A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the EnemySinclair, Upton
History
A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy
Sinclair, Upton
Spanish-American War, 1898 -- Fiction
208
A PRISONER OF MORRO
CHAPTER I.
SIGHTING A PRIZE.
About noon of a day in May during the recent year the converted tug
Uncas left Key West to join the blockading squadron off the northern
coast of Cuba.
Her commander was Lieutenant Raymond, and her junior officer Naval Cadet
Clifford Faraday. The regular junior officer was absent on sick leave,
and Cadet Faraday had been assigned to his place in recognition of
gallant conduct.
The ropes were cast off, and slowly the tug glided away from the dock
and out toward the open sea.
It was not very long before the harbor of Key West was left behind, and
then began the long trip to Havana. It was over a hundred miles, and
that meant seven or eight hours' journey for the Uncas.
But the Uncas was a good, stout vessel, unusually swift for a tug, and
she made the water fairly fly when once she got clear of the land.
Clif leaned against one of the rapid-firing guns in the bow and gazed
longingly ahead; he was anxious to reach his destination.
There were wild rumors concerning Spanish fleets, Cadiz squadrons and
Cape Verde squadrons and Mediterranean squadrons, which were continually
being sighted or heard of nearby; and for all Clif knew the decisive
battle of the war might be fought at any time.
And he felt that if it took place while he was absent he would never
cease to regret it as long as he lived. The Uncas could not do much in
such a battle; but she was anxious to do her share.
It was possible, also, that Morro might succeed in provoking an attack.
The guns of the Havana defenses kept blazing away at anything that came
near, and the American sailors were fairly boiling over with impatience
to get a whack at them.
And at any time Admiral Sampson might give the word.
So Clif was restless and impatient as he stood in the bow of the swift
tug and gazed southward.
It was a rather damp place of observation the cadet had chosen, for it
had been blowing quite a gale that day, and the Uncas was plowing her
way through a heavy sea.
The spray was flying over the decks; but who would have thought of going
below at such a time as that?
It was not Clif's turn on duty. Lieutenant Raymond seemed to think that
after his struggle on board the Spanish monitor the young cadet deserved
a rest. But he was too eager and wide awake just then to wish to take
it.
When the tug was well under way the lieutenant came out of the pilot
house and joined Clif again.
"Thinking of the weather, Mr. Faraday?" inquired Lieutenant Raymond.
"No, sir," replied the cadet, "I was thinking of Ignacio. I don't know
how he happened to get into my thoughts, but he did."
"Who is Ignacio?"
"He's a Spaniard I've had some trouble with," answered Clif. "You may
have heard about one of his exploits."
"Which one is that?"
"He made an attempt to assassinate Rear Admiral Sampson."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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