yet received any reply."

"Probably he won't answer. By the way, how are your two brothers getting on?"

"Walter is in Boston, helping to tend a large news stand near one of the principal hotels. Larry drifted to San Francisco and from there to Honolulu in the Hawaiian Islands, and the last letter I received from him stated that he was going on a cruise to Hong Kong, China."

"Larry is a rover and no mistake. Evidently he takes to the water."

"Oh, he does. He was always out on the lake at home, along with Walter. I dare say he won't come back until he has been completely around the world."

"It's a wonder to me you boys did not stick together when you decided to leave home."

"We hadn't any time to make plans, everything was done in such a rush. Walter and I did stick together until we got to Middletown, but then Walter boarded a train and I couldn't make it, and I remained behind, to work four days in an auction store. When I reached New York I was pretty well used up, and if it hadn't been for you—"

"Yes, yes, Ben, I know the rest. But you have deserved all the help I have given you. If you are bound to remain in New York, I will give you the best of recommendations, and try to find some opening, too, before I leave. You— What is it, Pennington?"

Richard Snodgrass broke off short, as a young man of twenty-four came up and touched him on the shoulder. The young man had dark hair, dark eyes, and a round, ruddy face, and was evidently of Southern blood.

"I was going to inquire about the prospects for work," said Gilbert Pennington, anxiously. "You know I can't afford to remain idle long, Mr. Snodgrass. A needy bookkeeper like myself must keep right on laboring, fire or no fire."

"Ben here was asking the same question, Pen- nington, and I can only answer you as I answered him. I am going to close up entirely in New York and go back to my old home in Buffalo."

"Then the business won't be taken up, even by other parties?"

"No; the store to be built has already been leased to a dry goods firm from across the way."

"Then I am out of it. It's rather rough, in these times."

"Have you looked elsewhere, as I suggested?"

"Yes, I have made a dozen inquiries. But trade is dull, and this trouble with Spain has made it worse, and no one wants any extra help."

"Well, I'm sorry for both of you," was all Richard Snodgrass could say; and then he walked away, to attend to a dozen matters relative to the great conflagration which had laid his store and several others in the block in ruins.

"Well, Gilbert, we're out of it," remarked Ben Russell, when he and the bookkeeper were left alone. "I must admit I don't know what to do next."

The young Southerner took off his hat, ran his fingers through his curly hair, and shook his head. "Yes, were out of it, and there is no telling when we'll be in it again," he returned with a sorry little laugh. "When I struck Mr. Snodgrass' place four months ago, I fancied myself in clover, and here I am, in a strange city, with no friend but yourself, and with only seventeen dollars in my pocket."

"You are exactly a dollar ahead of me," smiled Ben. "Fortunately, my board is paid for a whole week in advance."

"And mine is just about due—so we are nearly equal." Gilbert Pennington smiled grimly. "I'm afraid we're going to have a tough time of it," he added in a lower voice. "I didn't want to speak to Snodgrass about it, but I've put two advertisements for a situation in the papers without a single reply, and I answered sixteen advertisements, with no better results."

"And I answered eight advertisements and called at six business places that wanted help, without a smell of an opening. I'm afraid I'll have to start up some business of my own," concluded Ben.

"A business of your own? What do you mean?"

"Why, buy goods and sell them, on the streets or from house to house. I'd rather do that than starve. This war scare has caused a good demand for pictures of the battleship Maine that was blown up in Havana harbor. I've found out where the pictures can be bought down town for four dollars a hundred, and they sell for ten cents each. If a fellow could sell a hundred a day, he would clear six dollars."

Gilbert Pennington drew himself up. "I couldn't lower myself to such work," he said coldly. "I'll leave that to the Bowery rag-tags."

"It wouldn't be very pleasant, but it's honest enough, Gilbert. I believe in pitching in, if not at one thing then at another. It's better than holding your hands and waiting."

"Oh, you've got lots of Yankee push, I can see that plainly enough," was the laughing answer. "We Southerners are more reserved, you know. Where are you bound for now?"

"I'm going down to the general post-office, to see if there is any letter from that guardian of mine. After that I don't know what I'll do. Will you come along?"

"I don't know but that it would be just as well. When we are down there we can take a look at the newspaper bulletin boards along Park Row. It amused me to watch the crowd devouring every scrap of so-called war news."

"That shows how interested all Americans are in this affair between Cuba, Spain and ourselves. It seems to me matters look mighty serious since that Court of Inquiry decided that the Maine was blown up from the outside."

"Do you really imagine there will be war?" went on Gilbert Pennington, as the pair started off on a brisk walk down Broadway. "Why, the United States wouldn't dare to go to war, for fear the Continental powers would interfere."

"We would dare do anything, if we felt we were in the right. But I think Spain will see where she has done wrong and will try to set matters straight. One thing is certain: Cuba ought to be free."

"Oh, I agree with you there. Spanish cruelty in that ill-fated island has been beyond all endurance."

"I suppose Spain has President McKinley's ultimatum by this time. There ought to be some news about how it was received. I rather guess Minister Woodford will have his hands full getting a satisfactory answer to it."

"If there is war, it will upset things in the city completely, Ben."

"More than likely—although some things will boom, as for instance, the making of firearms, of powder, of soldiers' clothing, and the supplying of provisions, wagons and horses. A war would be a tremendous undertaking. I don't wonder that those at the head of the government are inclined to move slowly, in spite of the slurs cast at them by some of the hot-headed newspapers. It's a great responsibility."

"Yes, and think of the lives that might be lost," returned Gilbert, as the two friends reached the upper end of City Hall Park and turned towards what is familiarly called Newspaper Row. "By Jove! what a crowd of people around the bulletin boards! I wonder if any extra news has been received."

"We'll go over—I can go into the post-office later," cried Ben, even more anxious than his friend. "Hear, some of them are shouting. There goes a new bulletin up. Gracious me, what's that? 'Our Fleet Sails for Havana!!! The Warships at Key West Have Left for Cuba!! Troops Will Act with the Navy as soon as the Army can be Concentrated! A Call for Volunteers Likely!' If that doesn't mean war, then I don't know anything. Come on, Gilbert, let us get where we can read the details." And away rushed Ben into the midst of the surging and shouting mass of people with his friend at his heels. Soon both were in a position to see all there was displayed, the several bulletins running somewhat after this fashion:—

Diplomatic negotiations between this country and Spain are at an end. The Spanish minister at Washington has taken his passports. Our own minister at Madrid will return home at once. Spain will not even answer our ultimatum.

Nearly all of the warships lying at Key West have secretly sailed for Havana or other points in Cuba. The whereabouts of the Flying Squadron under Commodore Schley is at present unknown, but it is thought the squadron is lying in wait for any Spanish fleet which may be on its way to our shores.

The regular army will probably concentrate at some point in Florida. A call on the various states for volunteers may come at any moment. Governors of many states are holding themselves in readiness to supply any demands made upon them for soldiers. The navy is recruiting with all possible speed. A clash of arms is inevitable.

A great deal more followed, in a similar strain, telling of what was thought of the situation in Madrid and what Congress proposed to do. Ben read every word with intense interest, the crowd mean- while pushing him hither and thither and shouting itself hoarse.

"Hurrah for Uncle Sam! Now we'll show the Dons what we can do!" came from the lusty throat of a workman who carried his dinner pail upon his arm. "If they want me for a soldier, they can have me."

"And they can have me, too," put in a dapper clerk who stood beside the workman. "We're all brothers in this thing, eh?" he added; and the crowd gave a shout of approval.

"I fought in the Civil War," broke in a man standing by, dressed in a Grand Army suit, "and I can fight again. Hurrah for Old Glory!" and the cheers were given with a will, Ben joining in as loudly as any one. Then of a sudden the youth turned to his friend.

"Gilbert, I know what I'm going to do if the President calls for volunteers," he said. "I'm going to enlist."

Chapter 2

CHAPTER II

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

As has been intimated, Ben Russell was an orphan, who, at the untimely death of his beloved widowed mother, had been left, in company with his two younger brothers, Walter and Larry, to the care of a step-uncle, Job Dowling. Ben was nearly nineteen years of age, tall, well-built, and with a make-up that was thoroughly manly.

In a previous work in this series, entitled "Under Dewey at Manila," I related how the three boys had found life under their guardian's roof unbearable, and how, after numerous quarrels, each had fled to seek fortune as he might find it,—Ben drifting to New York; Walter, the next oldest, going to Boston; and Larry, a lad of sixteen, travelling first to San Francisco, then shipping to Honolulu, and from there to Hong Kong. On the latter trip Larry was cast overboard, to be picked up later on by the Asiatic Squadron of the United States Navy, under Commodore Dewey, and to become a participant in one of the greatest naval battles of modern history.

When Ben reached New York, as he had written to Larry in a letter received at Honolulu by that young sailor, he had tramped around for three days looking for employment, but without success. He was at his wit's end as to what to do, when, on walking along Broadway, he chanced to fall in with Mr. Snodgrass, who had several years before conducted a hardware business in Buffalo, the youth's native place. Ben knew the merchant fairly well; a lengthy conversation ensued, and the youth had been engaged as a clerk in Mr. Snodgrass' establishment on Canal Street, at a salary of six dollars per week.

At the hardware store Ben became intimate with Gilbert Pennington, the bookkeeper. Gilbert was from Richmond, Virginia, and was without a relative and scarcely a friend. The young man had secured a room for Ben at his own boarding-house up in Harlem, and soon the pair were as intimate as brothers.

For a short while matters had run along very well; and during this time Ben sent several letters to Walter and Larry. Then, urged by Gilbert, he wrote to his guardian, stating that he was doing fairly well, and that Mr. Dowling need not worry about him. "Not that I think he will worry," he said, "but he ought to know that I am still in the land of the living." Although he did not say so, he awaited his step-uncle's reply with much interest. Would the man storm and threaten, would he try coaxing, or would he prove indifferent to the stand the boys had assumed?

Wide-awake, and with a strong desire to visit the various points of interest in and about New York, Ben was already planning how best to spend his summer half-holidays, when a fierce fire, starting in a chemical warehouse adjoining Mr. Snodgrass' store, laid half the square in ruins, and threw every one connected with the business out of employment. The fire had raged at night, and it was not until the following morning, when they came down on the elevated train to go to work, that Ben and his friend learned of the condition of affairs.

For several days all had been in confusion, and during that time Ben had done what little he could towards straightening out several minor matters connected with the concern. In the meanwhile it was whispered about that Mr. Snodgrass would not resume, and the youth and Pennington began looking around elsewhere for work. But as the young Southerner had said, the cloud of war which was showing itself on the horizon of our country, depressed still further an already dull state of trade, and no opening was to be found.

Ben Russell was patriotic to the core, and from the very start had taken a deep interest in the struggles of the people of Cuba to throw off the yoke of Spanish tyranny and oppression. Like many others he believed that the United States should send food to the thousands who were starving in the war-torn island, regardless of the fact that Spain might consider this an act to aid the rebels, or insurgents. "To let the helpless women, children and old men starve just because the others are waging a war for liberty is barbarous," he said to Gilbert. "I don't believe President McKinley, Congress, or anybody else will stand it. Spain has been trying for three years now to quell the rebellion, and the best thing she can do is to let up on Cuba and allow the people there to govern themselves."

"It's a great state of affairs down there," was the answer of the young man, who, it may as well be stated here, had spent a year of his life in Havana and in Santiago de Cuba previous to trying his fortunes in New York. "Why, a Chinaman would never stand being taxed as the Cubans are taxed. And the worst of it is that every officer of the government is somebody sent to Cuba from Spain. Even the judges are Spanish, and when a dispute arises between a Cuban and a Spaniard, and the case is taken into court, the Spaniard, of course, gets the better of it."

In one of his letters to his brother Larry, Ben had mentioned that if the trouble with Spain should lead to war he would probably drop his position and turn soldier. This line had been somewhat thoughtlessly written, yet as the youth remembered it afterward he did not feel inclined to reverse his opinion. An earnest reader, he had perused many historical works pertaining to the War of the Revolution, to 1812, to the conflict with Mexico, and to the great rebellion, as well as biographies relating the daring deeds of Washington, La Fayette, Scott, Grant, Lee, and a score of other heroes, and more than once he had pictured himself as a boy in blue, struggling for fame upon the battlefield. This picture was always highly colored; he was yet to learn that war is a grim thing, far from rosy.

"You're going to enlist?" queried Gilbert Pennington, as Ben repeated his declaration.

"Yes, I'm going to enlist—if Uncle Sam requires my services."

"Good for you, my boy!" put in the Grand Army man standing near. "I was just about your age when I enlisted under General McClellan and fought on the Peninsula with him, and under Grant in Virginia, too. Do you see that scar?"—throwing back the sleeve of his coat and pointing to his wrist. "I got that at Malvern Hill, when the rebels made their last attack. It was a hot time, but we beat them back, and got away in safety. I'll go to Cuba too, if I'm not too old for the service, and I reckon a lot of those Confederates we fought against will go too."

"Sure they will!" cried another man standing by. "Whats the matter with General Fitzhugh Lee?" And the crowd hurrahed again, for Fitzhugh Lee had done heroic work as the United States Consul at Havana, and this man was closely related to Robert E. Lee, the former Confederate army leader. It was plain to see that sectionalism was a thing of the past and that in the future north and south, east and west, would stand shoulder to shoulder against the common enemy of the glorious Union.

"I declare, you'll make me feel like enlisting," remarked Gilbert, as he smiled at the enthusiasm over the mentioning of the name of Lee—a name dear to every Southern heart.

"And why shouldn't you enlist, sir?" demanded the Grand Army man, who was gradually gathering a crowd more closely around him by his remarks. "Won't the cause be worthy enough?" And then the crowd shifted, and Ben and Gilbert found themselves shoved upon the outskirts, close to the City Hall.

"I think they could get five thousand volunteers here in five minutes if they wanted them," observed Ben. "If the Spaniards could see this scene, perhaps they would be more careful of what they are doing."

"I dare say you will find just as much enthusiasm in Madrid, Ben. Spaniards are as loyal to their mother country as we are to the States."

"But they ought to know they cannot fight successfully against such a country as this."

"The common people are kept in ignorance of the true condition of affairs. There is not a free press as there is here. Editors are allowed to print only that which has passed the press censor. Perhaps those in authority would like to grant the United States their demands, but they do not dare, for fear the common people will revolt and overthrow them. The peasantry of Spain know only that which has been told to them,—only a small proportion of them can read and write,—and they believe their country to be still one of the most powerful of nations. If their queen should give in to us, they would cry out that they had been betrayed."

"I wonder where our warships are going and what they will do?"

"For the present I believe they will merely blockade Havana and other ports. It would do no good to bombard Havana without an army of invasion to complete a conquest, for General Blanco is stationed in the city with a large portion of the Spanish army. I take it a blockade will be maintained until the army can be placed on a war footing, as soldiers put it."

"I declare, Gilbert, you ought to be a soldier; you talk as if you knew something of the business."

The young Southerner blushed. "I did think very seriously once of going into the army, Ben, and I read up accordingly. But I went into trade instead, and knocked around Richmond and Atlanta, and then went over to Jamaica, Santiago de Cuba, Havana, and finally came to New York."

"You've seen a good bit of the world," was Ben's comment, as he led the way through the park to the post-office building. "You must know a good deal about Havana."

"Not very much, for I remained there only a few weeks. The largest portion of my stay in Cuba was in and around Santiago, where I kept books for an iron company. But Havana, so far as stores and dwellings go, is not much different from Santiago, and the streets are just as narrow and dirty."

"I've been told they have summer there all the year around."

"That is true, although there is a rainy season worse than our winter. On account of the heat, none of the windows have glass in them, but are barred or grated instead to keep out intruders, and all are built with deep casements, so that only a very driving rain can get inside."

"That must look odd."

"One soon gets used to it, just as one gets used to the canvas-bottomed beds and the houses of only two stories, with a garden in the centre of the stone pile, a stable closely connected, and everybody, from the master down to the stable boy and the chicken peddler, using the front door," concluded Gilbert, as the two entered the post-office.

Ben had been down to the general delivery window before, and consequently knew exactly where to go. As it was in the dullest part of the afternoon, the post-office was almost deserted, and he had no difficulty in getting waited on.

"No letter for Benjamin A. Russell," said the clerk, after looking over a box marked RUS. "Next!" and Ben turned away disappointed.

"So I have found you at last, young man!" exclaimed a harsh voice close at hand, and a set of long, bony fingers closed over the youth's left arm. Somewhat startled, he looked over his shoulder, to find himself confronted by his guardian and step-uncle, Job Dowling.

Chapter 3

CHAPTER III

JOB DOWLING SPEAKS HIS MIND

"Uncle Job!"

"Exactly, Ben. I reckon ye didn't figure on seein' me jest yet, did ye?"

"I—I did not," stammered the youth. "Let go of my arm," he continued, as Job Dowling's bony fingers sank deeper into the flesh.

"I aint a-goin' to let go, Ben, and have you a-runnin' away. You ran away once—ye shan't do it ag'in, I'll warrant ye that!"

Mr. Job Dowling was a man of sixty, tall, and with a large set of bones, which were covered with little more than shrivelled-up, yellowish-brown skin. He wore a tangled, reddish beard, and his hair, of the same color, hung down over a low, wrinkled forehead, beneath which gleamed a pair of what Walter Russell had aptly termed "toad's eyes." He wore a rusty suit of black, the same that had been his best for twenty odd years, and in one hand he carried a much dilapidated oilcloth travelling-bag.

"I suppose you would like to know how I spotted ye," went on the guardian, cooling down a bit, now the first excitement of his capture was over. "It was your letter done it—you said to write to the general delivery, so I knowed you would come here to git it."

"Did you come all the way to New York just to find me?" asked Ben, astonished to think his step-uncle would pay out such a large amount for car fare.

"O' course I didn't!" snapped Job Dowling. "I ain't a-payin' no sech railroad fare jest to catch a boy who is wild-minded enough to run away from a good home. I had other business in New York, otherwise I shouldn't 'a' come. Now supposin' you give an account o' yourself," and Job Dowling began to drag Ben into an out-of-the-way corner, while Gilbert followed, viewing the scene in curiosity and concern, for Ben had told him a good deal about his troubles with the miserly man.

"I haven't much to mention, Uncle Job," replied the youth, as steadily as he could, although being taken so completely by surprise had made him ner- vous. "I couldn't stand it any longer at your place, and so I ran away, and came to New York, as I wrote in the letter."

"And what are you a-doin' now? Loafin' about the town and goin' to destruction jest as fast as ye can, I'll warrant."

"I am not going to destruction. Up to a few days ago I had a steady situation in a hardware store owned by Mr. Snodgrass—the man who used to have a store in Buffalo. You must remember him."

At this announcement Job Dowling's face took on a sour look. "So it was Snodgrass put ıt in your head to set yourself up against me, was it?" he grumbled. "I allers set him down as bein' an unfair man."

"Mr. Snodgrass is as fair and square a man as there ever was!" burst from the youth's lips. "He's been the best friend I could have; he's been better to me than you ever dared—"

"Tut, tut, boy, don't go for to talk back to me—I won't have it. I know what is best for ye—know it better nor Snodgrass or yourself. The city ain't no place for ye—with its wicked ways." Job Dowling paused. "You said ye worked for him up to a few days ago. Why did ye leave him, and what have ye been a doin' since?"

"His place of business was burned out, and he has decided not to resume."

"And ye ain't workin' now?"

"No, I'm looking around for another place."

"Humph! How much did Snodgrass pay ye?"

"Six dollars a week."

"Six dollars! The man mustn't know what to do with his money. How much have ye saved of it?"

"I have sixteen dollars on hand."

"Is that all? You ought to have more—if ye worked for him any considerable time."

"I had to pay four dollars a week for board."

"What! four dollars a week! Board fer a lad like you ain't wuth more'n two dollars and a half, or three dollars at the most. You've been swindled—but it aint to be wondered at. You can be thankful some sharper didn't git the sixteen dollars away from ye. Better turn it over to me for safe keepin'." And Job Dowling dropped his travellingbag and held out his hand.

Ben's lips closed tightly and he shook his head. "I'll keep my money, Uncle Job. I think it will be as safe in my pocket as in yours."

"No, it won't be, Ben. Besides, I'm your guardian; remember that; and I have the say over all you have until you're twenty-one. Hand the money over," and Job Dowling now caught his nephew by both arms.

"I'm going to keep the money, and I'm going to take care of myself!" burst out Ben, half desperately. "When Walter and Larry and I lived with you, you treated us worse than dogs, and you forced us to run away. Now I am going to take care of myself until I am twenty-one, and then I'm going to call you to account. If you—"