The other company was even smaller
than ours, older soldiers, and in much worse health,--many of them
having a chill daily, others wasted with perpetual diarrhoea.
Our routine of duty at this camp was, to ride each day into the forest
and hunt our ration of beef, to water our horses, and to stand an
hour's guard occasionally at night; the remainder of consciousness we
spent broiling and eating cow's flesh, sucking sugar-cane, and waging
horrid warfare against a host of ravenous ticks and crawling creatures
of basest name.
One day, after we had so passed it off for a week or more, a report
reached us from Virgin Bay, that one of the Transit steamers had been
seen to pass up the lake toward Granada, without stopping to land the
passengers. A little after came an order from the colonel of the
rangers directing our party to ride with all haste to Virgin Bay, and
garrison it against the enemy. We mounted immediately and rode over the
Transit as fast as such beasts as we had could carry us. On the way we
met some of the American residents of Virgin Bay, with carpet-bags in
their hands, hurrying across to find comfort near the emigrant steamer,
which still awaited her passengers in the harbor of San Juan.
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