She and the others slipped robes over their ankle-length nightgowns and put on their shoes. If they had to flee they would be ready to escape. They were wrong. There would be no escape. Minutes later, Spanish soldiers burst into their tent. A couple of them jeered and laughed at the disheveled nurses, but were soon silenced by a Spanish captain.
“You are nurses from the hospital, are you not?”
Sarah saw no point in lying. “Yes.”
“Good. You will come with us. You are an unexpected bonus. Governor Villate will be pleased to have you working in our hospital and healing Spanish soldiers instead of aiding the gringos who have invaded our land.”
Sarah started to argue and struggle, as did the others, but they were quickly knocked down and tied up. She was angry at being restrained and by the fact that the still laughing soldiers were taking the opportunity to paw her, one even slipping his hands under her nightgown.
The captain again controlled the situation, slapping the impertinent soldier who didn’t seem at all abashed. “Ladies, it will go so much easier for you if you stop fighting. One way or the other, you will be going to Havana and, one way or another, you will be helping wounded Spanish soldiers.”
When they hesitated, he eyed them coldly. “Perhaps I did not make myself clear. So far I have restrained my men. If you do not accept my kind invitation, I will grant them certain latitudes with you. Their favorite sport when transporting women prisoners is to hang them by their hands from the crossbar of the cart. After which, you will be stripped naked and driven all around Havana so that one and all can see your charms. The men will be posing you with your legs spread and your knees in the air, ensuring that your most private and intimate body parts are vividly displayed for admiring thousands. You will not actually be raped-I will not permit that, of course-but you will feel thoroughly violated by the time you make it to the dubious safety of a prison cell.”
Sarah sagged and Ruta caught her eye. The two of them shrugged and the others nodded. “Well,” Ruta said with a forced smile, “I always wanted to see Havana.”
* * *
Even though there was a Red Cross flying from a flagpole outside the Spanish hospital, it bore little resemblance to the conditions in the American Army. The hospital personnel they saw were poorly trained and there was little appearance of hygiene. It was as if the concept had not yet been introduced in the Spanish Army.
Following their capture, the five nurses had been taken by wagon to see Governor General Vlas Villate. They were frightened but tried not to show it. His reputation for cruelty and harshness was well known. Before being given over to Villate, Sarah had asked the captain if he really would have permitted his men to strip and display them. He’d laughed hugely, “Of course not. Spaniards are not barbarians.”
Villate smiled when they were taken to his office. “You ladies are an unintended bonus. And since you are Red Cross personnel and not any part of the American Army, you will be treated with utmost respect. Until and if arrangements are made for your return, you will work as you did, but in a Spanish hospital and treating Spanish wounded. I trust you will not decline the honor.”
The young captain might have been making a cruel joke about mistreating them, but Villate was a monster. They would not take any chances.
Sarah forced a smile. “Then we will not consider declining. We would appreciate it if you could somehow arrange for us to receive better clothing since we left in such a hurry.”
Villate had been trying to eye their bodies through their nightgowns and whatever else they had thrown on. “You’ve made an excellent decision. One of the good sisters at the Cathedral will see to it that you are properly dressed. Although I sincerely doubt that any of you are virgins, I believe you will make most fetching nuns.”
Only a few hours later, they found themselves working under the stern supervision of one Sister Maria Magdalena, a very large woman who called herself a nurse but who knew little about the craft, and a very young Doctor Pedro Juarez. The doctor had been trying hard, but was overwhelmed by the number of wounded. His assistants were few and mostly incompetent. Thus, he welcomed the five Americans and promised them good treatment in return for good work. The nurses thought that was fair. He also said they would sleep in the convent near the cathedral for the time being.
Sister Maria, on the other hand, made it clear that she despised them. Not only were they not Catholic, but they were Americans, a nation she hated because it was filled with heretics. She made it known that she would have them whipped if they offended her, and the American women believed her.
“This is better than being kept in a dungeon,” Ruta muttered and the others concurred as they dressed in religious garments. “I’m not too sure I like being dressed like a postulant or a novice nun, but this will work.”
Because of language issues, they were assigned to work as a group and under Doctor Juarez. His English was basic at best and they decided to try to use Spanish as much as possible. After their time in Cuba, Sarah’s Spanish had become fairly decent, and Ruta seemed to have a flair for languages. Despite their dislike of their current condition, they determined to do their best to help the hundreds of wounded who looked at them beseechingly. Their first job would be to sweep the filth off the floors and try to get the men fresh bandages and bedding. Sarah wondered what Sister Magdalena would be doing and the doctor had shaken his head and said that the real nun would be watching them.
“These are the enlisted men,” Doctor Juarez said with a tinge of bitterness. “The officers have their own hospital and doctors and, yes, the best of Spanish nurses. Please do not be offended, but the officers have kept the best for themselves and left these men with the dregs.”
“We are not offended,” said Sarah. “And we will do our best to help these men. I can only hope, however, that none of them is returned to duty to fight against my countrymen.”
“You know I cannot control that.”
Ruta smiled sweetly. “Then perhaps you can grant us one other favor. Would you be able to have Sister Mary Dragon transferred elsewhere?”
Juarez smiled and rolled his eyes. “I will do my best, but there is a rumor that her far lovelier cousin is General Villate’s mistress.”
* * *
Fire and shells from the American guns had damaged Diego Salazar’s estate, the place where Kendrick and Juana had cuckolded him. It enraged him. The structure was largely intact, but his home had been profaned. He would not live there again. Not only was it the place where his faithless wife had betrayed him, but it was also the place where his mistress, Helga, had plundered much of his wealth before disappearing.
He had arrived to find his two remaining servants cowering in the basement. Helga had arrived a few days earlier with several Cuban women and had taken all of his cash and anything else of value they could carry off. The servants said they had tried to stop her but that she had cursed them, threatened them, and beaten them badly. Salazar doubted their story. For one thing, there were no bruises on them and, for another; the two were consummate cowards and liars.
Helga had somehow managed to get from Salazar’s quarters at Matanzas to Havana ahead of the routed army. Loaded with their loot, they had then left Havana where he was told by an informer that she’d found a way to take a ship to Mexico and her child. Well, that part of his life was over. When Spain was victorious, he would find another aristocratic woman to service him. In the meantime, one of the servants would do. They wouldn’t like it, but they would not protest overmuch. They would cooperate and be rewarded or defy him and be terribly hurt.
What he would really like to do was gather his re-constituted legion and storm the estate of the British Consul, Redford Dunfield. Once in the villa, he would castrate Kendrick with his sword and turn Juana over to his men to enjoy while he watched. If Kendrick had not bled to death, he would hack him to pieces. The fanatic monsignor from Rome might disapprove, but he would also understand. The woman was a sinner. She had to be punished. Besides, Salazar thought with a hint of whimsy, he could always go to Confession from Monsignor Bernardi and beg forgiveness. Bernardi would hate it, but would comply.