C. C. Phillips
C. C. Phillips
Life's blood dripped steadily from the dozen cuts and gashes on Cutler Diamond's body. The wounds varied from superficial to near fatal; if not soon attended, they would inevitably lead to death. Already the handsome face had lost colour, fading from a ruddy, healthy complexion to pale white, then sickly ashen. The stricken man swayed drunkenly on quaking legs, his breathing heavy, his vision blurred.
Grains of sand in the hourglass of life had almost run out for the American.
The Spaniard had humiliated the proud young army lieutenant, drawing him into a duel that the foreigner could not hope to win. Had the choice of weapons been pistols, Christobal Alcarez would be dead; however, the Spanish preference for duelling was the sword. Neither Cutler Diamond nor his heavy cavalry sabre were a match for the agility and skill of Alcarez with his vicious, lightweight smallsword. The dashing, dark Spaniard quickly wore down his blond, blue-eyed opponent, deftly shifting in, easily avoiding the clumsy parries and jabs of the novice. Alcarez's acclaim was well known throughout the nobility of Spain; a finesse swordsman, he had trained with the finest in the land. Americans, by comparison, use their awkward swords as clubs. Christobal Alcarez drew blood at every thrust. Cutler Diamond was stripped of offence, denuded in defence. The duel became a charade, a cat toying with a mouse; the mouse being devoured alive.
A tiny gallery had experienced a full range of emotions. In the beginning there were shouts and cheers for the daring Spaniard, boos and jeers for the foreigner. But as Alcarez taunted and jabbed his victim, the crowd gravitated from fervour to disgust. Among the spectators, three people prayed for the dying man: Señorita Constantina García y Ramírez ?the subject of the quarrel? her father, Eduardo García, and an American army officer, Major James Unzer, comrade of the dying lieutenant.
United States President Zachary Taylor had selected a cabal of diplomats to visit Spain, hoping to purchase the Spanish colony of Cuba. Earlier in the year, the President had thwarted a filibustering expedition; now he wished to discreetly pursue the possibility of a deal with Isabella II, Queen of Spain. Cutler Diamond, a young army lieutenant who had proved his West Point worth in the Mexican-American conflict while serving under then-General Zachary Taylor, was selected to accompany the diplomats. Diamond did not question why a military officer of his rank should accompany the elite group of dignitaries.
In the two days of briefing prior to departure, Cutler soon became a favourite among the emissaries. Intelligent, witty and cheerful, the lieutenant's personality naturally attracted people, though he did nothing to purposely cultivate favour. He was a fine physical specimen of masculine youth: tall, well-made, muscular and agile. The officer was handsome with high forehead, square jaw, blond hair and intense powder-blue eyes. Diamond treated others as he preferred to be treated himself; an endearing quality in any individual.
During his tenure at the United States Military Academy, West Point, New York, Cutler Diamond demonstrated particularly high potential throughout his four year training, graduating fifth overall in a class of forty-one. Along with his fellow graduates he was automatically awarded second lieutenant rank.
Cutler Diamond cut his military teeth in the bloody Mexican-American War. He fought under the commands of “Old Rough And Ready” Taylor and General Winfield Scott. During the conflict Cutler befriended an officer, a fellow West Point graduate, First Lieutenant Ulysses Grant. Ulysses was a few years Cutler's senior but the pair found solace in each other's company. Grant, like Diamond, was not enthusiastic about his nation flogging a smaller country; superior artillery, resources and command of the American military made the conflict one-sided.
The outset of the voyage to Spain aboard the USS Red Cria had not been charitable from Diamond's point of view. He soon realized that his career in the United States Army suited him far better than life in a naval command. The first week of the rough Atlantic voyage was spent hurling stomach contents over the rail or moaning in aggrieved seasickness upon his bunk. The diplomats were not unkind, many of them suffered similar affliction.
Leaving the Atlantic Ocean behind, seasickness faded as the company sailed through the Strait of Gibraltar and into the Mediterranean Sea. As the fleet naval vessel skirted the Spanish shores en route to Barcelona, the increasingly pleasant climate, incredibly blue sea and picturesque coastline pulled at the heart of the young officer. Never had Diamond dreamed of seeing any part of the world beyond the oceans. What lay in store in this beautiful country?
Queen Isabella II, with her husband, the Duke of Cadiz, had journeyed from Madrid to meet with the Americans in Barcelona. Cutler was surprised to find that royalty is not necessarily synonymous with beauty. Queen Isabella had a pale complexion, a square, almost unattractive face, long black hair and a mannish figure. In her late teens, the royal gowns did not hide a tendency toward obesity. International rumour suggested Queen Isabella did not have a satisfactory marriage. Her cousin/husband did not perform to the expectations of a hot-blooded new bride. The Queen, if gossip were gospel, had occasion to seek entertainment from other sources. As Isabella had a tendency to reward those who earned her favour, the American negotiators had pinned their hopes upon Cutler Diamond fulfilling that need.
No one informed Cutler.
The lubricious emissaries were without audience when attempting to indulge the Queen in their campaign to purchase her Cuban colony. However, just as they had unscrupulously planned, the monarch became fixated with the young army lieutenant. Cutler Diamond remained oblivious; the lady was not only the Queen of Spain, but she was a married woman as well.
A royal fiesta of modest proportion had been organized for the foreign contingent and the American gentlemen turned out in their uniforms and finest. By contrast, their attire was drab compared to the resplendent costumes of Spanish nobility and royal court in attendance. The bejewelled Queen sported sufficient wealth on her person to make a down-payment on the United States. Perhaps the regent intended to demonstrate to her guests that she did not personally have a lack or need which would cause her country to sell Cuba or any other of its colonies. She smiled benevolently, at times tolerantly, upon her guests and subjects. As the evening progressed, more and more her attention gravitated toward Cutler Diamond's handsome visage and warm manner. More and more, Cutler Diamond's attention gravitated toward a beautiful lady whom he felt certain must be a Spanish princess.
The lovely señorita was not oblivious to the American lieutenant.
Constantina García y Ramírez was the daughter and only living relative of Eduardo García, a quiet, unassuming man who tended to think at right angles to Queen Isabella. García was an influential aristocrat and he wielded not a small amount of power in the affairs of state as well as international concerns. He had a contingent of followers who supported him, but Isabella controlled the army, which kept García's people from open rebellion. The Queen, in turn, respected García's position, realizing his worth within her government, even though she longed to have the thorn in her side removed permanently.
Eduardo García's inherent powers of observation did not fail to see trouble on the horizon ?not necessarily from a paternal point view? as his daughter and the young American became engrossed in each other's company. García fought a battle of emotions as Constantina naively upstaged the Queen of Spain. The air grew static. Queen Isabella lost her composure and, with her personal attendants in tow, swept out of the palace ballroom in an undignified rustle of skirts. Francis, King consort of Spain, remained oblivious.
Among the emissaries, Major James Unzer drew the short straw. With great reluctance, Unzer informed Cutler Diamond exactly why a shavetail had been included on this tour. The major, who knew he walked on thin ice, turned red with embarrassment as he explained it was Cutler's duty to his nation. Diamond, gobsmacked, flatly refused. If the United States needed a gigolo for international relations, his patriotism was headed south. Though they were disappointed, the abashed diplomats preferred not to continue their argument.
However, a handsome and arrogant young Spaniard in attendance, one Christobal Alcarez ?occasional plaything of the regent? expressed exception to the American's advances upon Señorita García y Ramírez. Alcarez, through his affiliation with the monarch, despised Eduardo García, but coveted the nobleman's lovely daughter. After Queen Isabella abandoned her guests, Cristobal Alcarez apprehended Cutler Diamond, demanding that he remove himself from the lady's presence. When the lieutenant refused, a short scuffle broke out in which Alcarez received a bloody nose. From an undignified position where the Spaniard landed upon the floor he challenged the foreigner to a duel; the American accepted.
Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, Diamond did not think to stipulate weaponry.
The Mediterranean sun reserves an especially pleasant caress for Barcelona. The following morning was no exception as the first golden rays of day swept through the quiet plaza. A seaward breeze rustled through palm trees as cool night air clashed with rising temperatures. A handful of early risers had come to the appointed match; curiously, only one of the American contingent had appeared to support his comrade. The remainder of the spectators of this duel to the death were Spanish nobility who had been in attendance at Queen Isabella's fiesta last night.
Constantina García y Ramírez stood, ashen, beside her father. Though no fault of her own, she felt responsible for the impending death of the brave, but foolish, foreign soldier. She despised and feared Alcarez. Eduardo García had tried to reason with the Spaniard, but his plea met with haughty defiance. Proclaiming the duel a senseless murder, Don García pointed out to Queen Isabella that severe repercussions would fall upon already strained Spanish-American relations. The monarch, unmoved, warned Don Eduardo that his own future stood on quaking soil.
García realized the fuse had been ignited. Isabella's normally taut tether of tolerance had snapped.
Alcarez's first two thrusts with his smallsword pierced the skin of Cutler Diamond's right and left shoulders. The American fought back, though in comparison, he possessed no skill at all. When the Spanish swordsman realized the ineptitude of his opponent he voiced his disdain with every slash, slicing through the lieutenant's uniform, gashing skin, ripping flesh. Blood soon soaked the torso; it dripped and flowed on trousers and boots. Both wrists were cut though the major arteries were not yet severed. The evil hiss and sing of the light steel blade etched the eardrums of the onlookers. Between jabs, the Spaniard taunted Señorita Ramírez and Don Eduardo. Though Major Unzer could not understand the language he knew the implication when Alcarez offered to fight both Americans at once. Cutler Diamond refused the Major's interfering. The one-sided duel continued, conclusion decided, timing at the whim of Cristobal Alcarez.
Lieutenant Diamond's heavy sabre tilted downward. He no longer had the strength to hold it up, much less protect himself. Cutler tried to focus on his rival; the image was distorted as if squinting through a glass of whiskey. He felt lightheaded and the world began to spin.
The Spaniard laughed in the face of his defenceless victim then flashed a malicious smile. “Y ahora, un poco para la señorita.”1
Alcarez lunged forward with a vicious thrust directed toward the groin of the American. One last burst of adrenalin gave Cutler the strength to move. Instead of leaping aside or stepping back, he turned sideways and launched himself upon the wicked blade. Searing pain screamed throughout his body as the point deflected off his sword sheath and the long thin steel sliced through thigh and buttock. The American twisted his hips, using his bleeding flesh and the scabbard to momentarily lock the Spanish smallsword in place; at the same time the Cavalry sabre described an upward arc in the fashion of a reverse numeral five. The lower curve zipped through the wrist of Alcarez's sword arm. Before the nerveless hand could fall free, the sabre completed the curve, moved vertically, then sliced forward horizontally where it encountered the tendons, muscle, flesh and bone of the Spaniard's exposed neck. A sickening crunch and the muffled ring of steel disturbed the stillness hanging over the hushed crowd. The head, attached by one last thread of skin and sinew, lolled to one side and the body, gushing a torrent of blood, sank to the dry earth.
Cutler Diamond dropped his sword and collapsed beside his dead opponent.
As his daughter and the army major dashed to the fallen American, Eduardo García extracted an ivory whistle from his shirt pocket and gave three shrill blasts. Bystanders did not have long to wonder at this for a spirited pair of caparisoned blacks thundered into the grounds through the near entrance of the plaza. The team, pulling a four-wheeled, low-sided cart with elongated bed, arrived, plunging and rearing, in a cloud of dust. Don Eduardo shouted to his daughter and the officer to load the wounded lieutenant in the conveyance. This was done in utmost haste; Don Eduardo, his daughter and the major scrambled aboard. The driver whipped the horses about. In a rattle of wooden wheels, thundering hooves and swirling dust, the rig and pair disappeared as fast as they had come.
The carter urged the blacks to ever greater speed as they tore through side streets and onto a thoroughfare of Barcelona. Eduardo García, precariously crouched upon the board seat, clinging to the near edge of the wagon box, shouted instructions to the driver. Constantina, trying to stay aboard the skidding, careering cart, ripped swathes of material from her petticoats as she and the major attempted to stem the flow of blood from Diamond's wounds.
Don Eduardo maintained a constant vigil… there were no signs of pursuit. In the distance the billowing white sails of ships appeared and soon the immaculate blue of the Mediterranean opened before them. The carter eased back on the reins in effort to slow the blacks but their Spanish blood ran high and they fought their bits. The pitch of the wagon's wheels changed as the conveyance left the cobbled streets and clattered onto the wooden timbers of a huge wharf. Snorting, prancing and dripping with sweat the team skidded to a halt at the water's edge.
Two young men scrabbled over the edge of the pier and rushed to the cart. First they assisted the señorita and Don Eduardo, then gently lifted the unconscious American from the bloodied wooden floor. Major Unzer assisted in transporting his comrade along the dock where he soon espied a shallow keeled fishing vessel moored below the level of the wharf. As the group proceeded to board the craft, the carter called, “Vaya con dios, Don Eduardo!” He touched the whip to his team; horses lunged in their traces and the empty vehicle rattled hollowly along the pier as the fighting blacks raced away.
Once in the boat the two Spaniards immediately grabbed oars and, bending their backs to the task, rowed swiftly away from the wharf. The Major and the señorita turned to their patient while Don Eduardo, fear on his features, studied the area in the direction the wagon had disappeared. There was still nothing to see; however, on the far edge of hearing, he perceived or imagined distant shouts and the faint sound of running hooves. García silently prayed that Miguel the carter had escaped, for the horsemen were soldiers of the Queen's Army.
Eduardo García did not need any illustrations to help him understand the precarious situation he and his daughter had been plunged into. For months García had stepped lightly, straddling the sword's edge, nurturing Her Highness's whims, knowing, at any instant, fragile relations may explode. The events of the previous evening had ignited the fuse. Isabella felt scorned by the obliviousness of the handsome American and consequently diverted her rage toward Eduardo and his daughter. The nobleman would be divested, probably executed.
Honour would not allow García to flee Spain for his own sake but he feared for the future of Constantina. There was insufficient time to rally the support he would require to save themselves… flight was their sole recourse.
During the fiesta, as he witnessed the fermenting wrath of Isabella, Senior García had considered it prudent to establish personal relations with the foreigners. Hoping to save his daughter, he approached the emissaries a few minutes prior to the confrontation between Alcarez and Diamond. Initially the aristocrat's plea evoked chary scepticism. However, when Don Eduardo assured the Americans that they too may not be spared the ire of his Queen, the contingent became more attentive. Emphasizing Don Eduardo's words, the fight broke out and the gauntlet was thrown; the Americans realized a staggering diminution of their own comfort zone. García advised the foreigners to board their ship that evening with instructions for their captain to position the vessel where it would be free to sail at very short notice. Cutler Diamond could not be dissuaded from the challenge and Major Unzer agreed to accompany him. The American officers would then be in a position to aid García and Constantina in their flight.
The frantic escape had been orchestrated during the early hours of morning. García had called upon his most trusted friends and allies to assist him in fleeing Spain. If the young army officer had not slain Cristobal Alcarez, a contingency plan would have left the dark swordsman no less dead. In the bottom of the boat lay two chests containing all the worldly belongings Eduardo and Constantina would have when they reached America. A small fortune ?Eduardo's precautionary emergency fund? lay concealed in a compartment within one of the trunks. The Spaniard's desperation had forced him to place their wealth, their future and their lives in the hands of these foreign strangers.
The nobleman offered up a second prayer, this one for the life of the fallen American.
As the oars of the rowers churned the Mediterranean waters, Major Unzer and Constantina García y Ramírez stanched the bleeding of smaller cuts, the more severe gashes having been tended to first. Unzer wondered if his efforts had stopped the flow or if his fellow officer had run out of blood. The major glanced up and followed García's gaze. In a cloud of dust, twenty or more mounted soldiers topped a hill along the avenue, high above and to the west of the dock. They were charging toward the shoreline at full gallop. Unzer calculated the distance to the American naval ship anchored out in the bay: the USS Red Cria now lay near enough for him to recognize individuals on board; still a long two hundred yards.
A fury of activity erupted on deck and the accompanying sounds drifted on the air: the harsh voice of the first mate bellowed orders; rigging sizzled through rolling blocks as stiff white sheets ratcheted up the masts; the steady clank of the anchor chain rattled through the hawsepipe; the groaning capstan protested as it paid out heavy cable lowering a cargo net into the sea. Several of the diplomatic entourage leaned over the rail shouting advice and encouragement to Unzer and his companions in the fishing boat.
The powerful arms of the Spaniards stretched taut, muscles rippled on straining shoulders as the small craft leaped through the water. Even as the rowers drew near the naval vessel, the band of horsemen swept down the avenue and thundered onto the wharf. Muskets and sabres flashed in the sun as soldiers abandoned their plunging, rearing mounts, then raced afoot across the timbers.
The ship began to move. She swung about as the oarsmen propelled their tiny vessel toward the suspended cargo net.
Soldiers were forming a skirmish line along the pier; an officer stood at the head shouting orders.
Don Eduardo turned to his daughter. In Spanish he said, “Constantina, lie down in the bottom of the boat! Take cover behind the trunks!”
Major Unzer, no stranger to enemy fire, watched calmly as clouds of smoke belched from the rifles. Water sprayed up where the musket balls fell short, then the roar of the fusillade reached his ears. The distance was too far and the Spaniards had not allowed for drop. The next volley would be much closer.
As the men on shore worked frantically to reload, the rowers manoeuvred the fishing boat up to the cargo net preparing to off-load passengers and material into the huge rope enclosure, but the captain shouted down, “The boat! Load the entire boat into the net.”
Rapidly, García translated the order to the oarsmen. Grasping the intent, the stern man dove overboard and swam round, dragging the heavy mesh under the little vessel. The ship, moving faster, towed the skiff along. The swimmer clambered back into the boat. The army man, lacking proficiency in the seaman's vernacular, shouted, “Hoist away!”
As the capstan reversed and the boat began to rise, the Spanish soldiers released another enfilade. Lead splattered upon the water; a few balls striking ineffectually, thudded against the sides of the ship at waterline.
The net, with its cargo, swung inward and the smaller vessel settled awkwardly, atilt on its keel upon the deck of the American ship. The passengers, bound like fish in a seine, peered out through the mesh and Major Unzer called for the ship's doctor, “On the double.”
As the web fell away, Constantina screamed in horror.
Don Eduardo García, blood seeping from a hole in the back of his skull, lay dead in the stern of the boat.
As more sails billowed out and caught the seaward breeze the USS Red Cria moved faster toward open sea. The captain manoeuvred his vessel into a position that placed a slower moving freighter ship between the Americans and the coast line: a defence against possible cannon fire from land. The emissaries did not wish to return fire upon the city for it would certainly lead to a declaration of war; the Cuban Mission had been a failure; international conflict would be inexcusable.
The two Spaniards who had risked their lives for Don Eduardo stood in stunned silence as Señorita García y Ramírez clung to her noble father. Sobs racked her body. Tears filled their eyes as the young men crossed themselves and said a prayer. With a softly whispered “Adios,” they climbed upon the ship's rail and dove into the Mediterranean. Major Unzer watched the 'boatless' oarsmen swim toward a slow moving barge and clamber aboard. The swimmers had been screened from the soldiers still lined up on the wharf, they would likely escape undetected.
With the assistance of Unzer and two sailors, Lieutenant Diamond was placed on a stretcher and carried to sick bay. As the ship's doctor removed impromptu bandages Diamond opened his eyes. He spoke one word, “Constantina…” before again drifting into unconsciousness.
Major Unzer had returned to the deck where Señorita García y Ramírez sat caressing her father's nerveless hand. He helped her to stand and ordered the stretcher bearers to take Don Eduardo below. The army officer offered to escort the Spanish lady to a cabin but she insisted upon seeing Señor Diamond. The Major took her to the ship's doctor who immediately utilized her services as ship's nurse.
Cutler Diamond regained consciousness on two occasions during the first week of the return voyage. The ship's medical man was perplexed as to what kept the injured officer from dying. The surgeon claimed to have “sewn enough stitches to make a new shirt”; blood loss and injuries were “enough to kill an ox” but the lieutenant refused to release his tenuous hold. Fever raged through the torn body and at times Cutler had to be tied to the cot in order to prevent further damage to the hot and angry gashes.
Constantina García y Ramírez stayed by the young lieutenant's side throughout the ordeal, leaving only during the brief service performed by the Captain when Don Eduardo García's body was delivered into the turquoise depths of the Mediterranean. Burial at sea was the only available option as the ship made haste to escape Spanish waters and the señorita accepted this without question. Tears filled her dark eyes as the canvass-wrapped body slowly sank out of sight, but the young lady did not break. She turned from the rail, walked across the deck with proud determination and descended the steps to sick bay. Her actions said, “I have lost my father, I will not lose Señor Diamond.”
Perhaps having the lovely lady at his side enabled Cutler to cling to the precious thread of life, for at the beginning of the second week he awoke from fevered delirium to find he held the warm soft hand of his beautiful Spanish nurse. In the days to come, Cutler Diamond followed willingly as the señorita guided him along the road to recovery.
As the US naval ship plowed through the tumultuous seas of the Atlantic Ocean, the seed of love, oblivious to language barriers, sprouted, grew and blossomed. Only a few hours before a sailor in the crow's nest espied the approaching eastern coastline of the United States, on the cool deck of the pitching USS Red Cria, the captain joined in wedlock Constantina García y Ramírez and Thaddeus Cutler Diamond.
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