DRAWN BY LOT.

Cromwell Argus, Volume XXX, Issue 1513, 10 May 1898, Page 2

DRAWN BY LOT.

The thirty-eight of us were confined in a large room, and it was the fourteenth day after the Spanish gunboat captured our little steamer before wo received a hint of what fate had in store for us. Then an officer entered, called on us to pay strict attention, and announced that we were to bo taken out and shot on the morrow. An hour later he returned to explain that be was mistaken. The gracious and merciful Spanish Government would be satisfied with six Uvea instead of thirty-eight. We had killed six of the crew of the gunboat, and it was to bo a life for a life.

“Gentlemen, it will be by lob, of course,” he continued, as be bowed and smiled on every hand, “ and lam here to oversee the drawing. See! I have here thirty-two white beans and six black ones. I will put them in a cap, and each gentleman will step up and draw as his name is called.

When he had announced that all were to be shot I heard no lamenting. On the contrary, men moved about saying that it was what we had been expecting, and that we would die like men. Lips were compressed, but 1 did not see one pale face. This new announcement created something like a panic. Only six were to die. Thirty-two would be sent to prison, but all would live to see home and friends again. In sixty seconds the face of every man was ghastly. In two minutes all were trembling. Mildeyed men glared about them like wild beasts driven to bay, and there were lips which bled from the hard-set teeth.

“Gentlemen, my clerk will call the roll, and you will draw the beans,” said the officer, as he made ready. “Each man must show his bean as he draws, and those who draw black ones must stand over by the windows. Now, then, are you ready?” The clerk could speak and write English, and he had our names in alphabetical order. The first name called was that of Anson, and he hesitated a few seconds before advancing. Did anyone hope he would draw a black bean ? ” I believe that every man of us hoped so I lb would bettor our own chances. The man walked slowly forward, made a great effort to control himself and made his draw. It was a white boan. Anderson came next, and he drew his death warrant, as also did Bagley. Then twelve men drew white beans in succession. When it came my burn there were 3 blacks and 13 whites still left in the cap. I drew a black. That fact did nob shock me, as I had almost expected my ill luck from the start, but it hurt me when the men almost applauded. Only 2 blacks now to 13 whites 1 The very next man also drew a black bean, and there was a cheer. Only 1 to 13 now ! It was a singular fate which left that last black bean in the hat. Twelve names were called off and twelve men stepped up and drew, and each and all drew white. It was the death warranted of the only man who did not put his hand in the cap. As soon as the drawing was over the thirty-two fortunates shook hands and congratulated each other and smiled and laughed. That was only natural. After the first ebullition of feeling they turned to give us their heartfelt sympathies. We were not removed from the room. They would come for us soon after daylight. What were our feelings ? The first sensation was that of a man coming to after a fall which had deprived him of consciousness for a minute. The next was to doubt if we had not been asleep and dreamed it all. After that one man sab down in a corner and wept. A second lay ab full length on the floor with his face to the wall. A third cursed and inveighed and hoped for vengeance. Within three or four hours there came a feeling of exultation. I believe that every man who goes to the gallows has that same feeling. I was still sleeping when the soldiers cam© to march the six of us out to the execution ground. We shook hands all around, but only hero and there did one of the men trust his voice to speak to us. Those who were to live seemed most affected. Their faces were very pale, and their lips quivered. Two by two, with soldiers on every side, we walked with heads up, but had no word for each other. There were scores of citizens out to see rife, but we kept our eyes to the front. Halt! We have reached the grounds. I had thought of the six of us standing in front of six new-made graves, but there were neither graves nor coffins. They stood us with our backs towards a brick wall. I noticed a hundred scars on that wall, and knew they had been made on just such occasions as this. “ Gentlemen, your eyes—the blindfold !” said an officer, as he came forward with several men behind him.

The last thing I saw was a platoon of twenty-four men forming up in front of us —four to a man. For perhaps ten seconds I shrank at the thought of the bullets striking me. For perhaps ten more I prayed that they would make sure work of it. My hands touched the hand of the man on each side of me, for we were not bound. I said “good-bye” to each, and they returned it, and I heard the others speaking a last farewell word. I heard the last man walk away when tho hist victim had been blinded. I heard the platoon moving up nearer. I heard one street-boy shouting to another that the soldiers were about to fire. There was deep silence for a few seconds, and then I heard advancing footsteps. Some one seized my arm, and I was led away to the right and tho handkerchief removed. It was the officer again, and he turned me over bo two soldiers with the remark ; “He is bub a boy, and the Governor commutes. Take him back to prison.” I had not gone 200 ft. when there was a crash of musketry, and my five comrades lay dead at the base of the wall. Was I rejoiced? Strangely enough, no—not for hours and hours. I had been so near death that 1 was dead to myself and all around me.