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BANZAI!
[Illustration: "That's the Japanese _Satsuma_, Togo's _Satsuma_!"]
BANZAI!
BY
PARABELLUM
LEIPZIG
THEODOR WEICHER, PUBLISHER
NEW YORK
THE BAKER & TAYLOR CO., SALES AGENTS
33 EAST 17TH STREET (UNION SQUARE)
COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY
THEODOR WEICHER
COPYRIGHT, 1908, BY
THE BAKER & TAYLOR CO.
_All rights reserved_
ENTERED AT STATIONERS' HALL, LONDON
Published, January, 1909
THE TROW PRESS, NEW YORK
CONTENTS
PAGE
FOREWORD vii
INTRODUCTION ix
CHAPTER
I.--IN MANILA 1
II.--ON THE HIGH SEAS 34
III.--HOW IT BEGAN 49
IV.--ECHOES IN NEW YORK 61
V.--FATHER AND SON 69
VI.--A NIGHT IN NEW YORK 77
VII.--THE RED SUN OVER THE GOLDEN GATE 96
VIII.--IN THE BOWELS OF THE EARTH 105
IX.---A FORTY-EIGHT-HOUR BALANCE 121
X.--ADMIRAL PERRY'S FATE 142
XI.--CAPTAIN WINSTANLEY 171
XII.--ARE YOU WINSTANLEY? 185
XIII.--THE REVENGE FOR PORTSMOUTH 192
XIV.--ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WHIRLPOOL 206
XV.--A RAY OF LIGHT 211
XVI.--THROUGH FIRE AND SMOKE 217
XVII.--WHAT HAPPENED AT CORPUS CHRISTI 228
XVIII.--THE BATTLE OF THE BLUE MOUNTAINS 243
XIX.--THE ASSAULT ON HILGARD 272
XX.---A FRIEND IN NEED 286
XXI.--DARK SHADOWS 295
XXII.--REMEMBER HILGARD 306
XXIII.--IN THE WHITE HOUSE 312
FOREWORD
Every American familiar with the modern international political horizon
must have experienced a feeling of solid satisfaction at the news that a
formidable American fleet was to be dispatched to the waters of the
Pacific, and the cruise of our warships has been followed with intense
interest by every loyal citizen of our Republic. The reasons that
rendered the long and dramatic voyage of our fleet most opportune are
identical with the motives that actuated the publication of this
translation from the German of a work which exhibits a remarkable grasp
of facts coupled with a marvelously vivid power of description. It is no
secret that our ships were sent to the Pacific to minimize the danger of
a conflict with our great commercial rival in the Far East, if not to
avert it altogether, and _Banzai_! it seems to me, should perform a
similar mission. The graphic recital, I take it, is not intended to
incite a feeling of animosity between two nations which have every
reason to maintain friendly relations, but rather to call the attention
of the American people to the present woeful lack of preparedness, and
at the same time to assist in developing a spirit of sound patriotism
that prefers silent action to blatant braggadocio. That the Pacific
Ocean may become, in truth, the Peaceful Ocean, and never resound
to the clash of American arms, is the devout wish of one who
believes--implicitly--with Moltke in the old proverb, _Si vis pacem,
para bellum_--If you wish for Peace, prepare for War.
P.
INTRODUCTION
As usual, it had begun quite harmlessly and inconspicuously. It is not
my business to tell how it all came to pass, how the way was prepared.
That may be left to the spinners of yarns and to those on the trail of
the sources of history. I shall leave it to them to ascertain when the
idea that there must be a conflict, and that the fruit must be plucked
before it had time to ripen, first took root in the minds of the
Japanese people.
We Americans realize now that we had been living for years like one who
has a presentiment that something dreadful is hanging over him which
will suddenly descend upon his head, and who carries this feeling of
dread about with him with an uneasy conscience, trying to drown it in
the tumult and restlessness of daily life. We realize the situation now,
because we know where we should have fixed our gaze and understand the
task to the accomplishment of which we should have bent our energies,
but we went about like sleep-walkers and refused to see what thousands
of others knew, what thousands saw in astonishment and concern at our
heedlessness.
We might easily have peeped through the curtain that hid the future from
us, for it had plenty of holes, but we passed them by unnoticed. And,
nevertheless, there were many who did peep through. Some, while reading
their paper, let it fall into their lap and stared into space, letting
their thoughts wander far away to a spot whence the subdued clash of
arms and tumult of war reached their soul like the mysterious roll and
roar of the breakers. Others were struck by a chance word overheard in
the rush of the street, which they would remember until it was driven
out by the strenuous struggle that each day brought with it. But the
word itself had not died; it continued to live in the foundation of the
consciousness where our burning thoughts cannot enter, and sometimes in
the night it would be born afresh in the shape of wild squadrons of
cavalry galloping across the short grass of the prairie with noiseless
hoofs. The thunder of cannon could be heard in the air long before the
guns were loaded.
I saw no more than others, and when the grim horrors of the future first
breathed coldly upon me I, too, soon forgot it. It happened at San
Francisco in the spring of 1907. We were standing before a bar, and from
outside came the sounds of an uproar in the street. Two men were being
thrown out of a Japanese restaurant across the way, and the Japanese
proprietor, who was standing in the doorway, kicked the hat of one of
them across the pavement so that it rolled over the street like a
football.
"Well, what do you think of that," cried my friend, Arthur Wilcox, "the
Jap is attacking the white men."
I held him back by the arm, for a tall Irish policeman had already
seized the Jap, who protested loudly and would not submit to arrest. The
policeman took good hold of him, but before he knew it he lay like a log
on the pavement, the Japanese dwarf apparently having thrown him without
the least trouble. A wild brawl followed. Half an hour later only a few
policemen, taking notes, were walking about in the Japanese restaurant,
which had been completely demolished by a frenzied mob. We remained at
the bar for some time afterwards engaged in earnest conversation.
"Our grandchildren," said Arthur, "will have to answer for that little
affair and fight it out some day or other."
"Not our grandchildren, but we ourselves," I answered, not knowing in
the least why I said it.
"We ourselves?" said Wilcox, laughing at me, "not much; look at me, look
at yourself, look at our people, and then look at those dwarfs."
"The Russians said the same thing: Look at the dwarfs."
They all laughed at me and presently I joined in the laugh, but I could
not forget the Irishman as he lay in the grip of the Jap. And quite
suddenly I remembered something which I had almost forgotten. It
happened at Heidelberg, during my student days in Germany; a professor
was telling us how, after the inglorious retreat of the Prussian army
from Valmy, the officers, with young Goethe in their midst, were sitting
round the camp fires discussing the reasons for the defeat. When they
asked Goethe what he thought about it, he answered, as though gifted
with second sight: "At this spot and at this moment a new epoch in the
world's history will begin, and you will all be able to say that you
were present." And in imagination I could see the red glow of the
bivouac fires and the officers of Frederick the Great's famous army, who
could not understand how anyone could have fled before the ragged
recruits of the Revolution. And near them I saw a man of higher caliber
standing on tiptoe to look through the dark curtain into the future.
At the time I soon forgot all these things; I forgot the apparently
insignificant street affray and the icy breath of premonition which
swept over me then, and not until the disaster had occurred did it again
enter my mind. But then when the swords were clashing I realized, for
the first time, that all the incidents we had observed on the dusty
highway of History, and passed by with indifference, had been sure signs
of the coming catastrophe.
PARABELLUM
BANZAI!
_Chapter I_
IN MANILA
"For God's sake, do leave me in peace with your damned yellow monkeys!"
cried Colonel Webster, banging his fist on the table so hard that the
whisky and soda glasses jumped up in a fright, then came down again
irritably and wagged their heads disapprovingly, so that the
amber-colored fluid spilled over the edge and lay on the table in little
pearly puddles.
"As you like, colonel. I shall give up arguing with you," returned
Lieutenant Commander Harryman curtly. "You won't allow yourself to be
warned."
"Warned--that's not the question. But this desire of yours to scent
Japanese intrigues everywhere, to figure out all politics by the
Japanese common denominator, and to see a Japanese spy in every coolie
is becoming a positive mania. No, I can't agree with you there," added
Webster, who seemed to regret the passionate outburst into which his
temperament had betrayed him.
"Really not?" asked Harryman, turning in his comfortable wicker chair
toward Webster and looking at him half encouragingly with twinkling
eyes.
Such discussions were not at all unusual in the Club at Manila, for they
presented the only antidote to the leaden, soul-killing tedium of the
dull monotony of garrison duty. Since the new insurrection on Mindanao
and in the whole southern portion of the archipelago, the question as to
the actual causes of the uprising, or rather the secret authors thereof,
continually gave rise to heated discussions. And when both parties, of
which one ascribed everything to Japanese intrigue and the other found
an explanation in elementary causes, began to liven up, the debate was
apt to wax pretty warm. If these discussions did nothing else, they at
least produced a sort of mental excitement after the heat of the day
which wore out body and mind alike, not even cooling down toward
evening.
The Chinese boy, passing quickly and quietly between the chairs, removed
the traces of the Webster thunderbolt and placed fresh bottles of soda
water on the table, whereupon the officers carefully prepared new
drinks.
"He's a spy, too, I suppose?" asked Webster of Harryman, pointing with
his thumb over his shoulder at the disappearing boy.
"Of course. Did you ever imagine him to be anything else?"
Webster shrugged his shoulders. A dull silence ensued, during which they
tried to recover the lost threads of their thoughts in the drowsy
twilight. Harryman irritably chewed the ends of his mustache. The smoke
from two dozen shag pipes settled like streaks of mist in the sultry air
of the tropical night, which came in at the open windows. Lazily and
with long pauses, conversation was kept up at the separate tables. The
silence was only broken by the creaking of the wicker chairs and the
gurgling and splashing of the soda water, when one of the officers,
after having put it off as long as possible, at last found sufficient
energy to refill his glass. Motionless as seals on the sandhills in the
heat of midday, the officers lolled in their chairs, waiting for the
moment when they could turn in with some show of decency.
"It's awful!" groaned Colonel McCabe. "This damned hole is enough to
make one childish. I shall go crazy soon." And then he cracked his
standing joke of the evening: "My daily morning prayer is: 'Let it soon
be evening, O God; the morrow will come of itself.'" The jest was
greeted with a dutiful grunt of approval from the occupants of the
various chairs.
Lieutenant Parrington, officer in command of the little gunboat
_Mindoro_, which had been captured from the Spaniards some years ago and
since the departure of the cruiser squadron for Mindanao been put in
commission as substitute guardship in the harbor of Manila, entered the
room and dropped into a chair near Harryman; whereupon the Chinese boy,
almost inaudible in his broad felt shoes, suddenly appeared beside him
and set down the bottle with the pain expeller of the tropics before
him.
"Any cable news, Parrington?" asked Colonel McCabe from the other table.
"Not a word," yawned Parrington; "everything is still smashed. We might
just as well be sitting under the receiver of an air pump."
Harryman noticed that the boy stared at Parrington for a moment as if
startled; but he instantly resumed his Mongolian expression of absolute
innocence, and with his customary grin slipped sinuously through the
door.
Harryman experienced an unpleasant feeling of momentary discomfort, but,
not being able to locate his ideas clearly, he irritably gave up the
attempt to arrive at a solution of this instinctive sensation, mumbling
to himself: "This tropical hell is enough to set one crazy."
"No news of the fleet, either?" began Colonel McCabe again.
"Positively nothing, either by wire or wireless. It seems as though the
rest of the world had sunk into a bottomless pit. Not a single word has
reached us from the outer world for six days."
"Do you believe in the seaquake?" struck in Harryman mockingly.
"Why not?" returned the colonel.
Harryman jumped up, walked over to the window with long strides, threw
out the end of his cigarette and lighted a new one. In the bright light
of the flaming match one could see the commander's features twitching
ironically; he was on the warpath again.
"All the same, it's a queer state of affairs. Our home cable snaps
between Guam and here, the Hong-Kong cable won't work, and even our
island wire has been put out of commission; it must have been a pretty
violent catastrophe--" came from another table.
"--All the more violent considering the fact that we noticed nothing of
it on land," said Harryman, thoughtfully blowing out a cloud of smoke
and swinging himself up backward on the window-sill.
"Exactly," rang out a voice; "but how do you account for that?"
"Account for it!" cried Colonel Webster, in a thundering voice. "Our
comrade of the illustrious navy of the United States of America has only
one explanation for everything: his Japanese logarithms, by means of
which he figures out everything. Now we shall hear that this seaquake
can be traced to Japanese villainy, probably brought about by Japanese
divers, or even submarine boats." And the colonel began to laugh
heartily.
Harryman ignored this attempt to resume their recent dispute, and with
head thrown back continued to blow clouds of smoke nervously into the
air.
"But seriously, Harryman," began the colonel again, "can you give any
explanation?"
"No," answered Harryman curtly; "but perhaps you will remember who was
the first to furnish an explanation of the breakdown of the cable. It
was the captain of the Japanese _Kanga Maru_, which has been anchored
since Tuesday beside the _Monadnock_, which I have the honor to
command."
"But, my good Harryman, you have hallucinations," interrupted the
colonel. "The Japanese captain gave the latest Hong-Kong papers to the
Harbor Bureau, and was quite astonished to hear that our cable did not
work----"
"When he was going to send a cablegram to Hong-Kong," added Harryman
sharply.
"To announce his arrival at Manila," remarked Colonel Webster dryly.
"And the Hong-Kong papers had already published descriptions of the
destruction caused by the seaquake, of the tidal waves, and the
accidents to ships," came from another quarter.
"The news being of especial interest to this archipelago, where we have
the misfortune to be and where we noticed nothing of the whole affair,"
returned Harryman.
"You don't mean to imply," broke in the colonel, "that the news of this
catastrophe is a pure invention--an invention of the English papers in
Hong-Kong?"
"Don't know, I'm sure," said Harryman. "Hong-Kong papers are no
criterion for me." And then he added quietly: "Yes, man is great, and
the newspaper is his prophet."
"But you can't dispute the fact that a seaquake may have taken place,
when you consider the striking results as shown by the cable
interruptions which we have been experiencing for the last six days,"
began Webster again.
"Have we really?" said Harryman. "Are you quite sure of it? So far the
only authority we have for this supposed seaquake is a Japanese
captain--whom, by the way, I am having sharply watched--and a bundle of
worthless Hong-Kong newspapers. And as for the rest of my
hallucinations"--he jumped down from the window-sill and, going up to
Webster, held out a sheet of paper toward him--"I'm in the habit of
using other sources of information than the English-Japanese
fingerposts."
Webster glanced at the paper and then looked at Harryman questioningly.
"What is it? Do you understand it?"
"Yes," snapped Harryman. "These little pictures portray our war of
extermination against the red man. They are terribly exaggerated and
distorted, which was not at all necessary, by the way, for the events of
that war do not add to the fame of our nation. Up here," explained
Harryman, while several officers, among them the colonel, stepped up to
the table, "you see the story of the infected blankets from the fever
hospitals which were sent to the Indians; here the butchery of an Indian
tribe; here, for comparison, the fight on the summit of the volcano of
Ilo-Ilo, where the Tagala were finally driven into the open crater; and
here, at the end, the practical application for the Tagala: 'As the
Americans have destroyed the red man, so will you slowly perish under
the American rule. They have hurled your countrymen into the chasm of
the volcano. This crater will devour you all if you do not turn those
weapons which were once broken by Spanish bondage against your
deliverers of 1898, who have since become your oppressors.'"
"Where did you get the scrawl?" asked the colonel excitedly.
"Do you want me to procure hundreds, thousands like it for you?"
returned Harryman coolly.
The colonel pressed down the ashes in his pipe with his thumb, and asked
indifferently: "You understand Japanese?"
"Tagala also," supplemented Harryman simply.
"And you mean to say that thousands----?"
"Millions of these pictures, with Japanese and Malayan text, are being
circulated in the Philippines," said Harryman positively.
"Under our eyes?" asked a lieutenant naïvely.
"Under our eyes," replied Harryman, smiling, "our eyes which carelessly
overlook such things."
Colonel Webster rose and offered Harryman his hand. "I have misjudged
you," he said heartily. "I belong to your party from now on."
"It isn't a question of party," answered Harryman warmly, "or rather
there will soon be only the one party."
"Do you think," asked Colonel McCabe, "that the supposed Japanese plan
of attack on the Philippines, published at the beginning of the year in
the _North China Daily News_, was authentic?"
"That question cannot be answered unless you know who gave the document
to the Shanghai paper, and what object he had in doing so," replied
Harryman.
"How do you mean?"
"Well," continued Harryman, "only two possibilities can exist: the
document was either genuine or false. If genuine, then it was an
indiscretion on the part of a Japanese who betrayed his country to an
English paper--an English paper which no sooner gets possession of this
important document than it immediately proceeds to publish its contents,
thereby getting its ally into a nice pickle. You will at once observe
here three improbabilities: treason, indiscretion, and, finally, England
in the act of tripping her ally. These actions would be incompatible, in
the first place, with the almost hysterical sense of patriotism of the
Japanese; in the second, with their absolute silence and secrecy, and,
in the third place, with the behavior of our English cousin since his
marriage to Madame Chrysanthemum----"
"The document was therefore not genuine?" asked the colonel.
"Think it over. What was it that the supposed plan of attack set forth?
A Japanese invasion of Manila with the fleet and a landing force of
eighty thousand men, and then, following the example of Cuba, an
insurrection of the natives, which would gradually exhaust our troops,
while the Japanese would calmly settle matters at sea, Roschestwenski's
tracks being regarded as a sufficient scare for our admirals."
"That would no doubt be the best course to pursue in an endeavor to
pocket the Philippines," answered the colonel thoughtfully; "and the
plan would be aided by the widespread and growing opposition at home to
keeping the archipelago and putting more and more millions into the
Asiatic branch business."
"Quite so," continued Harryman quickly, "if Japan wanted nothing else
but the Philippines."
"What on earth does she want in addition?" asked Webster.
"The _mastery of the Pacific_," said Harryman in a decided voice.
"Commercial mastery?" asked Parrington, "or----"
"No; political, too, and with solid foundations," answered Harryman.
Colonel McCabe had sat down again, and was studying the pamphlet,
Parrington picked at the label on his whisky bottle, and the others
remained silent, but buried in thought. In the next room a clock struck
ten with a hurried, tinkling sound which seemed to break up the uneasy
silence into so many small pieces.
"And if it was not genuine?" began Colonel McCabe again, hoarsely. He
cleared his throat and repeated the question in a low tone of voice:
"And if it was not genuine?"
Harryman shrugged his shoulders.
"Then it would be a trap for us to have us secure our information from
the wrong quarter," said the colonel, answering his own question.
"A trap into which we are rushing at full speed," continued Webster,
laying stress on each word, though his thoughts seemed to be far in
advance of what he was saying.
Harryman nodded and twisted his mustache.
"What did you say?" asked Parrington, jumping up and looking from
Webster to Harryman, neither of whom, however, volunteered a reply. "We
are stumbling into a trap?"
"Two regiments," said Webster, more to himself than to the others. And
then, turning to Harryman, he asked briskly: "When are the transports
expected to arrive?"
"The steamers with two regiments on board left 'Frisco on April 10th,
therefore--he counted the days on his fingers--they should be here by
now."
"No, they were to go straight to Mindanao," said Parrington.
"Straight to Mindanao?" Colonel McCabe meditated silently. Then, as
though waking up suddenly, he went on: "And the cable has not been
working for six days----"
"Exactly," interrupted Parrington, "we have known nothing, either of
the fleet or of anything else, for the last six days."
"Harryman," said Colonel McCabe seriously, "do you think there is
danger? If it is all a trap, it would be the most stupid thing that we
could do to send our transports unprotected-- But that's all nonsense!
This heat positively dries up your thoughts. No, no, it's impossible;
they're hallucinations bred by the fermented vapors of this God-forsaken
country!" He pressed the electric button, and the boy appeared at the
door behind him. "Some soda, Pailung!"
"Parrington, are you coming? I ordered my boat for ten o'clock," said
Harryman.
"As early as this, Harryman?" remonstrated Webster. "You'll be on board
your boat quite soon enough, or do you want to keep a night watch also
on your Japanese of the-- What sort of a Maru was it?" he broke off,
because Colonel McCabe pointed angrily at the approaching boy.
"Oh, nonsense!" growled Webster ill-humoredly. "A creature like that
doesn't see or hear a thing."
The colonel glared at Webster, and then noisily mixed his drink.
Harryman and Parrington walked along the quay in silence, their steps
resounding loudly in the stillness of the night. On the other side of
the street fleeting shadows showed at the lighted windows of several
harbor dens, over the entrance to which hung murky lamps and from which
loud voices issued, proving that all was still in full swing there.
There were only a few more steps to the spot where the yellow circle of
light from the lanterns rendered the white uniforms of the sailors in
the two boats visible. Parrington stood still. "Harryman," he said,
repeating his former question, "do you believe there is danger----"
"I don't know, I really don't know," said Harryman nervously. Then,
seizing Parrington's hands, he continued hurriedly, but in a low voice:
"For days I have been living as if in a trance. It is as if I were lying
in the delirium of fever; my head burns and my thoughts always return to
the same spot, boring and burrowing; I feel as though a horrible eye
were fixed on me from whose glance I cannot escape. I feel that I may at
any moment awake from the trance, and that the awakening will be still
more dreadful."
"You're feverish, Harryman; you're ill, and you'll infect others. You
must take some quinine." With these words Parrington climbed into his
gig, the sailors gave way with the oars, and the boat rushed through the
water and disappeared into the darkness, where the bow oarsman was
silhouetted against the pale yellow light of the boat's lantern like a
strange phantom.
Harryman looked musingly after the boat of the _Mindoro_ for a few
minutes, and murmured: "He certainly has no fever which quinine will not
cure." Then he got into his own boat, which also soon disappeared into
the sultry summer night, while the dark water splashed and gurgled
against the planks. The high quay wall, with its row of yellow and white
lights, remained behind, and gradually sank down to the water line. They
rowed past the side of a huge English steamer, which sent back the
splash of the oars in a strange hollow echo, and then across to the
_Monadnock_.
Harryman could not sleep, and joined the officer on duty on the bridge,
where the slight breeze which came from the mountains afforded a little
coolness.
* * * * *
On board the _Mindoro_ Parrington had found orders to take the relief
guard for the wireless telegraph station to Mariveles the next morning.
At six o'clock the little gunboat had taken the men on board, and was
now steering across the blue Bay of Manila toward the little rocky
island of Corregidor, which had recently been strongly fortified, and
which lies like a block of stone between gigantic mountain wings in the
very middle of the entrance to the Bay of Manila. Under a gray sail,
which served as a slight protection from the sun, the soldiers squatted
sullenly on their kits. Some were asleep, others stared over the railing
into the blue, transparent water that rippled away in long waves before
the bow of the little vessel. From the open skylight of the engine room
sounded the sharp beat of the engine, and the smell of hot oil spread
over the deck, making the burning heat even more unbearable. Parrington
stood on the bridge and through his glass examined the steep cliffs at
the entrance to the bay, and the bizarre forms of the little volcanic
islands.
Except for a few fishing boats with their brown sails, not a ship was to
be seen on the whole expanse of the water. The gunboat now turned into
the northern entrance, and the long, glistening guns in the
fortifications of Corregidor became visible. Up above, on the batteries
hewn in the rocks, not a living soul could be seen, but below, on the
little platform where the signal-post stood near the northern battery,
an armed sentry marched up and down. Parrington called out to the
signalman near him: "Send this signal across to Corregidor: 'We are
going to relieve the wireless telegraph detachment at Mariveles, and
shall call at Corregidor on our way back.'" The Corregidor battery
answered the signal, and informed Parrington that Colonel Prettyman
expected him for lunch later on. Slowly the _Mindoro_ crept along the
coast to the rocky Bay of Mariveles, where, before the few neglected
houses of the place, the guard of the wireless telegraph station, which
stood on the heights of Sierra de Mariveles, was awaiting the arrival of
the gunboat.
The _Mindoro_ was made fast to the pier. The exchange of men took place
quickly, and the relief guard piled their kits on two mule-carts, in
which they were to be carried up the steep hillside to the top, where a
few flat, white houses showed the position of the wireless station, the
high post of which, with its numerous wires, stood out alone against the
blue sky. The relieved men, who plainly showed their delight at getting
away from this God-forsaken, tedious outpost, made themselves
comfortable in the shade afforded by the sail, and began to chat with
the crew of the _Mindoro_ about the commonplaces of military service. A
shrill screech from the whistle of the _Mindoro_ resounded from the
mountain side as a farewell greeting to the little troop that was
climbing slowly upward, followed by the baggage-carts. The _Mindoro_
cast off from the pier, and, having rounded the neck of land on which
Mariveles stood, was just on the point of starting in the direction of
Corregidor, when the signalman on the bridge called Parrington's
attention to a black steamer which was apparently steaming at full speed
from the sea toward the entrance to the Bay of Manila.
"A ship at last," said Parrington. "Let's wait and see what sort of a
craft it is."
While the _Mindoro_ reduced her speed noticeably, Parrington looked
across at the strange vessel through his glasses. The ship had also
attracted the attention of the crew, who began to conjecture excitedly
as to the nationality of the visitor, for during the past week a strange
vessel had become a rather unusual sight in Manila. The wireless
detachment said that they had seen the steamer two hours ago from the
hill.
Parrington put down his glass and said: "About four thousand tons, but
she has no flag. We can soon remedy that." And turning to the signalman
he added: "Ask her to show her colors." At the same time he pulled the
rope of the whistle in order to attract the stranger's attention.
In a few seconds the German colors appeared at the stern of the
approaching steamer, and the signal flag, which at the same time was
quickly hoisted at the foretopmast, proclaimed the ship to be the German
steamer _Danzig_, hailing from Hong-Kong. Immediately afterwards a boat
was lowered from the _Danzig_ and the steamer stopped; then the white
cutter put to sea and headed straight for the _Mindoro_.
"It is certainly kind of them to send us a boat," said Parrington. "I
wonder what they want, anyhow." He gave orders to stop the boat and to
clear the gangway, and then, watching the German cutter with interest,
awaited its arrival. Ten minutes later the commander of the _Danzig_
stepped on the bridge of the _Mindoro_, introduced himself to her
commander, and asked for a pilot to take him through the mines in the
roads.
Parrington regarded him with astonishment. "Mines, my dear sir, mines?
There are no mines here."
The German stared at Parrington unbelievingly. "You have no mines?"
"No," said Parrington. "It is not our custom to blockade our harbors
with mines except in time of war."
"In time of war?" said the German, who did not appear to comprehend
Parrington's answer. "But you are at war."
"We, at war?" returned Parrington, utterly disconcerted. "And with whom,
if I may be allowed to ask?"
"It seems to me that the matter is too serious to be a subject for
jesting," answered the German sharply.
At this moment loud voices were heard from the after-deck of the
_Mindoro_, the crew of which were swearing with great gusto. Parrington
hurried to the railing and looked over angrily. A hot dispute was going
on between the crew of the German cutter and the American sailors, but
only the oft-repeated words "damned Japs" could be distinguished. He
turned again to the German officer, and looked at him hesitatingly. The
latter, apparently in a bad temper, looked out to sea, whistling softly
to himself.
Parrington walked toward him and, seizing his hand, said: "It's clear
that we don't understand each other. What's up?"
"I am here to inform you," answered the German sharply and decisively,
"that the steamer _Danzig_ ran the blockade last night, and that its
captain politely requests you to give him a pilot through the mines, in
order that we may reach the harbor of Manila."
"You have run the blockade?" shouted Parrington, in a state of the
greatest excitement. "You have run the blockade, man? What the deuce do
you mean?"
"I mean," answered the German coolly, "that the Government of the United
States of America--a fact, by the way, of which you, as commander of one
of her war vessels, ought to be aware--has been at war with Japan for
the last week, and that a steamer which has succeeded in running the
enemy's blockade and which carries contraband goods for Manila surely
has the right to ask to be guided through the mines."
Parrington felt for the railing behind him and leaned against it for
support. His face became ashen pale, and he seemed so utterly nonplussed
at the German officer's statement that the latter, gradually beginning
to comprehend the extraordinary situation, continued his explanation.
"Yes," he repeated, "for six days your country has been at war with
Japan, and it was only natural we should suppose that you, as one of
those most nearly concerned, would be aware of this fact."
Parrington, regaining his self-control, said: "Then the cable
disturbances--" He stopped, then continued disjointedly: "But this is
terrible; this is a surprise such as we-- I beg your pardon," he went on
in a firm voice to the German, "I am sure I need not assure you that
your communication has taken me completely by surprise. Not a soul in
Manila has any idea of all this. The cable disturbances of the last six
days were explained to us by a Japanese steamer as being the result of a
volcanic outbreak, and since then, through the interruption of all
connections, we have been completely shut off from the outside world. If
Japan, in defiance of all international law, has declared war, we here
in Manila have noticed nothing of it, except, perhaps, for the entire
absence, during the last few days, of the regular steamers and, indeed,
of all trading ships, a circumstance that appeared to some of us rather
suspicious. But excuse me, we must act at once. Please remain on board."
The _Mindoro's_ whistle emitted three shrill screeches, while the
gunboat steamed at full speed toward Corregidor.
Parrington went into his cabin, opened his desk, and searched through it
with nervous haste. "At last!" He seized the war-signal code and ran
upstairs to the bridge, shouting to the signalman: "Signal to
Corregidor: 'War-signal code, important communication.'" Then he
himself, hastily turning over the leaves of the book, called out the
signals and had them hoisted. Then he shouted to the man at the helm:
"Tell them not to spare the engines."
Parrington stood in feverish expectation on the bridge, his hands
clinched round the hot iron bars of the breastwork and his eyes
measuring the rapidly diminishing distance between the _Mindoro_ and
the landing place of Corregidor. As the _Mindoro_ turned into the
northern passage between Corregidor and the mainland, the chain of
mountains, looking like banks of clouds, which surrounded Manila, became
visible in the far distance across the blue, apparently boundless
surface of the Bay, while the town itself, wrapped in the white mist
that veiled the horizon, remained invisible. At this moment Parrington
observed a dark cloud of smoke in the direction of the harbor of Manila
suddenly detaching itself from below and sailing upward like a fumarole
above the summit of a volcano, where it dispersed in bizarre shapes
resembling ragged balls of cotton. Almost immediately a dull report like
a distant thunderclap boomed across the water.
"Can that be another of their devilish tricks?" asked Parrington of the
German, drawing his attention to the rising cloud, the edges of which
glistened white as snow in the bright sunshine.
"Possibly," was the laconic answer.
The wharf of Corregidor was in a state of confused hubbub. The
artillerymen stood shoulder to shoulder, awaiting the arrival of the
_Mindoro_. Suddenly an officer forced his way through the crowd, and,
standing on the very edge of the wharf, called out to the rapidly
approaching _Mindoro_: "Parrington, what's all this about?"
"It's true, every word of it," roared the latter through the megaphone.
"The Japanese are attacking us, and the German steamer over there is the
first to bring us news of it. War broke out six days ago."
The _Mindoro_ stopped and threw a line, which was caught by many willing
hands and made fast to the landing place.
"Here's my witness," shouted Parrington across to Colonel Prettyman,
"the commander of the German steamer _Danzig_."
"I'll join you on board," answered Prettyman. "I've just despatched the
news to Manila by wireless. Of course they won't believe it there."
"Then you've done a very stupid thing," cried Parrington, horrified.
"Look there," he added, pointing to the cloud above the harbor of
Manila; "that has most certainly cost our friend Harryman, of the
_Monadnock_, his life. His presentiments did not deceive him after all!"
"Cost Harryman, on board the _Monadnock_, his life?" asked Prettyman in
astonishment.
"I'm afraid so," answered Parrington. "The Japanese steamer which
brought us the news of the famous seaquake has been anchored beside him
for four days. When you sent your wireless message to Manila, the
Japanese must have intercepted it, for they have a wireless apparatus on
board--I noticed it only this morning."
The _Mindoro_ now lay fast beside the wharf, and Colonel Prettyman
hurried across the gangway to the gunboat and went straight to
Parrington's cabin, where the two shut themselves up with the German
officer.
A few minutes later an excited orderly rushed on board and demanded to
see the colonel at once; he was let into the cabin, and it was found
that he had brought a confirmation of Parrington's suspicions, for a
wireless message from Manila informed them that the _Monadnock_ had been
destroyed in the roads of Manila through some inexplicable explosion.
Parrington sprang from his chair and cried to the colonel: "Won't you at
least pay those cursed Japs back by sending the message, 'We suspect
that the Japanese steamer anchored beside the _Monadnock_ has blown her
up by means of a torpedo?' Otherwise it is just possible that they will
be naïve enough in Manila to let the scoundrel get out of the harbor.
No, no," he shouted, interrupting himself, "we can't wait for that; we
must get to work ourselves at once. Colonel, you go ashore, and I'll
steam toward Manila and cut off the rogue's escape. And you"--turning to
the German--"you can return to your ship and enter the bay; there are
no"--here his voice broke--"no mines here."
Then he rushed up on the bridge again. The hawsers were cast off in
feverish haste, and the _Mindoro_ once more steamed out into the bay at
the fastest speed of which the old craft was capable. Parrington had
regained his self-command in face of the new task that the events just
described, which followed so rapidly upon one another's heels, laid out
for him. An expression of fierce joy came over his features when,
looking through his glass an hour later, he discovered the _Kanga Maru_
holding a straight course for Corregidor.
As calmly as if it were only a question of everyday maneuvers,
Parrington gave his orders. The artillerymen stood on either side of the
small guns, and everything was made ready for action.
The distance between the two ships slowly diminished.
"Yes, it is the Japanese steamer," said Parrington to himself. "And now
to avenge Harryman! There'll be no sentimentality; we'll shoot them
down like pirates! No signal, no warning--nothing, nothing!" he
murmured.
"Stand by with the forward gun," he called down from the bridge to the
men standing at the little 12 pounder on the foredeck of the _Mindoro_.
The _Mindoro_ turned a little to starboard, so as to get at the
broadside of the Japanese, and thus be able to fire on him with both the
forward and after guns.
"Five hundred yards! Aim at the engine room! Number one gun, fire!" The
shot boomed across the sunny, blue expanse of water, driving a white
puff of smoke before it. The shell disappeared in the waves about one
hundred yards ahead of the Japanese steamer. The next shot struck the
ship, leaving in her side a black hole with jagged edges just above the
waterline.
"Splendid!" cried Parrington. "Keep that up and we'll have the villain
in ten shots."
Quickly the 12 pounder was reloaded; the gunners stood quietly beside
their gun, and shot after shot was fired at the Japanese ship, of which
five or six hit her right at the waterline. The stern gun of the
_Mindoro_ devoted itself in the meantime to destroying things on the
enemy's deck. Gaping holes appeared everywhere in the ship's side, and
the funnels received several enormous rents, out of which brown smoke
poured forth. In a quarter of an hour the deck resembled the primeval
chaos, being covered with bent and broken iron rods, iron plates riddled
with shot, and woodwork torn to splinters. Suddenly clouds of white
steam burst out from all the holes in the ship's sides, from the
skylights, and from the remnants of the funnels; the deck in the middle
of the steamer rose slowly, and the exploding boilers tossed broken bits
of engines and deck apparatus high up into the air. The _Kanga Maru_
listed to port and disappeared in the waves, over which a few straggling
American shots swept.
"Cease firing!" commanded Parrington. Then the _Mindoro_ came about and
again steered straight for Manila. The act of retribution had been
accomplished; the treacherous murder of the crew of the _Monadnock_ had
been avenged.
When the _Mindoro_ arrived at the harbor of Manila, the town was in a
tremendous state of excitement. The drums were beating the alarm in the
streets. The spot where only that morning the _Monadnock_ had lain in
idle calm was empty.
* * * * *
The explosion of the _Monadnock_ had at first been regarded as an
accident. In spite of its being the dinner hour, a number of boats
appeared in the roads, all making toward the scene of the accident,
where a broad, thick veil of smoke crept slowly over the surface of the
water. As no one knew what new horrors might be hidden in this cloud,
none of the boats dared go nearer. Only two white naval cutters
belonging to the gunboats lying in the harbor glided into the mist,
driven forward by strong arms; and they actually succeeded in saving a
few of the crew.
One of the rescued men told the following story: About two minutes after
the _Monadnock_ had received a wireless message, which, however, was
never deciphered, a dull concussion was felt throughout the ship,
followed almost immediately by another one. On the starboard side of the
_Monadnock_ two white, bubbling, hissing columns of water had shot up,
which completely flooded the low deck; then a third explosion, possibly
caused by a mine striking the ammunition room and setting it off,
practically tore the ship asunder. There could be no doubt that these
torpedoes came from the Japanese steamer anchored beside the
_Monadnock_, for the _Kanga Maru_ had suddenly slipped her anchor and
hurried off as fast as she could. It was now remembered that the
Japanese ship had had steam up constantly for the last few days,
ostensibly because they were daily expecting their cargo in lighters,
from which they intended to load without delay. It was therefore pretty
certain that the _Kanga Maru_ had entered the harbor merely for the
purpose of destroying the _Monadnock_, the only monitor in Manila.
Torpedo tubes had probably been built in the Japanese merchant steamer
under water, and this made it possible to blow up the _Monadnock_ the
moment there was the least suspicion that the Americans in Manila were
aware of the fact that war had broken out. Thus the wireless message
from Corregidor had indeed sealed the fate of the _Monadnock_. The
_Kanga Maru_ had launched her torpedoes, and then tried to escape. The
meeting with the _Mindoro_ the Japanese had not reckoned with, for they
had counted on getting away during the confusion which the destruction
of the _Monadnock_ would naturally cause in Manila.
As a result of these occurrences the few ships in the roads of Manila
soon stopped loading and discharging; most of the steamers weighed
anchor, and, as soon as they could get up steam, went farther out into
the roads, for a rumor had spread that the _Kanga Maru_ had laid mines.
The report turned out to be entirely unfounded, but it succeeded in
causing a regular panic on some of the ships. From the town came the
noise of the beating of drums and the shrill call to arms to alarm the
garrison; one could see the quays being cleared by detachments of
soldiers, and sentries were posted before all the public buildings.
American troops hurried on the double-quick through the streets of the
European quarter, and the sight of the soldiers furnished the first
element of reassurance to the white population, whose excitement had
been tremendous ever since the alarm of the garrison. The old Spanish
batteries, or rather what was still left of them, were occupied by
artillerymen, while one battalion went on sentry duty on the ramparts of
the section of the town called _Intra muros_, and five other battalions
left the town at once in order to help garrison the redoubts and forts
in the line of defense on the land side.
The town of Manila and the arsenal at Cavite, where measures for defense
were also taken, thus gave no cause for apprehension; but, on the other
hand, it was noticeable that the natives showed signs of insubordination
toward the American military authorities, and that they did not attempt
to conceal the fact that they had been better informed as to the
political situation than the Americans. These were the first indications
as to how the land lay, and gradually it began to be remembered that
similar observations had been made within the last few days: for
example, a number of revolutionary flags had had to be removed in the
town.
The Americans were in a very precarious position, and at the council of
war held by the governor in the afternoon it was decided that should the
Filipinos show the slightest signs of insurrection, the whole military
strength would be concentrated to defend Manila, Cavite, and the single
railway running north, while all the other garrisons were to be
withdrawn and the rest of the archipelago left to its own devices. In
this way the Americans might at least hope, with some chance of success,
to remain masters of Manila and vicinity. The island was, of course,
proclaimed to be in a state of siege, and a strong military patrol was
put in charge of the night watch.
A serious encounter took place in the afternoon before the Government
building. As soon as it became known that proclamation of martial law
had been made the population streamed in great crowds toward the
Government buildings; and when the American flag was suddenly hauled
down--it has never been ascertained by whom--and the Catipunàn flag,
formerly the standard of the rebels--the tri-color with the sun in a
triangular field--appeared in its place, a moment of wild enthusiasm
ensued, so wild that it required an American company with fixed bayonets
to clear the square of the fanatics. The sudden appearance of this huge
Catipunàn flag seemed mysterious enough, but the next few days were to
demonstrate clearly how carefully the rebellion among the natives had
been prepared.
When the officers of the garrison assembled at the customary place on
the evening of the same day, they were depressed and uneasy, as men who
find themselves confronted by an invisible enemy. There was no longer
any difference of opinion as to the danger that threatened from the
Mongolians, and those officers who had been exonerated from the charge
of being too suspicious by the rapid developments of the last few hours
were considerate enough not to make their less far-sighted comrades feel
that they had undervalued their adversaries. No one had expected a
catastrophe to occur quite so suddenly, and the uncertainty as to what
was going on elsewhere had a paralyzing effect on all decisions. What
one could do in the way of defense had been or was being done, but there
were absolutely no indications as to the side from which the enemy might
be expected.