Wag Benton, the Black-Birder [pp. 49-55]

WAG, BENTON, THE BLACK-BIRDER
lights came coasting around the island. A
half dozen knots away it cast anchor, for it
was the American guardian at hand at an
opportune hour. The ill-omened ward was
in danger again. The Trafican lowered a
boat in which Wag Benton and eight stout
sailors rowed away toward the American for
information and help. The night was so
dark that the boatmen did not see a dark
ship at their bow until they were hailed in
Spanish, and a small search light turned
upon them. Unheeding the challenge they
darted away amid a shower of balls from
the watch on their old enemy, the Spanish
cruiser. The Americans heard the firing
and sent out a boat to enquire the cause.
They were informed that a strange boat had
boldly approached the Spaniard, disregarded
the challenge, and disappeared in the darkness.
The excited Spaniards weighed anchor
and cruised about in the darkness. The apprehensive Americans kept alongside of
them as near as prudence allowed. It was
broad daylight when both vessels rounded a
point of the island and sighted the fated
slaver, only needing another hour of rising
tide to free her from her coral prison. Then
began another sea race over a ten knot
course, and the Spaniard won. She had the
position nearest the slaver at the start, and
adroitly kept between the American and the
prize.
As soon as the Trafican was afloat both
men-of-war convoyed her into Broa bay,
where the slaves were delivered to the Spanish authorities of Cuba, and the crew imprisoned in an old barrack, under guard of
the men from the Spanish ship.
The captain of the Spaniard picked out
Wag Benton, Captain Rexton, the mate, the
boatswain, and four others, as the ringleaders, and sent them to Moro castle at
Havana. The American and British consuls
sent formal demands that the prisoners be
sent to their respective countries for trial,
for the Captain, mate, and boatswain, were
Englishmen and the others were citizens of
the United States. The Spanish blood was
boiling at the revengeful degree, and the
Captain General was personally disposed to
gratify the Spaniards' thirst for blood atonement. Consequently a long diplomatic correspondence ensued without any agreement
being reached, until events at Broa bay
lifted the Captain General's pen from his
evasive letters to the consuls, and put it
down upon a positive order for the immediate execution of the slaver pirates at Moro
castle.
The Spanish cruiser at Broa bay was short
on supplies, so the American captain proposed to feed the prisoners until the ship's
commissary department could be replenished. This offer was gladly accepted, and
the blue jackets were allowed to take
cooked rations into the stockade three times
a day. Every time an American entered
the prison he wore in addition to a very innocent look, an extra suit of clothes, which
he shed in the barrack room to be put on
by a black-birder, who, with a share of the
mess plates, walked out between the Spanish guards and on board of the American,
where he was enrolled on a false list a member of the crew. In this way a dozen escaped
in a day. The very audacity of the act
averted suspicion, and yet something must
be done to cover up the treachery when it
was discovered that the prisoners had
escaped. This was done by starting a short
tunnel under the floor of a barrack room
and undermining the stockade, but not
breaking open the outer end until the night
that the last black-birder, masquerading as
a blue jacket, had taken his supper mess
plates and walked leisurely out of the prison,
which had never been inspected by the officers in charge of the guards.
The alarm raised by the innocent looking
sailors who brought the breakfast to the
barrack the next morning, was the first intimation that the unwary Spaniards had
that they were guarding a deserted prison.
The open tunnel satisfied them as to the
route that had been taken, and searching
parties were sent out to scour the country
for the identical men, who, dressed as
American sailors, encouraged the rpursuit.
As no trace of the slave thieves could be
found, a strong suspicion arose in the minds
of the humiliated Spaniards, that the sly
Americans had in some way abetted the
crawl out. Yet the Americans had been so
kind to them in their distresses, so ready to
help them bring in the prize, and so generous in furnishing rations for the captives,
that their native Castilian courtesy forbade
coining their distrust into circulating words.
Outside of the crew of the Spaniard the
indignation knew no bounds, and like an
angry wave it gathered strength as it rolled
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