“I hadn’t really noticed,” Custer admitted reluctantly. “The land war outside my door has me fully occupied.”
Cisneros continued. “Only a handful of the American ships are true warships. The vast majority of them are converted civilian ships. Some armor plating has been added and guns have been installed. They would not stand up to a modern capital ship for even a minute. However, they are better than what Spain has to send against them and there are so many of them. If you were to look farther out to the ocean you would see an additional score of them more distantly ringing the entrance to Havana’s harbor.”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you, commander? Well, I don’t. If you hadn’t captured me, I might be in Washington directing this war instead of sitting on my ass as a prisoner in Havana.”
“And if it hadn’t been for me, you might also have been swept out to sea where your bones would be lying on the bottom in the mud after the fish got through stripping the flesh from them. No, President Custer, I saved your life.”
Custer reluctantly conceded the point. “I suppose you’re right. The lifeboat was leaking and Captain Blondell probably couldn’t have found the outer ring of a bathtub without someone to guide him, much less a safe shore. And that brings us back to the beginning. What the hell are you doing here?”
Cisneros had discussed matters with Blondell before the man’s exchange and had far greater confidence in the captain of the Dolphin than did Custer. It was, however, no time for an argument.
“It has been determined that all soldiers should man the parapets against you gringos. It has also been determined that my sailors are not soldiers; therefore, they would be useless in a land battle. It was suggested that they be used to guard Havana’s treasures, such as the Cathedral San Cristobal. Our duties include protecting this building which, along with housing you, is also the home of the British Consul in Havana.”
“So you are now my jailer?”
“I prefer to think of me as your host. But let me assure you that while I will do everything in my power to protect you, I will also do everything I can to prevent you from escaping to your fellow Americans and that includes shooting you if it becomes necessary. We would aim to wound, of course, but my men are not such great shots, and that means you could easily get killed if you were to attempt something foolish. Right now, you are a valuable bargaining chip. When a peace is negotiated, you will be an important part of it.”
Custer watched as several of Cisneros’ men walked through the building. They carried rifles and had cutlasses in scabbards slung over their shoulders. They looked well trained and hardened. They saw Cisneros and grinned happily. The inept soldiers who had been protecting him had been replaced by men who would do their duty and, if he judged things correctly, the sailors were devoted to Cisneros.
Custer smiled ingratiatingly and held out his hand which the other man took. “Will you be staying for dinner?” he asked.
Chapter 19
The large, squat siege mortar had first been used in the Civil War in the long fight for Petersburg, Virginia, but age did not diminish its effectiveness. It could hurl a ninety pound shell nearly a mile and a half and, hidden behind its own earthen walls, it was almost impervious to the light enemy fire directed at it and its sisters.
“Beautiful thing isn’t it?” asked a gaunt General Benteen as he leaned on his cane. He was out of breath and he cursed the illness that had weakened him so much. “That damn big gun of ours can’t be killed unless the Spanish are dumb enough to run out and attack it. On the other hand,” he said thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t put it past them. They haven’t fired their cannon very much at all, which tells me that they don’t have a lot of ammunition and certainly none to spare shooting at targets they can’t hit.”
The illness that had attacked Benteen was abating, but he was still weak and had lost a lot of weight. The doctors were still mystified as to what had hit him. They blamed it on bad air, spiders, bad food, and bad luck. Sarah had told Martin that the general had very likely drunk some very bad water. Benteen did not think it was possible, since, as he joked, he only drank alcohol and never water. But, since he was recovering, everyone was willing to let the doctors figure out what had happened.
“Shouldn’t you be resting?” Ryder asked.
“Go to hell, Martin. You just want my job. A couple more promotions and you’ll be in charge of this whole army.”
“Which is just about the last thing I want,” he responded. “I’m not certain I’m ready to command a brigade, much less a division and certainly not an army.”
Benteen laughed. “Incompetence never stopped other people from rising to high office. Just look at your history and think of how many of Lincoln’s generals failed before he hit on Grant. And Grant was a virtual nobody before the Civil War. Just like you. Maybe you’ll be this war’s Grant.”
“Just so long as I’m not the next war’s Custer,” said Ryder.
Ryder helped the other man up a low rise. The mortar was about to fire and it was time to get out of the way. Older cannon had a bad habit of exploding and spraying chunks of hot metal all around at the oddest times, killing anyone who happened to be in their way. There was no reason for anyone not directly connected with firing the massive weapon to be out in the open.
Ryder continued, “For me to be this war’s Grant, it’d have to last three or four years like the last one. It ain’t gonna happen, general.”
“One can only hope you’re right,” said Benteen a second before the charge exploded and sent the shell arcing high into the air. They followed it with their eyes and watched as it landed and exploded beyond the city’s walls. This time there was no secondary explosion.
“I guess we just dug up some dirt,” laughed Benteen. “According to the boys in the balloons, the Spanish have gotten smart and have pulled back their troops. They’re sitting safely a quarter of a mile away from the walls. When they think we’re gonna attack, they’ll run back to their firing platforms and try to kill us.”
Since Ryder was going to command the attack, the picture he envisioned was not a pretty one. “Perhaps we should fake an attack. Then, when they’ve all returned to their positions, start firing at them. Wouldn’t that be a nasty surprise?”
Benteen watched as the mortar’s crew reloaded. “The real surprise would be if General Hancock hasn’t already thought of it, Martin.”
* * *
Bishop Estefan Campoy looked fondly at the conflicted woman sitting across the room from him. He loved her like the daughter he would never have and he ached at the thought of her being in so much emotional pain. To his eternal regret, he had been one of many friends and relatives who had urged, even coerced, plain and innocent young Juana into marrying Diego Salazar.
“Will you hear my confession, uncle?”
Unabashedly, he wiped away a tear. “No,” he said softly, “and you know why.”
“Yes, but let me hear it from you.”
Campoy sighed. This was the first time he had seen Juana since she’d run away with the American reporter. He couldn’t bring himself to visit her in the home of Mercedes de la Pena, a woman of loose morals he considered complicit in Juana’s sins. There would have been too much public scandal. But now she was in the British Consulate and that provided a form of cover. He could always claim official Church business. That no one would believe him was irrelevant.
He wiped away another tear. Why was life so unfair? Juana was a good woman who deserved so much better. “I can hear your confession and counsel you as I have so many times in the past, but I cannot give you absolution for the obvious reason that you are not in the slightest bit sorry for your sin.”