Cisneros bristled at the slur on his honor. “I am well aware of my obligations according to the Convention, and I assure you that no harm will come to you. You will be taken to Havana and held until either exchanged or the war ends.”
Blondell and the others appeared to understand. One man with long and graying blond hair, however, seemed confused. Perhaps he’d been hit on the head, Cisneros thought. Then he had another thought that jarred him. The man looked so very familiar. It dawned on him and he grinned from ear to ear. The promotion would be his.
He walked over and shook the man’s hand. “Welcome to Spanish Cuba, President Custer.”
Chapter 14
It had commenced raining heavily again, turning the ground into a quagmire. Both Ryder and Benteen were covered with mud from their knees down. “Is the weather better up there on Mount Haney?” General Benteen asked.
Ryder sipped some coffee and didn’t grimace. Surprisingly, it wasn’t bad. It was strong and very hot, and that’s what counted. “Sadly, no. Most of the men feel we’re just that much closer to the rain clouds.”
“What a wonderful vision. At any rate, Ryder, we’re not here to discuss the weather. I did discuss your thoughts with General Miles and, to put it bluntly, he totally disagrees with what Captain Lang found and what you believe. I disagreed with Miles and let’s just say we had a very spirited discussion on the matter. He is convinced that any Spanish attack will consist of another assault on your position or on the entrance to the bay, or even both. He told me it didn’t really matter since he didn’t think the Spanish have the stomach for another attack on anything, at least not for a long while. When I suggested that we should attack since the Spaniards are such weaklings, I thought he’d throw me out of his office.”
Ryder was puzzled. “I thought that Miles’ meeting with Custer had resulted in his agreeing to attack?”
“So did I, but he’s apparently having second thoughts with Custer on his way back to Florida, which is another concern. He was supposed to go to Key West and then to St. Augustine, and there’s been no report of his arrival. He should have gotten there by now. One of our gunboat captains reported that he thought he saw the president’s ship heading north towards Havana. Going off on a run like that would be just like Custer. He was always too impetuous for his own good.”
“And it would be dangerous,” added Ryder. They had just gotten reports that the Spanish Navy had tried to escape from Havana and that there had been a major naval battle. Reports were inconclusive, but it did seem that several vessels had been sunk. “Christ, what if the president had been swept up in that mess?”
Benteen grimaced. “If Custer’s dead it means that Chester A. Arthur is now the President of the United States. If Custer is missing or a prisoner, I don’t know what the hell happens next. Jesus, what a mess.”
* * *
Governor General Villate looked with delight on the blanket covered man who slept soundly. If he’d been a cat, the general thought he would have purred.
The man below him seemed unaware that he was chained to the cot. Villate coughed loudly and the man stirred. He winced with pain. The doctors said his ankle was badly sprained and his body was covered with cuts and bruises.
Villate smiled. “Good afternoon, President Custer. May I cordially welcome you to Cuba?”
Custer glared at him. “You may cordially go to hell. You may also remove these goddamn chains. Where do you think I’d run with a bad ankle?”
“We’ll talk about removing your shackles later,” Villate responded coldly. “In the meantime, you are my prisoner and I will treat with you in any manner I wish.”
“As long as it is in accordance with the Geneva Convention,” said British Consul Redford Dunfield. To Villate’s dismay, he’d again shown up to interfere with Villate’s pleasure. Dunfield then introduced himself to Custer who grunted and nodded.
Dunfield smiled and continued. “I don’t think I have to remind you that President Custer is the head of the United States government and must be treated in accordance with his rank.”
Villate laughed. The situation was still too priceless for him to get really angry. “When we hang him, I promise to use a new rope.”
Dunfield was mildly amused as well. Custer was not. Dunfield could see a flicker of concern. Would the Spanish truly consider hanging him? The thought clearly concerned him.
Villate continued. “You may not like the arrangements,” he said to Dunfield, “but I am not going to put him in a position where his countrymen might try to free him. As you see, he is in a private cell here in the Morro Castle. Rescuing him would be a fruitless and costly endeavor. Besides, we would kill him to prevent that from happening.”
“It would not be necessary to keep him here. If you continue to do so, you will risk the anger of the international community. Heads of state are kept in far better circumstances than this. I can guaranty you that Her Majesty’s Government will not be happy if this situation continues.”
“He needs medical help,” Villate said, exaggerating Custer’s condition. He was conscious that he was about to lose another argument with the damned Englishman. “What do you propose?” he asked resignedly.
“I have an estate on the outskirts of town. You know it and you’ve been there. It’s practically a fortress. I propose that General Custer be moved there and protected, guarded if you will, by a good battalion of your finest and most loyal troops. I further propose that photographs be taken of the president showing that he is being well kept, and that he be able to communicate with his government.”
“Perhaps he will ask them to surrender,” Villate sneered.
“The hell I will,” said Custer, “and quit talking around me.”
“Again, kindly recall that you are a prisoner,” said Villate. An idea had formed and he loved the thought of it. “We will announce to the world that we hold you and that you require medical attention. This will mean that you will remain here for at least a couple of days until we can make arrangements to move you to Senor Dunfield’s estate. Except for proving your existence and relative well-being, you will remain incommunicado.”
Custer’s eyes burned with anger. “Bastard.” Villate laughed again.
* * *
The news hit the American forces at Matanzas like a thunderbolt. They got the telegram from Florida at almost the same time that the Spanish soldiers did. These began celebrating wildly, cheering and firing their weapons into the air. Some actually had fireworks and sent rockets into the air.
“The dumb son of a bitch has gone and done it again,” said General Benteen. “Jesus Christ, what the hell kind of mess has Custer gotten him and us into now? And do the damn Spaniards expect us to surrender?”
Ryder decided to remain silent. He’d been down again from the hill for yet another meeting and had found the time for a few moments of delicious privacy with Sarah. He was aware that his lips were bruised from the intensity of their kisses and that his uniform was rumpled. He didn’t give a damn and it was obvious that Custer’s fate was far more important than his being disheveled.
Benteen continued. “On the other hand, some might view this as an opportunity. Who knows what the powers in Washington will decide on as a course of action? My guess is that they will do absolutely nothing for the short term.”
“That would be my guess as well,” Ryder said. “Have we heard anything from the Spanish as to what they might want for Custer’s return?”
“Not a peep. Although I would guess that they would insist on our leaving Cuba as one condition, which won’t happen. That would be the same as admitting defeat. We would never be able to field an army to invade Cuba again. Ryder, what’s your sense of the morale of the troops?”