Chapter 4
Section 4 of Hearth and Home, Collected Poems and Stories, by Various. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. A White Lie, by Colonel Prentice Ingram. It was during the Ten Years' War in Cuba that the bluff old captain of a filibuster steamer that had landed on the coast with arms in munitions of war for the patriots
discovered that he could not discharge his cargo and get to sea before daylight, so would have to risk lying in the lagoon all day where his vessel was then unloading her most valued freight. Determined during the day to see if there were any Cubans near, for none had met the steamer there, the captain, accompanied by two youths, began to reconnoiter the surrounding country. He had gone in one direction and was returning in another down a canyon, when he
beheld a party of three men earnestly talking together. The boys were following behind, so the skipper called to them to hide while he tried to do the same, but the men had caught sight of him, and he at once knew they were Spaniards. He also felt sure that they had been watching the unloading of the cargo and the hiding of it, and would report it to a Spanish garrison a few leagues away. This they must not do, the skipper decided, and he determined to prevent it, if in his power.
I say, lads, just you keep in hiding and those fellows will think I am alone, but we'll fool them. There they come now, said the filibuster. The three Spaniards had held a hasty conversation together, and then, tying a white handkerchief upon a stick, held it aloft and advanced. Here was evidently an officer, and of one of the Spanish guerrilla bands. That's a white lie, but I'll chance it and trust to you two boys, said the skipper as the three
Spaniards approached, the one with the white flag being in advance of the others. From trading in the West Indies the captain had learned to speak Spanish, so called and demanded to know what they wanted. We are Cubans from General Ryan's camp and are sent to say a command will arrive tonight to get the supplies, for you belong to the steamer discharging in the lagoon, I take it. I'll chance it, but you keep your eyes open, boys, said the captain, and he called out that he had
gotten lost and was trying to find his way back to the steamer. The Spaniards came forward and told him to join them, and they would lead him there. It's a white lie, boys, so be ready, whispered the captain, and he left his hiding place. A moment more, and the skipper joined the three men, who at once sprung upon him to make him a prisoner. But two shots rang out from behind the rocks, and two of the three Spaniards dropped dead. With a yell of terror, the third
attempted to run, but the grip of the old skipper was upon him, and he was held fast until the boys came up and tied him securely. That night, General Ryan and half a thousand Cubans, with pack mules, came to the lagoon and got the much-needed freight. But had these Spaniards escaped, it would have all fallen into Spanish hands and the Patriots would have been ambushed and cut to pieces. One of these lads, Enrique Munoz, was later killed in Cuba when a captain
of cavalry, while the other, Henry D. Phillips, served the Patriots well and is today a well-known merchant of Philadelphia, while the gallant old filibuster died at sea and found a grave in its depths. End of section four, read by Elsie Selwyn.
