Wind of Destiny Read online

  ‘I’m afraid we don’t know that, Lieutenant. Are you suggesting that every woman who is locked up for three months or longer here in the States gets raped?’

  ‘Here in the States, sir, when someone is locked up, it is after due process of law, not without trial, and if that someone is a woman, then she is in the care of women gaolers. There were no other women in the police barracks at Daiquiri. That is a fact.’

  Herbert stroked his chin. ‘And she’s your sister-in-law,’ he commented.

  ‘I’m not sure that makes a difference, sir,’ Joe said, not entirely lying. ‘In any event, not even Mr Walkshott can deny that the government forces burned my sister’s plantation house, destroyed her crops, stole her cattle … ’

  ‘Yes,’ Herbert said thoughtfully. ‘There was something of that took place during the War. Chap named Sherman, as I recall.’

  ‘Even General Sherman didn’t lock women and children up in death camps, sir.’

  ‘True. So what would be your answer to the problem, Mr McGann?’

  ‘Mine, sir?’ Joe gave a brief laugh. ‘As you have reminded me, one of the ladies is my sister, and the other is my sister-in-law. My solution would be to send our battle fleet into Santiago Harbour and tell the Spanish authorities that if they didn’t call a halt to this mistreatment of women and children we’d level their city, there and then.’

  ‘Santiago Harbour is mighty well protected,’ Herbert said, mildly.

  ‘They have nothing we couldn’t blow apart with our twelve-inch guns, sir,’ Joe declared.

  Herbert regarded him for several moments. Then he said, ‘It may interest you to know that there are quite a few people in this country, and even in this department, who are inclined to do just that. But they haven’t thought it through. Have you, Lieutenant McGann? That would be an act of war on a foreign power, a country with whom we have been at peace ever since we became a nation.’

  ‘Can we really intend to remain at peace with all the world, sir, forever, no matter what injustices are being done?’

  Herbert pointed. ‘Now that’s where you war hawks step out of line. We are the greatest democracy on this earth. That is because we, the people of the United States of America, want it to be so. That doesn’t give us the right to impose our brand of government, or society, on other people.’

  ‘Not even if the Cuban people want it, sir?’ Joe argued.

  ‘We don’t know that a majority of them do. That is the rule of democracy, remember. We only know for sure that a large number of angry men appear to want it.’ He gave a brief smile. ‘And one or two angry women. And there’s another point. If we started bombarding Santiago, we’d probably kill more civilians in a week than the Spanish authorities have managed to do since the revolt began.’

  ‘The civilian population could be advised to leave the city.’

  ‘And supposing they were refused permission to do so? There are endless ramifications involved in taking positive action of the sort you would like to see. They would all have to be very carefully thought out before we could possibly commit ourselves. But the most important ramification of all is that if we stopped minding our own affairs, and interfered in Cuban politics, which means interfering in Spanish politics, we would be taking one hell of a big step into the unknown. Our motto has always been, let the rest of the world get on with its petty squabbles. We want no part of it. Once we get down off that high horse, that impregnable moral fortress of ours, we become just like the rest. Don’t you believe we can avoid it, even if we were to act with the best of motives. You read the papers? You read the Hearst press?’

  ‘I’ve seen it, sir.’

  ‘They call it the yellow press. I’d call it the gutter press. They’re always saying just what you’re saying. Get in there, Uncle Sam, and show those Spanish dons they can’t act like this on our doorstep. Do it, or you’re a bunch of cowards in Washington. They have a big readership, too. Can you doubt that, if we were to go to war with Cuba, those readers would be the ones to come to the front, and want a say in the way things were run? This country would never be the same again.’

  ‘I think that may be a price we will have to accept, sir,’ Joe insisted. ‘I cannot accept that a country as great, and as industrially powerful as the United States, can remain isolated from the rest of the world for very much longer. That too is a price we will have to pay. Whether we like it or not, we’re a great power. I think it’s time we acted like one.’

  Herbert gave another of his sudden grins. ‘Manifest Destiny, eh? That’s the term they used to justify our conquest of the West.’

  ‘Manifest Destiny,’ Joe said. ‘I’d go along with that. We sure as hell weren’t put here to sit and make money while the rest of the world screams for help.’

  Herbert considered him again, for several seconds. ‘I’ve enjoyed this little chat, Lieutenant McGann,’ he said at last. ‘I can give you no joy, I’m afraid, as regards commanding you to sail into Santiago Harbour with your guns blazing, demanding the release of your sister. But I’d like to ask you to withdraw this resignation. As I said, you have a big future in the Navy. You probably don’t know it yet, but Bob Landry retires in a year. That is confidential. Now, I can’t give you the Maine, yet; you’ve insufficient seniority. Her new captain will be Charlie Sigsbee. You know him, I guess.’

  ‘Indeed I do, sir,’ Joe said. Charles Sigsbee was one of the Navy’s most distinguished officers.

  ‘Well, he’s spent the last couple of years running the Hydrograph Department. Done a damned good job of it, too, but he wants to get back to sea. He wants you to remain as his Executive Officer, and between you and me, I have you next in line when he moves up, which will be as soon as he’s had a couple of years on a bridge.’

  ‘That is very flattering of you, sir,’ Joe acknowledged. ‘But … ’

  ‘That doesn’t help the immediate situation. I understand that. So let me tell you something else in strict confidence. The Administration is, as of this last week, taking a more positive position vis-a-vis the Spanish Government over the reported atrocities which are taking place in Cuba. In particular, the State Department is demanding the recall of this Captain-General of theirs, Valeriano Weyler, who is apparently the creator of these internment camps, and of all the other measures which are so objectionable. It is very possible that if Spain refuses to accept what is in effect dictation from another country as to whom she should employ to run her colonies, we may be prepared to go a step further. We will just have to wait and see. I can also tell you, however, and again in confidence, that contingency plans are being prepared by this department for the eventuality of a confrontation with Spain. These plans will include at least a blockade of Cuba, to prevent supplies reaching the government forces there, until the Spanish authorities agree to see things in a more reasonable light.’

  ‘Is there any country in the world could accept such an interference in its affairs, sir?’ Joe asked, his heart suddenly singing.

  Herbert gave another grin. ‘Now, that I doubt, Lieutenant McGann. I guess they might even send their fleet across the Atlantic to force us to lift the blockade. Now, what would be your attitude to that?’

  ‘Manifest Destiny,’ Joe breathed.

  ‘Well … it sure would be a wind of destiny, at the very least,’ Herbert said. Carefully, he tore up the letter of resignation. ‘Patience, Lieutenant McGann. Patience. Pray for the survival of your sister, and your sister-in-law. And for that wind to start blowing. That Wind of Destiny.’

  Chapter 10

  The Mountains — 1897

  Captain Charles Sigsbee mounted the gangway and stood to attention. The ship’s company of the USS Maine was already lined up on the foredeck, and now the boatswain’s whistle sounded. The captain saluted the flag, then shook hands with his Executive Officer.

  ‘Welcome aboard, sir,’ Joe said.

  ‘Good to be here, Joe,’ Sigsbee replied. He inspected the guard of honour, met his other officers, then climbed to the brid
ge, looked over the controls and down at the barbette immediately beneath him, the great muzzles of the guns protruding like angry tongues, and went into his day cabin. ‘Come in, Joe,’ he said. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Superb,’ Joe told him. ‘Quite superb.’

  Sigsbee gazed out over the waters of the Chesapeake, grey and cold with the coming of winter, nodded his satisfaction. ‘It’ll be good to get to sea again,’ he remarked. ‘Real good. We’re under orders, Joe.’

  ‘What, back to Europe again, to show the flag?’ Joe could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. He could not escape the feeling that he had somehow been bribed, into remaining with the Navy, to no purpose. It had, as Hilary Herbert had reminded him, been an election year, and the Administration of Grover Cleveland had not wanted the Cuban question, which was already so occupying the nation, to take on a new dimension by the resignation of a naval officer because of the fleet’s refusal to involve itself.

  That interview had been well over a year ago, and nothing had happened since. He had accepted that nothing probably would happen during the rest of Mr Cleveland’s term, even if the Cuban situation had been a campaign issue as well. And the election had brought some results. Mr Cleveland’s Democratic Administration had been turned out of office, and replaced by the Republicans under William H McKinley. Mr McKinley had always been more of a hawk on Cuba than Mr Cleveland, and the nation had waited to see what he would do. But the Spanish had been waiting on the election result as well, and the moment it was confirmed that the more aggressive Republican Party had won, it was announced from Madrid that Captain-General Valeriano Weyler had been recalled from Cuba, on grounds of ill health. The nation as a whole had welcomed the news. Joe, and presumably everyone else who was in the know as to the true reason for Weyler’s recall, had been aghast. It had taken the casus belli right under from under the nose of the most warlike government, which had necessarily inherited its predecessor’s foreign policy while setting up one of its own.

  The Administration had promptly wanted to know if the removal of General Weyler meant that the internment camps, or concentration camps as they had come to be known, would now be dismantled. The Spanish authorities had temporised. That was certainly their intention, they claimed, as soon as it was practicable, but there were difficulties … the insurgents were still in arms, but the concentration camps were having an effect, and many rebels were beginning to take advantage of the amnesty offered by General Blanco, who had resumed command of the armed forces, and come in to surrender where they could be sure of being reunited with their wives and families. It was a slow process, but it would be inadvisable to abandon it now, just when it was taking effect … so Toni and Christina remained incarcerated in the camp outside Santiago, subjected presumably to every insult Lumbrera could imagine. Reports from Walkshott that Toni at least was being well treated were meaningless when set alongside other reports that the women in the camps were dying like flies. And there was nothing, it seemed, that he, or anyone else, could do about it. The new Administration was wrangling as much as the old about just how far to go in their interference in Spanish internal affairs, especially after the positive response of Weyler’s dismissal. President McKinley had naturally installed a new cabinet, and thus Herbert’s place had been taken by a Senator from Massachusetts, John Long. Long had seen fit not to interfere with Herbert’s appointment of Charles Sigsbee to command the Maine, but there had been no other sign of a continuance of Herbert’s policy, and the ship had just returned for fitting out following a long and meaningless trans-Atlantic cruise. It had got to the stage where Joe dreaded going home to Long Island to visit his mother and father, visibly aging as they worried about their daughter. But then, was he not visibly aging himself, as he equally dreaded going to bed each night, as visions of Christina, raped and beaten, swam before his eyes whenever he closed them? But he had not again offered his resignation. He had preferred to live in hope that one day the American giant would stir itself into action.

  His difficulty was that he could arrive at no mental consensus as to his true feelings. His life was the Navy. To give that up to go and fight with a group of Cuban irregulars would be soul destroying, without some great and positive end in view. It was difficult to see what the insurgents still hoped to achieve, save a continued existence as bandits. While he knew that the reports issued by the Spanish government regarding rebel atrocities on those proved loyal to the administration were as true as any accusations hurled by the rebels at the government. He did not know if he would be able to stomach living and fighting with men who had descended to the moral and mental level of savages.

  Then there was the question of Christina herself. To think of her being so mistreated made his blood boil, but as he had considered the matter, over long hours on midnight watches in the Atlantic, he had found himself wondering whether that was not the natural reaction of any man to such a ghastly tale. He could no longer determine whether he still loved her or not. He didn’t know if it was possible to love a woman who had been so manhandled, and then he didn’t know if she could have been so manhandled, at least mentally, when he recalled how she had so blatantly offered herself to him. But he couldn’t get her out of his mind; her condition worried him far more than Toni’s, as there seemed no doubt that Toni was being treated in a more humane manner than the Cubans she was imprisoned with. Yet they were both now exposed to death, if the stories about the spread of disease in the camps were true. Vice-Consul Walkshott was supposed to be finding out about that, but was making slow headway where he was not actually allowed inside the camp itself. Nor was he making any headway in persuading the Spaniards to release Toni. Rafael had apparently earned himself a reputation as the most resourceful as well as the most vicious of the insurgent leaders, and Toni had always refused to repudiate him in any way. The Spanish authorities pointed out, quite reasonably, that to release her would be to add another agent to those already assisting the insurgents with arms and money, and propaganda support. It was almost tempting to write to Rafael, supposing a letter would ever reach him, and beg him to surrender for the sake of his wife. But that was impossible too. Rafael had been specifically excluded from the amnesty offer, and would certainly be executed within twenty-four hours of his surrendering.

  None of which, Joe knew, excused his decision to wait, and hope. Easy to say that nothing he could do could possibly help the two girls. Only that bombardment of Santiago of which he dreamed could accomplish that, and only the Navy could give him permission to do that. But he was still standing on the sidelines, like all America, eating, drinking, living, while his sister and the woman he had once wanted as his wife, were in hell.

  But if Sigsbee noted the bitterness, he preferred to ignore it. He would have read the files on each of his officers, and understood Joe’s problem. So his eyes were dancing as he said, ‘Nope. Not Europe this time. Cuba!’

  ‘Cuba?’ Joe’s heart gave a great leap.

  ‘That’s right. The news from there is not good. The insurgents have changed their tactics. They’ve abandoned sporadic raids on Spanish outposts, or on loyalist plantations, and have recently been infiltrating their people into Havana, carrying bombs, would you believe it. And these bombs have not been hurled, or planted, outside Spanish buildings alone, but in several places, outside American-owned businesses.’

  Joe frowned. ‘I don’t quite understand their reasoning.’

  ‘Well, there are two possibilities. One is that they’ve abandoned hope of ever obtaining any help from us, and are including us in their enemies, the other is that they are trying to involve us even more closely, by hook or by crook. Either way, their activities have caused a lot of distress in Havana, and the other day there was a full-scale riot, nobody seems quite sure against whom, or inspired by whom, but in it some American citizens were hurt. And these were people, I might add, who have never shown the least sympathy for the insurgent cause. Therefore, as you say, we have been ordered to show the flag, by making a prolon
ged courtesy call to Havana, just as soon as we have completed refitting.’

  A courtesy call. But it was better than nothing. ‘Will the Spanish let us in?’ ‘Apparently they have agreed to do so. There would be a turn-up for the book, eh, if we wound up helping the Spanish against the rebels? William Randolph Hearst is going to go wild when he learns about it.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Joe agreed grimly. ‘But surely, if they want our help, they’ll have to play the game our way.’

  Sigsbee nodded. ‘I have that much in mind too. Now, Mr McGann, how soon after Christmas can this ship be ready for sea?’

  *

  The boots of the policemen thudded on the earth of the compound as they lifted their burden from the hut to the waiting grave. Six of them carried the body, which was lying on a stretcher beneath a blanket; Lumbrera did not waste his time with coffins. Perhaps there wasn’t enough wood in all Cuba, Toni thought.

  She craned her neck to look from the window of her cell, which overlooked just one comer of the inner yard, endeavouring to ascertain from which hut the body had come, and who it might be. She did this every day, as at least one woman died, every day. Or one of the children. But it was seldom possible to identify any of them, and she had to wait until the survivors were exercised, because then Christina always wandered down to the comer she knew Toni could see, just to let her know she was still alive. And Christina was there again today, thinner and more gaunt than Toni had ever seen her, wearing the most distressing of rags, even in the cool of a Cuban winter, but none the less, erect and proud, and defiant. Christina had discovered a strength Toni would never have supposed possible. Even if it was a strength based on hatred.

  That strength had made it easier for them to bear their separation. For the first year of their imprisonment, even if Toni had been kept a solitary prisoner for twenty-three hours in every day, for the twenty-fourth hour she had been sent into the inner compound to exercise with the other women. That had been the high spot of her day, when she had been able to see their faces, squeeze Manuela’s hand, kneel beside Dona Carlotta for a few minutes, and talk with Christina. It had been during those precious hours that she had learned the true story of what her sister-in-law had suffered in the Daiquiri barracks, the story she had tried, so inadequately, to relate to Walkshott. But the moment the typhus had claimed its first victim, just over a year ago now, she had been forbidden to mingle with the other women, even for a moment; her exercise was to be taken by herself, in the outer compound, with only a guard for company. ‘We do not want you to die, senora,’ Lumbrera had told her. ‘Not you.’