Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 22, Number 35, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 January 1901 — THE TEXAS CRUISER [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

THE TEXAS CRUISER

—BYT. BURLINGAME ROSS

CHAPTER XVir. Slowly and drearily dragged the days away to Clarence and his boy companion. The dungeon in which they were confined was in the stout castle of San Juan de Ulloa. It was not damp as most of the cells were, but very strong and dark, there being barely sufficient light to read by at noonday. It was about a month after his confinement that Clarence was Informed that a priest wished to see him. It was in the afternoon, and the day had been very bright and clear. “What does he want?” the prisoner asked. “It is one of our good priests who knows of your heresy, and who would cave your soul,” replied the jailer. Clarence bade the jailer to let the priest come in. lii a fSx minutes afterwards the keeper returned, and a Catholic priest followed him in. The former aimply nodded an introduction, and then withdrew.. “Well, my son,” commenced Father Rondo—it was Gonzales —"how does your , confinement agree with you?” . “As well as the same would agree with any man who preferred his liberty,” answered the youth. “But I suppose you find some consolation in your loneliness.” “Yes, senor,” returned Clarence. “I nm consoled by the belief that the arms of my countrymen will ere long open my prison door.” “Is there not something uninentioned that occupies your thoughts at times?” asked the priest. “Senor!” spoke the youth, starting to his feet, “you may speak plainly. “I will. Would you like to hear from Irene St. Marc?” “More than from any other living soul!” answered Clarence, quickly and eagerly. “Well —r have a message from her to you. I have had it in keeping for a month, and this is the first opportunity I have had to see you. I told her you had been put in prison. She would have •come to you then if I would have permitted. No consideration of self could deter her; but when I made her understand that you would suffer equally with her If she fell into her father’s hands again, hhe consented to be governed by my advice. You have seen the old wotiian, Oalypso?” “Yes, senor,” the youth replied, anxiously. “Well, the maiden went away with her. I promised that I would see you, and tell you all. Donfia Irene loves you almost too well. At all events, her whole undivided heart is yours; and not until I had promised her that I would see you, would she consent to leave the vicinity of this city.” “O!” cried Clarence, clasping his hands and raising his eyes to heaven, “heaven Uess and protect her! But have you heard from her since?” “Yes —'this very morning. She was in the city of Mexico a week ago, and was going from there to Valladolid.” “And was she well?” “Yes —perfectly so." “O, I bless you* good senor, for this. Henceforth my bondage will be light in aomparison with the past month. Of course, I shall know where she is when I am free?” “Yes. You shall see me. If I do not find you, you must seek me. But I may aee you now occasionally. If. you trill halp me make the officers of the prison think I aui your confessor I can gain access here often.” “I will. O, I’d confess a thousand sins for one word from Irene. But you will come as often as you hear from her?” “If I can, Of course; for I only hear for you. She needs no word for me alone, save the warm friendship she feels for all who have been kind to her.” Awhile longer they communed upon the subject of Irene and her father, and then the good priest took his leave. From that time forth Father Rondo visited the prison as often as convenient. In another month he brought further word from Irene. She was in Valladolid, and there she meant to stop through the winter, as she had found a comfortable home and was safe from danger. Thus the mouths wore away, and Clarence began to wonder if he should ever be free. A strong hope had thus far sustained him, but he began now to falter. He often asked his jailers how the war was progressing, but they lied to him. He knew this from the statements of the priest. March came, with its winds and Storms, and yet the prison doors were not opened. But in a few days from that time the officers who sometimes visited the cells wore strange expressions upon their countenances. Clarence kept a calendar upon the wall of his dungeon with an old nail which he had begged of his jailer for that purpose. One morning after eating his breakfast he went to the wall to make his mark for that day. It was the ninth mark for March. “Hark,” uttered Peter, as his master turned from the wall. “What is that?” “Perhaps the troops are turning out for drill,” answered Clarence. “No, no. Do you not hear that distant sound? That hum, as though a vast concourse of people were shouting?" “Ay—l do,” said the captain, bowing bis head and listening. “And did yon net notice how pale and agitated the soldier looked who brought tn our breakfast?” ‘T did not look at him.” “But I did—and I noticed that he was much moved, too.” After this the two prisoners listened attentively, and while they were thus listening Gonzales Rondo was admitted “Have you heard anything?” the priest

from your prison, but I fancy this investment will not bring such an event about, unless after defeat here the Americans choose to capitulate.” “Who commands the American forces?” “Gen. Winfield Scott, so I have heard.” “Then, your city is gone,” pronounced Clarence, in a calm, positive tone. “I know Vera Cruz is a strong place, 'but it cannot withstand the power of your enemy. Mark me—l know this." “I cannot agree with you, senor,” the priest replied, full as confidently. “Why —even this castle is invulnerable to such a force. No, nor-your hope lies not in that direction.’* “Very well,” returned Clarence, with a smile, “we will not dispute this point now. Only let me say—and I say it with, a full knowledge of all the circumstances —if Landero is he will capitulate. If he does not —he will not only lose his city, but a most dreadful carnage mu6t be the result. You know what dreadful scenes must necessarily accompany the besieging of a large and densely populated eity.” * “I know—l know,” said the priest, solemnly. “But ’tis the fate of war. O, why will men in their national capacity do that for which they would hang each other as individuals?” When the prisoners were left alone again they passed the time in listening to the hum of the distant army. When noon came, Clarence noticed the- appearance of the man who brought his dinner. He was pale and trembling. “What is all this noise we hear in the distance?” asked Clarence, as the soldier was upon the point of turning away. , The man turned and looked the speaker in the face, but he was not used to the dim light, and he could not see the prisoner’s face plainly. “It is an army come to be cut up and driven into the sea,” he at length replied, blusteringly. “Have the Americans come?” the captain asked, honestly. “Yes. They’re fools —or else they’re blind.” “They must be,” rejoined Clarence, “if they imagine the people here will surrender without fighting. I suppose you are prepared to fight to the death.” “Yes,” answered the Mexican, with a ghastly effort to appear bold and determined. And in a moment more he was gone. And so the day wore away, and when Clarence laid his head upon his hard pillow at night, he could still hear the busy hum that came up from the camp of his countrymen. CHAPTER XVILL. Night followed day, and dajh came again, until Clarence had made seventeen marks for the days that had dawned in March. On the morning of the eighteenth he arose as usual, and when the soldier came with the breakfast he noticed that he was more tremulous than usual. At length there came a strange stillness over the city. It seemed an oppressive, deathly silence. But it lasted not long. Soon there came a thunder crash, and the old castle trembled to its very foundations. Anon the thundering commenced in the city, and ere long the air of the dungeon held the odor of exploding powder. “The bombardment has commenced,” shouted Clarence. “Ho, my noble boy, iotir people have opened the ball. As sure as fate this place must fall.” “I hope so,” returned Peter. “But I know it. If the Mexicans are stubborn they may hold out some time, but they must come to it after a while.” And now the booming of the heavy artillery was incessant. One continuous roar filled the air, and the old castle shook like a reed hut in a gale. And there came the sound of that sharper, harsher crashing, as the huge shells burst about the place. So passed the long day away, and even into the night the earth shook with the bursting of the shells and rockets. Thus passed six days, during which the roar of cannon and mortars was almost incessant. On the morning of the seventh day Father Rondo made his appearance. He was pale and wan, and his step was tremulous. He extended his hand, but the salutation was performed in silence. “Good father,” said oifr hero, “I am glad you have come, for now I can know what is going on. How goes the siege?” “Alas, my son, it is a fearful work that is being done!’’ the priest replied, with a shudder. “I have read of wars, and I knew they were dreadful, but I never dreamed of such scenes of horror as have presented themselves to my gaze during the past few days.” “Then the execution in the eity is considerable?” "O! dreadful—dreadful!” “But how goes it now?” asked Clarence, who had more interest in the probable result than in the mere work that was going on. “Our city is one vast slaughter house!” uttered Rondo, with.his hands clasped upon his bosom. “Houses are torn in pieces; the ground plowed up by bursting shells, and the whole city running with the blood of its people! In every street the dead and dying ure lying helpless and hopeless, and the agonizing groans sound above the roar of the cannon. One moment I beheld a family—a father and mother, whose heads were white with years, and some half dozen of children who clung to them for safety. On the next moment I saw a huge shell fall directly in their midst, and in a second of time the poor creatures were torn in pieces as if by the faugs und claws of some ravenouff monster! O, it is too dreadful, evA for thought!" “But will not the city surrender?” asked Clarence. “They mast—they must,” the priest replied. “Day before yesterday, many of the most wealthy citizens waited upon Landero, and begged of him to capitulate; but he refused. And again last night the general was waited upon by Otany people; but he would not listen. Yet he must come to it. O, be is much to blame now, for if he has sense be must see that he cannot hold out rnamr days more. Some have told me that mej caa

hold out four days; but this morning one who ought to know told me that two days after this would be the longest. Our people are not only falling fast, but our means are failing; while the besiegers seem as fresh and strong as eVer.” Night and day came again—and Clarence placed another mark upon his calendar. It was the twenty-sixth one for March. He had hardly fixed his mark when the firing ceased, and ere long a death-like stillness reigned over the place. “Hark!” whispered Peter. “Ay—hark!” shouted Howard, springing back and clasping his hands. “Isn’t that a glorious sound?” It was a shout—a prolonged, thundering shout of victory, that saluted the ears of the prisoners; and it came from the distant army, -where the Americans were. Now the youthful captain was nervous and anxious. Each hour seemed an age, and he Jonged to greet his brave companions. But time was not moved aside at his prayer, nor could his longings expedite the transactions that were going on without. But the time came at length. When the dungeon had become dark and drear once more, and just as the prisoners had made up their minds that they were to spend another night in the prison, the tramp of heavy feet was'heard in the long, arched corridor, and shortly afterwards the heavy door was opened. . “Number one hundred and seven, ‘prisoner of war,’ ” read an officer, who held an open book in his hand. “Now, whom have we here?”

“Great heaven, I thank thee!” ejaculated Clarence, raising his clasped hands. “Charley—don’t you know me?” “Eh? What? Whose voice is that?” “Clarence Howard owned it once.” “Clar—what? Clarence Howard? Heaven bless you, my dear fellow!”

Half a dozen American officers crowded about the spot, and when they knew that the prisoner was in reality the noble commander of the Lone Star, their joy knew no bounds.

The sun was just sinking when Howard emerged into the wide court of the castle, and for a moment a sensation of horror pervaded his soul, for the ghastly evidence of the death work that had been going on were to be seen upon all sides. On the following morning Clarence received a visit from one of the general’s orderlies, who bade him wait upon the commander-in-chief at once. Our hero had eaten his breakfast, so he was ready to set out, and he accompanied the messenger back. He found the stout old general with numbers of his staff about him. He arose as the young captain was introduced, and extended his hand. “Am I right, sir, in looking upon you as the commander of the Texan schooner of war which has done so much execution against the enemy?” asked Scott, gazing admiringly into the handsome face of the visitor.

“I aui the man, general,” replied Clarence, modestly. “And how came you here?” the old commander asked. The youth told his story in as few words as possible. . “And besides all/his,” he added, after he had told of the message he had received from Irene, “I knew that I should gain from the maiden some information of the privateers that had fitted out at this port, as her father knew them all, and had some interest in one or more of them. But I gained nothing, as you already know, save pretty snug winter quarters.” “Well,” returned Scott, “you haven’t lost much, for there’s been nothing of much consequence going on since you were imprisoned until we commenced this bombardment. And now what do you wish to do?” “I should like to work, but—what are your movements?” “I am for the Mexican capital, captain.” “Then let me go with you. Give me a'musket, and let me go.” “We’ll do better than that,” said the general, with a look of pleasure. “You Khali keep me company, and we’ll find a commission and a pair of epaulettes for you; by the powers, my dear sir, we need such good heads and arms as yours.” It was soon settled that the young officer should go with the army, and take his station near the commander-in-chief, until some vacancy should occur where his presence should be more needed. During the remainder of the time that the army remained at Vera Cruz, Clarence spent the time very pleasantly with his brother officers. Scott opened the port to the commerce which had been languishing under the blockade, and placed the gallant Worth in command of the city,. (To be continued.)