"What's the matter with the engine?" cried Ned.
"We must get it started again!" exclaimed his brother, as he sprang to
the motor. But revolve the fly-wheel as he did the craft remained still,
save for the motion imparted to it by wind and wave, which was not much,
as it was a still, calm day.
Meanwhile the other boat was getting farther and farther away, and it
was soon seen that, even if the stalled motor could be started without
delay, there would be little chance of catching the rascals.
"Something is wrong, somewhere," declared Ned.
"Never mind, I guess it's all up, boys," said the coffee man. "They've
gotten away, and the evidence, if it was in the tin box, is at the
bottom of the sea. It couldn't be helped."
"Maybe not," agreed Frank, with a sigh, in which his brother joined.
"But I would like to find out what made the motor stop so suddenly, and
just when we were about to overhaul them, too."
He continued to work over the machinery, adjusting and readjusting the
carburetor and the spark-timer, but without result. The Portuguese owner
looked on interestedly and finally said something in his own language,
which sounded much like Spanish.
"What is he saying?" asked Ned of Mr. Kennedy.
"He says perhaps there is no gasoline. He did not have much when we
started."
"Great guns!" exploded Frank. "Why didn't we think of that before? We
would have had time to stop and get a supply, and maybe, after that,
might have caught the rascals."
An examination of the forward tank showed that the surmise of the boat's
owner was correct. The gasoline container was dry, and that was what had
caused the engine to stop.
"Well, what are we going to do?" asked Ned, looking around on the bay.
"Have we got to stay out here? We may be classed as deserters, Frank."
"Oh, I think a boat that we can hail may pass us soon," suggested Mr.
Kennedy. "They'll tow us in."
There was nothing they could do save wait.
They hoisted their handkerchiefs on a boat hook as a signal of distress
and finally it was seen. A boat came and towed them back to the city.
Before this, however, the man who had been knocked overboard from the
other boat came swimming up to the craft containing our friends. He said
something in Portuguese which Mr. Kennedy translated as being a
surrender. He had to come to those he had been fighting, as his friends
had gone off and left him.
He was hauled on board, and told that he would be made a prisoner and
turned over to the proper authorities.
"He wasn't one of the leaders, though," said Mr. Kennedy to the boys,
after a talk with the man. "He was a sort of servant to Bernardo."
"What does he say was in the box?" asked Frank, eagerly.
"He doesn't know. He imagined it was money, and that was why he was
hanging on to it so tightly. The others, he says, claimed there were
only papers in the box--papers that would get them into trouble if they
fell into the hands of the government. That's why it was tossed
overboard."
"Does he know anything about Uncle Phil's affairs?" asked Ned.
Mr. Kennedy inquired, but the man shook his head. He seemed much
disheartened. Possibly he imagined he would be executed.
"And to think we have to come away, and leave at the bottom of the sea
evidence that would free Uncle Phil," said Frank regretfully, as the
rescue boat towed them away from the place where the box had sunk.
"Yes, it is too bad," agreed his brother. "Well, maybe things will take
a better turn, now that the revolution is broken up and Bernardo and his
crowd scattered."
"I hope so," returned Frank, thoughtfully.
When they reached the city the man they had picked up was turned over to
the military authorities. Then Frank and Ned reported to their
commanding officer. He had just begun to wonder where they had gone, as
the fighting was all over, and the blue-jackets (though they all wore
white now instead of blue) were reporting back.
"And so they got away?" asked the lieutenant, after hearing the story of
our two heroes.
"Yes, and all because of a pint of gasoline!" said Frank, bitterly. "If
we'd had that much we could have caught them, I'm sure."
"But not in time to have saved the box of papers," Ned remarked.
"Oh well, maybe they'll be caught, and we can force Bernardo to make a
confession and free Uncle Phil," went on Frank, more hopefully. But Ned
shook his head. He did not have much faith.
"Are we to stay on shore longer?" asked Frank of their lieutenant, as
the boys and the rest of their squad went back to the coffee warehouse.
"I don't know. I am waiting for orders. I think we'll go back, though."
And a little later word to this effect was sent to them. Those who had
borne the brunt of the fighting were ordered back to the _Georgetown_,
while fresh men replaced them as a guard to American interests on shore.
"I guess they want to give the other fellows a chance to have some of
the honor and glory," said Hank Dell, as our friends were on their way
to the battleship.
But there was no more fighting that night. Matters were quiet in the
capital, though rumors came in of little skirmishes in the outlying
districts. The backbone of the revolution seemed to have been broken.
Frank and Ned felt very badly about the loss of the tin box. They felt
more sure every hour that it contained just the evidence needed to free
their uncle. But the box, at the bottom of the bay, seemed gone beyond
hope of recovery.
"Of course Uncle Phil may get out, eventually, anyhow," suggested Ned,
"but I want to see him out now."
"So do I," chimed in Frank.
Affairs began to straighten themselves out in the little republic that
had gone through such strenuous times. The American and other merchants
made preparations to resume their interrupted businesses. For a time it
was thought that Bernardo would be caught, but he appeared to have made
good his escape.
Then suddenly, about a week later, without warning, the revolutionary
fighting broke out again. It appeared that Bernardo and his rascals had
landed farther down the coast, and had, by making a detour, reached
their stronghold in the hills back of the town. There they made ready
for a new attack.
It was made shortly after sunrise one morning following a night march,
and at once the alarm was signaled out to the battleship. For some
marines had been left on shore to act as guards and sentries, and their
commander quickly sent word for reinforcements.
Once again was the call to arms sounded on the _Georgetown_. Again did
the men take to the boats with their rifles and field pieces. Again came
that rush on shore and once more the streets of Pectelo echoed to the
sounds of fighting, and the rattle of rapid-firers.
But the second effort of the revolutionists was as but a flash in the
pan compared to their first attempts, though there was severe fighting
in one or two places, and many were killed and wounded, a number of the
force of the _Georgetown_ meeting death. But it could not be helped.
Frank and Ned were again permitted to have their share in the hot and
exciting work, and this time Frank received a wound in the leg which
made it necessary for him to go to the rear.
"I'll go with you," offered Ned, as his brother was picked up.
"No, you won't!" cried Frank. "You stick it out! Maybe you'll have a
chance at Bernardo. I hear he's on the job again."
The plucky lad waved his hand at his brother as they bore Frank back to
the landing stage to send him aboard the ship where he could have better
treatment than in the city hospital.
"Why, the _Georgetown_ is coming closer in shore!" Frank cried, as he
looked across the bay and noticed that the vessel was at a new
anchorage.
"Yes," said one of the petty officers, "the old man is going to shell
the revolutionary headquarters again, and he's going to make a good job
of it this time. So he put in closer to shore for the work."
"Good!" cried Frank. "Maybe I'll have a chance at the guns, if I did
have to give up fighting on land."
"I'm afraid you won't--not with that leg. And they're going to bombard
soon," was the answer.
The party taking off the wounded men, of whom there were several besides
Frank, waited until the battleship had dropped her anchor in the new
location. Then they went aboard, and soon afterward there began a
bombardment of the hill section where the rebels had again set up their
camp.
The shells from the big guns, as well as those from the smaller ones,
flew screeching over the town, and burst in the neighborhood of the two
hills, at one of which Frank had fired. The destruction was terrific,
but the loss of life small, as most of the rebels were down in the city
fighting. Much to his chagrin Frank was not allowed to serve "his" gun,
as he called the forward fifteen-inch gun.
But as I have said, the second effort of the rebels did not amount to
much. They were soon put to flight, and the effect of the ship's
bombardment, added to the hot fire from the blue-jackets on shore, soon
brought the revolution once more to an end. It was most effectually
broken this time.
"And that's not the best of it!" cried Ned, when he came on board with
his mates, dirty and powder-stained. "That's not the best of it, Frank,
old man!"
"It isn't? what is?"
"How's your leg?"
"Oh, never mind my leg! It's all right--not so bad. Tell me the news!"
"They captured Bernardo and his gang!"
"They did? Who?"
"I don't know. Some of our boys, I believe. He's locked up in the
military prison, I hear, and is to be tried as a traitor."
"Good! Now maybe we can get out of him something that will clear Uncle
Phil!"
"Oh, if we only can!" cried Ned.
But it was a vain hope. Bernardo was indeed captured, with most of those
who had plotted with him. Some had been killed. The rebel leader,
however, maintained an absolute silence when questioned in regard to the
boys' uncle. Mr. Kennedy proved an invaluable friend in conducting these
negotiations for Frank and Ned, but they came to no end. Bernardo
insisted that Mr. Arden was mixed up in the revolution, and that he was
guilty of the political crimes for which he had been convicted. It
seemed hopeless to Frank and Ned, and they were more disheartened than
ever.
The revolution had been put down, and the Americans and their property
in Uridio protected, but it had cost something in gallant lives of the
men and youths from the _Georgetown_. Several had been killed, and more
than a score wounded.
But it was in a just cause, and perhaps it had to be. There were some
sad scenes following the fighting.
The rebels were dispersed, and most of them renewed their allegiance to
the government and were pardoned. Not so, however, Bernardo and his
ringleaders. To the end, when he received a sentence of life
imprisonment, he maintained that Mr. Arden was guilty of the crimes
charged against him.
"And to think if we only had that box, which is at the bottom of the
bay, we might free him," sighed Ned.
"It's too disheartening to think of," Frank declared, shaking his head
slowly.
Their story was now quite well known, and some of their comrades
received permission to use nets, dragging them on the bottom of the bay,
in the hope of bringing up the box. Ned helped, and so did Frank when
his leg healed, which it did in about ten days. But the efforts were
fruitless.
"Well, we leave here to-morrow," said Frank one day, as he and his
brother were taking their ease on deck, having just finished their tour
of duty.
"Yes, it's been a great time while it lasted, but I do wish we had some
good news to take back North to Uncle Phil."
"So do I."
The battleship was soon to leave. Matters in Uridio had now quieted
down, and the government had the situation well in hand. Every promise
was made that the rights of the Americans would be respected, and they
were to be given adequate sums for the damage caused to their property
by the rebels. The stronghold of the latter had literally been blown to
bits by the big guns of the _Georgetown_.
Shortly after reveille one morning word was given to hoist the anchors.
A parting salute had been fired as a compliment to the Uridian flag. It
was answered from a small land battery. The one cruiser owned by the
rebels had not been seen since the _Georgetown_ had pursued her.
What had become of her was not learned until later, when it was
discovered that her commander had been told of the collapse of the
revolution, and had discreetly remained away. Later he took service with
the government and turned his craft over to the authorities, so unless
she has sunk, or tried to fight some other vessel out of her class, the
little war craft may yet be doing duty for Uridio.
"Well, it's good-bye to Uridio," remarked Ned, as he looked landward.
"That's what it is," answered Frank.
"I wonder if we will ever see this place again?"
"I doubt it--that is, unless there is another revolution."
"Oh, I guess they've got fighting enough for the present."
"Just what I think."
"Maybe we'll see some other countries, more interesting than this. I'd
like to go to Europe, and to Japan and China, and I'd like to see Africa
too."
"Wow! Why don't you include the North Pole and Australia while you are
at it," came with a laugh. "Warships like this don't travel just any old
place. It costs too much money."
"Oh, I know that. Just the same I'd like to see other countries,
especially those that are well built up. This is only a one-horse
affair."
"It isn't much of a place, that's true."
Slowly the great anchors of the _Georgetown_ came out of the bay as the
steam winches wound up the big chains. Ned and Frank were on duty
forward as the immense hooks came to the surface.
Something on one of the flukes caught Frank's eye. It looked like a
bunch of seaweed, but when he glanced a second time he saw what it was,
and cried out.
"Ned! Ned! Great guns, Ned! Look at that! It's the tin box! The tin box
Bernardo's man threw out of the boat. It caught on the fluke of the
anchor and was brought up from the bottom of the bay! Great guns! Don't
let it get away again! It's the box with the papers that may free Uncle
Phil!" and he fairly hopped up and down.