OFF FOR TREASURE ISLAND
The little detachment for the _Denver_ were ordered to go on board fully
equipped. This necessitated packing all personal belongings in the
khaki-colored canvas knapsacks and haversacks.
Gunnery Sergeant Miller happening through the squad room found Dick and
Henry thus engaged soon after they had been notified to be ready for
departure in two hours' time.
"Want some help?" he questioned, stopping near their bunks.
And indeed they did want help, for though they had been taught how to
make up their packs, they had never before been required to stow away
every blessed thing they owned in one of the infernal things--this being
about the way they expressed themselves in answer to his query.
"To begin with, you won't be allowed to have any cit clothing on
shipboard," said the Sergeant. "The best thing to do, if you don't want
to send them home, is to sell them to Ikie Cohen across the street, or
if you choose, you can pack them up with the things you won't need and
turn them over to the Police Sergeant for storage; then when you
transfer to shore duty again have them sent to your new station."
Following this sound advice the boys proceeded to divide their
possessions into two lots. Even then it did not seem possible to carry
along everything laid out for their taking.
"Now dump the whole outfit on your bunk," directed Miller, "and first
fold your blankets and clothing in the way you have been taught. The
detachment will travel in blues, so before doing anything else run down
to the Post Tailor and tell him to press them in a hurry and send them
up. Here, Cabell, you take both uniforms with you and Comstock will
help you on your return."
Henry picked up the new blue uniforms, which the boys had not worn as
yet, and hurried to the Post Tailor. Then proceeding under his able
instructor, Dick first packed his knapsack to its limit. Two blankets,
three suits of khaki, two O.D. shirts, three suits of summer underwear,
one pair of tan shoes, six pairs of socks, a towel or two, and his
toilet articles, one by one disappeared into the enchanted bag. His
overcoat, recently issued him, was rolled and tied in straps to the top
of the pack after fastening down the flaps by means of the rawhide
thongs. In the meantime Henry had returned.
"Put that extra pair of tan shoes in your haversack with all the rest of
your odds and ends," advised their instructor. "You will wear leggins
and campaign hats, though personally I think it a poor combination with
blues, and you can hook your blue cap to the pack after you get it on."
"Sergeant, didn't you tell me that marines used to have dress coats with
long skirts, black spiked helmets, white helmets and white uniforms?"
asked Dick, while he stowed away a little pocket edition of the New
Testament in his haversack as the final act of his work in hand.
"Yes, that's right," answered Miller.
"Well, for the love of Mike, how did you ever travel with all that junk
and still always be the first to get there when there was trouble
brewing?"
"Indeed it was a question in the old days," said Miller reminiscently,
"but you must understand that when hurry-up orders came along we took
what was needed for the work in hand and no extra stuff at all. When we
made a permanent change of station then we hauled along our whole
equipment, and what we could not carry on our backs was shipped to us by
the Quartermaster."
"About how much do you reckon this knapsack weighs, Sergeant?" asked
Henry.
"I should say at least sixty pounds--that means all your equipment, and
it is about the weight you would carry on a regular hike, counting arms
and ammunition and all that. Now when you boys come to leave ship and
go to a shore station, you will be surprised to find how much more junk
you will have to send ashore than you took on board. It's always the
way. Things accumulate, and you never seem to know where they all come
from. Many a souvenir and trinket I've left behind or lost in my time
which I'd like to have right now. If you are able to, take my advice
and send all your little keepsakes back to your home people. The day
will come when you will have a heap of fun looking them over and living
again the pleasure you experienced in acquiring them."
Word having been passed for the detachment to "fall in" for the O.D.'s
final inspection, Dick and Henry struggled into their harness. Canteens
and haversacks were slung by their leather straps over opposite
shoulders and the galling heavy knapsacks adjusted as comfortably as
possible. Besides these impedimenta each boy was armed with a web belt
from which hung a forty-five calibre Colt's revolver in a fair leather
holster, tightly strapped to the right leg to prevent swinging. Dick
was also loaded down with his drum and sticks, and Henry carried his
trumpet with the red trumpet cord attached. The other men of the
detachment carried their Springfields--among the best military rifles in
the world--and bayonets in leather scabbards.
The trip to Philadelphia and its Navy Yard, where the _Denver_ was
lying, occupied a little over three hours, so that the men from the
Washington Barracks reported on board their future home in time for
evening mess call.
First Sergeant Stephen Douglass, commanding the Marine Detachment of the
U.S.S. _Denver_, a gray-haired, clean-shaven, wiry little man, was known
throughout the service as a "sea-going marine." Never, if he could
prevent it, would he serve at a barracks, and his length of service and
known ability generally secured a respect for his wishes from his
superiors. The meal having been quickly disposed of by the new
arrivals, he called them to his tiny office to assign them their
stations.
"Here is where we begin our web-footed existence," whispered Dick to
Henry as they stood waiting their turn outside the door.
"It is a little bit of a boat, isn't it?" irrelevantly answered Henry.
"Don't say 'boat,'" cautioned Dick, "for in the Navy everything big
enough to fly a commissioned officer's pennant is dignified by being
called a ship."
"What is a 'commissioned officer's pennant'?" inquired Henry.
"It is a long narrow flag tapering to a point, with the wide part near
the hoist, where it is attached, you know--blue with thirteen white
stars in the field, and the rest is divided in half lengthwise with a
red and a white stripe. Vessels commanded by a commissioned officer of
the Navy only are entitled to fly it at the truck of the mainmast."
"Thanks, Dick; I reckon I am pretty green, but what's a 'truck'? It
sounds like a wagon of some sort!"
"That is the name given to the very top of a mast or flagstaff. You'll
soon pick up these little points," said Dick generously. "I just happen
to know some of them because of being brought up in an old whaling port
and having seen and known about ships all my life; but I've a lot to
learn myself."
First Sergeant Douglass now called the boys in to interview them.
"Your first duty, eh?" he said after adjusting his glasses and glancing
over the enlistment record which accompanies every marine in his
travels. "Either of you know anything about a ship?" and he looked up at
the two youngsters with an approving gaze.
Dick said nothing, but Henry spoke for him:
"Drummer Comstock does; he has been making me acquainted with some of
the many things I never knew before."
"To-morrow morning I'll have Corporal Dorlan take all the new arrivals
over the ship, and I want you two musics to become acquainted with every
nook and corner of her. You will have to act as messengers for the
Officer of the Deck and must be ready to go to any place and find any
person without hesitation. If you shouldn't happen to know where the
place or person or thing is located then you must be prepared to know
how and where to find out about 'em in the most expeditious manner. The
Officer of the Deck can't be bothered with questions, so it's up to the
messenger to know."
"Is Corporal Dorlan any relation to a Sergeant Michael Dorlan who was on
the _Nantucket_?" asked Richard.
"Couldn't be closer related," answered the First Sergeant; "he is one
and the same person. Do you know him?"
"I should say I do," beamed Dick; "he saved the life of a boy friend of
mine this past summer; but I thought he was a sergeant."
"He was a sergeant, but unfortunately an enemy of Dorlan's got the best
of him, and he was reduced to the rank of corporal by sentence of a
court-martial."
"My, I'm sorry to hear that," returned Dick, honestly grieved over the
misfortune of his brave acquaintance.
"Yes, boys, everyone who knows Mike Dorlan is sorry, and I hope neither
of you will ever have an enemy like his, nor a 'court' against your
record, nor any other kind of an offense, for that matter. Your slate
is clean now; keep it so, and when you've finished your enlistment
you'll be wearing one of these,--and proud of it too, I'll warrant."
* * * * * * * * *
[Illustration: The Marine Corps Good Conduct Medal]
THE MARINE CORPS GOOD CONDUCT MEDAL
Awarded to any enlisted man in the corps at the expiration of his
enlistment who receives a mark of "Excellent" and who has not been tried
by Court-Martial. If the man reenlists the possession of this medal
entitles him to receive 83-1/2 cents a month additional pay. If at the
end of subsequent enlistment he receives the Excellent discharge--a
bronze bar is awarded to be attached to the ribbon and suitably
engraved. These bars also bring additional monthly pay.
* * * * * * * * *
The old sergeant opened a little drawer of his desk and took from it a
bronze medal suspended from a bar of like metal by a bright red silk
ribbon through the center of which ran a narrow band of deep blue.
Across the ribbon, almost covering it, were other narrow bronze bands
fastened.
"This here is a Marine Corps Good Conduct Medal, and each of the smaller
bands of bronze means a renewal of the medal's original significance for
a whole enlistment. But to earn one of these you must 'mind your p's
and q's' and be 'Johnnie on the spot' if it is your duty to be there at
all."
After the boys finished their examination of the trophy, the First
Sergeant continued:
"Now to return to business. Comstock, your pay number is six, your
watch number is seven-twenty-one, your locker number, twenty-three, and
you are in the port watch; your station at 'Abandon Ship' is in the
sailing launch. Yours, Cabell, are, pay number, seven; watch number,
seven-three-naught-seven; locker number, twenty-four, and you are in the
steamer for 'Abandon Ship.' Report to the Police Sergeant, get your
locker keys, draw your hammicks and find out where you swing. You will
find plenty of work to keep you busy from now till 'taps.' Remember, I
am always ready to listen to your complaints if you have any and will
right them if able, but I also expect you to do your duty up to the
handle. And just a word more before you go. The marines of this
detachment are proud of their reputation of being the best looking,
cleanest, smartest division on this ship. You are now responsible that
that standard isn't lowered in the slightest degree. You will find a
copy of the ship's routine on the Bulletin Board in our compartment.
That's all."
The sergeant rose as he finished his talk and both boys had
unconsciously straightened up to the position of attention. At their
dismissal they simultaneously rendered the old veteran a military
salute, but First Sergeant Stephen Douglass was too much the proper and
precise marine to accept an honor to which he was not entitled.
"Wait!" he commanded as they turned to leave the office, "you salute
only commissioned or warrant officers in our service, never
non-commissioned or petty-officers, except at certain prescribed times
during drill or ceremonies. Run along."
"I knew better than to salute him," said Henry while they were waiting
for Police Sergeant Bruckner to return from some duty he was at the time
engaged in, "but somehow it seemed to be the only proper thing to do, he
was so fine."
"Glad to hear you talk like that, Hank, old boy! I told you that the
N.C.O.'s were a pretty fine lot when you get to know them," and Dick was
very well pleased that his friend was beginning to come to his own way
of thinking.
Outside the office were the rest of the men who had journeyed with them,
all waiting to draw hammocks. None of these men had served at sea
before this, consequently their conception of a "hammock" was formed
from those artistic things of net, made up in gay colors which decorated
the piazzas and lawns ashore. It was quite a different article that
Police Sergeant Bruckner dealt out to each of them. It consisted of a
white piece of canvas, six feet long by three and one-half feet wide.
Across either end eyelets were worked, through which passed the small
lines called "nettles," and these in turn were fastened to a galvanized
iron ring. These last two articles combined were called the hammock
"clews." In addition to these, a manila rope lanyard was spliced to one
of the rings to facilitate swinging the hammock between hooks fixed
rigidly, in almost every conceivable corner, to the overhead beams of
the ship. Each man's hammock had a small piece of canvas sewed to it
about eighteen inches from the head upon which was his watch number in
stencil. These watch numbers corresponded to the numbers over the hooks
where their hammock berths or sleeping places were located. Every man
on shipboard who swings in a hammock has two issued to him; one of them
is in constant use and the other kept below in the sail-room, each
division stowing their own hammocks separately in large canvas bags made
for the purpose.
Mattresses made of "kapok"[#] and mattress covers were also given each
man, and with these articles under their arms the new arrivals returned
to the marines' compartment where, after receiving the keys to their
lockers, they proceeded to "stow away their gear."
[#] Kapok is the product of a tropical American tree which was
introduced into the Island of Java and there extensively cultivated. The
tree has numerous uses. It puts forth a pod somewhat similar to a
milkweed pod, filled with seeds to which a cottony substance is
attached. This fibre is impervious to water and consequently being
buoyant has been found to be better than cork for use in
life-preservers. Of late years our navy has utilized great quantities
of kapok in making sea mattresses, which in emergency could be used as
life rafts,--also jacket life preservers. Kapok is very inflammable.
"This is like having the 'makings' for a cigarette and not being able to
roll one," remarked Henry, as he gazed ruefully at the heavy canvas, the
rings, strings and rope, his mattress and blankets, lying on the deck at
his feet.
"The only difference being we don't smoke, while we do sleep," sagely
added Dick. "Perhaps some of these other fellows will initiate us into
the mysteries of this folding bed. Let's ask them."
With the help of willing hands the clews were soon tied in place,
mattress and blankets rolled inside the canvas, and the lashings
properly made. Then their long sausage-like beds were stowed away in the
hammock nettings to remain until the proper time came for reissuing them
to their owners, which was regulated by routine calls and schedule.
"I've learned another sea-going expression," said Henry as the two boys
finally completed their work, "and that is, never call a 'hammock'
anything but a 'hammick,' or they will know you are a rookie."
At taps the boys found it to be quite an athletic feat to get into those
swinging contraptions, but having once succeeded they settled down for a
well earned sleep. But who ever heard of rookies coming on board ship
for the first night who escaped at least one tumble to the hard deck
below, sent there by the sharp knife blade drawn across the taut foot
rope, in the hand of the omnipresent practical joker? And the
experience of the two music boys this first night on board the _Denver_
was in no way different from hundreds of others before them.
Richard and Henry found the daily routine on board ship very pleasant.
At first Henry was inclined to feel peeved because there was not a
commissioned officer in command of the marine detachment which was
honored by his presence. But he admired First Sergeant Douglass, and
daily he was losing his snobbish ideas regarding his messmates.
Shipboard life is a much closer relationship than life in the barracks,
and he was beginning to find that manhood did not necessarily go hand in
hand with riches, polished manners and a finely branched family tree.
At the first opportunity, Richard had made himself known to Corporal
Dorlan, and that worthy individual acted much in the status of guide and
mentor to the two boys, nor could they have had a better, for though
Michael was his own worst enemy, where others were concerned, he was
constantly preaching against the "Demon Rum," as he dubbed the agent of
his misfortune.
"'Twould be far better for me," said he sadly, "if the powers that be
never would promote me. For whinever I git to be a sergeant, then
begorra, I always have to celebrate, and it's all off with old Mike."
Having taken the necessary stores aboard for her cruise, the gunboat
quietly slipped from her berth one brisk morning in November and was
soon on her way down the broad reaches of the Delaware River. At the
Delaware Breakwater the pilot was dropped. Many of the crew took
advantage of this opportunity to send ashore last messages and letters,
for the _Denver_ was bound for the West Indies; her first port of entry
would be Culebra Island, and her first landfall Porto Rico, a six days'
voyage.
It is a peculiar fact of ocean travel that whenever a ship is about to
put to sea the general topic of conversation seems to hover around one
point--seasickness. Everywhere one turned that beautiful morning the
fatal word pursued one.
"Ever been seasick, Jack?"
"Well, only onct in a big typhoon coming across from Formosa," or:
"Nuh, this is the first time I've been to sea, but I've struck her some
rough in the lakes, and I guess I can stand it," or:
"Son, if you get sick and want a quick cure, take a nice piece of fat
pork, tie a string to it and----" but why go into further detail, when
the men who never before had seen blue water were half sick before they
left the wharf, so vivid their imagination, and thoroughly sick when
finally the _Denver_ began digging her nose in the short seas they
encountered on leaving the protection of the inland waterways!
Henry Cabell had fully determined he would not be seasick, but the sight
of so many in that predicament placed his resolutions in the realm of
other broken vows, and he was soon _hors de combat_. Dick, on the
contrary, never felt the slightest discomfort, over which good fortune
he was highly elated. He did not do as many others did, namely, gloat
over the misery of the less fortunate ones.
The evening of the second day out found nearly all the sick men on the
upper decks, albeit many were "green in the gills" from their unpleasant
experience.
"You feel as if you didn't care whether you died or not," said Henry,
while he and Dick stood at the bow of the ship holding to the life-lines
that encompassed the entire main deck, "but I don't reckon I'll be sick
again. I feel nearly all right now, and even this sudden dipping and
stomach-dropping rising hardly gives me a squirm."
Dick did not answer. He was hanging over the rail looking down at the
slight lines of phosphorescence spreading out in quivering angles from
the bows with each plunge of the ship. He was enjoying every moment of
this new life. No longer did he regret his inability to get the
appointment to Annapolis, for already the spell of the Marine Corps was
clutching at every fibre of his being, claiming him body and soul for
its service. In the crew's library he had found a copy of Collum's
History of the Corps and for the first time he was reveling in its
illustrious deeds from the day of its inception, which antedated the
regular Navy and even the Declaration of Independence,--November 11,
1775, up to and including the part they took in the relief of Pekin in
July, 1900. As they stood there, Corporal Dorlan, making the round of
sentinels, stopped for a moment's converse.
"How goes it, me lad?" he inquired of Henry, and without waiting for a
reply, he continued, "To-morrow we'll be findin' of ourselves in the
waters of the Gulf Stream, and ye will believe that ye never saw such
blue water in yer livin' born days. And ye will keep on believin' that
till ye see the waters of the Caribbean and then ye will be changin' the
moind of ye, like as not."
"I'd rather see some good brown earth and a little green grass at this
present moment," said Henry, wistfully.
"And there'll be a-plenty of both on this cruise, I'm thinkin'," said
Mike cheerfully. "But do you know where we're goin'? If ye don't then
I'll tell ye. We're bound for Treasure Island, and a foine place it is
to roam around in for a bit. Ye can't git lost and ye can't git into
trubble unless ye look for it, and that's more'n ye can say for most
places. Its right name is Culebra, which is the Spanish for 'shnake,'
but some feller wrote a wonderful story about it under the name I've
just mentioned to ye, so like as not if ye look in the right spot ye may
yet find some of the old pirates' buried gold. Heigho!--I'd better be on
me way, for it's about time to make me report of lights to the bridge.
Good-night, me lads," and off he tramped.
"And as a better man than I just said," remarked Dick a few moments
later, "'Heigho! I'd better be on me way'; let us get to bed."
"I second the motion," said Henry, "for I'm getting sick of this motion,
and the 'hammick' sounds good to me. Maybe by to-morrow I won't be
bluer than the Gulf Stream, after a good night's rest."