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    A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy
    A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy
    A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy
    Ebook297 pages3 hours

    A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy

    By Upton Sinclair

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    Embark on a thrilling adventure in 'A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy' set during the Spanish-American War in Cuba. Follow the heroic journey of Naval Cadet Clif Faraday as he ships out to Cuba and encounters treachery at the hands of the Spaniards. Despite being captured and held prisoner in the notorious Morro Castle, Clif remains steadfast and brave, serving as a role model for America's youth. This captivating tale of courage, perseverance, and humanity will keep you riveted until the very end.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGood Press
    Release dateDec 4, 2019
    ISBN4057664567161
    A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy
    Author

    Upton Sinclair

    Upton Sinclair (1878–1968) was a Pulitzer Prize–winning author, activist, and politician whose novel The Jungle (1906) led to the passage of the Federal Meat Inspection Act and the Pure Food and Drug Act. Born into an impoverished family in Baltimore, Maryland, Sinclair entered City College of New York five days before his fourteenth birthday. He wrote dime novels and articles for pulp magazines to pay for his tuition, and continued his writing career as a graduate student at Columbia University. To research The Jungle, he spent seven weeks working undercover in Chicago’s meatpacking plants. The book received great critical and commercial success, and Sinclair used the proceeds to start a utopian community in New Jersey. In 1915, he moved to California, where he founded the state’s ACLU chapter and became an influential political figure, running for governor as the Democratic nominee in 1934. Sinclair wrote close to one hundred books during his lifetime, including Oil! (1927), the inspiration for the 2007 movie There Will Be Blood; Boston (1928), a documentary novel revolving around the Sacco and Vanzetti case; The Brass Check, a muckraking exposé of American journalism, and the eleven novels in Pulitzer Prize–winning Lanny Budd series.

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      Book preview

      A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy - Upton Sinclair

      Upton Sinclair

      A Prisoner of Morro; Or, In the Hands of the Enemy

      Published by Good Press, 2022

      goodpress@okpublishing.info

      EAN 4057664567161

      Table of Contents

      A PRISONER OF MORRO

      CHAPTER I.

      SIGHTING A PRIZE.

      CHAPTER II.

      A LONG CHASE.

      CHAPTER III.

      AN OLD ENEMY.

      CHAPTER IV.

      IN COMMAND OF THE PRIZE.

      CHAPTER V.

      A HAIL FROM THE DARKNESS.

      CHAPTER VI.

      REPELLING BOARDERS.

      CHAPTER VII.

      A DESPERATE CHASE.

      CHAPTER VIII.

      A DASH FOR THE SHORE.

      CHAPTER IX.

      THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY.

      CHAPTER X.

      A STARTLING DISCOVERY.

      CHAPTER XI.

      A RUNNING FIGHT.

      CHAPTER XII.

      THE FIRST PRISONERS OF WAR.

      CHAPTER XIII.

      IGNACIO'S PLOTS.

      CHAPTER XIV.

      BESSIE STUART.

      CHAPTER XV.

      IN MORRO CASTLE.

      CHAPTER XVI.

      IN THE DUNGEON VAULTS.

      CHAPTER XVII.

      OUT OF THE DUNGEON.

      CHAPTER XVIII.

      CLIF FARADAY'S SACRIFICE.

      CHAPTER XIX.

      A FAREWELL.

      CHAPTER XX.

      AN UNEXPECTED PERIL.

      CHAPTER XXI.

      RECAPTURED BY THE ENEMY.

      CHAPTER XXII.

      CUTTING A CABLE.

      CHAPTER XXIII.

      A PERILOUS DETAIL.

      CHAPTER XXIV.

      THE CUBAN COURIER.

      CHAPTER XXV.

      IN THE NAME OF HUMANITY AND THE SAILORS OF THE MAINE!

      CHAPTER XXVI.

      A GAME OF BLUFF.

      CHAPTER XXVII.

      IN WHICH CLIF MEETS WITH A SURPRISE.

      CHAPTER XXVIII.

      A STRUGGLE AGAINST ODDS.

      CHAPTER XXIX.

      CLIF'S SECOND EXPEDITION.

      CHAPTER XXX.

      THE BATTLE IN THE BRUSH.

      CHAPTER XXXI.

      CAPTURED.

      CHAPTER XXXII.

      CLIF FARADAY'S TEST.

      CHAPTER XXXIII.

      THE MYSTERY OF THE UNEXPLODED SHELL.

      [THE END.]

      THE MEDAL LIBRARY

      FAMOUS COPYRIGHTED STORIES FOR BOYS, BY FAMOUS AUTHORS

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      A PRISONER OF MORRO

      Table of Contents

      CHAPTER I.

      Table of Contents

      SIGHTING A PRIZE.

      Table of Contents

      About noon of a day in May during the recent year the converted tug Uncas left Key West to join the blockading squadron off the northern coast of Cuba.

      Her commander was Lieutenant Raymond, and her junior officer Naval Cadet Clifford Faraday. The regular junior officer was absent on sick leave, and Cadet Faraday had been assigned to his place in recognition of gallant conduct.

      The ropes were cast off, and slowly the tug glided away from the dock and out toward the open sea.

      It was not very long before the harbor of Key West was left behind, and then began the long trip to Havana. It was over a hundred miles, and that meant seven or eight hours' journey for the Uncas.

      But the Uncas was a good, stout vessel, unusually swift for a tug, and she made the water fairly fly when once she got clear of the land.

      Clif leaned against one of the rapid-firing guns in the bow and gazed longingly ahead; he was anxious to reach his destination.

      There were wild rumors concerning Spanish fleets, Cadiz squadrons and Cape Verde squadrons and Mediterranean squadrons, which were continually being sighted or heard of nearby; and for all Clif knew the decisive battle of the war might be fought at any time.

      And he felt that if it took place while he was absent he would never cease to regret it as long as he lived. The Uncas could not do much in such a battle; but she was anxious to do her share.

      It was possible, also, that Morro might succeed in provoking an attack. The guns of the Havana defenses kept blazing away at anything that came near, and the American sailors were fairly boiling over with impatience to get a whack at them.

      And at any time Admiral Sampson might give the word.

      So Clif was restless and impatient as he stood in the bow of the swift tug and gazed southward.

      It was a rather damp place of observation the cadet had chosen, for it had been blowing quite a gale that day, and the Uncas was plowing her way through a heavy sea.

      The spray was flying over the decks; but who would have thought of going below at such a time as that?

      It was not Clif's turn on duty. Lieutenant Raymond seemed to think that after his struggle on board the Spanish monitor the young cadet deserved a rest. But he was too eager and wide awake just then to wish to take it.

      When the tug was well under way the lieutenant came out of the pilot house and joined Clif again.

      Thinking of the weather, Mr. Faraday? inquired Lieutenant Raymond.

      No, sir, replied the cadet, I was thinking of Ignacio. I don't know how he happened to get into my thoughts, but he did.

      Who is Ignacio?

      He's a Spaniard I've had some trouble with, answered Clif. You may have heard about one of his exploits.

      Which one is that?

      He made an attempt to assassinate Rear Admiral Sampson.

      Oh, yes, I heard about that, said the officer. The admiral told me about it himself. I believe you were the person who interfered.

      I had the good luck to be standing near, said Clif, modestly. And of course, I sprang between them.

      And the spy stabbed you?

      Yes. In the shoulder, but he did not hurt me very much.

      He must be a desperate man.

      He is. That stabbing business seems to be a favorite trick of his. I hope I shan't have to face him again.

      Whether Ignacio was a Spaniard or a traitor Cuban, no one could say. Clif had first met him trying to lead astray an American officer who had been sent with dispatches for Gomez.

      And Clif had foiled the plot, and had been Ignacio's deadly enemy ever since. Clif had been keeping a careful watch for him. He knew that the vindictive fellow would follow his every move; Ignacio was acting as a spy for the Spaniards, and so must have found it easy to keep track of the cadet's whereabouts. But so far Clif had not met him.

      We are likely to have a wild night of it, said Lieutenant Raymond. The clouds seem to get darker every minute.

      It'll be a night for the blockade-runners, was Clif's answer. We may have some excitement.

      We'll have it anyway, said the other. I don't know of anything I less rather do than weather a storm while in among the vessels of the fleet. It will be necessary to stay on deck every instant of the time keeping watch for our very lives.

      I know how it is, the cadet added. I was on the Porter dining one such night. And we captured a prize coming out of Havana after almost running her down in the darkness.

      I heard about it, said Lieutenant Raymond. You may repeat the performance to-night if you have a chance. We aren't likely to meet with anything till we get there.

      As the lieutenant said that he turned and gazed ahead; the broad sea stretched out on every side of them, without a sign of smoke or sail to vary the monotony of its tossing waves.

      But it always lends zest to a trip like this, the officer added, to know that it's possible you may run across a stray Spaniard at any moment. It pays to keep one's eyes open.

      And then you have the pleasure of chasing two or three and finding they're some other nation's ships, said Clif, with a laugh.

      That's about all we've done so far, said the lieutenant. But we're still hoping perhaps you'll bring us good luck.

      I'll do my best, the cadet declared with a smile.

      Better get ready for it by resting a bit. Your dinner's ready below.

      Clif took the hint and went below. The boat was pitching so violently that he found eating a very difficult operation, and it was generally so unpleasant in the little cabin that he was glad to go on deck again.

      And then later in the afternoon, at four o'clock, it came time for him to go on duty. After that he had to remain outside whether he wanted to or not.

      The gale grew considerably stronger, and as the darkness came on it got much chillier, but Clif still paced up and down the deck with the glass in his hand watching for a sign of a passing vessel, or of the approaching Cuban coast.

      He was left almost alone on deck as the weather got rougher; for the crew made themselves comfortable below, knowing what hard work lay before them through the stormy night.

      It was not the custom on the vessel to keep the whole watch on duty except at night; and Clif had only the two sailors at the wheel and the lookout in the bow for company.

      But if he felt any jealousy of those who were below out of the cold, he had the grim satisfaction of being able to disturb their comfort before very long.

      It was about half past four in the afternoon, and suddenly the lookout turned and called to Clif.

      The eager cadet knew what it meant. He seized the glass and hurried forward.

      He followed the direction of the man's finger.

      I think I see smoke, sir, was what the sailor said.

      And Clif took a long look and then turned, his face betraying his excitement.

      An instant later his voice rang through the ship.

      Steamer ahoy—off the starboard bow!

      CHAPTER II.

      Table of Contents

      A LONG CHASE.

      Table of Contents

      There was excitement on board of the Uncas the instant Clif's cry was heard. The sailors came tumbling up on deck, Lieutenant Raymond among the first.

      He took the glass eagerly from the lad's hand and anxiously studied the sky in the direction indicated.

      It's too far west to be near Havana! he exclaimed.

      And he stepped into the pilot house to direct the vessel in a new direction. At the same time the smoke began to pour from the funnel, showing that those down in the engine-room had heard Clif's hail.

      And so in a few moments the Uncas was speeding away in the direction of the stranger. And after that there was a long weary wait while the two vessels gradually drew nearer.

      All that could be made out then was the long line of smoke which always indicates a distant steamer. But it took a sharp eye to make even that out.

      This will be a long chase, said the lieutenant. If she takes it into her head to run we'll have a hard time to catch up to her before dark.

      Clif glanced significantly at the bow gun.

      If we can only get within range, he thought to himself, we won't have to wait to catch up to her.

      The lieutenant was standing by the pilot house with the glass in his hand, and every once in a while he would make an attempt to catch sight of the stranger's smokestack.

      It may be one of our own warships, he said, and if it is we don't want to waste any coal chasing her.

      But such was not the case, and it was only half an hour or so before the lieutenant found it out. The Uncas rose as a high wave swept by; and the officer, who had the glass to his eye, gave an eager exclamation.

      She's got one funnel, he exclaimed, and it's black, with a red top; and so it's not an American warship.

      And after that there was nothing now to be done except wait until the two approached nearer.

      It was evident from the gradual change of course the Uncas was obliged to make that the vessel she was following was headed in a southerly direction.

      That would take her toward the western end of Cuba, Clif thought to himself. Perhaps she's sighted us and is running away.

      She must have been a very shy vessel to have taken alarm at so great a distance; but from the slowness with which she came into view that seemed to be the case. And Clif paced the deck impatiently.

      It was not very much longer before he went off duty again; but he did not go below. For perhaps an hour he remained on deck watching the strange vessel.

      It seemed an age, but Clif had his reward. The chase loomed gradually nearer. The black and red smoke pipe came into view, and then, when the Uncas rose, the top of the black hull as well.

      And suddenly the lieutenant handed the glass to Clif.

      You may see now, he said. She is a merchant steamer, and she flies the Spanish flag.

      Clif nearly dropped the glass at those startling words. The lieutenant said them as calmly as if he were telling the time of day.

      You don't seem very much excited, the cadet thought.

      And yet the lieutenant's statement proved to be true. It was several minutes before Clif got a favorable view; but he kept his eyes fixed on the smoke and he finally caught a glimpse of the hull.

      And sure enough there was the hated red and yellow ensign waving defiantly from the stern; it was blown off to one side by the breeze, and could be plainly seen.

      Clif was fairly boiling over with excitement at that discovery.

      We've got our prize! he chuckled. I brought the luck after all.

      Lieutenant Raymond was not nearly so little moved as he chose to pretend; he had announced his discovery in that careless way half in a spirit of fun.

      The news got round among the crew, and however the officer may have felt, there was no indifference there.

      The engines of the Uncas began to work even more rapidly, and cartridges were hastily brought up for the rapid-firing guns. Nobody meant to let that steamer get away.

      She must have suspected her danger by that time, for the smoke grew blacker. But the crew of the Uncas knew that there were few merchant ships could beat that tug, and they rubbed their hands gleefully.

      There is something very aggravating about a race like that. In a rowing race you may break your back if you choose, trying to catch the boat in front; and even in a sailing race you may do something. But when it comes to steam you can only grit your teeth and walk up and down and watch and try not to let anybody see how anxious you are.

      In that way half an hour passed away, and mile after mile of the storm-tossed waters.

      By that time the hull of the vessel was plainly visible on the horizon; and the Spanish flag was still waving from her stern.

      Clif had been gazing every once in a while at the lieutenant with an inquiring look upon his face, but the officer had only shaken his head.

      Not yet, he said. Wait a little.

      And Clif would then take another stroll across the deck.

      But at last his inquiring look brought another answer.

      Go ahead, said the lieutenant.

      And the cadet made a leap at the gun.

      It was already loaded, and he sighted it himself. He was no longer nervous and hurried; it was at least a minute before he rose.

      And then at his signal the sailor pulled the firing trigger.

      There was a flash and a loud report, and every one looked anxiously to see the effect.

      Lieutenant Raymond, who had the glass, was the only one who could tell; for the sea was so wild that the slight splash could not be noticed.

      The shot of course fell short, for the vessel was still out of range; but it hit right in line, and the officer nodded approvingly.

      Now we'll wait, he said. She may give up.

      But she didn't; so far as those on the Uncas could tell the shot had no effect whatever. The vessel kept straight on in her course.

      She's counting on the darkness coming, said the lieutenant.

      But that was not the only reason why the Spaniard did not give up; those upon the Uncas discovered another shortly afterward.

      The Cuban coast, exclaimed the officer.

      Yes, the long, faint line of the shore was at last visible just on the horizon's edge. It lay to the southward, directly ahead.

      What good will that do her? asked Clif.

      If she finds she can't get away, answered the other, she may make a run for one of the ports or try to get under the shelter of the batteries.

      For a while after that nothing more was said, and the tug plowed its way through the tossing water. When the lieutenant spoke again it was to point to the gun.

      Try it again, he said.

      And Clif did try it. The two ships were then not over three or four miles apart, and when the cadet fired again he heard the lieutenant give a pleased exclamation.

      They're within range!

      And then Clif got to work with all his might.

      Had he had a calm sea he could have raked that vessel without missing a shot. He had only to experiment and get the aim just right and then leave the gun to stay in that one position while he blazed away.

      But the Uncas in climbing over the waves was now up and now down, so that sometimes the shots fell short and sometimes they went high.

      But every once in a while he had the satisfaction of hearing that he had landed one.

      After that the chase was a lively one, for the Uncas kept blazing away merrily. The people on board that fleeing vessel must have had a very large time of it that afternoon.

      It was just what Clif Faraday liked; he was beginning to be quite an expert in target practice, and he was willing

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