MUTINY ON A TRANSPORT
On the memorable morning of July 3d the sun had risen from the fog-bank
that promised a hot day before our young trooper, wearied and
mud-bespattered with his journey, and his face still powder-grimed with
the smoke of the day's fighting, rode into the village of Siboney. It
no longer presented the scenes of excited bustle and eager enthusiasm
that had marked it on the eve of Las Guasimas, for the army had
departed long since, and only its shattered wrecks of humanity had
drifted back. Now Siboney was a place of suffering and death; for here
had been established the hospitals to which wounded men limped
painfully from the distant front, or were brought in heavily jolting
army wagons.
On this peaceful Sunday morning--for it was Sunday, though Ridge did
not know it at the time--a great stillness brooded over Siboney, and
almost the only persons visible were medical attendants, who moved
quietly about the big hospital tents or the fever-infested buildings
that had been pressed into the same service.
In the little harbor lay but a single steam-vessel, a transport, though
others could be dimly seen far out at sea, where they spent most of
their time, which fact largely accounted for the woful lack of supplies
at the front. A boat from the single ship that had ventured into the
harbor lay on the beach discharging freight. To it Ridge hurried, and,
addressing himself to the man who appeared to be in charge, said:
"I have an important communication for the Captain of your ship. Will
you take me off to her?"
With a contemptuous glance at the disreputable-looking young trooper,
the man answered:
"See about it when I get ready to go."
"Please make haste, then, for my business is very important, and I am
in a great hurry."
"Oh, you be. Reckon you'd better swim out, then, for I've been hurried
by you landlubbers 'bout as much as I propose to be on this v'y'ge."
Ridge's face flushed, and he wanted to make an angry retort; but there
was no other boat available, and he could not afford to throw away this
chance. So he bit his lips and silently watched the deliberate
movements of the men, who seemed to find a pleasure in aggravating him
by their slowness.
The boat could have been unloaded in five minutes, but the operation
was made to consume a half-hour, during which time Ridge stood silent,
though with finger-nails digging into the palms of his clinched hands.
All at once, without a word of warning, the boat's crew began to shove
their craft from the beach.
"Hold on!" cried Ridge, springing forward. "I am going with you."
"Why aren't you aboard, then?" asked the mate, with a grin, as his men
gave another shove that launched the boat into deep water.
Leaping into the sea, Ridge barely succeeded in clutching a gunwale and
pulling himself aboard, amid chuckles of laughter from the crew. His
ducking had not improved his personal appearance, and as he now sat in
the bow of the boat dripping water from every point, he formed an
object for so much rude wit and coarse merriment, that upon reaching
the transport he was furious with pent-up wrath.
On gaining the deck of the ship he hurried forward, and found her
Captain smoking an after-breakfast cigar in his comfortably appointed
cabin.
"Well, sir, who are you? and what do you want?" demanded this
individual, as Ridge presented himself at the door.
"I am an army officer bearing a message of the utmost importance from
General Sumner to Admiral Sampson; and as this is the only steam-vessel
in the harbor, I have come to ask that you will carry me to the
flag-ship."
"If you haven't got cheek!" ejaculated the Captain. "So you are an
army officer, are you?"
"That is what I said."
"You don't look it. Are you the Quartermaster-General?"
"Certainly not."
"Thought not. Didn't know but what you'd claim to be, though, since
he's the only army officer that I take orders from."
"But I am not giving an order. I am making a request that any American
should be glad to grant, seeing that my message concerns the safety of
the United States fleet, and may alter the whole course of the war."
"What is it?" demanded the Captain, bluntly.
"You have no business to ask," replied Ridge. "At the same time I will
tell you, that you may be induced to get your ship under way the more
quickly. The Spanish squadron is about to make a dash from Santiago
Harbor with the hope of taking our fleet by surprise and escaping."
"What is that to me?" asked the Captain, coolly.
"What is that to you!" cried Ridge. "Why, some of our ships may be
destroyed if they are not warned in time."
"That is their lookout, not mine. Besides, Uncle Sam can afford to pay
for them; while if this ship should be injured the loss would fall on
the owners, and I should lose my job."
"Do you mean that you refuse to take me out to the flag-ship?"
"Of course I do," responded the Captain; "and not one foot nearer to
it, or to any other warship, does my vessel move this day than she is
at present."
"Then, sir," said Ridge, still struggling to maintain his calmness, "I
will thank you to set me ashore again, as speedily as possible."
"Why should I set you ashore?" asked the Captain, with exasperating
indifference. "You came on board without an invitation, and now you
may stay here until the next boat is ready to run in, which will be in
the course of an hour or two."
"By which time half the American fleet may have been destroyed for lack
of warning," groaned Ridge. Then he added, his face blazing with
anger: "I hope you are not an American, and I don't believe you can be,
for you are a traitor, a coward, and a contemptible cur. I only hope I
may meet you again some time when I am off duty, and can give you the
thrashing you deserve."
"All right, my young mud-lark," replied the Captain. "I'll give you a
dose of medicine whenever you want it. Now clear out of here, and
don't let me catch sight of you again!"
Ridge did not hear these last words, for he was already walking rapidly
aft, filled with a tumult of rage and perplexity. What ought he to do?
What could he do? Was ever any one so utterly helpless in a crisis of
such importance? Not until he reached the extreme after part of the
ship did a ray of light break upon the situation. Then he caught sight
of a yacht steaming swiftly into the harbor. She might be a
despatch-boat, or a destroyer, or any one of half a dozen things; but
whatever she was, she could help him if she only would.
Close at hand was a jack-staff upholding an American ensign. Acting
upon the impulse of his despair. Ridge hauled down this flag, and then
half-masted it, union down, thus making a signal of distress that
called for prompt aid from any vessel sighting it. Then he gazed
eagerly at the swiftly approaching yacht. She must have noticed his
signal, for she was now headed directly for the transport, and Ridge,
clinging with one hand to an awning stanchion as he stood on the rail,
frantically waved his hat.
Suddenly a bellow of rage close at hand caused him to look in-board.
The Captain of the transport, his face purple with passion, was rushing
towards the jack-staff.
"How dare you hoist the signal of a mutiny?" he howled. "I'll show--"
"Because there is one on board," shouted Ridge, springing in front of
the infuriated man, and at the same moment whipping out his revolver.
"Halt where you are!" he added, fiercely. "For if you dare touch that
flag before I am through with it I will blow out your traitorous
brains!"
The Captain, cowed by the steadily levelled muzzle of that pistol,
obeyed this order and stood still; but at the same time he yelled for
any of the transport's crew who might be within hearing to tumble aft
in a hurry.
In another minute they came--mates, deck-hands, engineers, stewards,
and stokers--blocking the narrow gangways on either side of the
deck-house. But beyond this they dared not go; for they too were
confronted by that levelled pistol, and its holder's assurance that he
would fire at the first man who advanced another step.
Thus the single figure with a cocked revolver and the unarmed mob that
it held at bay faced each other for a full minute, during which time
the purple-faced Captain raved, foamed at the mouth, and, with bitter
curses, ordered his men to make a rush at the young pirate. That they
did not obey was because of the unflinching steadiness of the young
pirate's gaze, which they realized would detect their slightest forward
movement.
All at once Ridge caught a glimpse of a man on the roof of the
deck-house, just as he dodged from sight behind the life-raft. He
thought he had also seen a gun in the man's hand. The next instant he
sprang over the ship's rail into the sea, and as he did so a shot rang
out behind him. It was not repeated when he came to the surface, for
the very good reason that an armed boat from the steam-yacht was so
close at hand, that ere the young trooper had cleared his eyes of salt
water, its occupants were hauling him aboard.
"Sergeant Norris!" cried an amazed voice from the stern sheets. "Can
it be possible?"
"Lieutenant Norris, if you please," answered our dripping hero, with
what dignity he could command. "But oh, Comly! get me aboard your ship
as quick as you can. It is a matter of life or death!"
"But I am ordered to investigate the mutiny on that transport" replied
the bewildered Ensign.
"I am the mutiny, and in capturing me you have got the whole of it,"
declared Ridge. "So, as you value your future prospects, get me aboard
the _Speedy_, before it shall be too late."
"All right," answered the young naval officer. "I'll risk it for your
sake. So here goes."
Once on board the despatch-boat our young trooper placed the whole
situation in a few words before Captain Boldwood, who no sooner
comprehended it than he ordered his little ship headed up the coast
with all speed.
"It will be almighty rough on the Admiral," he said to Ridge, "if
Cervera comes out while he is away, after all his careful planning and
weeks of weary waiting."
"What do you mean?"
"Only that Admiral Sampson has chosen to-day, of all days, to come down
here for an interview with General Shafter, and we were sent ahead to
make things ready for him at Siboney. He was to have followed us
within half an hour; but perhaps we can turn him back in time. At any
rate, we'll do our best."
So the little _Speedy_ flew back over the way she had just come,
displaying from her masthead as she went a string of gay bunting that
read:
"The enemy's ships are escaping."