THE “TALOFA’S” CARGO
Phil, upon his return to the “Sitka,” recounted to his captain
everything that had occurred during his visit to the suspected schooner.
“I am confident, sir,” he ended, “that Captain Scott has arms on board,
and further, that Klinger is in much concern that he has brought them
openly to this harbor when he might have landed them elsewhere.”
Commander Tazewell commended the midshipman for his energy. “It’s a
difficult question to settle,” he said. “I have no proof of Scott’s
nationality. He was born in San Francisco, they say, of Irish-Scotch
parents. He has no right to sail under the Herzovinian flag unless his
vessel is owned by people of that nation or he himself is a subject of
that country.”
The commander paced his cabin for several minutes thoughtfully in
silence. Upon his shoulders great responsibilities rested. Every act
must be carefully considered. Where other nations were so intimately
concerned, especially in the irritable political atmosphere of Kapua,
where every white man’s hand seemed against his white neighbor and the
poor, innocent native is but the instrument upon which the selfish
desires are to be perpetrated, ill judged acts had best be avoided.
“I can’t see that we can do more now, Mr. Perry,” he added in finality.
“I shall have the officer of the deck keep his weather eye on the
‘Talofa’ during the night.”
As Phil rejoined the officer of the deck, six bells were striking. The
“Talofa” was in darkness except for her single anchor stay light. The
night was quiet. The sea breeze had decreased in force.
It was not long before the watchers on the American war-ship discovered
that the two canoe shaped barges of the Kapuan firm were being poled
out toward the anchored schooner. When this was surely noted and
reported to the captain, he ordered the boat be held ready and for
Phil to stand by to return and investigate.
“Probably getting ready for the morning,” Lieutenant Morrison suggested.
“If there are arms there,” Phil replied, “and I am inclined to think
there must be, Captain Scott will either try to unload to-night or else
he will leave them in his holds until he arrives at a safer place.”
Faint sounds of creaking tackles and the noise of opening hatches came
across the intervening water.
“They are going to unload to-night,” Phil exclaimed. “What a splendid
nerve that fellow Captain Scott must have.”
The startling news brought Commander Tazewell on deck.
“Have the gig manned,” he ordered quietly, “and let Mr. Perry take the
whale-boat and investigate what is going forward there. I must break
the ice between us and the Herzovinian commander. I cannot stand idly
by and see such an outrage committed.”
Once more, with O’Neil in the coxswain’s box, Phil was heading for
the “Talofa.” He had barely cleared the “Sitka’s” side when another
boat came out of the darkness ahead, crossed the whale-boat’s bow and
sheered alongside the schooner.
“From the Herzovinian war-ship,” O’Neil exclaimed.
Phil’s pulse quickened. The situation was growing acute.
“If it comes to a fight,” he said excitedly, “we are two to one,”
pointing in the direction of the British cruiser, “but a fight here
would plunge three great nations into war.”
“It’s only a bluff, sir,” O’Neil sized up the situation sagely. “Those
fellows are the cleverest dodgers you ever laid eyes on. They can fight
all right, there’s no denying that fact, but their cleverest dodge is
to play politics. I’ve seen them do it against the ‘chinks’ in China,
and against the dagos in South America. When a Herzovinian officer goes
too far the king with his right hand gives him a hook in the solar
plexus, and then, to soften the medicine, with his left hangs the order
of the red tailed eagle around his neck.”
Phil laughed nervously. “What do we do to our officers who overstep
the bounds of international etiquette?” he asked, thinking of the
predicament in which Commander Tazewell found himself suddenly involved.
“That’s easy to answer, sir,” O’Neil replied readily enough. “He gets
the solar plexus blow from the man at the ‘top,’ and unless he’s
popular with a few big newspaper editors, usually dies an official
death. Now Admiral Benham, when he belayed that revolution in Brazil
some years ago, was on the point of getting the ‘hook,’ when a friend
of his gave him a great ‘pipe off’ in the New York papers. He made the
admiral a Farragut and an Abraham Lincoln spliced together. The ‘hook’
was quietly stowed away for future use.”
As the “Sitka’s” whale-boat was steered alongside, the foreign boat
shoved off. Phil peered eagerly through the darkness. He saw an erect
figure in white in the stern sheets.
“Looks for all the world like that Herzovinian count,” he exclaimed
excitedly. O’Neil strained his eyes to see, but the boat was rapidly
being swallowed into the night.
Phil noted the two big cargo canoes alongside the schooner, while he
saw a score or more of figures moving about on the deck above him.
He was on the point of climbing the ladder when a voice from above in
broken English called to him to halt.
“No one is permit to enter,” the man said. Phil saw that it was a
Herzovinian sailor.
“I would like to speak to your officer, if there is one there,” Phil
said haughtily.
“What do you want?” was asked gruffly. “This vessel is chartered by the
Herzovinian government, and it is not permitted to visit.”
Phil’s anger blazed into flame. For the fraction of a second he was
on the point of leading his men up to forcibly capture the schooner,
but the cool, restraining hand of O’Neil, an old friend frequently
encountered by this impetuous youth, brought second thoughts to ward
off a rash act.
“Steady, sir,” O’Neil whispered. “There’s a big flag flapping up there.
Can’t tell for sure, but I can guess that it’s the man-of-war flag.
We’ve made them show their hand; don’t spoil it by getting yourself in
trouble.”
Phil sank back into the boat. His foot had been on the lower rung of
the sea ladder.
“May I inquire what you are unloading?” he asked.
There were indistinct whispers from above.
“Furniture for our consulate,” came the answer after some delay.
“You are not unloading guns for Kataafa, then?” Phil retorted angrily.
There was no reply. The sailor continued to block the rail above where
Phil was standing.
“Shove off, O’Neil,” he exclaimed. “If we stay here longer, I couldn’t
resist the temptation of pitching the whole lot of them overboard.”
“Excuse me for saying so, Mr. Perry,” O’Neil apologized as the sailors
rowed back to their ship. “You’ve got to learn caution when you’re
playing against those fellows. They are up in diplomacy. They live on
it, and to beat ’em you’ve got to forget you’ve got a temper. It ain’t
at all necessary; in fact, it’s a superfluity.” O’Neil was fond of
using big words, which he always accented on every syllable, as if by
so doing their vague meaning would be more readily grasped.
When Phil returned Commander Tazewell was on the point of embarking to
visit the Herzovinian war-ship, but after listening to the startling
intelligence brought by Phil he at once decided that a visit at this
time of night would be barren of results. Kataafa would probably obtain
arms for his warriors through the Kapuan firm. A higher power than the
Herzovinian commander had so ordained. The fact was, however, worth
knowing. Plans must be made to meet this new development. He might send
trusty men ashore to spy on those who were unloading the “Talofa.”
Just then a native canoe ranged alongside, while the paddler held up a
letter. The quartermaster went down to receive it; it was for Commander
Tazewell.
The captain opened it eagerly. The handwriting was unfamiliar.
“My dear Commander Tazewell,” he read in perfectly written English.
He had already glanced at the bottom for the name and had seen “Your
obedient servant, Felix Rosen.” He continued to read: “I crave a
thousand pardons, but an opportunity has arisen for me to take a
cruise about the Kapuan Islands in a schooner. She is now unloading.
The captain of our war-ship was kind enough to come to my aid and
direct the work. I believe there is some government freight among the
cargo. I hope to get away in the morning, so our trip to ‘Papasea’ must
only be postponed. I have also excused myself to the ladies.”
Commander Tazewell as he finished uttered an exclamation of
bewilderment. He handed the letter to Lieutenant Morrison and then to
Phil.
Phil read the letter, while his indignation increased at every line of
the carefully worded explanation. He was on the point of condemning the
entire crowd of schemers when his glance fell upon the eager face of
the captain’s orderly, Schultz.
“Well!” Commander Tazewell exclaimed. “They’ve had the last word.
There’s no getting behind that letter.”
He turned to Lieutenant Morrison, standing expectantly waiting to hear
what would be the next move. “You may secure the boats for the night,”
he said.