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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/26026-h.zip b/26026-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..a874edb --- /dev/null +++ b/26026-h.zip diff --git a/26026-h/26026-h.htm b/26026-h/26026-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5649fdc --- /dev/null +++ b/26026-h/26026-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,981 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Surrender of Santiago, + by Frank Norris. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + text-indent: 1.25em;} + + p.t1 {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em; font-size: 150%;} + h1,h2 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%;} + + img {border: 0} + + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: 0.6em; text-align: right; + position: absolute; right: 2%; text-indent: 0em; + padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; + font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; text-decoration: none; + color: #444; background-color: #FF99CC;} + + .center {text-align: center; text-indent: 0em;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figdrop {float: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: .1em; margin-top: 0; + margin-right: .75em; padding: 0;} + .cap {text-indent: 0em;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + + + .poem {margin-left:10%; margin-right:10%; text-indent: 0em;} + .noin {text-indent: 0em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Surrender of Santiago, by Frank Norris + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Surrender of Santiago + An Account of the Historic Surrender of Santiago to General + Shafter, July 17, 1898 + +Author: Frank Norris + +Release Date: July 11, 2008 [EBook #26026] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SURRENDER OF SANTIAGO *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Bergquist and The Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="600" height="822" alt="cover" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr /> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 600px;"> +<img src="images/image1.jpg" width="600" height="724" alt="photo" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr /> +<h1>THE SURRENDER<br /> +OF SANTIAGO</h1> + +<p class="center">AN ACCOUNT OF THE<br /> +HISTORIC SURRENDER OF SANTIAGO<br /> +TO GENERAL SHAFTER<br /> +JULY 17, 1898</p> + +<p class="t1"><span class="smcap">by</span> FRANK NORRIS</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;"> +<img src="images/cannon.jpg" width="200" height="96" alt="canon" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p class="center"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +SAN FRANCISCO<br /> +<big>PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY</big><br /> +NINETEEN SEVENTEEN +</p> + +<hr /> + + +<p class="center"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> +<small>Copyright, 1913, 1917<br /> +by Otis F. Wood<br /><br /><br /><br /> +</small></p> + + + +<hr /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SURRENDER OF<br /> SANTIAGO</h2> + +<div class="figdrop" style="width: 75px;"> +<img src="images/bigf.jpg" width="75" height="122" alt="big f" title="" /> +</div> +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">or</span> two days we had been at the headquarters of the Second Brigade +(General McKibben's), so blissfully contented because at last we had a +real wooden and tiled roof over our heads that even the +tarantulas—Archibald shook two of them from his blanket in one +night—had no terrors for us.</p> + +<p>The headquarters were in an abandoned country seat, a little six-roomed +villa, all on one floor, called the Hacienda San Pablo. To the left of +us along the crest of hills, in a mighty crescent that reached almost to +the sea, lay the army, panting from the effort of the first, second and +third days of the month, resting on its arms, its eyes to its sights, +Maxim, Hotchkiss and Krag-Jorgenson held ready, alert, watchful, +straining in the leash, waiting the expiration of the last truce that +had now been on for twenty-four hours.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p><p>That night we sat up very late on the porch of the hacienda, singing +"The Spanish Cavalier"—if you will recollect the words, singularly +appropriate—"The Star-Spangled Banner," and</p> + +<p class="poem"> +'Tis a way we had at Caney, sir,<br /> +'Tis a way we had at Caney, sir,<br /> +'Tis a way we had at Caney, sir,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">To drive the Dons away,</span><br /> +</p> + +<p class="noin">an adaptation by one of the General's aides, which had a great success.</p> + +<p>Inside, the General himself lay on his spread blankets, his hands +clasped under his head, a pipe in his teeth, feebly applauding us at +intervals and trying to pretend that we sang out of tune. The night was +fine and very still. The wonderful Cuban fireflies, that are like little +electric lights gone somehow adrift, glowed and faded in the mango and +bamboo trees, and after a while a whip-poor-will began his lamentable +little plaint somewhere in the branches of the gorgeous vermilion +Flamboyana that overhung the hacienda.</p> + +<p>The air was heavy with smells, smells that inevitable afternoon +downpours had distilled from the vast jungle of bush and vine and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +thicket all up and down the valley. In Cuba everything, the very mud and +water, has a smell. After every rain, as soon as the red-hot sun is out +again, vegetation reeks and smokes and sweats, and these smells steam +off into the air all night, thick and stupefying, like the interior of a +cathedral after high mass.</p> + +<p>The orderly who brought the despatch should have dashed up at a gallop, +clicked his spurs, saluted and begun with "The commanding General's +compliments, sir," et cetera. Instead, he dragged a very tired horse up +the trail, knee-deep in mud, brought to, standing with a gasp of relief, +and said, as he pushed his hat back from his forehead:</p> + +<p>"Say, is here where General McKibben is?"</p> + +<p>We stopped singing and took our feet down from the railing of the +veranda. In the room back of us we heard the General raise on an elbow +and tell his orderly to light a candle. The orderly went inside, drawing +a paper from his pocket, and the aides followed. Through the open window +we could plainly hear what followed, and see, too, for that matter, by +twisting a bit on our chairs.</p> + +<p>The General had mislaid his eyeglasses and so passed the despatch to one +of his aides, <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>saying: "I'll get you to read this for me, Nolan." On one +knee, and holding the despatch to the candle-light, Nolan read it aloud.</p> + +<p>It began tamely enough with the usual military formulas, and the first +thirty words might have been part of any one of the many despatches the +General had been receiving during the last three days. And then "to +accompany the commanding General to a point midway between the Spanish +and American lines and there to receive the surrender of General Toral. +At noon, precisely, the American flag will be raised over the Governor's +Palace in the city of Santiago. A salute of twenty-one guns will be +fired from Captain Capron's battery. The regimental bands will play 'The +Star-Spangled Banner' and the troops will cheer. <span class="smcap">Shafter.</span>"</p> + +<p>There was a silence. The aide returned the paper to the General and +straightened up, rubbing the dust from his knee. The General shifted his +pipe to the other corner of his mouth. The little green parrot who lived +in the premises trundled gravely across the brick floor, and for an +instant we all watched her with the intensest attention.</p> + +<p>"Hum," muttered the General reflectively <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>between his teeth. "Hum. +They've caved in. Well, you won't have to make that little +reconnaissance of yours down the railroad, after all, Mr. Nolan." And so +it was that we first heard of the surrender of Santiago de Cuba.</p> + +<p>We were up betimes the next morning. By six o'clock the General had us +all astir and searching in our blanket rolls and haversacks for "any +kind of a black tie." It was an article none of us possessed, and the +General was more troubled over this lack of a black tie than the fact +that he had neither vest nor blouse to do honor to the city's +capitulation.</p> + +<p>But we had our own troubles. The flag was to be raised over the city at +noon. Sometime during the morning the Spanish General would surrender to +the American. The General—our General—and his aides, as well as all +the division and brigade commanders, would ride out to be present at the +ceremony—but how about the correspondents?</p> + +<p>Almost to a certainty they would be refused. Privileges extended to +journalists and magazine writers had been few and very far between +throughout the campaign. We would watch the affair through glasses from +some hilltop, two miles, or three maybe, to the rear.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> But for all that, +we saddled our horses and when the General and his staff started to ride +down to corps headquarters, fell in with the aides, and resolved to keep +up with the procession as far as our ingenuity and perseverance would +make possible.</p> + +<p>It was early when we started and the heat had not yet begun to be +oppressive. All along and through the lines there were signs of the +greatest activity. Over night the men had been withdrawn from the +trenches and were pitching their shelter tents on the higher and drier +ground, and where our road crossed the road from Caney to Santiago we +came upon hundreds of refugees returning to the city whence they had +been driven a few days previous.</p> + +<p>Headquarters had been moved a mile or two nearer the trenches during the +truce, and we found it occupying the site of General Wheeler's tent on +the battlefield of San Juan. The ground is high and open hereabouts, +and, as we came up we could see the general officers—each of them +accompanied by his staff—closing in from every side upon the same spot.</p> + +<p>It was a great gathering. We had seen but few of these generals; most of +them had been but mere names, names that found place in a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> breathless +fragment of news shouted by an orderly galloping to or from the front. +But now they were all here: Wheeler, small, white-bearded and wiry; +Ludlow, who always contrived to appear better dressed than everyone +else, in his trim field uniform and white leggings; Randolph, with his +bull neck and fine, salient chin, perhaps the most soldierly-looking of +all, and others and others and others; Kent, Lawton, Wood, Chaffee, +Young, Roosevelt, and our own General, who, barring Wheeler, had perhaps +done more actual fighting in the course of his life than any three of +the others put together, yet who was like the man in Mr. Nye's song, +"without coat or vest," even without "any kind of a black tie."</p> + +<p>Shafter himself sat under the fly of his tent, his inevitable pith +helmet on his head, a headgear he had worn ever since leaving the ship, +holding court as it were on this, his own particular day. In the field +below, the cavalry escort was forming, and aides, orderlies and +adjutants came and went at the top speed of their horses, just as the +military dramas had taught us to expect they should.</p> + +<p>But, except ourselves, not a correspondent was in sight, and we were +very like to be <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>ordered back at any moment. But the god descended from +the machine in the person of Captain McKittrick of the commanding +General's staff, and we were given an unqualified permission to fall in +so soon as the start should be made, provided only that we fell in at +the rear of any one of the generals' staffs.</p> + +<p>But here a difficulty developed itself. The procession started almost +immediately, and when we fell in at the rear of one of the staffs we +found ourselves naturally at the head of the one immediately behind. It +was a time when, if ever, precedence and rank were of paramount +importance, and a brigadier-general does not take it kindly when two +rather forlorn-appearing men, wearing neither stripe nor shoulder strap, +and mounted upon an unkempt mule and a lamentable little white pony, +rank him out of his place when he is marching to receive an enemy's +surrender. As much was said to us, at first with military terseness, and +latterly, this proving of no effect, with cursings and blasphemies. Our +<i>deus ex machina</i> was far ahead with General Shafter by this time, and +it was only our mule that saved us from ultimate discomfiture. He +belonged to a pack-train and his life had been spent in <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>following close +upon the footsteps of the animal in front of him. He was a mule with one +idea; his universe collapsed, his cosmos came tumbling about his ears +the instant that it became impossible for him to follow in a train. It +was all one that Archibald tore and tugged at the bit, or roweled him +red. He could as easily have reined a locomotive from its track as to +have swerved the creature from its direct line of travel by so much as +an inch.</p> + +<p>So what with this and with that, we worried along until just beyond the +line of our trenches, where the road broadened very considerably and we +could compromise by riding on the flanks of the column.</p> + +<p>And an imposing column it was, nearly three hundred strong, and it +actually appeared as if one-half was made up of brigadier-generals, +major-generals, generals commanding divisions, staff officers and the +like. A mere colonel was hardly better than a private on that day. We +moved forward at a quick trot, General Shafter's pith helmet bobbing +briskly along on ahead. As we passed through our lines there was a smart +cheer or two from the men, and at one point a band was banging away at a +nimble Sousa quickstep as we trotted by.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>We were now on what had been the debatable ground, as much the enemy's +as ours, and had not gone far before we were suddenly aware of a group +of Spanish horsemen over the hedge of cactus to the left of the road, +brightly dressed young fellows wearing the blue linen and red facings of +the <i>guarda civile</i>, who at the sight of us turned and dashed back +through the fields as though to give news of our approach. Then there +was a freshly macheted opening in the hedge; the column turned in, +advanced parallel with the road some hundred yards through a field of +standing grass and at last halted.</p> + +<p>At once the place was alive with Spanish soldiery. They came forward to +meet us in very brave and gay attire. First a corps of trumpeters +sounded a pretty trumpet march. They blew defiantly, did these Spanish +trumpeters, and as loudly as ever they could, just to show us that they +were not afraid—that they did not care, not they, pooh! After these +came a small detachment of <i>guarda</i>, with arms, who watched the Yankee +soldiers with bovine intentness while they came to a halt and ordered +arms in front of our position.</p> + +<p>Toral, the defeated General, came next. <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>Suddenly it had become very +quiet. The trumpeters had ceased blowing, and the rattling accoutrements +of the moving troops had fallen still with the halt. The beaten General +came out into the open space ahead of his staff, and General Shafter +rode out to meet him, and they both removed their hats.</p> + +<p>I cast a quick glance around the scene, at the Spaniards in their blue +linen uniforms, the red and lacquer of the <i>guarda civile</i>, the ordered +Mausers, the trumpeters resting their trumpets on their hips, at our own +array, McKibben in his black shirt, Ludlow in his white leggings, and +the rank and file of the escort, the bronzed, blue-trousered troopers, +erect and motionless upon their mounts. It was war, and it was +magnificent, seen there under the flash of a tropic sun with all that +welter of green to set it off, and there was a bigness about it so that +to be there seeing it at all, and, in a way, part of it, made you feel +that for that moment you were living larger and stronger than ever +before. It was Appomattox again, and Mexico and Yorktown. Tomorrow +nearly a hundred million people the world round would read of this +scene, and as many more, yet unborn, would read of it, but today you +could sit in your <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>saddle on the back of your little white bronco and +view it as easily as a play.</p> + +<p>Toral rode forward toward Shafter and, as I say, both uncovered. Toral +was well-looking, his face rather red from the sun and half hidden by a +fine gray mustache. He was a little bald and his forehead was high and +round. As the two Generals shook hands it was so still that the noise of +a man chopping wood in our lines nearly half a mile away was plainly +audible. Immediately at their backs the staffs of the two watched. The +escort watched. Back along the Spanish and the American trenches +thousands of men stood in line and watched; Santiago watched, and +Washington, Spain and the United States, the two hemispheres, the Old +World and the New, paused on that moment, watching. A sentence or two +was spoken in low tones and the Generals replaced their hats and shook +hands smilingly.</p> + +<p>Instantly a great creaking of saddles took place as the men eased their +positions, and conversation began again. The Spanish soldiers filed off +through a break in the barbed wire fence, the defiant trumpeters playing +their pretty march-call more defiantly than ever.</p> + +<p>Introductions were the order of the next few<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> moments, Shafter +introducing all his major and brigadier-generals to Toral. Meanwhile +Spanish soldiers were defiling past us along the road going toward our +lines, and without arms. There was no rancor or bitterness in the +expression of these men. They evinced mostly an abnormal curiosity in +observing the cavalrymen who formed our escort, and the cavalry repaid +it in kind. The soldiers on both sides wanted to know just what manner +of men they had been fighting these last few weeks.</p> + +<p>I, myself, became lost in the fascination of these silent-shod soldiers +(for they wear a kind of tennis shoe) filing off at their rapid marching +gait. We noted that most of them were young, jolly, rather +innocent-looking fellows, and we looked especially for officers, +studying them and watching to see how "they took it." One fellow led a +very fat cow, with his knapsack and impedimenta bound to her horns.</p> + +<p>They had nearly gone by and the end of their pack-train of little +donkeys was already in sight when a general movement of our escort made +me gather up the reins. The head of our column was just descending into +the road, going on at a trot. The ride into the city was beginning.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p><p>Shall I ever forget that ride? We rode three abreast, always at a rapid +trot and sometimes even at a canter, the General himself always setting +the pace. Just after leaving the field where the surrender had taken +place the road broadened still more until it became a veritable highway, +the broadest and best we had ever seen in Cuba, but disfigured here and +there with the dead horses of officers, the saddle and headstall still +on the carcass. The city was in plain sight now, but its aspect, with +which we had become so familiar, was changing with every hundred yards.</p> + +<p>At the junction of the Caney road a block house was passed with its +usual trench and trocha, strong enough against infantry, as we all knew +by now. This one was of unusual strength and we would have given it more +serious attention had not our eyes been smitten with the sight of a +veritable marvel. It might have been the white swan of Lohengrin there +on the stony margin of the road, or the green dragon of Whantley, or the +Holland submarine torpedo boat; but it was none of these. It was a +carriage—a carriage.</p> + +<p>I say it was a carriage, a hack, with girls in white muslin frocks in +it, the driver lounging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> on the box and two miserable horses dozing in +the harness. I suppose it would be quite impossible to make a reader +understand how incongruous this apparition seemed to us. It was in use, +no doubt, carrying refugees from Caney back into the city and its +presence was easily accounted for. But Mr. Kipling's phantom rickshaw +could hardly have produced a greater sensation.</p> + +<p>"A carriage!"</p> + +<p>"Say, will you look at that!"</p> + +<p>"Well, for God's sake!"</p> + +<p>"Damned if it isn't a carriage!"</p> + +<p>"Say, Jim, look at the carriage!"</p> + +<p>"It is a carriage for a fact—well, of all the things!"</p> + +<p>"Well, that get's me—a carriage!"</p> + +<p>It was among the troopers of the escort that the carriage had the +greatest success. They chuckled over it as if it had some hidden, +mirthful significance. They addressed strange allusions to the lounging +driver, and when they had ridden by they turned in their saddles and +watched it out of sight at the risk of breaking their necks. They rode +the sprucer for it; they were in better spirits for it. They laughed, +they talked, they went at a faster<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> pace, they cocked their hats, they +were gay, they were debonair. They had seen a carriage!</p> + +<p>And now we were close up. Here was the hospital on the very outskirts, +with its plethora of Red Cross flags. It was a hospital, after all, and +not a barracks, as we had said, studying it through our field glasses +during the last week, for blanketed and beflanneled objects, +hollow-eyed, with bandaged heads, crowded silently at the grated windows +staring at us galloping past. Here was an abandoned trench, and +here—steady all, pull down to a walk—here is the barbed wire +entanglement we have heard so much about. Formidable enough, surely; +three lines of posts right across the road with barbed wire interwoven. +A rabbit could not have passed here; and back of it trenches and rifle +pits; nothing but artillery could have forced these lines. What fools to +have abandoned them—well.</p> + +<p>We passed through the gap single file and gingerly, then forward again +at a hard gallop, clattering rough-shod over paved streets, for now at +last we were in the city of Santiago.</p> + +<p>Soldiers without arms, refugees, the men in brown derby hats—Cubans, +negroes, dark women with black lace upon their heads, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> children +absolutely naked, watched us very silently from the sidewalks and from +balconies. The houses were of adobe, painted pale blue and pink, and +roofed with rugged lichen-blackened tiles. The windows reached from +sidewalk to roof and were grated heavily, the doors oak and clenched +with great nail heads. Santiago, Santiago at last, after so many days of +sailing, of marching, of countermarching, and of fighting.</p> + +<p>Here we were in the city at last, riding in, hoofs clattering, sabres +rattling, saddles creaking, and suddenly a great wave of exultation came +over us all. I know the General felt it. I know the last trooper of the +escort felt it. There was no thought of humanitarian principles then. +The war was not a "crusade," we were not fighting for Cubans just then, +it was not for disinterested motives that we were there sabred and +revolvered and carbined. Santiago was ours—was ours, ours, by the sword +we had acquired, we, Americans, with no one to help—and the Anglo-Saxon +blood of us, the blood of the race that has fought its way out of a +swamp in Friesland, conquering and conquering and conquering, on to the +westward, the race whose blood instinct is the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> acquiring of land, went +galloping through our veins to the beat of our horses' hoofs.</p> + +<p>Every trooper that day looked down from his saddle upon Cuban and +Spanish soldier as from a throne. Even though not a soldier, it was +impossible not to know their feeling, glorying, arrogant, the fine, +brutal arrogance of the Anglo-Saxon, and we rode on there at a gallop +through the crowded streets of the fallen city, heads high, sabres +clattering, a thousand iron hoofs beating out a long roll—triumphant, +arrogant conquerors.</p> + +<p>At the Plaza we halted and dismounted. The Cathedral was here, the Cuban +and Spanish clubs and the Governor's Palace, a rather unimposing affair +all on one floor, with the architectural magnificence of a railway +station of the French provinces. The General and the generals went in +and crowded the hall of audience, very clinquant with its black and +white floor, glass chandeliers, long mirrors and single gilded center +table. Here for an hour deputations were received. The Chief of Police, +Leonardo Ras y Rodriguez, the ex-Governor, and last of all and most +imposing, Monsignor Francisco Saenz de Urturi, the Archbishop, in his +robes, purple cap and gold chain, followed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> by his suite. Him, General +Shafter, came forward to meet, and the two shook hands under the tawdry +chandelier. It was a strange enough sight. By many and devious and +bloody ways had the priest and the soldier come to meet each other on +that day.</p> + +<p>But it was drawing toward noon. I went out into the Plaza again. The +troops were already forming a line of cavalry that stretched along the +street immediately before the Governor's Palace, and two companies of +the Ninth Infantry and the band occupied the center where the little +park is. I went across the Plaza and stood on the terrace in front of +the main doors of the Cathedral. Directly opposite was the Governor's +Palace, the naked flagstaff on the roof over the door standing out lean +and stark against the background of green hills.</p> + +<p>The sidewalks and streets outside the lines of soldiers were crowded +with an even mixture of civilians and disarmed Spanish soldiers. The +Spanish Club on the left was suddenly closed, but the balconies of the +San Carlos—the Cuban Club—were filled with black-bearded, voluble +gentlemen in white ducks and straw hats. Every window in the "hotel" was +occupied, each one of the little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> balconies of the Cafe Venus had its +gathering, while the terrace of the Cathedral was packed close. There +were perhaps five thousand in the Plaza de Armas of Santiago on that +seventeenth day of July.</p> + +<p>At five minutes of the noon hour everything fell quiet. Captain +McKittrick and Lieutenant Miley had appeared on the roof of the Palace +by the flagstaff. Unfortunately there was not a breath of wind. The +minutes passed, two, three, four. The silence was profound, nobody +spoke. In all those five thousand people there was scarcely a movement.</p> + +<p>Then back of us from the direction of the Cathedral's clock tower there +came a slow wheezing as of the expansion of decrepit lungs, a creaking +and jarring of springs and cog-wheels that grew rapidly louder till it +culminated abruptly in a single sonorous stroke. At once Captain +McKittrick laid his hand to the halyards of the flagstaff, a bundle of +bunting rose in the air, shapeless and without definite color. But +suddenly, wonderful enough, there came a breeze, a brisk spurt out of +the north. The bunting caught it, twisted upon itself, tumbled, writhed, +then suddenly shook itself free, and in a single long billow rolled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> out +into the Stars and Stripes of Old Glory.</p> + +<p>"Pre-sent h' ar-r-r!"</p> + +<p>That was from the square, and in answer to the order came the +Krag-Jorgensons leaping to the fists and the cavalry sabres swishing and +flashing out into the sunlight.</p> + +<p>Then the band: "Oh, say, can you see—" while far off on the hills from +our intrenchments Capron's battery began to thunder the salute.</p> + +<p>The moment was perhaps the most intense of the whole campaign. There was +no cheering and that was the best of it. It is hard to understand this, +but the occasion was too big for mere shouting, and infinitely too +solemn. I have heard the "Miserere" in the Sistine Chapel, and in +comparison with the raising of the flag over the city of Santiago it was +opera comique.</p> + +<p>For perhaps a full minute we stood with bared heads reverently watching +the great flag as it strained in the breeze that, curiously enough, was +now steady and strong, watching it as it strained and stiffened and grew +out broader and broader over the conquered city till you believed the +glory of it and the splendor and radiance of it must go flashing off<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +there over those leagues of tumbling water till it blazed like a comet +over Madrid itself.</p> + +<p>And the great names came to the mind again—Lexington, Trenton, +Yorktown, 1812, Chapultepec, Mexico, Shiloh, Gettysburg, the Wilderness, +Appomattox, and now—Guasima, San Juan, El Caney, Santiago.</p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2>PUBLISHED FOR THE BENEFIT<br /> OF THE RED CROSS FUNDS</h2> + + +<p>The Surrender of Santiago, a thrilling account of an historic event, was +graphically set down by the late Frank Morris, and first published by +Otis F. Wood, in the Sun, New York, through whose courtesy it is now +reprinted in booklet form. Issued by Paul Elder & Company at their +Tomoye Press, under the direction of Ricardo J. Orozco, in May, nineteen +seventeen.</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Surrender of Santiago, by Frank Norris + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SURRENDER OF SANTIAGO *** + +***** This file should be named 26026-h.htm or 26026-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/0/2/26026/ + +Produced by Greg Bergquist and The Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Surrender of Santiago + An Account of the Historic Surrender of Santiago to General + Shafter, July 17, 1898 + +Author: Frank Norris + +Release Date: July 11, 2008 [EBook #26026] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SURRENDER OF SANTIAGO *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Bergquist and The Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + + + + + THE SURRENDER + OF SANTIAGO + + AN ACCOUNT OF THE + HISTORIC SURRENDER OF SANTIAGO + TO GENERAL SHAFTER + JULY 17, 1898 + + BY FRANK NORRIS + + SAN FRANCISCO + PAUL ELDER AND COMPANY + NINETEEN SEVENTEEN + + + + + Copyright, 1913, 1917 + by Otis F. Wood + + + + +THE SURRENDER OF SANTIAGO + + +For two days we had been at the headquarters of the Second Brigade +(General McKibben's), so blissfully contented because at last we had a +real wooden and tiled roof over our heads that even the +tarantulas--Archibald shook two of them from his blanket in one +night--had no terrors for us. + +The headquarters were in an abandoned country seat, a little six-roomed +villa, all on one floor, called the Hacienda San Pablo. To the left of +us along the crest of hills, in a mighty crescent that reached almost to +the sea, lay the army, panting from the effort of the first, second and +third days of the month, resting on its arms, its eyes to its sights, +Maxim, Hotchkiss and Krag-Jorgenson held ready, alert, watchful, +straining in the leash, waiting the expiration of the last truce that +had now been on for twenty-four hours. + +That night we sat up very late on the porch of the hacienda, singing +"The Spanish Cavalier"--if you will recollect the words, singularly +appropriate--"The Star-Spangled Banner," and + + 'Tis a way we had at Caney, sir, + 'Tis a way we had at Caney, sir, + 'Tis a way we had at Caney, sir, + To drive the Dons away, + +an adaptation by one of the General's aides, which had a great success. + +Inside, the General himself lay on his spread blankets, his hands +clasped under his head, a pipe in his teeth, feebly applauding us at +intervals and trying to pretend that we sang out of tune. The night was +fine and very still. The wonderful Cuban fireflies, that are like little +electric lights gone somehow adrift, glowed and faded in the mango and +bamboo trees, and after a while a whip-poor-will began his lamentable +little plaint somewhere in the branches of the gorgeous vermilion +Flamboyana that overhung the hacienda. + +The air was heavy with smells, smells that inevitable afternoon +downpours had distilled from the vast jungle of bush and vine and +thicket all up and down the valley. In Cuba everything, the very mud and +water, has a smell. After every rain, as soon as the red-hot sun is out +again, vegetation reeks and smokes and sweats, and these smells steam +off into the air all night, thick and stupefying, like the interior of a +cathedral after high mass. + +The orderly who brought the despatch should have dashed up at a gallop, +clicked his spurs, saluted and begun with "The commanding General's +compliments, sir," et cetera. Instead, he dragged a very tired horse up +the trail, knee-deep in mud, brought to, standing with a gasp of relief, +and said, as he pushed his hat back from his forehead: + +"Say, is here where General McKibben is?" + +We stopped singing and took our feet down from the railing of the +veranda. In the room back of us we heard the General raise on an elbow +and tell his orderly to light a candle. The orderly went inside, drawing +a paper from his pocket, and the aides followed. Through the open window +we could plainly hear what followed, and see, too, for that matter, by +twisting a bit on our chairs. + +The General had mislaid his eyeglasses and so passed the despatch to one +of his aides, saying: "I'll get you to read this for me, Nolan." On one +knee, and holding the despatch to the candle-light, Nolan read it aloud. + +It began tamely enough with the usual military formulas, and the first +thirty words might have been part of any one of the many despatches the +General had been receiving during the last three days. And then "to +accompany the commanding General to a point midway between the Spanish +and American lines and there to receive the surrender of General Toral. +At noon, precisely, the American flag will be raised over the Governor's +Palace in the city of Santiago. A salute of twenty-one guns will be +fired from Captain Capron's battery. The regimental bands will play 'The +Star-Spangled Banner' and the troops will cheer. SHAFTER." + +There was a silence. The aide returned the paper to the General and +straightened up, rubbing the dust from his knee. The General shifted his +pipe to the other corner of his mouth. The little green parrot who lived +in the premises trundled gravely across the brick floor, and for an +instant we all watched her with the intensest attention. + +"Hum," muttered the General reflectively between his teeth. "Hum. +They've caved in. Well, you won't have to make that little +reconnaissance of yours down the railroad, after all, Mr. Nolan." And so +it was that we first heard of the surrender of Santiago de Cuba. + +We were up betimes the next morning. By six o'clock the General had us +all astir and searching in our blanket rolls and haversacks for "any +kind of a black tie." It was an article none of us possessed, and the +General was more troubled over this lack of a black tie than the fact +that he had neither vest nor blouse to do honor to the city's +capitulation. + +But we had our own troubles. The flag was to be raised over the city at +noon. Sometime during the morning the Spanish General would surrender to +the American. The General--our General--and his aides, as well as all +the division and brigade commanders, would ride out to be present at the +ceremony--but how about the correspondents? + +Almost to a certainty they would be refused. Privileges extended to +journalists and magazine writers had been few and very far between +throughout the campaign. We would watch the affair through glasses from +some hilltop, two miles, or three maybe, to the rear. But for all that, +we saddled our horses and when the General and his staff started to ride +down to corps headquarters, fell in with the aides, and resolved to keep +up with the procession as far as our ingenuity and perseverance would +make possible. + +It was early when we started and the heat had not yet begun to be +oppressive. All along and through the lines there were signs of the +greatest activity. Over night the men had been withdrawn from the +trenches and were pitching their shelter tents on the higher and drier +ground, and where our road crossed the road from Caney to Santiago we +came upon hundreds of refugees returning to the city whence they had +been driven a few days previous. + +Headquarters had been moved a mile or two nearer the trenches during the +truce, and we found it occupying the site of General Wheeler's tent on +the battlefield of San Juan. The ground is high and open hereabouts, +and, as we came up we could see the general officers--each of them +accompanied by his staff--closing in from every side upon the same spot. + +It was a great gathering. We had seen but few of these generals; most of +them had been but mere names, names that found place in a breathless +fragment of news shouted by an orderly galloping to or from the front. +But now they were all here: Wheeler, small, white-bearded and wiry; +Ludlow, who always contrived to appear better dressed than everyone +else, in his trim field uniform and white leggings; Randolph, with his +bull neck and fine, salient chin, perhaps the most soldierly-looking of +all, and others and others and others; Kent, Lawton, Wood, Chaffee, +Young, Roosevelt, and our own General, who, barring Wheeler, had perhaps +done more actual fighting in the course of his life than any three of +the others put together, yet who was like the man in Mr. Nye's song, +"without coat or vest," even without "any kind of a black tie." + +Shafter himself sat under the fly of his tent, his inevitable pith +helmet on his head, a headgear he had worn ever since leaving the ship, +holding court as it were on this, his own particular day. In the field +below, the cavalry escort was forming, and aides, orderlies and +adjutants came and went at the top speed of their horses, just as the +military dramas had taught us to expect they should. + +But, except ourselves, not a correspondent was in sight, and we were +very like to be ordered back at any moment. But the god descended from +the machine in the person of Captain McKittrick of the commanding +General's staff, and we were given an unqualified permission to fall in +so soon as the start should be made, provided only that we fell in at +the rear of any one of the generals' staffs. + +But here a difficulty developed itself. The procession started almost +immediately, and when we fell in at the rear of one of the staffs we +found ourselves naturally at the head of the one immediately behind. It +was a time when, if ever, precedence and rank were of paramount +importance, and a brigadier-general does not take it kindly when two +rather forlorn-appearing men, wearing neither stripe nor shoulder strap, +and mounted upon an unkempt mule and a lamentable little white pony, +rank him out of his place when he is marching to receive an enemy's +surrender. As much was said to us, at first with military terseness, and +latterly, this proving of no effect, with cursings and blasphemies. Our +_deus ex machina_ was far ahead with General Shafter by this time, and +it was only our mule that saved us from ultimate discomfiture. He +belonged to a pack-train and his life had been spent in following close +upon the footsteps of the animal in front of him. He was a mule with one +idea; his universe collapsed, his cosmos came tumbling about his ears +the instant that it became impossible for him to follow in a train. It +was all one that Archibald tore and tugged at the bit, or roweled him +red. He could as easily have reined a locomotive from its track as to +have swerved the creature from its direct line of travel by so much as +an inch. + +So what with this and with that, we worried along until just beyond the +line of our trenches, where the road broadened very considerably and we +could compromise by riding on the flanks of the column. + +And an imposing column it was, nearly three hundred strong, and it +actually appeared as if one-half was made up of brigadier-generals, +major-generals, generals commanding divisions, staff officers and the +like. A mere colonel was hardly better than a private on that day. We +moved forward at a quick trot, General Shafter's pith helmet bobbing +briskly along on ahead. As we passed through our lines there was a smart +cheer or two from the men, and at one point a band was banging away at a +nimble Sousa quickstep as we trotted by. + +We were now on what had been the debatable ground, as much the enemy's +as ours, and had not gone far before we were suddenly aware of a group +of Spanish horsemen over the hedge of cactus to the left of the road, +brightly dressed young fellows wearing the blue linen and red facings of +the _guarda civile_, who at the sight of us turned and dashed back +through the fields as though to give news of our approach. Then there +was a freshly macheted opening in the hedge; the column turned in, +advanced parallel with the road some hundred yards through a field of +standing grass and at last halted. + +At once the place was alive with Spanish soldiery. They came forward to +meet us in very brave and gay attire. First a corps of trumpeters +sounded a pretty trumpet march. They blew defiantly, did these Spanish +trumpeters, and as loudly as ever they could, just to show us that they +were not afraid--that they did not care, not they, pooh! After these +came a small detachment of _guarda_, with arms, who watched the Yankee +soldiers with bovine intentness while they came to a halt and ordered +arms in front of our position. + +Toral, the defeated General, came next. Suddenly it had become very +quiet. The trumpeters had ceased blowing, and the rattling accoutrements +of the moving troops had fallen still with the halt. The beaten General +came out into the open space ahead of his staff, and General Shafter +rode out to meet him, and they both removed their hats. + +I cast a quick glance around the scene, at the Spaniards in their blue +linen uniforms, the red and lacquer of the _guarda civile_, the ordered +Mausers, the trumpeters resting their trumpets on their hips, at our own +array, McKibben in his black shirt, Ludlow in his white leggings, and +the rank and file of the escort, the bronzed, blue-trousered troopers, +erect and motionless upon their mounts. It was war, and it was +magnificent, seen there under the flash of a tropic sun with all that +welter of green to set it off, and there was a bigness about it so that +to be there seeing it at all, and, in a way, part of it, made you feel +that for that moment you were living larger and stronger than ever +before. It was Appomattox again, and Mexico and Yorktown. Tomorrow +nearly a hundred million people the world round would read of this +scene, and as many more, yet unborn, would read of it, but today you +could sit in your saddle on the back of your little white bronco and +view it as easily as a play. + +Toral rode forward toward Shafter and, as I say, both uncovered. Toral +was well-looking, his face rather red from the sun and half hidden by a +fine gray mustache. He was a little bald and his forehead was high and +round. As the two Generals shook hands it was so still that the noise of +a man chopping wood in our lines nearly half a mile away was plainly +audible. Immediately at their backs the staffs of the two watched. The +escort watched. Back along the Spanish and the American trenches +thousands of men stood in line and watched; Santiago watched, and +Washington, Spain and the United States, the two hemispheres, the Old +World and the New, paused on that moment, watching. A sentence or two +was spoken in low tones and the Generals replaced their hats and shook +hands smilingly. + +Instantly a great creaking of saddles took place as the men eased their +positions, and conversation began again. The Spanish soldiers filed off +through a break in the barbed wire fence, the defiant trumpeters playing +their pretty march-call more defiantly than ever. + +Introductions were the order of the next few moments, Shafter +introducing all his major and brigadier-generals to Toral. Meanwhile +Spanish soldiers were defiling past us along the road going toward our +lines, and without arms. There was no rancor or bitterness in the +expression of these men. They evinced mostly an abnormal curiosity in +observing the cavalrymen who formed our escort, and the cavalry repaid +it in kind. The soldiers on both sides wanted to know just what manner +of men they had been fighting these last few weeks. + +I, myself, became lost in the fascination of these silent-shod soldiers +(for they wear a kind of tennis shoe) filing off at their rapid marching +gait. We noted that most of them were young, jolly, rather +innocent-looking fellows, and we looked especially for officers, +studying them and watching to see how "they took it." One fellow led a +very fat cow, with his knapsack and impedimenta bound to her horns. + +They had nearly gone by and the end of their pack-train of little +donkeys was already in sight when a general movement of our escort made +me gather up the reins. The head of our column was just descending into +the road, going on at a trot. The ride into the city was beginning. + +Shall I ever forget that ride? We rode three abreast, always at a rapid +trot and sometimes even at a canter, the General himself always setting +the pace. Just after leaving the field where the surrender had taken +place the road broadened still more until it became a veritable highway, +the broadest and best we had ever seen in Cuba, but disfigured here and +there with the dead horses of officers, the saddle and headstall still +on the carcass. The city was in plain sight now, but its aspect, with +which we had become so familiar, was changing with every hundred yards. + +At the junction of the Caney road a block house was passed with its +usual trench and trocha, strong enough against infantry, as we all knew +by now. This one was of unusual strength and we would have given it more +serious attention had not our eyes been smitten with the sight of a +veritable marvel. It might have been the white swan of Lohengrin there +on the stony margin of the road, or the green dragon of Whantley, or the +Holland submarine torpedo boat; but it was none of these. It was a +carriage--a carriage. + +I say it was a carriage, a hack, with girls in white muslin frocks in +it, the driver lounging on the box and two miserable horses dozing in +the harness. I suppose it would be quite impossible to make a reader +understand how incongruous this apparition seemed to us. It was in use, +no doubt, carrying refugees from Caney back into the city and its +presence was easily accounted for. But Mr. Kipling's phantom rickshaw +could hardly have produced a greater sensation. + +"A carriage!" + +"Say, will you look at that!" + +"Well, for God's sake!" + +"Damned if it isn't a carriage!" + +"Say, Jim, look at the carriage!" + +"It is a carriage for a fact--well, of all the things!" + +"Well, that get's me--a carriage!" + +It was among the troopers of the escort that the carriage had the +greatest success. They chuckled over it as if it had some hidden, +mirthful significance. They addressed strange allusions to the lounging +driver, and when they had ridden by they turned in their saddles and +watched it out of sight at the risk of breaking their necks. They rode +the sprucer for it; they were in better spirits for it. They laughed, +they talked, they went at a faster pace, they cocked their hats, they +were gay, they were debonair. They had seen a carriage! + +And now we were close up. Here was the hospital on the very outskirts, +with its plethora of Red Cross flags. It was a hospital, after all, and +not a barracks, as we had said, studying it through our field glasses +during the last week, for blanketed and beflanneled objects, +hollow-eyed, with bandaged heads, crowded silently at the grated windows +staring at us galloping past. Here was an abandoned trench, and +here--steady all, pull down to a walk--here is the barbed wire +entanglement we have heard so much about. Formidable enough, surely; +three lines of posts right across the road with barbed wire interwoven. +A rabbit could not have passed here; and back of it trenches and rifle +pits; nothing but artillery could have forced these lines. What fools to +have abandoned them--well. + +We passed through the gap single file and gingerly, then forward again +at a hard gallop, clattering rough-shod over paved streets, for now at +last we were in the city of Santiago. + +Soldiers without arms, refugees, the men in brown derby hats--Cubans, +negroes, dark women with black lace upon their heads, and children +absolutely naked, watched us very silently from the sidewalks and from +balconies. The houses were of adobe, painted pale blue and pink, and +roofed with rugged lichen-blackened tiles. The windows reached from +sidewalk to roof and were grated heavily, the doors oak and clenched +with great nail heads. Santiago, Santiago at last, after so many days of +sailing, of marching, of countermarching, and of fighting. + +Here we were in the city at last, riding in, hoofs clattering, sabres +rattling, saddles creaking, and suddenly a great wave of exultation came +over us all. I know the General felt it. I know the last trooper of the +escort felt it. There was no thought of humanitarian principles then. +The war was not a "crusade," we were not fighting for Cubans just then, +it was not for disinterested motives that we were there sabred and +revolvered and carbined. Santiago was ours--was ours, ours, by the sword +we had acquired, we, Americans, with no one to help--and the Anglo-Saxon +blood of us, the blood of the race that has fought its way out of a +swamp in Friesland, conquering and conquering and conquering, on to the +westward, the race whose blood instinct is the acquiring of land, went +galloping through our veins to the beat of our horses' hoofs. + +Every trooper that day looked down from his saddle upon Cuban and +Spanish soldier as from a throne. Even though not a soldier, it was +impossible not to know their feeling, glorying, arrogant, the fine, +brutal arrogance of the Anglo-Saxon, and we rode on there at a gallop +through the crowded streets of the fallen city, heads high, sabres +clattering, a thousand iron hoofs beating out a long roll--triumphant, +arrogant conquerors. + +At the Plaza we halted and dismounted. The Cathedral was here, the Cuban +and Spanish clubs and the Governor's Palace, a rather unimposing affair +all on one floor, with the architectural magnificence of a railway +station of the French provinces. The General and the generals went in +and crowded the hall of audience, very clinquant with its black and +white floor, glass chandeliers, long mirrors and single gilded center +table. Here for an hour deputations were received. The Chief of Police, +Leonardo Ras y Rodriguez, the ex-Governor, and last of all and most +imposing, Monsignor Francisco Saenz de Urturi, the Archbishop, in his +robes, purple cap and gold chain, followed by his suite. Him, General +Shafter, came forward to meet, and the two shook hands under the tawdry +chandelier. It was a strange enough sight. By many and devious and +bloody ways had the priest and the soldier come to meet each other on +that day. + +But it was drawing toward noon. I went out into the Plaza again. The +troops were already forming a line of cavalry that stretched along the +street immediately before the Governor's Palace, and two companies of +the Ninth Infantry and the band occupied the center where the little +park is. I went across the Plaza and stood on the terrace in front of +the main doors of the Cathedral. Directly opposite was the Governor's +Palace, the naked flagstaff on the roof over the door standing out lean +and stark against the background of green hills. + +The sidewalks and streets outside the lines of soldiers were crowded +with an even mixture of civilians and disarmed Spanish soldiers. The +Spanish Club on the left was suddenly closed, but the balconies of the +San Carlos--the Cuban Club--were filled with black-bearded, voluble +gentlemen in white ducks and straw hats. Every window in the "hotel" was +occupied, each one of the little balconies of the Cafe Venus had its +gathering, while the terrace of the Cathedral was packed close. There +were perhaps five thousand in the Plaza de Armas of Santiago on that +seventeenth day of July. + +At five minutes of the noon hour everything fell quiet. Captain +McKittrick and Lieutenant Miley had appeared on the roof of the Palace +by the flagstaff. Unfortunately there was not a breath of wind. The +minutes passed, two, three, four. The silence was profound, nobody +spoke. In all those five thousand people there was scarcely a movement. + +Then back of us from the direction of the Cathedral's clock tower there +came a slow wheezing as of the expansion of decrepit lungs, a creaking +and jarring of springs and cog-wheels that grew rapidly louder till it +culminated abruptly in a single sonorous stroke. At once Captain +McKittrick laid his hand to the halyards of the flagstaff, a bundle of +bunting rose in the air, shapeless and without definite color. But +suddenly, wonderful enough, there came a breeze, a brisk spurt out of +the north. The bunting caught it, twisted upon itself, tumbled, writhed, +then suddenly shook itself free, and in a single long billow rolled out +into the Stars and Stripes of Old Glory. + +"Pre-sent h' ar-r-r!" + +That was from the square, and in answer to the order came the +Krag-Jorgensons leaping to the fists and the cavalry sabres swishing and +flashing out into the sunlight. + +Then the band: "Oh, say, can you see--" while far off on the hills from +our intrenchments Capron's battery began to thunder the salute. + +The moment was perhaps the most intense of the whole campaign. There was +no cheering and that was the best of it. It is hard to understand this, +but the occasion was too big for mere shouting, and infinitely too +solemn. I have heard the "Miserere" in the Sistine Chapel, and in +comparison with the raising of the flag over the city of Santiago it was +opera comique. + +For perhaps a full minute we stood with bared heads reverently watching +the great flag as it strained in the breeze that, curiously enough, was +now steady and strong, watching it as it strained and stiffened and grew +out broader and broader over the conquered city till you believed the +glory of it and the splendor and radiance of it must go flashing off +there over those leagues of tumbling water till it blazed like a comet +over Madrid itself. + +And the great names came to the mind again--Lexington, Trenton, +Yorktown, 1812, Chapultepec, Mexico, Shiloh, Gettysburg, the Wilderness, +Appomattox, and now--Guasima, San Juan, El Caney, Santiago. + + + + +PUBLISHED FOR THE BENEFIT OF THE RED CROSS FUNDS + + +The Surrender of Santiago, a thrilling account of an historic event, was +graphically set down by the late Frank Morris, and first published by +Otis F. Wood, in the Sun, New York, through whose courtesy it is now +reprinted in booklet form. Issued by Paul Elder & Company at their +Tomoye Press, under the direction of Ricardo J. Orozco, in May, nineteen +seventeen. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Surrender of Santiago, by Frank Norris + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SURRENDER OF SANTIAGO *** + +***** This file should be named 26026.txt or 26026.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/0/2/26026/ + +Produced by Greg Bergquist and The Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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