“What do you want from me,” Miles asked, almost plaintively. “If you want my resignation, it’s yours.”
Custer did, but he would not admit it. What he saw before him was a defeated man. There was no spark, no life. The always supremely confident and undeniably brave Major General Nelson Appleton Miles had been given an assignment that was too big for him. Part of Custer wanted to gloat but the practical part realized that he would have to find someone better to replace him. He refused to accept that what Miles was saying was true. He firmly believed that the American soldier was far better than the Spaniard, and that should eliminate the Spanish advantage in numbers.
Off in the distance, some cannon fire boomed. Miles informed him it was Spanish. “They do that every so often. I believe they are trying to annoy us.”
“I do not want your resignation,” said Custer. The look on Miles’ face said that he knew it was a lie.
After some further small talk, the two men shook hands gravely and Miles departed. As the general’s boat was rowed ashore, Custer had an idea. He smiled and turned to the skipper of the Dolphin.
“Captain Blondell, I have changed my mind. We will not depart for Florida this afternoon.”
“Sir?”
Custer wrung his hands with glee. “Yes, I now have an overwhelming urge to see Havana, if only from a distance, and I want to go right now.”
Blondell paled. “If we do that we are likely to arrive in the middle of the night. That could be dangerous since the fleet is not expecting us.”
“Nonsense. All we have to do is show up with lights on and bells and whistles and whatever the hell you have blaring away and the navy will realize we’re harmless.”
“Sir, I still say it’s too dangerous.”
“Are you a coward, Blondell?”
Blondell’s face turned beet red. “Of course not and I resent the implication.”
“And I resent sitting here off Cuba and arguing with someone who is so junior in rank to me that I shouldn’t even have to acknowledge your existence. I know you’re captain of this ship and god almighty when you’re on it, but I am the president and your commander in chief, and if you decline to obey me, your next command will be a very small garbage scow.”
Blondell paled and swallowed. “Very well, sir. We will set off for Havana.”
* * *
Another Spanish cannon fired and caused no damage, merely kicking up dirt a good two hundred yards away from the American lines. The American guns did not respond. It was as if it was beneath their dignity. Ryder gestured for Lang to have a seat in the trench. Lang was filthy and his clothes were torn. He looked exhausted, but also happy.
“Make yourself comfortable, captain, but I’m afraid that real hardships are upon us. While we have gin, we are totally out of tonic.”
“There is no God,” Lang sighed. “I guess I’ll have to make do with gin alone. Is there any ice?”
“Curiously, yes, and thank that God you say doesn’t exist for Sergeant Haney. He had our engineers develop an ice-making machine. While most of the ice goes to the hospital, some of it manages to make its way up here. Now please don’t tell me that you made a complete circuit of the Spanish lines. You haven’t been gone anywhere near long enough.”
“Correct, general, and I came back because I found things that are both good and bad. The good is that there are more holes in the Spanish lines than I have in my socks. I believe I could take a good sized force through them and hit them in the rear or anywhere else and cause a great deal of damage.”
“Excellent.”
The Spanish gun boomed again. Again the shell landed well short. Lang continued. “On the bad side, I think they are preparing to attack again, but not where they did originally. It looks like a major buildup between here on Mount Haney and the opening to the bay. If I read things correctly, I’d say they’re gonna attack between those points which would take them right through the city of Matanzas itself. They take that and they can claim a major victory.”
Ryder took a stick and sketched a map of the area in the dirt and eyed it thoughtfully. “If they take the city, they can place guns along the coast and control the bay. We could shoot down on them part of the way, but not all, and most of our ships, being unarmored, would be loath to enter and shoot it out with shore-based cannon.”
“We don’t have armored ships, sir? I thought we invented the damn things.”
Ryder grinned. “We did and then we forgot why. Just don’t say I said that to any navy boys you might meet. They’d likely take offence. To the best of my knowledge, the only truly armored ship we have is the Atlanta. When the Chicago comes back, which won’t be for quite a while, that’ll give us two. Not very impressive for a world power is it?”
“Shit,” said Lang. “What are you gonna do?”
“First I’m going to finish this drink and then I’m going to send a signal to Benteen that I’d like to come down and talk to him. Custer himself was offshore meeting with Miles and, along with giving him your report, I’d like to know what was discussed.”
Lang grinned. Like everyone else, he knew all about his general and Sarah Damon. The base at Matanzas was a very small town in many ways. “Maybe I can report to Benteen myself and relieve you of the awful burden of going down there.”
“Maybe you can go to hell, captain,” Ryder said without rancor.
The Spanish cannon boomed again. “Can we hit that fucker, sir? He’s really getting annoying.”
“Yes. He’s in range of about a dozen of our guns. Why, do you want to teach him a lesson?”
“I do indeed, sir. Why not have all of our guns fire one round at the same time at him and see what happens. If we don’t kill him, we should scare the shit out of him.”
“I like the way you think, Captain Lang. You are one nasty son of a bitch.”
* * *
Clemente Cisneros liked to complain that he was proof that the Spanish navy was totally fossilized, even though he wasn’t absolutely certain what the word meant. He thought it had to do with something turning to stone and that was certainly an apt description of the current state of the once proud Spanish navy.
A small thin man descended from minor nobility, he had made the navy his career. He was now forty-five years old and a lieutenant commander. He lacked political connections in Madrid so it was unlikely that he would rise above his current rank. This lack further hurt his chances because the Spanish Navy was small and getting smaller. It would be even more difficult for him if Spain lost the current war with the arrogant United States. That he might be discharged and left on the beach depressed him mightily. He longed to do something that would attract the attention of the leaders in Madrid.
After commanding a couple of patrol craft during his career, he had been appointed captain of the seven-hundred ton gunboat, the Marques del Duero. She was a mere one tenth the size of a modern major warship and doubtless represented the pinnacle of his career. While small, his ship was far from helpless, carrying one 6.3-inch gun and a pair of 4.7s. She also had a crew of a hundred men whom he’d trained hard. He was also a fair man and his men had responded. He was proud of them. The Duero was ready to fight.
This night, however, she would be one of a number of decoys. The Duero’s problem was her speed. On a good day, she could do only ten knots and she hadn’t had many good days lately. Her engine kept acting up and her hull was fouled. She was scheduled for a refit, but she was way down the list and, besides, the mechanics in Cuba were largely incompetent. At times Cisneros thought he would be better off running under her schooner-rigged sails than counting on her temperamental engines.
Still, Cisneros had to admit that the Spanish navy’s plan for this night had considerable merit. Two good-sized cruisers and one smaller one were languishing in Havana harbor with nothing to do since the sinking of the Vitoria in the harbor by some incredibly brave Americans. He’d been to visit the captured American officers and, since he spoke excellent English, had had an interesting conversation. He now knew more about torpedoes then he ever cared to. At first he’d thought that the Americans had talked too much, but then realized that the information was in the newspapers.