TURNING THE TABLES.
Clif could hardly repress a chuckle, although he fully realized the
gravity of their position. With his ever-present sense of humor, he saw
that he could have a “high old time” at Crane’s expense.
“I’ll give him the scare of his life,” he grinned. “He’ll think he’s
got some old sea dog of Revolutionary times for a roommate.”
As a prelude he rattled several bottles on a shelf near his elbow, and
gave a deep sigh.
Crane gasped, and a noise like chattering teeth came through the
darkness.
“Wh-wh-what’s that?” demanded the third class cadet.
Another sigh and more rattling of bottles. Then Clif jumped twice upon
a tin cannister. After that he groaned.
This last was too much for Crane. With a half-suppressed howl he broke
for the door and burst into the orlop passage, Clif, shaking with
laughter, peeped out.
As he did so he looked almost into the face of a youth clad in cadet’s
trousers, and a naval officer’s blouse and cap.
It was Toggles!
“Gorry!” cried Clif in amazement. “He’s been masquerading as the
officer of the deck, and he’s fooled the fellows nicely. Hurray!”
He stepped from the storeroom in a hurry, and just in time to see
Toggles, Trolley and Joy seize Crane. The latter tried to escape, but
he was bound and gagged in a jiffy.
Clif first assisted in the operation, then he slapped Toggles on the
back and said, gleefully:
“You are a brick, old fellow. It’s a great scheme, and it came just in
time. How did you do it?”
“Got one of the wardroom boys to loan me a coat and cap,” replied
Toggles, in his quick, jerky way. “Got a lantern. Came down here.
Scared fits out of those third class fellows. Sent them up to report on
the quarter-deck.”
“Sent them up to report on the quarter-deck?” gasped Clif, ready to
explode with laughter. “You don’t mean to say----”
“He’s a cuckoo,” chimed in a swarthy, black-haired youth, whose face
proclaimed him a Japanese. It was Motohiko Asaki, whose distinguished
name had long since been converted into the more easily pronounced
appellation, “Trolley.”
“Him’s a cuckoo, a bully boy with eyeglasses,” he reiterated, giggling
placidly. “Him got great head. Him fooled third class cadets and
ordered them to quarter-deck. Officer up there will think they dream,
and he----”
“Stow it, Trolley!” interrupted a lean, solemn-faced lad named Joy.
“Your tongue is wound up like a Waterbury watch. We are losing valuable
time.”
“I guess that’s right,” agreed Clif, finally recovering from his
amazement at Toggles’ clever trick. “We have work to do, and lots of
it. Let’s release poor Nanny first. He must be half dead by this time.”
He bent over and quickly freed the little lad, who had remained
forgotten in one corner of the passage. Straightening up, Clif
continued:
“I’ve got a little scheme, but it must be worked at once. This fellow
here,” he touched Crane with his foot, “intended to paint us a rosy
red and adorn our respective faces with oakum whiskers.”
“He did, eh,” growled Joy. “If I wasn’t a peaceable man by nature I’d
adorn his mug with lumps and bruises.”
“He! he!” giggled Trolley.
“My plan is even better than that,” resumed Clif. “What’s the matter
with giving him a dose of his own medicine?”
“Paint him red?” queried Toggles, delightedly.
“Sure thing.”
“Hurray!” cheered Nanny, but in a dutifully low voice. “That’s out of
sight. And we’ll turn him loose on the quarter-deck.”
“Yes; with whiskers.”
The prisoner, who had heard all, writhed about the deck and made an
inarticulate sound.
“He’s pleased with the prospect,” said Clif, sweetly. “If there is
anything Crane likes on this mundane sphere, it is to be painted red,
decorated with oakum whiskers, and turned loose with an appropriate
chorus of tin pans. My, oh, my! Won’t the captain be pleased to meet
him!”
“I don’t think,” muttered Joy.
“Get the paint ready, Nanny,” added Faraday, briskly. “You will find
it behind the ladder. Pick out a bright carmine, and a good scratchy
brush. Toggles, see what you can do in the shape of an artistic
whisker. Make it long and imposing as befits his exalted station. I’ll
take a peep on deck.”
The lamp was shaded so its rays would fall upon the victim’s face, and
Nanny and Toggles fell to work. Trolley and Joy held Crane prostrate
upon the floor.
Clif slipped up the ladder to the berth deck, and made a careful survey
of the situation. He found everything quiet. Proceeding to the gun
deck he listened carefully to see if anything was astir. Finding all
apparently undisturbed, he glided up the hatchway ladder leading to the
spar deck.
As Clif stepped from the top of the ladder he saw a lieutenant and five
very unhappily looking third class cadets approaching from aft.
He just had time to dodge into the shadow of the bulwarks when they
halted at the hatch. The officer was speaking in a stem voice:
“Now, go below and behave yourselves,” he said, addressing them
collectively. “If I hear any more of this nonsense I’ll put you on
report for punishment. Fancy five sensible cadets with two years of
service being silly enough to believe an order like that. I’m ashamed
of you. Some plebe has fooled you. And he did it cleverly, too. Go
below and turn in at once. Remember, I’ll be down there in a minute or
so. If you are not in your hammocks you will get demerits enough to
swamp you.”
The five dolefully filed down the ladder and disappeared in the gloom
below. Clif saw the lieutenant shake as if with suppressed laughter. It
was evident he keenly enjoyed the situation.
A moment later he turned away and went back to his post on the
quarter-deck, leaving Clif to hasten below.
He found his chums awaiting him. Trolley silently held up the lantern
so the rays would fall upon Crane’s face. Clif gave one glance, then he
fairly doubled up with mirth.
“Gorry! there’s the worse looking phiz I ever saw,” he gasped. “Ha! ha!
ha! his own mamma wouldn’t know him. He’s a picture.”
Inarticulate noises came from behind the gag in Crane’s mouth. He fumed
and struggled with impotent rage. But it only added to the joy of the
group of plebes.
Nanny and Toggles had done their work well. Crane’s face was painted
in great streaks of red, with an artistic relievo of green spots.
Suspended from his chin was a shock of yellow oakum whiskers, the ends
of which trailed impressively far down his breast.
As a last touch cunning little curls of the same material adorned his
hair. And, taking it all in all, he was a spectacle to make Neptune
weep.
“Examine his fastenings and see that they are secure,” said Clif,
between chuckles. “We must take him to the quarter-deck by way of the
gun deck and steerage. And he mustn’t kick.”
“That’s rather risky,” continued Toggles.
“It no cut ice,” grinned the Japanese youth, recklessly. “I go to
captain’s cabin to see fun like this. It out of sight plenty much.
Hurray!”
“Nanny, you collect several stewpans and three or four strings of tin
cups,” continued Clif. “And be careful you don’t wake up the deck in
getting them. Go through the mess chests forward. Come along, Mr.
Crane, hazer-in-chief of the U. S. Naval Academy. You are about to play
the most striking _rôle_ of your eventful life.”
“And may the stewpans have mercy on your head,” added Joy, grimly.
Crane, still making desperate efforts to escape, was trussed anew with
a length of rope, then the four plebes lifted him up the ladders to the
gun deck.
This part of the _Monongahela_ was occupied by the regular enlisted
crew who assisted the cadets in working the ship. Nothing was to be
feared from them, as they had no desire to interfere with cadet pranks.
Cautiously and with very little noise the quartet carried the victim
aft to a door leading into the steerage, or junior officers’ quarters.
It was a large apartment, containing several berths and space for
hammocks.
In the center was the ladder leading to the quarter-deck, and it was up
this ladder the daring plebes intended to take Crane.
Nanny, armed with pans and cups, was met at the door. The tins were
fastened to various parts of Crane’s body and held tightly to avoid the
making of unwelcome noise.
“We will carry him up the ladder and place him on the top step,”
explained Clif, in a low whisper. “Then while you fellows are scooting
out of the way I’ll cut the ropes and give him a shove over the
coaming.”
“And he’ll fall flat in the midst of all those tins,” grinned Nanny.
“By Jinks! this is the greatest fun I’ve had in a year of Sundays.”
“But we won’t see the fun,” complained Toggles.
“Oh, if you want to wait and take in the show do so by all means,”
chuckled Clif. “The officer of the deck will be glad to oblige you with
a box.”
“Yes,” added Joy, “a box ’tween decks, some time called the ‘brig,’ or
ship’s prison.”
“I guess I don’t care to be a spectator,” admitted Toggles, with a
grin. “The price is too high.”
The five lads carried their burden through the door to the ladder.
The steerage was unlighted save by a single lamp behind the swinging
hammocks. Heavy breathing and an occasional snore indicated that
nothing need be anticipated from the junior officers.
“Up now,” whispered Clif. “Slowly and carefully. Steady; that’s it. Now
lower him to the step.”
While he was getting his knife in readiness, the other plebes silently
retreated and vanished into the gloom of the gun deck.
Clif placed his left hand under Crane’s body, braced himself for a
brisk shove, then he slashed away with the knife.
There was a ripping noise as the ropes parted, a sudden clatter of the
cups and pots, then, as Clif started to slip away, Crane threw both
arms about his neck and the two rolled over upon the quarter-deck at
the feet of the officer of the watch, amid a terrific din!
Clif had ever been a lad of quick resources, and of cool-headedness
in times of emergency. His mind, intelligent and apt, worked rapidly
and he was seldom at a loss for action. But in the present instant his
surprise and stupefaction was so great that he could only stare from
Crane to the officer of the watch, and back to Crane again.
This mental and physical paralysis lasted only a few seconds, however.
Then Clif, with incredible agility, leaped to his feet and sprang
toward one of the open gun ports.
As quick as a flash he vanished through the aperture, leaving Crane and
the officer staring at him in open-mouthed wonder. The latter was the
first to recover.
Leaping to the gangway, he glanced over the side, fully expecting to
see the lad struggling in the water. The moon, which had been obscured
by a passing cloud, burst forth in all its refulgence.
The clearly illuminated expanse of water revealed nothing, not even a
ripple.
The lad had completely disappeared.
Dumfounded, and imagining that he was the victim of a nightmare or
dream, the lieutenant turned inboard once more.
“What in the name of all that’s wonderful does this----”
He stopped short. The other apparition--the marvelously-bedecked and
painted figure--the other cadet, had also vanished.
The officer rubbed his eyes, and administered unto himself a severe
pinch. Then he glared suspiciously at the figure of the quartermaster
on duty on the bridge.
Approaching him, he asked, cautiously:
“I say, Johnson, did you--er--hear or see anything just now?”
Johnson was an old seaman, and he had made many a cruise on board
academy practice ships. He knew and liked the cadets and found their
pranks a source of infinite fun. He was not the man to tell tales out
of school. Concealing a grin, he answered, with a fine assumption of
surprise:
“See anything, sir? Hear anything, sir? No, indeed, sir. Was it a hail?”
“A hail? No. It seemed to me”--the lieutenant hesitated, glanced
nervously about the deck, then added: “I guess it was simply a fancy.
I’ve lost considerable sleep lately, Johnson, and probably I am a
little unstrung.”
He moved aft, and spent the rest of his watch signing imaginary pledges
not to take another drop of anything stronger than lemonade.
In the meantime a scene unusual at that hour was being enacted on the
forward part of the berth deck.
Over in one corner a cadet was cleaning his face of red paint and oakum
whiskers. He was in a rage, and shook his fist at Clif and his crowd.
“Oh, but this is funny,” cried Clif. “It’s worth a year’s pay to see
Crane do the circus act. Isn’t he a beauty in his war paint?”
“Him what you call one chromo,” giggled the Japanese youth. “I glad I
woke all the fellows to see the sport. Hurray!”
“How did you get away from that mixup on the quarter-deck, Clif?”
queried Toggles. “When I reached the main deck ladder you had
disappeared over the side. How was it?”
“Easy enough, chum. When I saw how scared the lieutenant was a bright
idea struck me. I crawled through the nearest port to the starboard
main chains and swung down against the ship’s side. I saw the officer
look over, then, when he turned away, I reached the gangway and slipped
forward. Now let us turn in and give Crane a rest.”
And they did.