An American

About the beginning of the year eighteen hundred and ninety-eight, there had been aroused in the hearts of the people of the United States a strong feeling of pity and compassion toward the inhabitants of the Island of Cuba who were under the ironshod heel of Spain and who had made many appeals for help to our own government in one way and in another.

The time was ripe for a revolution among the dark-skinned populace of the large cities of the Island Empire and many confusing circumstances combined to add to the confusion of sentiments entertained toward the government by those who suffered from its rulings.

Many indignities had been heaped upon the Cubans by those who claimed to represent the young King Alfonso XIII, who, in his far-away palace in old Madrid was as unconscious of what was done in his name, very many times, as he would have disapproved of it had he known it.

The young King and his mother, the Queen regent, tried, in every way within their power, to adjust matters amicably between their rebellious subjects and those whom they had sent across the sea to govern them, but they found this a very difficult matter indeed, and between the fiery tempers of the natives and the over-bearing arrogance of the officers who represented them, the poor crowned heads of sunny Spain certainly had a pretty hard time of it.

The Queen mother was naturally a gentle and a very highly educated and studious woman, while the boy King was as far from being the typical idea of a reigning tyrant as a handsome, well-trained young fellow could well be.

But those who represented these two crowned heads were of quite another pattern as to character and disposition and many were the cruelties charged to the account of certain ones among their number due to the opportunities afforded them of gratifying their lowest impulses and following along the paths that led, for the time being, into what seemed to them to be very pleasant pastures and beside very still waters, which, as is well known, often, besides being still, run deep.

One evening, just as dusk was falling over the little town of San Domingo, there appeared, passing along one of the quiet, shadowy narrow streets, a rather strange procession ... well in advance of the rest of the motley company appeared a village Priest bearing in his hand a crucifix which he held before him as if to fend off something evil ... he was dressed, as is the custom of the Catholic Priests of Cuba, in the flowing vestments of his office and the long cord that was knotted round his ample waist had a huge cross dangling from the end of it which struck against his well-formed legs as he strode along with head held high as if he saw beyond the things of earth and gazed upon some beatific vision which upheld him and lifted him above his immediate environment.

Indeed, there was one who walked beside him though he, himself, was unaware of it, except subconsciously, for Father Felix, as this Priest was known, was wandering among strange thoughts as he passed along that almost silent little street, that one sad evening.

He had been, for many peaceful years, the Priest who had officiated at almost all the public meetings of the village, but, never in his life devoted, as it was to the consideration of holy, high and spiritual matters, had he been called upon to conduct so weird a service as he was, then, about to do.

He wondered, as he marched along, whether he was doing just exactly right in leading these, his simple-minded followers, into what it seemed to them they must do, that night ... he wondered whether, even now, he would not better turn to those who followed after him and call to them to halt and to consider well before they took another single step that might, each one of them, be an irrevocable and a much-to-be-regretted step, for it might lead to what they could not know of ways that might, as well as not, prove very winding and even thorn-strewn ways for those who followed along them. And Father Felix knew that he, alone of all that little company, was gifted with the power to reason out a fair and just conclusion from the premises presented to them all; he knew that he alone had enough of education to even understand the meaning of the words that had been spoken to them all ... he knew that those who came along that little street behind him had trusted to him most implicitly, for many years, in matters that required thought, and, although they had been the ones to beg him to take the step that they were then about to take, he knew that, even then, right at the last, had he been minded to, he might, yet, turn their minds away from what they seemed to be so set upon.

He knew that, if he wished to do so, he could make them see the matter under their consideration in quite another light from what they saw it in at that time ... he knew that he could bend their wills to make them match with his own will for he had done this very many times before ... he was a natural leader, and being well equipped for leadership, he took that place as if it were his natural right ... and so it seemed to be.

Any stranger, glancing along the line of human beings that followed Father Felix and his upheld crucifix, would have noticed many weak and vacillating faces ... many weak and vacillating wills as evidenced by the expressions on those weak and vacillating faces ... many wills that could be bent by anyone who had a strong and capable and domineering mind, and Father Felix had a mind like that ... a natural leader's most commanding mind ... he was a man to win respect wherever he might go ... a man to dominate the wills of those about him ... a man to lead the crowd ... a man to guide the minds of those he met, and, after having occupied the one place in the village that commanded the respect of all, for long, of course they looked to him for guidance and followed where he led as little children follow after the one full-grown human being in their midst.

But, as they marched along, full many whispers ran along that motley little company and gave some prescience of the clamor that would come if all their bridled tongues should really become loose again, for, now, they only spoke in whispers dreading discovery of what they were about to do by some of those against whose orders they were doing it.

"I wonder what the Governor would say if he could know the thing that we're about to do," a beardless youth began, as he edged a little nearer to his mother's side, "I wonder what would happen to us, now, if he discovered our intention."

The mother only put her finger on her lips and shook her head at him, but, later on, when they had gone a little further on their journey, she whispered to him:

"I hope the Governor will never know who did what we're about to do, at least, for, if he should discover which of us accomplished the purpose that all the villagers are interested in, we would suffer for our temerity in doing this ... I almost wish we had not joined this mob, my boy ... I almost wish, at least, that I had left you home to mind the house while I will be away from it," and, then, she ended, sadly, "God knows if we shall ever be allowed to see our home again."

There was one who walked among that little company, that evening, who was not as the rest in very many ways, and, yet, her lot was cast in with the rest for she had lived in that small village since her infancy, and, so, it seemed to her and them as well, that she was one of them and, so, must be among them even then, when they were casting in their lots, at Father Felix' instigation, with the ones who so violently opposed the reigning powers that they were held, then, and had been so held, for many weary months, as incommunicado in the village jail or prison in the wide and beautiful and picturesque great prado in the very centre of the town.

The girl who, in very many ways, was different from all the rest was walking in the very centre of the little crowd and, as the others jostled against her, her great blue eyes stared almost vacantly, as it seemed, around her like a startled fawn's when something unknown ventures near to its retreat within its native forest.

She drew her slender figure up to its full height, and she was taller than the rest of those who walked beside her, when someone whispered to her:

"What think you of all this, Estrella? Is it to your taste to be a part of those who, in their puny strength, contend against the strong? Do you think that you'll enjoy the future that we are advancing to? What do you think will happen to us when we reach the prado, anyway? Do you think the Governor has found out what we are going to do and if he does what action will he take? I'm more than half afraid myself ... I don't deny that I'm afraid ... how do you feel about it all?"

"I don't believe I know just how I do feel, Tessa," said the taller girl, "I think that I'm afraid, too ... I know my knees are trembling a very little, so I must be scared the same as you say you are. Let us keep as close together as we can, so, if anything happens to one it will be sure to happen to us both ... it seems to me ..." she ended, dreamily, "that even death itself could not be much worse than the things that we've endured just lately, here."

And then the two young creatures shuddered at the very thought of death and huddled just as close together as they could and marched along among the rest as quietly as if they had not been afraid of anything at all.

At last they reached the prado and Father Felix paused and held his crucifix even a little higher than he had done all along and waited for the little company to assemble directly in front of him, when he stretched his arms out wide in silent blessing on their undertaking, and proceeded toward the little prison that stood at one end of the prado facing the great public square where games were held when fiestas were in order.

But it was for no festal undertaking that they had gathered there, that evening; silent preparations were making as they halted ... battering rams were being raised and carried forward by the men and tears and flowers seemed to be the offering of the women in the crowd to the ones they hoped to liberate from the dark, forbidding precincts of the edifice before them.

Father Felix motioned those who held the battering rams to hold them in their hands in readiness for instant action at a word from him ... then he called aloud to him who kept the keys to bring them forth and give them to him, or he would be, in case that his request should be refused, compelled, in spite of his strong desire to avoid all violence if possible, to use force in effecting the object for which the multitude surrounding him, outside, had gathered there.

He waited, patiently, for several minutes, but, as he received no answer to his demand, he called again:

"Bring forth the keys at once!" he cried raising his voice so that it carried far beyond the limits of the building that stood there before him, "bring them forth unless you wish to force me to use violence for I am determined to liberate the prisoners you hold within, and, if you do not bring to me the keys so that I may open the strong doors with them, why, then, I'll be obliged to break down the barriers that are between the ones you hold within that prison and the freedom that is their natural right. Once more do I command you ..." he cried in a stentorian voice, using the quality of voice that he employed when he intoned with due solemnity, the holy mass, "bring forth to me the keys that I may liberate my children that you hold without the right to hold them, or, if you refuse to do my bidding, then may the consequences of what will follow that refusal be upon your own head...."

As, still there was no answer from the dark and gloomy precincts of the edifice before him, he prepared to carry out the threats that he had made.

First, he commanded those who held the battering rams in readiness to advance until they were the proper distance from the doors for the use of their rude weapons, then he told the others to await his word but to be in readiness, each one, to follow where he led, then, holding high his crucifix and calling most devoutly, on the name of God, he came as near to those who were about to use the battering rams as he could do and not impede their movements, then he cried:

"Advance and give no quarter! Do your duty as I have instructed you to the full extent of it! Follow me, my little children, God is good and He will care for us in this our desperate undertaking."

As the heavy detonation of the strokes of those who held the battering rams rang through the building, cries were heard as if of those who were in agony and many shuddered at the sound for well they thought they knew its cause ... it seemed to them that they would be too late ... that those they sought to rescue were even at that moment being foully murdered in their cells because they were about to save them from the fate that they had been condemned to undergo.

The fair Estrella clung to her dark little friend and whispered to her:

"Tessa, it is more terrible than we imagined it would be ... what shall we do? How can we bear to go yet nearer to the horror that the prison hides from us? Tessa ... little Friend ..." she ended, "I'm awfully afraid ... are you?"

"I'm almost scared to death myself, Estrella," Tessa whispered back, "I know I'll die of fright alone if this keeps on much longer ... hear that scream! It's very terrible!"

But, then, all sounds were hushed, for prison doors that had been locked as tight as any prison doors could be had yielded to the heavy blows that had been rained upon them and, as they opened, they could plainly see, in the dim light that fell within that prison's entrance, that they had been, indeed, too late for him who lay at his full length across the entrance to the prison, for his body had been twisted in its fall so that his head that had been almost severed from it lay askew as if its eyes, that stared as wildly and as full of earthly horror as dead eyes could, had been trying to discover something strange about the figure that, but only lately, was as full of life and vigor as was any figure standing there without that prison door.

Estrella gazed at that still figure ... then she screamed in almost more than human agony and darted forward till she crouched beside it as it lay there at the entrance to the prison ... straightening the handsome head, she lifted it until it rested in her lap, and, then, she softly smoothed the dark and clustering curls that hung above the broad, full brow, and looked within the great brown eyes that stared at her, or so it seemed, as if the owner of them had been walking in his sleep, and then she pressed her virgin lips upon the full, be-whiskered mouth of him whose head she held within her lap.

She fainted, then, and fell across the body of the man who lay across the entrance to that prison, and Father Felix lifted her and laid the senseless, almost severed head upon the floor again, and supported her until he left her with her little friend, outside, among the crowd.

And then the village Priest came back and led the men who held the battering rams within the prison to the cells of those they wished to liberate and commanded them to break down those doors as they had broken down the other ones, but, here, he found his way was barred, for, just as soon as blows began to fall upon the doors of those narrow cells those within those cells began to call to them and caution them that, if the doors were broken down, they'd find the prison-guards behind them with their loaded guns and the prisoners told their friends that those loaded guns were pointed at their breasts and would be fired at them just as soon as their cell-doors gave way.

When Father Felix heard this ultimatum he thought that all his efforts had been useless and his deep-laid plans of no avail until he heard a voice behind him softly whisper ... a voice that he had never heard before:

"Be not weary in well-doing. The cell-doors will open and the prisoners come forth alive if you but use the proper means to bring about that end. Call out to those you wish to succor, now, and tell them to be of good cheer for deliverance is at hand."

The soft voice drifted away into silence, then, but the village Priest obeyed its mandates and reassured the ones within those narrow cells and gave them courage to withstand the threats of instant death that faced them there.

And, then, he turned to those who waited his commands and told them that help was very near ... that, waiting there within the corridors of that small prison were those who'd come from far to bring to them assistance ... the kind of help that loaded guns would not affect. Then, he told them of the punishment that would await the ones who disobeyed the orders he was just about to give ... a punishment that would not only last through earthly life but would go on into eternity ... a punishment that would not only blast the earthly tenements but would condemn the souls of those who chose to act in opposition to his orders to everlasting torment.

And, then, he turned to those who, breathlessly, were waiting for the orders he was just about to give, and said to them:

"When I have counted up to three, prepare to break the doors down ... when I have counted up to six, if so be they remain unopened, go on and break them in!" he stopped a moment, then, to ascertain whether his followers fully understood the instructions he was giving to them ... seeing all of them alert, he continued, "to you who are within, I make this unalterable statement. Choose between a longer lease of earthly life and instant death! Choose between forgiveness for your past sins or everlasting punishment! Open these doors from within or we will break them down and those whose human bodies we will find, lying stark and cold in earthly death, will not be those of our dear friends who are your prisoners, for there are those within those cells of whose presence you are unaware but who are potent in the cause of right and truth and justice. I will now proceed to count ... one ... two ... three ..." at that, he heard a key thrust rapidly within a lock, but, as it was unturned, he went on counting, "four ..." he heard another key inserted in a lock, "five ..." he waited just a second longer, then, than he had done before, hoping that the keys would turn before the final number had to come, but, as they did not do that, he opened his mouth to pronounce the fatal word and was about to utter it, when, suddenly, all the cell-doors opened and the prison-guards within had fallen on their knees in superstitious terror of what they did not know, and, so, instead of uttering the fatal number, good Father Felix said, "Thank God!" and raised his crucifix and pronounced a blessing on them all, both prisoners and those who'd guarded them.

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