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CHAPTER IV.
UNCLE SAM'S PACKING
When the family of a citizen in private life makes up its mind to a long journey to foreign shores, great is the confusion, and multitudinous the errands and minor purchases for the trip; trunks, half-packed, block the sitting-room and hall-ways; Polly flies up-stairs and down distractedly, Molly spends hours uncounted (but not uncharged-for) at the dressmaker's, Dick burns midnight oil over guide-books and itineraries, and even paterfamilias feels the restlessness and turmoil of the times, and declaims against extravagance as the final packing discloses the calls that are to be made upon his bank account.
If a vacation trip for a single family is productive of such a month of busy preparation, what must be the commotion on a war-ship starting for the Far East, with a crew of one or two hundred men and only a week allowed for packing!
The officers and enlisted men of the Osprey had their hands full in the days that followed the banquet.
In ordinary times it takes one hundred skilled men a full week to stow away provisions, supplies, ammunition, coal, and the thousand and one minor articles that are needed on board one of the larger war-ships. The ship's crew lend a hand, but they operate only under the direction of the staff of trained stevedores which is kept on duty at the Navy Yard.
Everything must be put away "snug and shipshape"; and goods are "stowed snug" where they occupy the least possible space, for every inch counts in the narrow limits of a ship. Then, too, they must be so stevedored that they will keep their original positions during the rolling and pitching of the vessel in a seaway.
More than this is required. There must be perfect order with the greatest degree of safety attainable. Inflammable or explosive substances must not be stowed together, and the arrangement must be such that any article needed can be reached on the instant. Emergencies often arise in which the safety of the ship itself is dependent on having needed appliances or material in the hands of certain officers without a moment's delay. It may be nothing more than a case of oil, or it may be the duplicate of some broken rod, bolt, or plate of the delicate mechanism of the great propelling engine or of the dynamo, which is the very life centre of the modern war-ship.
Paterfamilias, grumbling at the shopping memorandum of his wife and daughters on the eve of their Mediterranean vacation trip, would gasp at the list which Uncle Sam must fill, for a long cruise of one of his naval vessels. Here is a single order sent to one wholesale house on the Osprey's account, that week in June: Loaf sugar, brown sugar, powdered sugar, fair molasses, Ceylon tea, Hyson tea, Java coffee, Rio coffee, smoked ham, American rice, breakfast bacon, lambs' tongues, pigs' feet, corned beef, corned pork, leaf lard, dried peas, dried beans, coffee extract, chiccory, chocolate, Swiss cheese, English cheese, New York dairy cheese, canned tomatoes, canned peaches, canned onions, canned asparagus, canned peas, canned corn, canned beets, olives and olive oil, sauces and catsups, oatmeal and flour, limes and lemons, fruit jellies, condensed meats, beef extracts, Jamaica ginger, mustard and spices, cigars and tobacco, corn-meal and hominy, sago and tapioca, crackers and biscuits, lime juice, fresh and limed eggs, baking powder, canned cherries, canned plums, canned pears, canned rhubarb, dried apples, canned salmon, canned oysters, canned clams, sardines, canned lobster, canned mackerel, canned codfish, kippered herring, Yarmouth bloaters, canned ox tongues, canned tripe, canned mutton, canned chicken, canned turkey, canned soups, condensed milk, canned pickles, vinegar, salt, pepper, canned mushrooms, macaroni, vermicelli, laundry soap, toilet soap, sapolio, starch and blue, insect powder, candles, safety matches, stationery, rope and twine, smoking pipes, tubs and washboards, chloride of lime, ammonia, alcohol and paints, shoe blacking, sewing machines.
From this partial list an idea may be formed of the extent and variety of the supplies that go to a modern war-ship. The clothing, medical and mechanical departments of the Osprey's outfit are not included, and each in itself would make a long roll. Of course the delicacies mentioned above are for the officers' use alone. When in port or on a short cruise the sailors get fresh meat, bread, fruit, vegetables and milk. On a long voyage their staple is "salt horse, hard tack, and boot-leg," which, being translated, is corned beef or pork, with crackers and black coffee. They receive frequently, too, oatmeal and rice, hot rolls and tea.
It will be noted that the important items of ice and fresh water do not appear in the list of supplies. Neither is taken aboard from the outside. The ship condenses fresh water pumped in from the sea by ingenious machinery contrived for the purpose, and the supply is limitless. From this fresh water ice is manufactured in any quantity desired, and no properly appointed modern war-ship is now without its ice-plant. It is for the manufacture of ice that ammonia is so largely shipped.
In the general disposition of the stores and supplies the articles likely to be needed for immediate use are usually stored forward under the berth deck. Such stores as cloth and made-up wearing apparel go in the lower hold, and there are also nearly all the magazines, guncotton, and torpedo-heads, if the ship carries them.
The coal bunkers on the Osprey were located between the engines and boilers and the hull of the vessel, at a point a little abaft of midship. Thus the coal afforded protection to the machinery from projectiles aimed at the most vital part of the ship. Such inflammable liquids as oil and alcohol are never stowed below.
Allusion has been made to the "life centre" of the vessel. This has been well described as the throbbing heart of every war-ship in the navy; the wires radiating from it like veins and arteries through which flow the life and intelligence which direct the movements of ship and crew.
Innumerable electric lamps light the cabins, engine-rooms, magazines, conning towers and decks, while a finger's pressure on a knob, or the turn of a tiny handle, throws a flood of radiance streaming out into the black night, disclosing the enemy and rendering futile his attack or escape as the case may be. Other wires operate telegraph, telephone, and signal from the bridge, or move compartment doors, massive guns, and, on a battle-ship the huge turrets themselves.
With a ship elaborately wired one chance shot of the enemy may thus prove fatal. If a shell should happen to force its terrible way into the dynamo room and explode there, the guns would cease firing, every light would be extinguished, every officer cut off from rapid communication with his men; and the delay consequent on this derangement would give the enemy, quivering with light and life, time to pour her tons of steel projectiles into the helpless, groping victim until she foundered.
At the end of the sixth day, the Osprey was ready for sea. Her men, her stores, supplies, coal and ammunition were on board, well stowed. Rexdale drew a long breath of relief, and Paymaster Ross another, as the last account was filed that night. The commander wrote a long letter to his wife, Hallie, before retiring. She was visiting friends in the West, and he had no opportunity to see her before starting on what was doubtless to be a cruise to the other side of the world. This is a part of a naval officer's life. "Detached," from this place to that, from one ship, or one duty, to another, says the brief naval report. The officer receives his written orders, and if his heart aches a little, under his blue uniform, no one knows it but the one who receives the good-bye letter, hurriedly sent by the despatch-boat or the orderly; and he is ready for the new post.
Paymaster Ross, meanwhile, is busy with half a hundred lists and receipts and accounts. He it is who knows accurately the pay of every man on board. Look over his shoulder and read in his "Register" of current date the salaries that our National Uncle pays to his nephews for naval services:
It is to be remembered that, in addition to the amounts given in this table, all the officers mentioned (below the grade of rear-admiral) are entitled by the present laws to "ten per cent. upon the full yearly pay of their grades for each and every period of five years' service, as increase for length of service, or 'longevity pay.'" Still, thirty-five hundred dollars, even with that additional "longevity pay," does not seem a very large salary for the commander of a battle-ship at sea and perhaps under fire from day to day!
Warrant officers, namely boatswains, gunners, carpenters, sailmakers, pharmacists and warrant machinists are paid (for sea duty) from $1200 a year for the first three years after date of appointment, to $1800 after twelve years' service.
Chief petty officers, including Chief Master-at-arms, Chief Boatswain's Mate, Chief Gunner's Mate, Chief Yeoman, Hospital Steward, Bandmaster, and a few others, draw pay ranging from $50 to $70 a month. The pay of first-class petty officers, of whom there are about twenty varieties, is from $36 to $65 a month; that of second-class petty officers a trifle less; and that of third-class petty officers $30 a month.
First-class seamen receive $24, seamen gunners $26, and firemen $35. Second-class or "ordinary" seamen draw $19 a month, and third-class seamen, including apprentices and landsmen, have to be content with $16.
Oto and Oshima, as regular cabin stewards, were paid $50 a month; and the wages for this sort of service on a war-ship run from that sum down to the pay of the mess attendants, which is the same as that of apprentice seamen.
Just as Dave Rexdale finished his letter to Hallie the orderly entered and announced Fred Larkin, who had been unexpectedly detained in Washington.
"I've been making inquiries, Dave," said the reporter, when the marine had retired, "and I can't see any reason for your sudden orders. A number of our ships are to rendezvous at Kiel next week, to take part in a naval review. It may be that you are bound to German waters. If so, give my respects to the Kaiser!"
Rexdale shook his head. "I don't believe Kiel is our port of destination, Fred," he said. "There'd hardly be time for us to get over there before the end of the review, even if we made a regular 'Oregon' voyage of it. I'm afraid it's a longer cruise than that. Who knows what is going on at St. Petersburg or in Tokio?"
"Right you are," acquiesced Larkin. "I shouldn't be surprised to receive orders myself, any day, to start for Japan or Korea. Of course I should go by way of San Francisco. If there's to be any lively unpleasantness over there, the Bulletin wants a front seat, sure!"
"Well, I hope we shall meet there, old fellow," laughed the commander, "though the United States will of course have nothing to do with the scrap. Still, it's as well to have a few of Uncle Sam's war-ships on that station or near by – say at Cavite."
"If war breaks out between Russia and Japan," said Larkin, rising, after a little more conversation of this sort, "the big European Powers may be involved any day, with China as an uncertain force just behind the scenes. You know France is bound to take a hand if two nations attack Russia, and England has the same agreement with Japan. China will do lots of mischief, if she doesn't play in her own back yard."
At daylight the Osprey cast off her moorings, and dropping down the quiet Potomac, started on her long voyage.
CHAPTER V.
OTO'S STRANGE VISIT
In N. Latitude 36° Longitude 72° W. from Greenwich, the commander of the Osprey opened his sealed instructions, and, having glanced over the lines, read them aloud to his subordinate officers, as follows:
"Washington, D. C.
"Sir:
"Having your coal-bunkers full, and being in all respects ready for sea, in accordance with previous directions, you will proceed with vessel under your command to the port of Hongkong, China, where you will report to the commander of the North Pacific Squadron. If his flagship should be at Manila, Shanghai, or any other port at the time of your arrival, you will follow him to that port without delay, and report as above. In view of the present critical state of affairs in the East, and the attitude of Russia and Japan, the Osprey should proceed with all possible dispatch. The crew is to be constantly drilled, the passage of the ship not to be delayed thereby. You will follow the usual route by way of Gibraltar and the Suez Canal, and will call at Malta (Valetta) for further instructions.
"Very respectfully," – , Secretary.
"Lieutenant-Commander David Rexdale,
"Commanding U. S. S. Osprey.
"(Through Commandant, Navy Yard, Washington)."
A half-suppressed cheer broke from the circle of blue-coated officers around the cabin table, as Rexdale concluded his reading.
"There's nothing said about ammunition," observed Stapleton, significantly.
"The Department knows that our magazines are well provided," said Rexdale. "I reported on all classes of ammunition just before we sailed from Boston."
"Shall we have a chance to use it? – that's the question," put in the young midshipman. "Oh, I do hope there'll be a scrimmage!"
"We're at peace with every nation on the globe," remarked Paymaster Ross with emphasis. "How can there be a fight? We've nothing to do with the quarrel between Japan and Russia."
"I hope the little fellows will win out, if there's war coming," exclaimed Dr. Cutter heartily. "I'm always in favour of the under dog."
"Who is the under dog? The Japs have the enormous advantage of a home base," said Stapleton. "I don't know enough of the situation to be sure which to sympathise with, big, sturdy Russia with all Asia between him and St. Petersburg, or snappy, shrewd little Nippon. Perhaps there won't be any war, after all."
"I don't see that we are in it, anyway," said Rexdale, rising. "Probably all our ship will have to do will be to hang round on guard, and protect American interests – "
"And be ready for squalls!" finished the irrepressible Starr, as the group filed out of the cabin, while the commander repaired to his stateroom to plot the course for Gibraltar.
The fact that the Osprey was bound for Pacific waters soon spread through the ship. Most of the jackies were delighted, and were enthusiastic over the prospect of a "scrap" with somebody, they did not much care whom. A heated discussion arose, forward, as to the merits of the two nations which were supposed to be preparing for war. In the midst of the excited talk a black-and-white kitten made her way into the group and gave a careless little lap with her rough tongue at a hand which was braced against the deck. The hand, a rough and knotty one, taking no notice of her attentions, she drew her sharp little claws playfully across it.
This time the owner of the hand, who was no other than Sam Bolles, started so suddenly that he almost rolled over; then, vexed at the laughter which greeted him, he caught the kitten up savagely and swung his arm as if about to throw it overboard.
Now Sneezer, the kitten, was a special pet of Dick Scupp. Dick gave a roar at seeing the danger of the animal, and flung himself bodily upon Sam, who went over backward in a heap, relinquishing the kitten (fortunately for her) as he did so.
"Well, I never seed sech kids fer quarrelin'," said old Martin, the gunner, philosophically watching the two men as they rolled about the deck, scattering kits and boxes and bringing up against the shins of more than one of their comrades. "Come off, Sam, and let the youngster alone! Let go, will you (for Sam was pulling Dick's stringy locks with vigour)? Here comes Jimmy Legs. Let him up, Dick!"
"Jimmy Legs," whose real name was Hiram Deering, was chief master-at-arms. The duties of his office, on a war-ship, are perhaps more multifarious than that of any man on board. He is an enlisted man, rated a chief petty officer, and wears the eagle rating-badge. Forward of the mainmast his word is law at any hour of the day or night. Aft, his word is taken by the commander, the executive, and by all other officers.
The mettle in a chief master-at-arms, or "Jimmy Legs," as he is universally known among the men, is always thoroughly known aft before he is rated. He need not be a bully, but he must be a natural "master of the situation," and of men, in an emergency as well as in the routine of navy life. The Legs is privileged to take matters into his own hands, up forward, when occasion demands. If necessity arises for him to knock a man down, it is the business of Legs to know how to do it with science and despatch.
The master-at-arms of an American war-ship is always a man who has seen many years of service in the navy, and passed through most of the inferior ratings of the enlisted men. He is a man whose blue-jacket experience has taught him every trick of the naval sailor, every phase of forecastle life. Hiram could neither be cajoled nor outwitted. He was stern with evil-doers, but was the most popular man forward, in the Osprey.
At dawn Jimmy Legs's duties begin, when the men turn out to clean ship. The chief boatswain's mate is nominally the "boss" of the job, but it is Legs who sees that the men do not growl or quarrel at their work, as sleepy men will at such an hour and task.
Mess gear for breakfast is piped. The men rush to the tables. A bluejacket with shoes on steps on the foot of the bluejacket who is shoeless. Biff-bang! The Legs may be 'way aft on the poop watching the after-guard sweepers at their work; but he is a man of instinct. In a dozen bounds he is at the scene of the scrap.
"Chuck it! The Legs!" is the word there. The scrappers break away, and when the Legs shows up they are seated side by side at their mess table, quietly taking morning coffee.
It is the business of Jimmy Legs to make a tour of inspection through the ship just before "morning quarters." The ship is then supposed to be in shape for the commanding officer's approval, and the men's wearing-gear all stowed away in ditty bags. It never is. There is always to be found a shirt hastily thrown here, a shoe lying loose there, a neckerchief and lanyard hanging over a ditty-box. This gear the Legs gathers in impartially, no matter to whom it belongs, and thrusts into the "Lucky Bag" (which is generally known by a far more opprobrious epithet), which he keeps for that purpose.
The only way the owner of the gear may get it back is by reporting himself at the mast, that is, to the commanding officer, for remissness in stowing gear, which means, generally, a lopping off of liberty privileges. Every month the contents of the bag of gear thus accumulated are sold aboard at auction to the highest bidder among the jackies.
Finally, there is hardly a day in port that the Legs is not sent ashore along toward noon to hunt up derelicts. These are liberty-breakers carousing in town regardless of the fact that their services aboard are needed, and that punishment awaits them when they return for overstaying their leaves. Jimmy Legs is called for by the commander and gets a list of the men to be returned.
Into the steam-cutter hops Legs, and away he goes after the derelicts. He generally returns with them. He may be gone for some hours, or for a day, but when he comes off to the ship, in shore boat or cutter, he has the men he went after along with him.
So much for Jimmy Legs, whose never-ending and varied duties Hiram Deering, a grizzled old man-o'-warsman, performed most admirably on the Osprey.
The two men were pulled apart and the others had hardly gathered up their scattered ditty-bags and personal belongings when a commotion was observed among the officers on the bridge. They were gazing through their glasses at a puff of smoke on the north-western horizon. In the course of fifteen minutes it had grown to a small-sized cloud.
"She must have legs, to overhaul us in this way," observed Ensign Dobson, with his binocular at his eyes. "How much were we making at the last log, quartermaster?"
"Fifteen strong, sir."
"Then that fellow's doing a good twenty," added the officer. "Can you make him out, Mr. Liddon?"
"It looks to me like a 'destroyer,'" replied the other, readjusting the lenses of his glass. "It's a rather small, black craft, walking up on us hand over fist."
"Bo'sun!" called Dobson to a man who stood near on the lower deck.
"Yes, sir!"
"Set the ensign."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"There goes his flag!" said Dobson, excitedly.
"I can't make out what it is, but we'll soon know. Shall I slow down a bit, sir?" he asked the lieutenant-commander, who had joined the other officers on the bridge.
"Not yet," said Rexdale. "We can't afford to tie up for every fellow that wants to speak us. Let him come up. He'll signal his business soon, if he's really after us."
The stranger approached rapidly, and could now be seen with the naked eye, as was attested by the watch on deck lining the bulwarks. There was no apprehension, as the United States had no enemies afloat; still the appearance, so far out at sea, of an unknown vessel bearing down swiftly on the Osprey, was enough to attract the lively attention of forecastle as well as cabin.
The kitten episode was quite forgotten, as the men thronged to the rail.
"Ah," exclaimed a brawny Irishman, waving his bare arm in the direction of the stranger, "w'ot a pity it ain't war-toimes now! Sure it's a lovely bit av a foight we'd be lookin' for, wid that smoker!"
"War nothin'!" retorted the old gunner. "I'm willin' to keep me arms and legs on fur a while longer. What's the use o' bein' shot to pieces, anyway!"
"Why don't he h'ist his ens'n?" growled another of the crew. "Manners is manners, I say."
"It is h'isted," said Scupp, "only ye can't see it, 'cos it blows straight out forrard on this west wind he's comin' afore. The officers up there'll soon be makin' it out, I reckon."
But the uniformed group on the bridge had no such easy task. They scrutinised the flag again and again, without success.
"I can't make the thing out," said Dobson, lowering the glasses, "can you, Mr. Liddon?"
"Can't say I can. It blew out once, and looked like nothing I ever saw before – a sort of twenty-legged spider in the centre. It's like nothing I ever saw in these waters. If we were on the Asiatic coast – "
"Who has the sharpest eyes among the men, quartermaster?" enquired the commander.
"I rather think, sir, them Japs can see the farthest."
"Orderly," ordered Rexdale, beckoning to a marine on duty, "find one of the cabin stewards and send him to the bridge at once."
Hardly a minute elapsed before Oto glided gracefully up the ladder and saluted.
"Take these glasses and see if you can make out that fellow's ensign," said Rexdale.
Oto lifted the binocular to his slanting eyes and picking up the approaching steamer gave it a swift glance. A moment sufficed. Then he returned the glasses to the commander, his face alight.
"Japanese, sir," he said simply. "That the flag of Japanese navy."
Dobson so far forgot his dignity as to slap his thigh.
"That's so!" he exclaimed. "I remember it well enough now. What on earth can a Jap torpedo destroyer want in these waters?"
"We shall soon find out – where's that boy? Gone already? Of course it excites him to see a part of his own navy so near. Stand by for signals, Mr. Dobson. Have your man ready, and get out your book." Dave's eyes were again scrutinising the approaching vessel as he gave the orders.
When the stranger was within about half a mile she rounded to a course parallel with that of the Osprey, showing her long, vicious hull, black and low in the water; and slowed down to keep from running away from the American ship. Presently a line of small flags fluttered up to her masthead.
Dobson examined them closely through the glass, then turned to his signal-book. "One – three – seven – five – here she is – the Kiku– that's Jap for Chrysanthemum, isn't it? Run up the answering pennant, signalman. Then haul it down and set our number."
The introduction having thus been politely performed, the Kiku, first answering the Osprey's number, hoisted another line of flags.
"H'm, they have our signals pat," muttered Dobson, turning the leaves of his book. "Here it is, Captain. 'Wish to communicate. Have message for – ' for whom I wonder? Answer, signalman. There goes the second half of the signal: 'man on board your ship.' Well, that's cool! What shall we reply, sir?"
"Answer: 'Send boat with message – hurry,'" said Dave, frowning. "I don't like to stop, but the message may be important. I suppose it's for me, only the Japanese don't know enough to say so. Slow down, quartermaster."
"Slow, sir." And the indicator swung to that mark.
"Half speed."
"Half speed, sir."
"Now, full stop."
"Full stop, sir," and the engines of the Osprey were still.
The Kiku had taken similar measures, and changing her course, approached to within a hundred rods.
Down came her starboard quarter-boat, with beautiful precision. The oars fell together as the boat left the ship's side, and started toward the Osprey.
A ladder was thrown over, but the Japanese stopped abruptly, backing water when two or three boats' lengths distant, and turning, rowed a slow stroke to keep abreast the gangway of the gunboat, which had not lost her way. The officer in charge rose to his feet and raised his cap courteously.
"You have Japanese on board, sir, name Oto?" he called out.
"Yes, sir. What of it?"
"My captain wish to see him."
Rexdale gave a little start of irritation. "Leave your message for the boy," he shouted. "He's my cabin steward. I can't hold my ship for him to visit you."
While this conversation was in progress, a slight, diminutive figure had glided into the crowd of men overhanging the rail on the deck below. On hearing Rexdale's answer he called out a few rapid words in his own language to the officer in the boat. The latter answered, and the boat lay up alongside. Before any one realized what Oto was about, he had climbed the rail like a monkey and dropped into the strange boat, which immediately headed for the Kiku.
"Here!" shouted Rexdale, angrily, "What are you about? Bring back that boy! He belongs to my ship!"
The Japanese officer half turned in his seat, waved his hat most courteously, and spoke to his men; with the result that they pulled harder than ever.
"Start her!" cried out Rexdale, furious with rage.
"Start her, sir," repeated the phlegmatic quartermaster, throwing over the electric indicator.
"Full speed ahead!"
"Full speed ahead, sir."
"Now port your helm! Look sharp!"
"Port, sir."
But by the time the Osprey had fair steerage-way the stranger, veering in to shorten the distance, had picked up her boat and was pouring volumes of black smoke from her funnels as she too forged ahead. Her bows slowly swung to the northward.
The captain on her bridge waved his hat.
Dave set his teeth hard. "I'd like to send a shot across her bows!" he muttered, glaring at the audacious destroyer which was plainly running away from them. The jackies looked up eagerly at him, with their hands on the breach of the four-inch rifle; not a few fists were shaken at the departing stranger. It was a temptation, but the commander overcame it.
"It won't do to open fire, just for a steward," he said to his subordinates, who were standing at his side with scowling faces. "On her course, quartermaster!"
"On her course, sir. East by south, quarter south."
"It's a regular insult," stormed Liddon, for once shaken out of his regularly calm demeanour. "It's abduction on the high seas! It's piracy, that's what it is!"
"More like the press-gang," said Dobson, laconically.
"Well," said Rexdale, after a pause, "Japan will have to apologise for that little performance when we've reached a cable port."
"Is Oto an American citizen?" enquired Liddon.
"I'm afraid not. I never heard him speak of naturalisation."
"Then I suppose it's hardly an international episode," said the other, recovering his usual dignity of speech. "Perhaps the boy is an escaped criminal. At worst, I'm afraid the captain of the Kiku has only been guilty of bad manners."
"I shall report the incident to the Department at the first opportunity," said the commander decisively. "They can do what they like about it."
But Rexdale did not make the report. The next morning he was waited upon, to his utter bewilderment, by Oto himself, obsequious, deft, and silent as of old!
