1882: Custer in Chains (21 page)

“When?” Villate urged. “I must respond to the king.”

Weyler stood and examined a map on the wall. The Americans held strong positions both on the hill he understood they called Mount Haney and at the opening of the Matanzas Bay. He would attack both spots. Take the foolishly named hill and guns could dominate at least part of the bay, which would drive away American shipping. Take the opening to the bay and the Americans would be trapped.

Weyler drew himself up to full attention. “We will attack in two days.”

* * *

Janson and Prentice decided that the time was right. It was well after midnight, but a three-quarters moon and a cloudless sky gave them all the light they would need. The festivities on the
Vitoria
had ended and any civilians were now safely on land. This was a comfort to the two men as the idea of needlessly inflicting civilian casualties was repugnant. If necessary they would do it, but avoiding them was a fervent wish.

Better, the two small Spanish cruisers had shifted their anchorage so that getting a clear shot at the battleship was a good possibility. The
Aurora
’s anchor chains and her engine had been oiled and finely tuned so they made very little noise.

Janson signaled for all ahead slow and the
Oslo
, once again the
Aurora
, began to slowly move away from her anchorage. If anyone on shore or on the Spanish ships noticed, they didn’t care. An American flag was ready to be flown as soon as Janson or Prentice gave the order. The American crewmen, most of them now grinning hugely, were dressed as American sailors and not as Norwegian merchant crewmen.

At a point they turned to starboard and began to head towards the
Vitoria.
They had informed the Spanish that they would turn towards the channel and steam through it to the ocean. At only a couple of hundred yards from the Spanish ship, Janson ordered her engines stopped. He also ordered the torpedo tubes on the hull of the ship opened. This caused the
Aurora
to wallow for a moment. The brand new Whitehead torpedoes were propelled by compressed air and had a range of three hundred yards maximum and weren’t all that accurate; therefore, the Americans had to be as close as possible in order to hit their target and for the
Aurora
to stand any chance of getting away safely.

Janson nodded towards Prentice. “The honor is yours, I believe.”

Prentice swallowed nervously. “Fire one,” he ordered through a speaking tube. The
Aurora
shuddered as the torpedo broke free. “Fire two,” he yelled, this time exultantly. The first torpedo was headed straight towards the
Vitoria
and the second quickly followed in her path.

Janson ordered the
Aurora
’s engines up to full speed and began to maneuver the ship towards and down the channel. Prentice kept an eye on the
Vitoria
as the torpedo wakes closed. He heard excited and confused yells from the enemy warship as someone spotted them. It was too late. First one and then the other struck the
Vitoria
, sending up mountains of water. The Spanish battleship shuddered and heeled over before recovering. Alarms and screams sounded.

As they headed down the channel, trumpets blared and alarm bells rang. “Fly our flag,” Janson ordered and the Stars and Stripes went up at her stern.

“The
Vitoria
’s sinking,” exulted Prentice. “She’s actually sinking. We’ve done it.”

Janson stole a glance. The
Vitoria
was listing heavily to port and he could see men jumping off her and into the calm warm water. Smoke was pouring out of her from down below. To his experienced eye, she was mortally wounded. The Spanish might actually salvage her someday, but it would be many months before the
Vitoria
returned to combat. “Now all we have to do is get out of here,” he said grimly.

Now alert but confused, the Spanish shore batteries opened up on anything that looked like a target and that included the
Aurora
. Someone with a brain clearly realized that a ship fleeing from such a catastrophe might have had something to do with it.

Shells splashed into the water around them. Shortly, the Spanish guns got the range and cannonballs began to strike the Aurora, hulling her and smashing her. Prentice was thrown to the deck, where he lay unconscious and bleeding. A large wooden splinter had pierced Janson’s shoulder and he could barely stand the pain.

“Stop engines and strike the flag,” he ordered before the darkness overwhelmed him.

* * *

Lieutenant Hugo Torres of the Spanish Navy was bored and lonely. He also felt that the Spanish Navy was in such bad shape that it might not even exist in a few days. The escape of the battleship
Vitoria
from the guns of the Americans was being told as if it was a great victory when nothing could be farther from the truth. Her batteries of 6.3-inch and 5.5-inch guns were popguns when compared with the guns mounted by the ships of other modern navies. Even the few large ships possessed by the U.S. Navy outgunned the
Vitoria
. Thus, the
Vitoria
had run from the battle to the safety of Havana’s harbor.

The battleship was safe but she was also locked in. As one sailor put it, she was as safe as a nun in a convent. The harbor was now her prison. Numerous American warships patrolled the entrance to the harbor. Any attempt to leave would bring them swarming. Even though all of the enemy ships outside the harbor were smaller than the
Vitoria
, there were so many of them that they would prevail. They would be like a pack of wolves tearing at a horse or a cow. At least that was what the ship’s captain had declared. Torres was of the opinion that they should try to blast their way out, and that their bigger guns would prevail. However, the captain had also added that the
Vitoria
had no place to go even if she were to win free. The only safe place for her would be Spain and that was out of the question. It was too far and they would never make it. With that, Torres had to agree.

The people of Havana knew nothing of this. They were just delighted that the mighty-looking ship was there to protect their city.

And that was another thing that annoyed Torres. Havana was nowhere near the cosmopolitan city he’d thought it would be. It was small, cramped, and dirty. Granted Madrid had her poor neighborhoods, but Havana had so many of them! Worse, there were many blacks and Indians and few true Spaniards. Many of those who considered themselves noble were clearly of mixed racial backgrounds. Madrid society would have laughed at them.

Nor had he managed to make any headway with the women of the town. The few really lovely ones had already been gobbled up by the more senior and wealthier officers. Torres’ family had some money but not enough to provide him with a lifestyle that would impress the señoritas. There was never enough, which was why he’d joined the Navy in the first place. He had wanted to remove himself as a burden to his family. Well, he thought bitterly, he had indeed removed himself. Now he might remove himself out of this life if the
Vitoria
went to sea.

“Lieutenant, the foreign ship is moving.”

Torres was about to forcefully remind the sailor that he didn’t have the watch and had only come on deck to get out of the stifling heat below decks when he realized that the foreign ship’s behavior was indeed strange. Was she leaving port? All the
Vitoria
’s officers had been told that she might depart at any time. Well, he thought, this must be the time.

“Don’t worry about it, sailor,” he snapped.

But wait. The foreign ship was lined up as if she was planning to ram the Spaniard. There was commotion in the water on each side of the foreigner’s hull.

He saw things in the water headed towards him and realized with horror that they were torpedoes.

“Alarm!” Torres screamed. “Sound the alarm.”

It was too late. The torpedoes slammed into the
Vitoria
’s hull and exploded with incredible violence, actually lifting the ship out of the water for an instant. Torres felt himself being lifted into the air and thrown overboard. He landed in the water and began to thrash. Something floated by and he grabbed at it. He shrieked when he realized it was a human leg, complete with a shoe on its foot.

Crewmen were throwing themselves into the water by the score. No one was making any attempt to save the ship. No matter, he realized as he treaded water. The one remaining capital ship in the Spanish Navy was settling in the mud of Havana’s harbor.

Bells and sirens were going off in the city as small boats pushed off to rescue the
Vitoria
’s crew. A few moments later, Torres was standing on a dock looking at the ruined thing that had been a proud Spanish battleship. Scores of bodies floated around her in an obscene dance. Other rescued crewmen clustered around him as if for comfort. He could not help but wonder if he was the battleship’s ranking survivor. If so, he was now captain of the wreck of the
Vitoria
.

* * *

Governor Villate saw the prisoners in the hospital where they’d been taken. There were only eight of them and all were injured, some very seriously. Better for his concerns, two of them were the senior officers who’d been on board the American ship.

The reports from the
Vitoria
were dismal. The battleship was resting on the muddy bottom of Havana harbor with only part of her superstructure showing. She was almost on her side and there was a pair of gaping holes in her hull. These were the results of a torpedo attack. He’d known that the English had the devices and that the inventor had been selling them to a number of nations. He wondered if Spain had any and decided it was highly unlikely. Far too modern and costly to interest the parsimonious government at Madrid, he concluded.

More important, one hundred and seven officers and men had died on the
Vitoria
. Most had been trapped belowdecks and drowned while others had been blown to pieces by the explosion. A shocking number had died in their hammocks where they’d been sleeping. The attack had been cowardly and despicable. The dead and wounded had to be avenged. Spain’s honor was at stake.

As a result of the sinking, Spanish naval power in the new world was virtually nonexistent. In a short time the U.S. would have two capital ships to Spain’s none, and the American smaller warships were at least as good as the less numerous Spanish vessels.

The two American officers had been brought in on stretchers. They were heavily bandaged and the younger man’s legs were in splints. Villate felt like ripping the bandages from their bodies and listening to them scream.

There was a mild and intentional cough behind him. Redford Dunfield from the British Consulate and the International Red Cross had insisted on being present. Since Dunfield was British and since Great Britain was the most powerful nation in the world, his annoying request had to be honored. He was also plump, in his fifties, and exuded a sense of confidence that Villate found both condescending and annoying. He was accompanied by a newly arrived German advisor, Colonel Adolf Helmsdorf. The British consul was in civilian clothes while the German was in full uniform.

The British diplomatic presence in Havana was small. As Dunfield had mentioned several times in earlier meetings, her majesty was most parsimonious when it came to handing out diplomatic titles. Besides, the British ambassador to Spain was located in Madrid, while Havana was a backwater. The Havana consulate was more of a courtesy than anything else. In order to make ends meet, Dunfield spent most of his time working in the import-export business, where he had been successful. Unfortunately for Villate, on this day Dunfield took his consular duties very seriously. The German appeared curious but unconcerned.

The two American prisoners were unconscious and in no shape to be questioned. Villate thought they were pretending, but with Dunfield present he would let it go for another time. However, he did have Spain’s pride to salve.

Villate turned on Dunfield and glared. “They will be hanged as pirates and spies.”

“On what grounds?” Dunfield asked calmly but firmly. “According to her papers, their ship was a legitimate U.S. Navy warship and she was flying the American flag when she was taken. Her officers and men are all members of the U.S. Navy; therefore, they cannot be held as pirates.”

Villate felt himself turning red with frustration. “They entered the harbor flying a Norwegian flag and presented Norwegian papers. We trusted their integrity. They are
franc-tireurs,
terrorists, and, as such are subject to execution. We will hang them in such a manner that the American ships offshore can see them twist and dangle.”

Helmsdorf nodded solemnly. During the Franco-Prussian war, his army had summarily executed a number of Frenchmen who were defined as terrorists. This, however, was different. For one thing, the Americans were all wearing uniforms, which was in accordance with the rules of war and legitimized their actions.

Dunfield shook his head. “According to the Geneva Convention, the officers and men of the
Aurora
were and are legitimate members of a conventional armed force and not terrorists as defined by the Convention. And may I remind you that Spain was a signatory to that agreement. Therefore, you are honor bound to adhere to its terms. You may not hang them.”

I would like to shove the Geneva Accord up your ass and set it on fire, Villate thought. Rules of war, hell, he thought. War consists of killing people. There should be no rules when fighting for one’s own existence. The Americans should be executed immediately. He had the feeling that the German agreed with him as well. “Are you saying it was a
ruse de guerre
and nothing more?”

“That’s correct,” Dunfield said, “a trick of war and, sadly, you fell for it. These men were incredibly brave and successful and not pirates or terrorists. When they get back to their homeland, they will be feted and given medals.”

“If they get back,” Villate snarled. “A lot can happen to them before that. Perhaps their medical situation could take a serious change for the worse. Perhaps their wounds will become infected, causing their deaths. Perhaps such infections, instead of causing their deaths, would cause their limbs to become gangrenous and need to be amputated. Would the United States like their heroes coming home alive but without arms and legs and being carried in boxes?”