She would also have to go to Confession. Her confessor was her uncle, Bishop Estefan Canoy, and he would scold her and then ask why her husband did not please her. Juana would tell him the truth because that’s the way she was raised and that would outrage the good bishop even more. She decided that it was about time that her uncle knew the truth about Gilberto Salazar.
Then she thought that perhaps it would be better if she waited a while before seeing her uncle in the confessional. Perhaps her husband would manage to get himself killed in the war. She could long for that but she could not, would not, pray for it. That would be a sin.
Juana presumed that Kendrick had made it safely to the American lines at Matanzas. With Diego to guide him, it should have been a simple journey. But her nation was at war which meant that nothing was guaranteed to be easy. Her husband was out with much of the Spanish army and they were between Kendrick and the Americans. Nothing was certain in life except that she was feeling like a giddy young girl. One certainty was that she was thrilled to be able to punish both Spain and Gilberto.
Before he left, Kendrick had shown her how to get telegraph messages to the American military in the U.S. She had no idea who would actually read any of the information sent, and she’d been told not to send too many telegrams lest the Spanish government suddenly become curious about her change in behavior. After all, she hadn’t sent more than a half dozen telegrams to the United States in the last several years.
This message was short. It was directed to a lady named Bertha Downey in New Orleans, and she assumed that Bertha didn’t exist. It said that Bertha’s two sisters were going to depart within a day and might make a number of stops before actually arriving at their destination. The two sisters were the pair of Spanish battleships at anchor in Havana’s harbor. She had no idea where they were headed and could only inform the Americans that they were about to depart. As she watched after sending the telegram, the battleships’ horns sounded stridently. Their anchors were winched up and the two ships began their stately crawl through the crowded harbor and narrow entrance and out into the Caribbean. If any American warships were watching, she didn’t see them.
Matanzas was only a few hours steaming away, if that was the ships’ goal. She presumed that her message would be relayed to someone in Washington and then down to Matanzas. She’d heard that the Yanks had set up a telegraph station at their new base and hoped it was true. But then, how would they get the word out to American warships at sea?
Chapter 8
A torrential rain pounded down on the American army at Matanzas. Many of the soldiers didn’t yet have tents, which meant they were all quickly soaked to the skin. Even though both the day and the rain were warm, they were soon chilled and shaking. Almost as bad, many of the tents the others had been issued were of poor quality and either leaked badly or were quickly torn apart by the wind.
“Damn it to hell,” snarled Ryder. “I’d like to find out who’s responsible for getting us this junk and make him try to live and work in it.”
From his vantage point on top of the hill and through gaps in the sheets of rain he could see the damage being done to the American base. At least it looked like the tents occupied by the Red Cross were still standing. He hadn’t yet had a chance to see Sarah, and he could only hope that she was dry and safe. At least safe, he thought wryly. He didn’t think anyone was truly dry and wouldn’t be until the sun had a chance to shine for a couple of days.
“The trenches are filling with water,” said Barnes.
“You look like a drowned rat,” said Ryder.
“Correction, colonel, I’m only half drowned. And may I say you don’t look that great either. I’ve got men bailing out the trenches and even digging runoff lanes to send the water downhill, but it’s pretty much a hopeless task.”
“And it’ll be that way until the damned rain stops. And they tell me this is just an ordinary rainstorm for this area. This is nothing like a hurricane. Hopefully, we’ll be all done here when that ugly season is upon us.”
Along with other officers, they’d gotten a briefing on hurricanes and what to expect. The massive storms usually arrived in the fall and the howling winds and drenching rains could easily eradicate the growing base the army had established. Caught unprepared, the army could suffer casualties greater than those suffered in battle.
“Do you really think the war will be over before hurricane season?” Barnes asked.
“Hell no, Jack. I’m just trying to keep your spirits up. It’s been raining heavily for almost a day now and I’m sick and tired of it.”
“And I think I hear thunder,” said Barnes.
Ryder told everyone nearby to be still. Yes, it sounded like thunder. Only thing, damn it, it wasn’t thunder. The Spanish navy had arrived.
* * *
Sarah and Ruth were in the tent they shared with several other nurses and huddled under a blanket as the rain pounded down on the canvas roof above them. The canvas roof leaked, but so far they’d managed to keep most of the rain off of them, although the ground was quickly becoming a muddy quagmire. They kept their feet tucked under them as they sat on Sarah’s bunk. For the moment, they had the tent to themselves.
“Sarah, this is not exactly the exciting and fulfilling adventure I thought it would be. The next time I absolutely will not let you plan my vacation.”
“I’m not aware that any of this was planned. On the other hand, we haven’t had much to do as nurses, which is a blessing. A war without casualties is a good thing.”
“That will change, I’m afraid,” said Ruth.
Only a handful of soldiers and sailors had required their assistance. These were the usual broken bones that occurred when a lot of manual work was required and the workers were inexperienced and unenthusiastic. Accidents were always going to happen and some of the men were doing work that was totally unfamiliar to them. So far, only a few men had been killed. Both agreed that would change when the fighting actually started.
“Wonderful,” said Ruth. “Now it’s thundering.”
Sarah was about to comment when an enormous explosion sent shock waves through their tent, nearly collapsing it and knocking them to the muddy ground. “What on earth was that?” she said.
Ruth had turned pale. “We’re being bombarded. Christ, it’s just like Paris.”
Another explosion, but this one was farther away. Still, it was strong enough to finish the job of collapsing their tent. Both women crawled out from under the canvas and outside into the rain. The rain seemed to be abating, and they could see shell craters with smoke emanating from them. More shells landed and they ran towards trenches that had been dug to defend against a Spanish assault from the sea. This, they decided, qualified and they jumped in, heedless of the mud at the bottom and the fact that the trench was rapidly filling with frightened soldiers.
Along with the others, they huddled as best they could. More shells landed nearby and some were close enough to send chunks of mud raining down on them. They remained unhurt, although increasingly wet and dirty. It seemed as if the Spanish were just lobbing shells in the general direction of the American position and not aiming at anything in particular.