Fighting in Cuban Waters; Or, Under Schley on the BrooklynStratemeyer, Edward
General
Fighting in Cuban Waters; Or, Under Schley on the Brooklyn
Stratemeyer, Edward
Spanish-American War, 1898 -- Campaigns -- Cuba -- Juvenile Fiction
The victory had been gained, but the work of the fleet was not yet over.
The army still occupied the outskirts of Santiago, and General Shafter
had sent word to General Toral that unless he surrendered, the city
would be shelled Monday morning. At a conference with Admiral Sampson,
later on, it was decided that the fleet should take part in the
bombardment even if it was necessary to force an entrance into the
harbor. Without delay our warships were gotten into condition for this
task.
But the bombardment did not come--for the reason that both on land and
sea the enemy had had enough of fighting. Several days passed, and the
conditions of a surrender were discussed. In the meantime Lieutenant
Hobson and his men were released and turned over to us in exchange for a
number of Spanish prisoners. Several of the men remembered seeing
Walter, and were glad to learn that the youth had escaped.
The battle on sea had taken place on July the third, and my readers can
imagine what a glorious Fourth of July followed, not only among the
soldiers and sailors, but among our people at large. All over the land
cannons boomed, pistols cracked, rockets flared, bells pealed forth, and
bands played for the marching of thousands. It was a real old-fashioned
"Yankee Doodle time," as one down-east paper put it, and North, South,
East, and West united in celebrating as never before. Less than two
weeks later Santiago surrendered, a peace protocol followed; and the war
with Spain came to an end.
CHAPTER XXXI
TOGETHER ONCE MORE--CONCLUSION
"And now that business is finished, an' I'm most awfully glad on it;
yes, I am!"
It was Job Dowling who spoke. The uncle and guardian of the three
Russell boys was sitting by the side window of his home in Buffalo. In
his lap lay a small, flat package, which had been wrapped in heavy brown
paper and well sealed. In his hand was an open letter which he had just
finished reading.
"It was a dreadful price to pay thet detective," he resumed. "But I
couldn't git them hairlooms back no other way, and I'm afraid the boys
would raise the roof ef I didn't git 'em back. It's a comfort to know
thet thief was caught and is going to be tried for even a wuss crime
than stealin' them rings an' the watch an' the Australian diamond. I
hope they give him about twenty years in prison." He paused to put the
package away in his dilapidated secretary. "So Ben is coming home this
week? I wonder what he'll have to say when he faces me? Somehow, I don't
know wot I'm going to say myself." And he dropped into his chair again.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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