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"Aye, what a misfortune! What an inhuman deed!" replied Mr. Brindle, in a voice which faltered in spite of himself. "Think of it; try to realize the cruelty of it all. In the times of peace, in the cause of good-will, and in the earnest attempt to bring alleviation of suffering to a long-stricken people, the poor lads of my adopted country are cruelly blown to pieces, sent into eternity at the very door of those who have invited them. They came with nothing but friendship in their hearts, expecting to meet with the same. The shock of the news will be felt from east to west, and from north to south, and everywhere will be received at first with incredulity, and later with loathing and scorn, for never was such a dastardly deed committed."
"Committed by whom? What do you mean?" asked Hal, in astonishment. "Do you really think that the explosion was arranged that it was not a pure accident?"
"I do; unhappily, I do," answered Mr. Brindle sternly. "How could it have been otherwise? It is sad, far too sad for words, and I shall be mistaken if to-night's work does not prove the cause of a war between Spain and America."
"But why war, Mr. Brindle? Had matters come to such a pass that the destruction of the Maine would set the countries at each other's throats?"
"Perhaps not that, Hal, for the aspect of affairs of late was distinctly brighter. Still, I think I am right in saying that the wrath of the American people will be so great when the news is
known, that serious trouble will be inevitable. But come, let us to our bunks. To-morrow we will talk the matter over."
"To our bunks, dad! I could not possibly sleep!" exclaimed Dora.
"Nor I," chimed in Gerald.
"And I must confess that I am too troubled and too disturbed to sleep," said Mr. Brindle.
"Then why not fill the time in till morning dawns by telling us about this affair?" cried Hal. "We are all agreed that we cannot sleep; we have done our utmost for those who suffered during or after the explosion, and now we have nothing to do but to lounge here, and fume and fret till to-morrow. Be kind to us, Mr. Brindle. Stir your memory, and let us know the ins and outs of the whole story."
"Well, I will; and if I try your patience, bear with me a little," replied Mr. Brindle. "The quarrel is not of a day's making, nor does it turn upon one single point. Cuba is the cause of it all, and as we are here, perhaps no more fitting spot could be selected for a description of the rebellion and bloodshed which have caused trouble between Spain and America."
CHAPTER IX "THE EVER-FAITHFUL ISLAND"
"It is hard to know exactly where to start," he said at last, coming to a stop in front of them, where he leaned against the ship's rail, and producing a cigar, bit off the end with a nervous snap. "It is difficult, I confess, to fulfill my promise. To begin with, I am shaken by the horrible calamity we have witnessed to-night. My grief is great and heartfelt for those poor fellows who have been so ruthlessly slain, and loathing and contempt for the inhuman wretches who perpetrated the ghastly deed are so much in my thoughts that I find it difficult to fix my mind upon the subject before us, or grasp its details with sufficient clearness to narrate them to you in lucid form.
"Still, a promise is a promise, and I will therefore do my best to tell you why there is bad blood between Spain and America, and why I fear war in the immediate future.
"Just fancy, this, the most beautiful, and once the most prosperous, of Western isles, is still known in Spain as 'the ever-faithful island of Cuba'! And yet there is scarcely a single Spaniard who is not conversant with the true state of affairs, and is not very well aware that Cuba is in revolt, and has been so for close upon fifty years. Go to the country of the Dons and question her lower classes I mean the poor people who exist by tilling the soil, or earn a livelihood in factories or workshops. I will answer for it that hundreds, aye, thousands even, curse this fair isle, curse the government that rules it so evilly, and the necessity that has called, and still calls, for their sons to go across the seas and die, in the depths of jungle and morass.
"Looking back as I do at this moment, I feel that all this suffering, all this misery and heart-ache, are Spain's just reward. The great man of Genoa, Christopher Columbus, who explored these Western seas in the fifteenth century, would have passed by the lovely shores of this gorgeous island and refused to annex it for his adopted king and queen, if he had foreseen the future.
"In those days a race of comely men and women, the Carib Indians, inhabited the land, and their descendants might be here to-day had not the lust for gold and riches led Spanish adventurers to disembark in the hopes of satisfying their greed. As might have been expected, trouble followed, and the better armed invaders hunted the Indians till they were exterminated. That unnecessary bloodshed has cost Spain dear. She occupied the island, and made it the headquarters of the African slave trade. Little by little other people and races were attracted here, till at the present moment the population amounts to about a million and a half. Of these a third are negroes, and the remainder anything you please to call them. You can pick from amongst the populace distinctive races, whose color ranges from negro black to almost pure white. Of the latter there are but few in the island, for even the proud old Castilian families which came here years ago, and throve and made money by the sweat of these imported negroes, are now no longer Spanish. Scarcely one of their descendants but has some trace of African blood.