Under the Star-Spangled Banner: A Tale of the Spanish-American War

  Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Mary Meehan and the OnlineDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net

  UNDER THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER

  _A Tale of the Spanish-American War_

  BY CAPTAIN F. S. BRERETON, R.A.M.C.

  AUTHOR OF "WITH RIFLE AND BAYONET," "THE DRAGON OF PEKIN," "A GALLANT GRENADIER," ETC., ETC.

  NEW YORK STITT PUBLISHING COMPANY 1905

  "THE BOWS OF THE MAINE WERE CRUSHED INTO SHAPELESSWRECKAGE."]

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I. THE MARCHANT FOUNDRY 1

  II. "FACE TROUBLES LIKE A MAN" 9

  III. AN EVENTFUL VOYAGE 18

  IV. A CALL FOR VOLUNTEERS 27

  V. NO REST FOR THE WEARY 38

  VI. A FRIEND IN NEED 47

  VII. ALL BUT KILLED 56

  VIII. THE LOSS OF THE "MAINE" 68

  IX. "THE EVER-FAITHFUL ISLAND" 82

  X. A SUDDEN ATTACK 94

  XI. A BOLD COURSE 111

  XII. A RISKY UNDERTAKING 128

  XIII. IN DANGER AND DISTRESS 146

  XIV. A DASH FOR LIBERTY 163

  XV. WITH THE AMERICAN FLEET 178

  XVI. THE BEGINNING OF HOSTILITIES 195

  XVII. A BAPTISM OF FIRE 209

  XVIII. A DESPERATE UNDERTAKING 226

  XIX. FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE 245

  XX. THE INVASION OF CUBA 260

  XXI. NEARING THE END 278

  XXII. THE FLOWER OF THE HACIENDA 295

  UNDER THE STAR-SPANGLED BANNER

  CHAPTER I

  THE MARCHANT FOUNDRY

  The city of Birmingham was wrapped in a mantle of fog so dense that theinhabitants found it difficult to move about. The thick, soot-ladenatmosphere covered everything, and only a few faintly glimmering lightsshowed that they really existed.

  The clock in the church tower had just struck two, and yet the streetlamps were ablaze.

  The pedestrians moved with the utmost care. Trudging along the soppypavements, their footsteps sounded hollow and unreal, and were heardlong before they themselves put in an appearance.

  One of the inhabitants, however, contrived to find his way withcomparative ease, for he was such an old resident that his feet wouldnot go astray, however absent-minded their owner happened to be. Therewas a certain air of authority about him; yet there was that about thestern, calm features that denoted a warm heart and a kindly disposition.But still, as if the fog was not in existence, he hurried on, turningfrom the main street to the lower part of the town.

  Ordinarily he could never accomplish this walk without meeting many anacquaintance, for Mr. Thomas Marchant was a well-known man. He was oneof the magnates of this busy town, a wealthy employer of labor, and itwas to the work his foundries gave that many of the inhabitants owedtheir prosperity.

  Mr. Marchant was troubled; for only a year ago he was one of thewealthiest men in the city. His foundries were working night and day,and even then could hardly keep pace with the orders.

  "I've never known such a rush," he said to his manager when discussingthe matter. "It gives me great satisfaction, for our men will benefit bythe increased orders as well as ourselves."

  That was a short year ago, and now there was a different tale to tell.True, the iron foundry was still in full swing, but cotton mills, whichMr. Marchant owned in addition, were losing money every day, and inthose few months he had been ruined; and he knew that the world wouldknow him and speak of him as a bankrupt, while his possessions would beseized upon by the creditors.

  The Marchant iron-works were in full swing. As Mr. Marchant entered, amass of sputtering iron was dragged by a powerful man, dressed in roughtrousers and thin vest, and protected by an apron of leather. Anotherdark and perspiring figure came to his aid, and the weight was droppedonto a small trolley, on which it was run to the big steam hammerstanding near at hand.

  Mr. Marchant watched them a moment, and then walked to his office, inwhich a somewhat untidily dressed gentleman was sitting.

  "Good-day, Mr.Tomkins," he said.

  "Good-afternoon, sir," Mr. Tomkins, who was the manager of the foundry,responded. Then, in a doubtful manner, he said, "There have been somevisitors to see you this morning, and I told them to come again. One wasSteinkirk."

  "Does Hal know? Has he been told?" Mr. Marchant asked abruptly.

  "No one has liked to break the news to him yet, sir. We weren't certain,and we hoped that things would turn out all right. I suppose it'shopeless now, sir?"

  "Absolutely!" Mr. Marchant replied. "I am irretrievably ruined. Themills are gone, and to obtain money when the times were bad, I had tomortgage these works. I have nothing left. But I have seen to onematter; if trouble has come upon me, there is no reason why it shouldswamp all whom I employ. The creditor will carry on the work, and youand all the others will remain as at present. Poor Hal! He is the onewho will suffer, more even than his father. He is a beggar!" He sank hisface into his hands and groaned.

  "It's not so bad as that, sir," said Mr. Tomkins. "Hal's got plenty ofspirit, and if there's no money, why, he'll put his shoulder to thewheel. You should see how he works here. He's in the casting-shed, andto look at him any day you'd think he had his bread to earn."

  "Which he has from this moment," Mr. Marchant exclaimed. "You do megood, Tomkins. When I was a lad I had nothing. I had literally to slavefor years, and to deny myself many a long day. Then fortune came with arush which almost overwhelmed me. It has gone almost more quickly, and Imust learn to make the best of my troubles. As for Hal, I think you areright. Let us go across and see him."

  They left the office and entered a shed in which a number of men were atwork. In a corner one of them was ramming a plug of clay into theorifice of a furnace, and was replacing the lining of similar materialwhich protected the trough down which the molten metal was destined torun. At the end of the trough was an enormous bucket, suspended from acrane, which traveled backwards and forwards overhead.

  The remainder of the shed was occupied with castings, or rather, withmolds in various stages of preparation. Here and there were artisans atwork, and amongst them, kneeling on the sand which covered the floor,was a youth who might well be taken for the son of a foundry hand. Hewas between seventeen and eighteen years of age, and of more than mediumheight. Dressed in a pair of rough trousers and a flannel shirt, he wasto the casual observer merely an ordinary employee. But there was acertain something about this young fellow that made him different fromthe others at work in the shed. There was a grace about his figure,while his features were more refined than those commonly met withamongst the working classes.

  This was the son of the owner, and he was known to all at the foundry asHal Marchant.

  It was delicate work upon which he was engaged. With a special tool hewas smoothing down the mold, carefully rounding off corners, building upa portion here which had broken down. Finally he sat up, and, surveyingthe work with an air of satisfaction, exclaimed:

&n
bsp; "That's finished, and I think it'll do. Now I'll get the foreman to passit, and then we'll see it cast. Hallo! The guv', as I live! Why, youmade me jump. What do you think of that?"

  "Very good, old boy," Mr. Marchant replied. "You are an adept at thetrade. What says the foreman?"

  "He knows what he's up to, he does," the latter remarked. "Another weekor so of this work and he'll be fit to boss the shed."

  "Ah, that's satisfactory," said Mr. Marchant. "But I've something to sayto you, Hal, so come to the office."

  He turned and walked from the shed, taking no notice of the friendlyglances his workmen threw in his direction.

  "What can be wrong with the guv'?" he asked, looking after Mr. Marchant,and then at the manager. "What is it, Tomkins? Tell me."

  For a moment the manager of the works wavered, uncertain whether to tellthe truth.

  "After all, he's got to know, sooner or later," he murmured."Something's wrong, Hal," he continued. "There's no use in beating aboutthe bush any longer. My only surprise is that you haven't seen foryourself that things were completely upset. I suppose every workman hereknows what is going on, and it seems strange that they haven't droppedyou a hint. The fact is, the foundry is broken, and the owner has lostevery penny he possessed. He's ruined, and the works go to a creditor."

  "Ruined! Part with the works! Why, we are full of orders, and by allaccounts are in the most thriving condition!"

  "Just so, Hal, that's the bitter pill about this matter. The cottonmills up Preston way have broken. For two years they have been workingat a dead loss. Your father mortgaged the mills, hoping to tide over badtimes. But instead of improving they became even worse. Then the foundryhad to go to raise the money. The folks who advanced the money haveclaimed it, and your father is unable to pay; so the long and short ofit is that he no longer owns these works; and, to put it bluntly, he hasscarcely a sixpence left, and both he and you must work for a living."

  Hal attempted to stutter out some answer, but a big lump rose in histhroat, making him almost choke. And yet, had it been possible to readhis thoughts at this trying time, there would have been found nothingselfish about them, for the question as to what was to become of himselfhad not crossed his mind. No; only the deepest sympathy with his fatherwas felt, for they were the very best of friends.

  "I can scarcely believe all you tell me," Hal said at length. "What willfather do? It is a terrible blow for him."

  "It's bad, and there's no denying that," Mr. Tomkins replied. "But comealong and hear what the guv' has to say."

  Hal followed the manager to the office and seated himself at the deskbeside which his father had taken a place. They looked at each other inthe most painful silence. Then Hal stretched out his hand and took hisfather's.

  "I'm sorry, dad," he said. "I've heard all now, and only wish that Icould help you."

  "There is no help; nothing can mend what has happened," answered Mr.Marchant, in despondent tones. "I have lost everything, and now that youknow, I only wish to discuss what is to happen to you. What will you dofor a living? For myself, I shall probably remain to conduct thebusiness for the new owner, and, of course, if you wish it, you may alsostay."

  "It is a difficult question to answer, dad," said Hal. "For the present,at any rate, I shall remain where I am, as if nothing had occurred.Perhaps later on, it will be better for me to go elsewhere."

  "I think you are right. Stay where you are for a while, and later I willcontrive to get a good post for you. There are reasons why I do not wishyou to stay at the foundry longer than can be helped. Now I will go, forI have other matters to attend to."

  "Good-by, dad. Don't be too downhearted," said Hal cheerfully."Remember what you were when you were my age, and you will see thatthere is no reason why matters should not improve."

  "Young men do not feel so acutely as the middle-aged," Mr. Marchantreplied. "Nor do the latter set their faces against adversity as easilyas they did in their earlier days."

  He smiled half tearfully, and, waving his hand, went out into the densefog.

  "It's a bad business--a cruel affair altogether," said Mr. Tomkins, atlength. "If the failure had been of his own doing, one might not havefelt the same for him. But I know that he has been the most cautious andfar-seeing of owners, and his mills have been patterns of well-orderedestablishments. But now it is all finished with."

  "One moment," exclaimed Hal. "Why should I leave the foundry?"

  "Ah, I thought you'd want to know," the manager answered. "The fact iswe are now the servants of a hard-fisted fellow. The gentleman whoadvanced the money sold the mortgage, and the buyer has a very evilreputation. It is because of this that your father advises you to quit.Moses Steinkirk is the fellow who has bought us up, and I fear we shallall have an uncomfortable time of it. Now we'll go back to thecasting-pit. That wheel's got to be finished."

  Quitting the office, they struck across the yard and entered the shed,to find that the mold upon which Hal had been engaged was completed.

  "All ready for the metal, sir," said the foreman.

  "The top cover of Mr. Hal's wheel was slung on a few minutes ago, and itwill be as good a job as we ever put out. What do yer say, sir?"

  "I don't know that it will be as good as the castings usually turnedout from here," Hal replied. "Still, I hope it will do us credit."

  "That it will, sir. Joe finished it up when you and the guv' clearedoff, and he said as it was the best he'd seen for many a day."

  "Jack, boy, you can let her go," sang out the foreman at this moment.

  "Right yer are," was the gruff answer. "Now then, all of yer, bring thebucket closer, and mind yer toes."

  Grasping a long iron rod, he thrust it into the lump of clay whichclosed the orifice of the furnace, and which was by this baked almost ashard as stone. A second later a jet of white-hot fluid poured out with agurgle, and, emitting showers of sparks, rushed in a broad stream intothe bucket.

  "She's full. Up with her, boys!" cried the foreman.

  At once the big crane creaked, and hoisting up the bucket, swung ittowards the mold. Meanwhile two of the men had grasped the handles, anddrawing the bucket to the orifice, tipped it. The fiery streamdisappeared into the depths of the mold. Then it began to well up in theopening, and a moment or two later the empty bucket was whisked away.

  "That's finished, so far. Now, Tom, up yer get, and see that she coolsas she ought to," cried Mason.

  Tom, the man he had beckoned to, stepped onto the framework, and, takinga rod, commenced to ram it into the opening through which the metal hadbeen poured.

  "That's finished, and we may as well go," said Tomkins. "It will takefive hours for that to cool. Come along, Hal. Good-night to you, Mason."

  "Good-night, sir. Good-night, Mr. Hal."

  The words came from all parts of the shed, and replying to themcheerfully, Hal repaired to the office with the manager.