"A Sailor Boy with Dewey," while a complete story in itself, forms the second volume of a line of works issued under the general title of the "Flag of Freedom Series."
In writing this tale of adventure I had in mind to acquaint our boys with something of the strange sights and scenes which come to light daily in Uncle Sam's new possessions in the far East, or far West, as you will. The Philippines are but little understood by the average reader, and if I have served to make the picture of them a little clearer my object will have been accomplished.
Some may argue that the adventures introduced in the volume are overdrawn, but I can assure all that the incidents are underdrawn rather than otherwise. Many savage and barbarous natives still inhabit the Philippines, and to bring these people to genuine civilization will take many years of patient labor and encouragement. In the past Spain had accomplished something, but not much; what our own nation will do remains still to be seen. Let us hope for the best.
Again thanking my young friends for the kindness with which they have perused my stories in the past, I place this book in their hands with my best wishes for their future welfare.
Captain Ralph Bonehill.
April 15, 1899.
OFF FOR MANILA BAY.
"What do you think of this storm, Oliver?"
"I think it is going to be a heavy one, Dan," I answered. "Just look at those black clouds rolling up from the southeast. We'll catch it before midnight."
"Just what I think," answered my chum, Dan Holbrook. "Where is Captain Kenny?"
"Where he always is, in his cabin, more than half intoxicated. I tell you, Dan, I would never have taken passage on the Dart had I known what sort of a man Captain Kenny was. Why, our lives are not safe in his hands."
"Humph! I don't know as they are safe out of his hands, Oliver," returned Dan, with a toss of his handsome head. "Since we left China we've struck two heavy hurricanes—perhaps that coming on will finish us."
"Gracious! don't say that!" I cried, with a shiver. "We don't want to be finished—at least, I don't."
"Neither do I. But when a storm comes, it comes, that is all there is to it."
"True, but we might do something toward meeting it," I went on, with a grave shake of my head, for I did not altogether like Dan's light-hearted way of looking at things. "In my opinion Captain Kenny ought to be on deck this instant, watching this storm."
"Supposing you tell him that?"
"I've a good mind to."
"You'll get a belaying pin over your head, as Dawson, the mate, got. Captain Kenny is not a man to be talked to. He is bad enough when he is sober, and when he isn't he is simply terrible."
"But he has no right to imperil the lives of twenty or more people by his drunkenness," I rejoined warmly. "If I had my way, I'd put the captain in irons and place Dawson in command of the Dart. He knows enough to keep sober, and——"
"Ye would do thet, would ye?" roared a hoarse voice at my shoulder, and turning swiftly I found myself confronted by Captain Kenny. "I'll teach ye how to talk ag'in the master o' this vessel, an' don't ye forgit it!" And he grabbed me by the arm.
Captain Kenny's face was as red as a beet. Usually it was far from being handsome, now it was positively hideous. His breath was heavily laden with the odor of rum, showing that he had been imbibing more than usual.
I was a boy of sixteen, tall and strong for my age. I was not a poor, down-trodden lad, knocking about from pillar to post, trying to earn my living. My father, Samuel Raymond, was a rich merchant of San Francisco, owning interests in several lines of trade, with offices at San Francisco, Hong Kong, Manila in the Philippine Islands, and several other points.
Just six months before I had graduated at a business college in California. As I was to follow my father into trade, it was not thought worth while to give me a term at the University, or any similar institute of learning. Instead, tny father called me into his library and said to me:
"Oliver, I believe you understand that you are to go into business with me."
"I do, sir," had been my reply. "I wish for nothing better."
"Usually I do not believe in letting boys remain idle after their school days are over, but in this case I think an exception should be made. You have worked hard, and come out at the top of your class. You deserve a good, long holiday. How will you take it?"
To answer this question puzzled me at first, for I knew I had the whole world before me. I had been as far east as New York and as far south as St. Louis, and had even taken a trip on Lake Michigan. I concluded that I had gone eastward far enough.
"If it's all the same, I'll go to Hong Kong and get acquainted with our branch out there," was my answer, and the use of the words, "our branch," made my father laugh.
"That will suit me exactly," was his return. "You shall go from San Francisco direct to Hong Kong, and you can return by way of the Philippines and see how our place of business is doing at Manila. The place at Manila is running down—the Spaniards are doing their best to drive us out altogether, and if you can see any way of improving conditions, now or later on, so much the better."
In less than two weeks I was ready to start, but I did not leave home even then as quickly as did my father, who received word which took him to the east and then to Cuba. What happened to my parent in Cuba has been excellently told by my friend, Mark Carter, in his story which has been printed under the title of "When Santiago Fell." At that time I did not know Mark at all, but since then we have become very intimately acquainted, as my readers will soon learn.
The voyage from the Golden Gate to Hong Kong was made without anything unusual happening. On landing at the Chinese-English port I was immediately met by Dan Holbrook, whose father was one of my parent's partners. Dan had put in two years at Hong Kong and the vicinity, and he took me around, and talked Chinese for me whenever it was required.
At last came the time when I thought I ought to think of returning to San Francisco by way of Manila, or at least to run over to the Philippines and back and then start for home. "If only you could go to Manila with me!" had been my words to Dan, to whom I was warmly attached.
"I will go," had been the ready answer, which surprised me not a little. Soon I learned that Dan had been talking the matter over with his father and mother. Mr. Holbrook was as anxious as my father to have the business connection at Manila improved, and he thought that both of us ought to be able to do something, even though I was but a boy and Dan was scarcely a young man.
Manila, the principal city of the Philippines, is located but four or five days' sail from Hong Kong and there is a regular service of steamers between the two ports. But both Dan and I had seen a good deal of ocean travel on steamers, and we decided to make the trip to Manila Bay in a sailing craft, and, accordingly, took passage on the Dart, a three-masted schooner, carrying a miscellaneous cargo for Manila, Iloilo, and other points.
When we secured our berths we did not see Captain Kenny, only the first and second mates of the vessel. Had we seen the captain with his tough-looking and bloated face, it is quite likely that we would have endeavored to secure passage to the Philippines elsewhere.
Yet for several days all went well. The weather was not all that it should have been, for we were sailing in a portion of our globe where hurricanes and earthquakes are of frequent occurrence. Our course had been set directly for Corregidor Island at the entrance to Manila Bay, but it had begun to blow harder and harder, we drove up in the direction of Subig Bay.
The weather kept growing fouler and fouler, and with this Captain Kenny gave himself over to liquor until he was totally unfit to command the Dart. He was a man to allow sails to be set when they should have been furled, and already had he lost one sheet through his foolishness.
The mate, Tom Dawson, was a first-rate fellow, as kind and considerate as the captain was rough and brutal. How he had shipped with such a beast was a mystery, but it did not concern me and I did not bother my head about it. On three occasions I had seen the captain attack Dawson, but each time the mate had escaped and refused to take up the quarrel. In the meantime the second mate and the men grumbled a good deal, but so far no open rupture had occurred among the forecastle hands.
"You let go of that arm," I said, as I found Captain Kenny's harsh face poked out close to my cheek.
"I'll let go when I'm done with you, not afore!" he went on, with increasing wrath. "Call me a drunkard, will ye!" And he gave the arm a savage twist that hurt not a little. "On board o' my own ship, too!"
"If I did I only spoke the truth," I said steadily. "You drink altogether too much for the good of those on board. We are going to have a big storm soon, and you ought to have your wits about you, if you want to save the Dart from going down."
"I know my business, boy—ye can't teach it me nohow! Take thet fer talkin' to me in this fashion!"
Releasing my arm, he aimed a heavy blow at my head. But I was on the alert and dodged, and the blow nearly carried the irate skipper off his feet. Then, as he came on again, I shoved him backward, and down he went in a heap on the deck.
"By Jove, now you've done it!" whispered Dan.
"I don't care, it serves him right," I answered. "He had no right to touch me."
"That's true. But you must remember that a captain is king on his own deck, on the high seas."
"A brute can never be a king—and make me submit, Dan."
By this time Captain Kenny was scrambling up, his face full of rage. Instantly he made for me again.
"I'll teach ye!" he screamed. "You good-fer-nuthin landlubber! I've had it in fer ye ever since ye took passage. Maybe my ship aint good enough fer ye! If thet's so, I'll pitch ye overboard!" And he tried to grab me once more.
But now Dan stepped between us. "Captain Kenny, you let Raymond alone," he ordered sternly.
"I won't—he's called me a drunkard, and—"
"He told the truth. You attend to your business and we'll attend to ours."
"I'll—I'll put him in irons. He shan't talk so afore my crew!" fumed the captain.
"You shan't touch him."
"Shan't I?" The half-drunken man glared at both of us. Then he backed away, shaking his fist. "Just wait a minute and I'll show you a trick or two—just wait!" And still shaking his fist, he reeled off to the companion way, almost fell down the stairs, and disappeared into the cabin.
"Now, what is he going to do?" I murmured turning to my companion.
"Something out of the ordinary, that's certain," answered Dan. "He has just enough in him to be thoroughly ugly."
"I don't believe he'll let this matter drop, storm or no storm."
"Not he, Oliver. I'm afraid we have got ourselves into a scrape. I wish we were in sight of Manila."
"So do I. But I haven't done anything wrong. Somebody ought to tell the man that he is drinking too much, Dan."
At that instant Dawson, the mate, came up. He had been standing behind the mainmast and had heard every word uttered. His face showed plainly that he was greatly troubled.
"This is too bad," he observed. "The cap'n bad enough, but you have made him wuss, ten times over, lads."
"He hasn't any right to drink, Dawson."
"We won't talk about thet—seein' as how he's in command and I'm only the fust mate. I'm sorry you quarreled, with the end o' the voyage almost in sight."
"What will he do?" put in Dan.
"I dunno. Drink more, I reckon, an' then come up twict as ugly."
"What about this storm that is coming up?" I questioned.
"I notified him of that half an hour ago."
"And he didn't pay any attention? It's a shame! I don't want to go to the bottom of the China Sea, whether the captain drinks or not."
"None o' us want to go to the bottom, lad. But then——" Tom Dawson ended with a shrug of his shoulders. He realized more than I did what a responsibility would rest upon him did he dare to issue orders contrary to Captain Kenny's wishes.
It was about three o'clock in the afternoon, and the day had been unusually oppressive, even for this latitude, which, as most of my readers must know, never boasts of cold weather, but can easily break the record for scorchers. During the morning, when the sun had shone, the seams of the deck had run with tar, and no one had exposed himself more than was absolutely necessary. But now the sun was hidden by clouds that kept growing darker and darker, and the wind was so strong it could not be otherwise than refreshing.
Captain Kenny had left positive orders that the main and mizzen courses be left as they were, fully set, and both sheets were straining and tugging as though ready to lift the two masts out of their resting places. The forecourse had been taken in, also the jib, but so far this had had no effect on the riding of the Dart, and she dipped her nose into every fourth or fifth wave that came along.
"If I was you I'd take in more sail," remarked Dan, after a pause. "Even if you don't lose a mast, you're running the risk of opening more than one seam. If we founder——"
He did not finish, for at that moment Captain Kenny's head reappeared above the combing of the companion way. He came staggering toward us with his right hand in his jacket pocket and a sickly grin on his unshaven face.
"Now we'll come to terms," he began, with a hiccough.
"Captain Kenny, how about that mainsail?" interrupted the mate. "The wind is freshening rapidly, sir."
"I'll take care o' the—hic—mainsail, when I'll through which these—hic—young rascals," was the answer. "Yarson! Carden!" he bawled out. "Come here, you're wanted."
At once two of the sailors, a Swede and an American, came aft and touched their forelocks.
"Do you know what I'm—hic—going to do?" went on the captain, closing one eye suggestively. "I'm going to place both of you under arrest until we arrive at Manila."
"Arrest!" cried Dan and I simultaneously.
"You shall not arrest me," I added, and my companion said something very similar.
"I said—hic—arrest, and I mean it. Throw up your hands, both of you."
"I refuse to obey the order."
"Do you know that I am the—hic—commander of this ship?"
"You are when you are sober," returned Dan.
"I am sober now—I never get—hic—drunk. I place you under arrest. Yarson, Carden, conduct the two passengers to the—hic—brig and lock 'em in."
"Keep your hands off!" I exclaimed. "Don't you dare to touch me!"
"And don't you dare to touch me," added Dan.
We had scarcely spoken than Captain Kenny withdrew his right hand from his pocket and showed us the muzzle of a revolver.
"You'll—hic—obey or take the consequences," he hiccoughed. "I'm a peaceful man until I'm aroused, and then——" Another hiccough ended the sentence.
I must say that I was both alarmed and disgusted, but my disgust was greater than my alarm, for I knew I had right on my side and was willing to wager that in his present condition Captain Kenny could not hit the broadside of a barn, excepting by accident.
The two sailors advanced, but they came on slowly, evidently having no relish for the job at hand. When the Swede attempted to take hold of me I flung him off.
"Stand back!" I said, and at the same time Dan motioned Garden to keep his distance.
"Are you going to do as I ordered?" fumed the captain.
"I vos reatty to opey orders, captain," said Yarson.
"So am I, cap'n, if you say it's all right," added Carden.
"It is all—hic—right. Arrest 'em—arrest 'em on the spot!" vociferated the skipper of the Dart.
"You keep your distance," I ordered. "If you don't it will be the worse for you."
"The first man who touches me will get knocked down," said Dan, and caught up a marline spike which hung by the mast.
"Captain, I think we really ought to look to those sails," pleaded Dawson, taking hold of his chief's arm. "It won't do to lose 'em, you know."
"Didn't I say I'd take care of 'em when I'm—hic—through with these fellows?" was the surly return. "Stand back, Dawson!" and now the captain rushed forward and leveled his pistol at my head. "You march to the brig, and be quick about it, or I'll——"
What Captain Kenny would have done, had I refused to march as ordered, I never learned, for while he was speaking Dan made a rush forward and caught the pistol from his hand and sent him flat on his back, in the bargain. Then my companion stepped to my side, and both of us backed up toward the companion way.
For fully a minute Captain Kenny lay where he had fallen, nobody caring to go to his assistance. Then he cried loudly to the sailors to help him get up, and they did so. In the meantime Tom Dawson stood by, scratching his head in perplexity.
"Captain, we must attend to the sails," he began, when there came a sudden puff of air, and the Dart seemed to fairly stand up on ends. I had to catch hold of the companion way rail to keep from falling, and Dan held on, too. Captain Kenny collapsed and went sliding into the mainmast, and then toward the lee rail.
"Save me!" he yelled, when he felt that he could not help himself. "Save me!" And Dawson and the American sailor immediately ran to his assistance.
It was all I could do now to save myself from being thrown down the companion way, and for the time being I lost interest in Captain Kenny. "This is awful!" I said to Dan. "I believe we are in for another hurricane."
"The fools ought to take in every rag of canvas," was the reply. "Tom Dawson hasn't any backbone, or he'd take matters in his own hands."
"Let us go below," I went on, as a wave swept the deck, drenching us both. "There is no use of remaining here."
Dan tumbled down the companion way and into the cabin, and I came after him, stumbling over an empty rum bottle which was rolling over the floor. From the cabin we went to our stateroom, to see that the port was tightly closed.
"I think I'll keep this pistol until we reach Manila," observed my companion. "You know I haven't any weapon of my own. I wish I had some extra cartridges."
"Perhaps the caliber of my pistol is the same as Captain Kenny's weapon," I suggested, and produced my little six-shooter. Both pistols used the same size of cartridge, and I divided a box of those articles between us, and shoved my share and my revolver in my pocket.
We now heard a hurried tramping on deck, and soon the creaking of blocks as the main and mizzen courses came down on the run. Soon every rag of canvas was furled, this being done by Dawson's directions, as I afterward learned. Captain Kenny having been knocked partly unconscious by his tumble upon the lee rail.
A half hour went by, a time that to Dan and I seemed an age. The Dart tumbled and tossed, and it was all we could do to keep from having our brains dashed out against the stateroom walls.
"We would have done much better had we taken a steamer to Manila," I remarked, when the hurricane seemed to be at its height. "If we get out of this storm we have still our row with the captain to be settled up."
"Never mind, Oliver, we ought to reach Manila in a couple of days. If the captain attempts to arrest us again, I'll give him warning that I'll have him up before the court at the first landing we make."
"He ought to have his vessel taken away from him. Do you suppose the owners would keep him in command if they knew of his habits?"
"As it happens he owns a one-fourth interest in the Dart, and his contract says he shall be skipper, so Dawson told me," answered Dan. "I'll wager Dawson will have a story to tell when he comes below. My, what a sea must be running!" And my companion swung forward and back with the motion of the schooner. "And see how dark it is getting!"
It was so gloomy we could scarcely see each other. It had now begun to lighten and thunder, while the rain came down in perfect sheets. We huddled together, as if feeling instinctively that something out of the ordinary was about to occur.
And it did occur a moment later. A clap of thunder had just rolled away when there came a cry from the deck, so appalling that it could be distinctly heard above the fury of the elements.
"Ship, ahoy! Don't run us down!"
The cry was followed by a tearing, grinding, sickening crash that I shall never forget. The crash threw me headlong and I lay at Dan's feet for several seconds, completely dazed.
"We are struck, Oliver, get up!"
"Oh, my head!" I groaned, for I had struck the stateroom wall a blow by no means gentle.
"We must get on deck!" urged my companion. "We have run into another ship and may be sinking!"
Collecting my scattered senses as best I could, I arose and caught Dan by the arm. Soon we were mounting the companion-way stairs, two steps at a time. As we emerged into the open the downpour of rain and flying spray nearly drowned us.
A vivid flash of lightning lit up the scene, and looking to port we saw a big Chinese vessel bearing away, with a broken bowsprit and a big hole in her side, well forward. We also saw that our own deck was filled with fallen rigging and wooden splinters.
"Sound the pumps!" was the cry, coming from Tom Dawson. "Quigley, see if you can make out the damage"—the last words to the ship's carpenter.
"We got it pretty heavily," gasped Dan, who was about as much winded as myself. "Pray heaven we may outride the shock and the storm."
Several sailors had sprung to the pumps and were pumping up sea water in great quantities. "A foot and four inches," cried one. "And gaining rapidly!" he announced, a minute later.
Those last words caused every cheek to blanch. For the time there was almost a panic. But now Tom Dawson showed what was really in him.
"Keep your wits about you, men!" he called out. "We may yet be able to stop the leak and pump her out. Keep to the work for all you are worth!" And the men at the pumps obeyed, while the mate hurried forward to obtain the carpenter's report.
It was soon forthcoming. The blow had been so severe that a gaping hole, four feet in diameter, had been stove in the Dart's bow. It was partly above and partly below the water line, but in such a sea the water was coming in by the hundreds of gallons at every lurch of the schooner.
"I'll try to stop it up," said Quigley, but shook his head as he spoke. "You had better order the small boats out, and stock 'em with water and grub," and he ran off.
By this time Captain Kenny was up once more, but in his condition could do little but find fault and use language not fit to transcribe to these pages. Once he tried to take the command from Tom Dawson, but the mate would not listen.
"We're sinking, Captain Kenny," said Dawson. "I must do what I can for the men and myself."
"Sinking!" gasped the unreasonable one. "Sinking!"
"Yes, sinking. Keep your wits about you or you'll go to Davy Jones' locker," concluded Tom Dawson. His remarks so frightened the captain that he ran to the cabin, there to plunder his trunks and lockers in a drunken and vain effort to stow what he owned of value about his person.
The carpenter was as good as his word, but although he labored manfully and had all the aid that could be used, the water could not be stopped from coming in. The shock had opened up half a dozen seams and the water in the hold had reached four feet and a half.
"She can't stand that!" cried Dan, as he heard the announcement. "She'll go to the bottom inside of a quarter of an hour. Oliver, we are lost, unless we get into one of the small boats."
"The life-preservers!" I ejaculated. "Let us each get one of those on, if nothing else!" and I led the way to where the articles were stored. While we were adjusting them, the mate passed us.
"That's right," he cried. "You two shall go in our boat. We'll leave in about five minutes, if we can catch the sea right." And then he disappeared from sight once more.
I must confess that my heart was in my throat, and Dan has since told me that he felt just as awed. "Come down and get what we must have," he whispered hoarsely, and once again we tumbled below to our stateroom, passing Captain Kenny as he tore around his cabin like a man bereft of his reason.
"You are responsible for this!" he growled. "If it hadn't been for you no accident would have happened." For a wonder, his fright had quite sobered him, even though he was half crazy as before mentioned.
There was not much to get, for we knew that trunks or even traveling bags would not be taken into the small boats. I donned a little extra clothing and was about to get out my money belt, containing some gold and silver and a draft on a Manila banking institution, when a call from above reached us.
"To the boats! To the boats!" came the cry from the deck, and a scurry of footsteps followed. Grabbing each other by the hand we leaped for the companion way, to find our passage blocked by Captain Kenny.
"Let us up!" cried Dan, and tried to get past the man, but the captain merely shoved him back.
"I'm the one to go—you can stay here, hang ye!" he hissed.
"Stay here? Not much!" I burst out, and catching him by the legs, I shot him up on deck as if he had been fired from a spring gun. He tried to turn and strike me, but I avoided the blow with ease.
The Dart had now settled so much that every wave washed her deck from stem to stern. "Look out, or you'll go down!" roared Dan in my ear, but the caution was not needed, for I was already exercising all the care possible in making my way to the boat Tom Dawson was to command.
There were four small craft and twenty of us all told. This gave five persons to a boat, the first being in command of Captain Kenny, the second in command of Tom Dawson, while the second mate and the boatswain had the others under their care.
"I reckon you two want to keep together," said Dawson, as we reached his side. "I can't blame you, but——"