Still another expedition was destined to start for Manila, and keen was
the rivalry among the regiments held to daily drill at San Francisco. The
rumor was current in the camps that the next review was to decide the
matter, and that the commands pronounced to be foremost in discipline and
efficiency would be designated to embark. The transports that had
conveyed the earlier expeditions to the Philippines began to reappear in
the bay, and coaling and refitting were hurried to the utmost. The man
most eager to get away was Stanley Armstrong; and if merit were to decide
the matter it was conceded among the volunteers that in point of style
and equipment the "Primeval Dudes" "held over" all competitors, even
though every competitor believed itself more than a match for the Dudes
if actual campaigning and fighting were in contemplation. Senators and
members from the States represented by the volunteers at San Francisco
led burdensome lives, for officers and men were pulling every wire to
secure the longed-for orders for an immediate voyage to Manila, when, all
on a sudden, the hopes of all were crushed. Spain had begged for peace.
"No more men can be sent to Manila," said the officials consulted, and
Camp Merritt put on mourning forthwith.
But Armstrong had been studying the situation and was not easily daunted.
He was a man whose opinion carried weight, and from the very first he had
maintained that while fifteen or twenty thousand might be men enough to
hold Manila, fifty thousand might not be enough to subdue at once the
forces of Aguinaldo in case they should turn upon the Americans, which
said he, placidly, they will most certainly do before we are a year
older.
The Dudes, therefore, much to their disgust, were kept steadily at work.
Other regiments, profiting by example, followed suit; but in others
still, a small proportion of their membership, believing as they said,
that the "jig was up," took to lawless and unhallowed expression of their
disgust and became thereby a nuisance to the neighborhood. San
Franciscans, who had wept copiously when others sailed away, would have
seen these patriots sent into exile without shedding a tear.
"Every man of this command will yet be needed and yet be sent," said
Armstrong. So, too, did the veteran division commander, and the brigade
took heart accordingly. The last of the regulars, with the recruit
detachments for regiments already in the Philippines, had been shipped to
Honolulu, there to await orders, and September seemed destined to go by
without a change for the better in the prospects of the men still left in
camp about the reservation. The Primes, convinced at last that the boy
they sought was not to be found in California, had gone to Santa Anita
visiting their kindred, the Lawrences; and Armstrong, buckling down to
hard and constant work, was striving to persuade himself that he did not
care that the mornings no longer brought with them the carriage and the
fair face of that gentle girl; the department commander himself had gone
to take a look at his new responsibilities in Hawaii; little Mrs.
Garrison still held court, though with diminished retinue, at the
Presidio, when one day, just as October was ushered in, there came a
message from the adjutant-general in town. Would Armstrong drop in at the
office at the first opportunity? A matter of some importance had come up
in the general's first letter from Honolulu, one on which Armstrong's
opinion was desired; and the colonel, hoping for tidings of a chance to
move even that far to the front, made immediate opportunity and took the
first car for the Phelan Building. The adjutant-general looked up from a
littered desk as Armstrong entered.
"It is good of you to come so promptly," said he. "I'm in a stew, to tell
the truth, and I want your advice." Then he tapped his bell. "Excuse me
to any one who comes for the next ten minutes," said he, to the attendant
who entered. "I have business with Colonel Armstrong."
No sooner did the orderly vanish than the man of the desk whirled full on
the man of the saddle. "Armstrong," said he, "you defended Gray and
proved him innocent. What else has Canker against him?"
"Nothing that I know of--why?"
"Because he's got him in arrest again at Honolulu, and the chief is
worked up over something. Look here--do you suppose--did you ever hear
about certain letters that were stolen from General Drayton's tent?"
"I heard--yes. Why?" And the look of disappointment which had appeared in
the grave face of the colonel gave way to one of alert interest.
"Just read that," said the staff official, holding forth a letter. "Begin
there at 'Later!'"
And Armstrong read, his forehead slowly grooving into something very like
a frown.
"Later. I may have to remain here several days. Canker, with the
--teenth, went ahead before news of the protocol could stop him; but he
leaves here a number of sick--Lieutenant Gray, charged with using
threatening and insubordinate language to his commanding officer, among
them; and Gray is down with brain fever. The doctors say he is too ill to
be disturbed, and his side of the story is hard to get at, as the boy is
too flighty to talk sense. From Canker's own admission I learned that he
accused Gray of having knowledge of the whereabouts of that packet of
letters stolen from General Drayton's tent, and the youngster's reply was
furious. Canker _had_ to place him in arrest and prefer charges. When
asked if he were sure of his ground in making so serious an accusation,
he declared he had proof positive, at least he would have the instant
they reached Manila, and his intention was to take the boy along with him
to be tried there by court-martial, where "no meddling outsiders," as he
said, could buy off witnesses. It was plain that he considered himself
out of my jurisdiction, and that he resented my staff officer's
questions. But Dr. Morrow had appealed to me in behalf of Gray. Said that
if compelled to continue a prisoner aboard that transport under Canker's
tyrannical rule Gray might be goaded into insanity. He was in a condition
bordering on brain fever when Morrow came to see me, and in another day
was raving. That settled it. I ordered him taken off and placed in
hospital here, and Canker had to go without him. But I wish you would see
Armstrong and tell him about Gray, so that I may know the whole situation
as soon as I return. Canker evidently intended not to let us know his
proofs. He probably believes that he will find a more credulous and
complaisant listener in Drayton; but his insinuations pointed to Gray as
at least an abettor in the theft, and he went so far as to say that if
Armstrong could be brought before the court some very interesting
testimony could be dragged from him, and, finally, that both Armstrong
and Mrs.--well, the wife of a staff officer who is already well on the
way to Manila--might be compelled to testify. I cannot bring myself to
repeat more that he said; but he was in an ugly and almost defiant mood,
and I had to give him a dressing down. You may say to Armstrong for me
that I do not believe one word of Canker's calumny at his expense or that
of the lady in the case. But he declared his intention of laying the
whole matter before General Drayton immediately on his arrival, and it is
best that Armstrong should be prepared. As for the lady, Canker said she
and Armstrong were very close friends when they were at Fort Stanhope ten
years ago, though they no longer meet as such.
"And that brings me to another matter. I declined positively to allow two
or three ladies, wives of officers, to go on to Manila with Canker's
command; and they said that as I had promised Mrs. Garrison a passage I
had no right to refuse them. Pressed for their authority, two very
estimable women told me that, at the Presidio two days before we sailed,
Mrs. Garrison openly boasted of having my promise to send her on the very
next steamer. Now, who is really the fabricator? I told her positively
that, with my consent, she should not go; and she laughed delightedly,
and said she only asked as a matter of form--the whole thing had already
been settled. Just see to it that if any more transports start before my
return no woman is permitted aboard except, of course, authorized nurses.
Gray is a very sick boy to-night, but you might wire his father, saying
nothing of the arrest, that the doctors are confident of his recovery in
course of time."
Armstrong read these pages twice over before he looked up.
"How did this letter come?" he asked.
"By the Salvador yesterday."
"And the next mail for Honolulu?" queried Armstrong, rising from his
chair and handing back the folded letter.
"The next mail closed an hour ago, man. The China sails at two. No other
boat for a week. Where are you going now?"
"To camp for ten minutes, then to the Presidio."
"Oh, come over to the club and have a bite first?" said the
adjutant-general, rising and wriggling out of his uniform coat as he did
so. "I won't keep you half an hour."
"That half-hour may prove precious," answered Armstrong, already at the
door. "Many thanks all the same."
"Well. Hold on. What am I to say to the General as to Gray and those
letters?" asked the staff officer, intent upon the subject uppermost in
his mind at the moment.
"You can't say anything that will reach him before he returns. You have
just told me no other boat would start for a week. By that time he'll be
coming home." And with that Armstrong let himself out and strode to the
elevator, leaving his friend to cogitate on the question over his
luncheon. It was decidedly that officer's opinion that Armstrong knew
much more than he would tell.
But Armstrong knew much less than he himself believed. Hastening back to
camp and ordering his horse, he was soon speeding up the slope to the
wind-swept heights overlooking the Golden Gate. The morning had opened
fine as silk, but by noon the sky was hidden in clouds and the breath of
the sea blew in salt and strong. The whitecaps were leaping on the crest
of the surges driving in through the straits and the surf bursting high
on the jagged rocks at the base of the cliffs. A little coast steamer
from Santa Barbara way came pitching and plunging in from sea, and one or
two venturesome craft, heeling far to leeward, tore through the billows
and tossed far astern a frothing wake. With manes and tails streaming in
the stiff gale, the troop horses of the Fourth Cavalry were cropping at
the scanty herbage down the northward slope, and the herd guard nearest
the road lost his grip on his drab campaign hat as he essayed a salute,
and galloped off on a stern chase down the long ravine to the east, as
the colonel trotted briskly by. One keen glance over the bay beyond rocky
Alcatraz had told him the China was not yet away from her pier. He might
have to send a dispatch by that swift steamer, and even then it would be
six days getting to Hawaii. If the department commander should by that
time be on his homeward journey the information would still be of
interest to the general commanding the new military district at "the
Cross Roads of the Pacific," and of vast benefit, possibly, to his late
client, Mr. Gray. He wondered what Canker's grounds could be for saddling
so foul a suspicion on the boy's good name. He wondered how long that
poor lad would have to struggle with this attack of fever and remain,
perhaps happily, unconscious of this latest indignity. He wondered if Amy
Lawrence yet knew of that serious seizure, and, if she did, what would be
her sensations. Down the winding, sloping road he urged his way, Glencoe,
his pet charger, marveling at the unusual gait. The cape of the sentry's
overcoat whirled over the sentry's head and swished his cap off as he
presented arms to the tall soldier spurring past the guardhouse. "I envy
no one who has to put to sea this day," said Armstrong to himself, as he
turned to the right and reined up in front of a little brown cottage
peeping out from a mass of vines and roses, shivering in the wet wind.
Half a dozen strides took him across the narrow walk and up the wooden
steps. With sharp emphasis he clanged the little gong bell screwed to the
back of the door and waited impatient for the servant's coming. There was
no answer. He rang again and still again, and no one came. A glance at
the windows told that the white lace curtains hung there draped as
prettily as ever. Fresh flowers stood on the window sill. A shawl and a
pillow, the latter indented as by a human head, lay in the lounging chair
on the little porch. Another chair stood but a few feet away. There was
even a fan, though fans in a 'Frisco summer are less needed than furs;
but nowhere saw he other sign of the temporary mistress of the house. He
went round to a side window and rapped. No answer. Then he turned to the
walk again, and, taking the reins, bade the orderly inquire next door if
Mrs. Garrison could be found. Yes, was the answer; she went driving to
Golden Gate Park with Mrs. Stockman an hour ago, and Mrs. Stockman was to
leave for Los Angeles that night. Odd! If Mrs. Garrison drove to Golden
Gate Park the easiest and best way was that along which he came, and he
had met no carriage. In fact, not since that night at the Palace had he
set eyes on Mrs. Garrison, or until the coming of this sorrowful news
about Gray had he cared to. From all that he heard Mrs. Frank was
enjoying herself at the Presidio. Cherry having gone one way and her
devotee another, Mrs. Frank speedily summoned a chum of old garrison days
to come and keep house with her for a while, and Mrs. Stockman, whose
lord had left her at the call to duty, and gone to Manila with his men,
right gladly accepted and much enjoyed the fun and frolic that went on
night after night in Mrs. Frank's cozy parlor, or the mild flirtation,
possibly, in the recesses of Mrs. Frank's embowered porch. The last
expedition had borne off almost all the "regular" element at the post,
but had not left it poor, for, fast as camp grounds could be made ready
for them, vastly to the disgust of the saloon keepers and street-car
magnates who had reaped rich harvest from Camp Merritt, regiment after
regiment, the volunteers came marching over from the malodorous sand lots
and settled down in sheltered nooks about the Presidio. So cavaliers in
plenty were still to be had, cavaliers whose wives and sweethearts, as a
rule, were far away; and Mrs. Frank loved to console such as were so
bereft. The chafing dish and Scotch and soda were in nightly request; and
even women who didn't at all fancy Mrs. Frank, and spoke despitefully of
her among themselves, were not slow to come in "for just a minute," as
they said, as the evenings wore on, and to stay and chat with various
visitors--it was so lonesome and poky over home with the children asleep
and nothing to do. Women there were who never darkened Mrs. Garrison's
door after the first formal calls; but they were of those who deeply felt
the separation from all they held most dear, and who, forbidden
themselves, heard with envy and even distress her gay assertion that she
would sail for Manila the moment the Queen of the Fleet was ready. From
what source--or circumstance--did she derive her influence?
But with the edict that no more troops should be sent came comfort to the
souls of these bereaved ones. Transports would not go without troops, and
Mrs. Frank could not go without transports, the journey was far too
expensive. They wished her no evil, of course; but, if they were
themselves forbidden how could they rejoice that she should be permitted?
They were actually beginning to feel a bit charitable toward her when the
Queen of the Fleet herself came in from Honolulu with the latest news.
The fifth expedition had been halted there and put in camp. The hospital
held several officers. Billy Gray was down with brain fever, and there
had been a furious scene between him and his peppery colonel before the
breakdown; and by that same steamer Mrs. Garrison had got a letter that
made her turn white and tremble, as Mrs. Stockman saw and told, and then
shut herself up in her room an entire day. Now, for nearly a fortnight,
the lovely guest had been daily hinting that she really must go home,
"dear Witchie" was surely tired of her; and Witchie disclaimed and
protested and vowed she could not live without her devoted friend. But
then had come that letter and with it a change of tone and tactics.
Witchie ceased to remonstrate or reprove Mrs. Stockman, and the latter
felt that she must go, and Witchie consented without demur.
In no pleasant mood Armstrong mounted and trotted for the east gate. The
road was lined with camps and volunteers at drill. Vehicles were
frequently moving to and fro; but the sentry at the entrance had kept
track of them, and in response to question answered promptly and
positively Mrs. Garrison's carriage had not come that way. "But," said
he, "the wagon with the lady's baggage did. I saw the name on the
trunks."
The colonel turned in saddle and coolly surveyed him. "Do you mean Mrs.
Stockman's name?" he asked in quiet tone. "How many trunks were there?"
"Oh, some of them might have had Mrs. Stockman's name, sir; but the two
or three that I saw were marked M. G."
This was unlooked-for news. To her next-door neighbor Mrs. Garrison had
said nothing about going away with Mrs. Stockman, and Armstrong had grave
need to see her and to see her at once. The train for Los Angeles did not
leave until evening. Possibly they were lunching somewhere--spending the
afternoon with friends in town. He rode direct to headquarters. Some of
the staff might be able to tell, was his theory; and one of them
justified it.
"Did I happen to meet Mrs. Garrison? Yes, I just saw her aboard the
China."
"Aboard the China!" exclaimed Armstrong, with sudden thrill of
excitement. "D'you mean she is going?"
"Didn't ask her. They were hustling everybody ashore, and I had only time
to give dispatches to Purser; but she was on the deck with friends when I
came away."
People wondered that day at the speed with which the tall officer, followed
by his orderly, clattered away down Market Street. In less than ten minutes
Armstrong was at the crowded pier and pushing through the throng to the
China's stage. Too late! Already it was swung aloft, the lines were cast
loose, and the huge black mass was just beginning to back slowly from its
moorings. The rail of the promenade deck swarmed with faces, some radiant,
some tearful. Words of adieu, fluttering kerchiefs, waving hands, tossing
flowers were there on every side. Two officers, Honolulu bound, shouted
Armstrong's name, and a cheery good-by; but he did not seem to hear. A
gentle voice, the voice of all others he most longed to hear, repeated the
name and strove to call attention to his gesticulating comrades on the
upper deck; but he was deaf to both. Eagerly, anxiously, incredulously he
was searching along that crowded rail, and all on a sudden he saw her. Yes,
there she stood, all gayety, grace and animation, stylishly gowned and
fairly burdened with roses; and it was right at him she was gazing,
nodding, smiling, all sweetness, all confiding, trusting joy; with just a
little of triumph, too, and a tinge of sentimental sorrow in the parting.
Apparently, it was all for him; for her blue eyes never faltered till they
fixed his gaze, and then, kiss after kiss she threw to him with the
daintily gloved little hand, and, leaning far down over the rail, lowering
it toward him as much as possible, she finally tossed to him, standing
there stern and spellbound, a bunch of beautiful roses she had torn from
her corsage. It fell almost at his feet, for in his astonishment and rising
wrath he made no effort to catch it. A man, stooping quickly, rescued and
handed it to him. Mechanically he said "Thank you," and took it, a thorn
pricking deep into the flesh as he did so; and still his eyes were fixed on
that fairy form now surely, swiftly gliding away, and over him swept the
consciousness of utter defeat, of exasperation, of dismay, even as he
strove to fathom her motives in thus singling him out for such
conspicuous--even affectionate--demonstration. Triumph and delight he could
have understood, but not, not this semblance of confidential relations, not
at least until he felt his arm grasped by a cordial hand, heard his name
spoken by a friendly voice, and Mr. Prime's pleasant inquiry: "Have you no
greeting for other friends?" Then the hot blood rushed to his face and
showed even through the bronze as, turning, his troubled eyes met full the
clear, placid gaze of Amy Lawrence.