PLOTTERS TRAVEL WITH THE FLAG
From the deck of the "Warren" only distant glimpses of land, on the
horizon line, were visible.
The sea to-day was without a ripple, yet, as it was not raining, the sun
beat down with a heat that would have wilted most of the passengers, had
it not been for the awnings stretched over every deck.
Up on the saloon deck was a mixture of the field uniforms of Army
officers, the white duck or cotton of male civilian passengers, and the
white dresses of the women. Most of the married officers of the
Thirty-fourth had brought their families along with them, and so
children played along the saloon deck, or ran down among the friendly
soldiers on the spar deck. Here and there, among the women, was a
Yankee schoolma'am, going to some new charge in the islands.
A number of the male cabin passengers were not Army people. Some
belonged to the postals service, the islands civil service, or were
planters or merchants of wealth and influence in the islands, who had
been permitted to take passage on the troop ship.
Between decks the enlisted men of "Ours" were quartered and berthed by
companies. Each enlisted man, by way of a bed, had a bunk whose frame
was of gas pipe, to which frame was swung the canvas berth. These berths
were in tiers, three high.
Away forward, in special quarters by themselves, as a sort of steerage
passengers, were some two score natives of the islands who were making
the journey for one reason or another. These natives, however, kept to
themselves, and the soldiers saw little of them.
Altogether, the "Warren" carried something more than fourteen hundred
passengers, which meant that quarters were at least sufficiently
crowded. Yet the soldiers, with the cheerful good nature of their kind,
took this crowded condition as one of the incidents of the life.
Noll was up on deck enjoying himself; Hal, as acting first sergeant, was
otherwise occupied during the greater part of the forenoon. At the head
of B Company's quarters, two decks below, young Overton sat at a little
table, busily working over a set of papers that he had to make up. This
"paper work" is one of the banes of first sergeants and of company
commanders.
It was after eleven o'clock when Sergeant Hal finished his last sheet.
The papers he folded neatly and thrust them into a long, official
envelope, which he endorsed and blotted. Rising, he thrust the envelope
into the breast of his blouse and started for the nearest companionway.
"I'm glad, old fellow, that you are the acting first sergeant," grinned
comfortable Noll Terry, as his chum came upon deck with forehead, face
and neck beaded with perspiration.
"Oh, it doesn't hurt a fellow to have a little work to do," replied
Overton, smiling. "You see, you've just been loafing this morning,
almost ever since inspection, while I have a consciousness of work well
performed."
"Keep your consciousness and enjoy it," retorted Noll, as the two boyish
sergeants stepped along the deck.
"I wonder if Captain Cortland is on deck at this moment?" remarked
Sergeant Hal.
"I saw him five minutes ago," Noll answered.
Almost at that moment B Company's commander came to the forward rail of
the saloon deck and looked down. Then his glance rested on Hal.
"Are the papers ready, Sergeant?" the captain called down.
"Yes, sir; I have them with me," replied Hal. Pressing through the
throng of soldiers, he ascended the steps to the saloon deck, saluting
and passing over the envelope.
"Thank you, Sergeant."
"I think you'll find them all right, sir. I'm somewhat new at the work,
but I've taken a lot of pains."
"There's always a lot of pains taken with any work that you do,
Sergeant."
"Thank you, sir."
Hal saluted and was about to turn away when he heard a voice saying:
"What we need, in dealing with the Moros in these southern islands, is
to show them that----"
Just then the speaker happened to turn, and stopped talking for a
moment.
The voice was new, but Sergeant Overton started at sight of the
speaker's face.
"Why, that's the same big, florid-faced fellow that I saw in the shed
with Tomba, that time it rained so hard," flashed through the young
sergeant's astonished mind. "What can he be doing here--a cabin
passenger on a United States troop ship?"
Unconsciously Hal was staring hard at the stranger. It appeared to annoy
the florid-faced man.
"Well, my man," he cried impatiently, looking keenly at Hal, "are you
waiting to say something to me?"
"No, sir," Sergeant Hal replied quickly.
"Perhaps you thought you knew me?"
"No, sir; I merely remembered having once seen you."
"You've seen me before? Then your memory is better than mine, Sergeant.
Where have you ever seen me before?"
"The other afternoon, sir, on the south side of the Pasig River at
Manila. You were in a shed, out of the rain, with a native calling
himself Vicente Tomba."
The florid-faced man betrayed neither uneasiness nor resentment.
Instead, he smiled pleasantly as he replied:
"I thought you were in error, Sergeant, and now I'm certain of it, for I
don't know any Vicente Tomba."
"Then I beg your pardon for the mistake, sir," Hal replied quickly.
"No need to apologize, Sergeant, for you have done no harm," replied the
florid-faced man.
Here Captain Cortland's voice broke in, cool and steady:
"Yet I know, Mr. Draney, that Sergeant Overton feels embarrassed by the
mere fact of his having made a mistake. Sergeant Overton is one of our
best and most capable soldiers, and he rarely makes a mistake of any
kind."
"I'm glad to hear that he's one of your best soldiers," replied Draney
pleasantly. "It seems odd, doesn't it, Captain, to see so boyish a chap
wearing sergeant's chevrons?"
"Sergeant Overton, Mr. Draney, is more than merely a sergeant. He is
acting first sergeant of B Company, and is likely to continue as such
for some months to come."
"He has risen so high?" cried Draney. "I certainly congratulate the
young man."
There appeared to be no further call for Hal to remain on the saloon
deck. After flashing an inquiring look at his company commander, and
saluting that officer, Hal next raised his uniform cap to Draney, then
turned and made his way down to the spar deck.
"Your sergeant looks like a very upright young man, Captain," observed
Mr. Draney.
"Overton?" rejoined Captain Cortland. "I am certain that he is the soul
of honor."
"His loyalty has often been tested, I presume?" persisted the
florid-faced fellow.
"He's a very thoroughly trustworthy young man, if that's what you mean."
Captain Cortland was beginning to feel somewhat annoyed, for, truth to
tell, he did not like Draney very well.
"Is your sergeant," asked Draney, "a young man much interested in the
joys of life, or is he of the quiet, studious sort who seldom care for
good times?"
"You seem to be uncommonly interested in Sergeant Overton, Mr. Draney,"
remarked the captain almost testily.
"Only as a type of American soldier," replied Draney blandly. "I was
wondering if my estimate of the young man were borne out by your
experience with him."
"Sergeant Overton is fond of the joys of life, if you mean the quiet and
decent pleasures. He is a good deal of a student, and that type is never
interested in drinking or gambling, or any of the vices and
dissipations, if that is what you mean."
Then, noting that Colonel North had just stepped out on deck from his
stateroom, Captain Cortland added hastily:
"Pardon me; I wish to speak with the commanding officer."
As colonel and captain met they exchanged salutes.
"I told Draney, sir, that I wished to speak with you," Captain Cortland
reported, in a low voice. "I did not tell him, however, that I wished to
speak with you mainly as a pretext for getting away from his society."
"You don't like Draney?" smiled Colonel North, eying his captain
shrewdly.
"I certainly do not," Cortland confessed.
"And I'm almost as certain that I don't, either," replied the regimental
commander. "However, Cortland, we shall have to treat him with a fair
amount of courtesy, for Draney is an influential man down in the part of
the world for which we are headed. He is influential with the Moros, I
mean. Often he is in a position to give the military authorities useful
information of intended native mischief. Draney is a very big planter,
you know, and white planters are somewhat scarce in the Moro country. It
is one of the great disappointments of our government that more American
capital is not invested in establishing great plantations in the
extremely rich Moro country. But, as you know, Cortland, some of the
Moro dattos are given to heading sudden, unexpected and very desperate
raids on white planters, and that fact has discouraged Americans,
Englishmen and Germans from investing millions and millions of capital
in the Moro country."
"Yet the fellow Draney is a planter there, sir?"
"Draney owns half a dozen very successful plantations."
"And is he never molested by the Moros, sir?" inquired Captain Cortland.
"Never enough to discourage him in his investments. Rather odd, isn't
it, Cortland?"
"Very odd, indeed, sir," replied Captain Cortland dryly.
That same afternoon Captain Cortland, after finishing a promenade on the
saloon deck, went forward, descending to the spar deck. There, under the
awning, he came upon Sergeants Hal and Noll, who saluted as he addressed
them.
"Sergeant Overton," began the captain in a low tone, "you seemed, this
forenoon, to feel a good deal of surprise at seeing Mr. Draney on
board."
"I was surprised, sir."
"Tell me what you know about the man."
Sergeant Hal briefly related the adventure that he and Noll had had with
Vicente Tomba on the Escolta, and their subsequent meeting with Tomba
and Draney on the south side of the Pasig. Hal also repeated what they
had overheard Tomba saying to Draney. Hal then described the flight of
the pair in the _quilez_.
"Yet Draney declares that he never heard of Tomba," said the captain
musingly. "Sergeant Overton, do you think it possible that you have
mistaken Mr. Draney for someone else?"
"It may be, of course, sir," Hal admitted. "But I hardly believe it
possible. Besides, I have pointed out Mr. Draney to Sergeant Terry and
he also is positive that it is the same man."
At that moment all three turned to look forward. There was some sort of
commotion going on there. It proved, however, to be nothing but the
herding of the Filipino passengers on deck near the bow, while one of
the regiment's officers was inspecting their quarters below.
The three officers returned to their conversation, but presently Hal
murmured:
"Don't look immediately, Noll, but presently take a passing glance at
the Filipino standing away up in the bow. Tell Captain Cortland who the
fellow is."
"It's Vicente Tomba, although I'd hardly know him in that costume of the
_peon_ (laborer)," Noll answered.
"You are both certain that the man is Tomba?" inquired Captain Cortland
keenly.
"Yes, sir," both young sergeants declared, and Hal added:
"There's Corporal Hyman up forward, sir. If you'll go up and speak to
the corporal, and allow us to accompany you, sir, you can see whether
Hyman knows the fellow. He, too, was approached by Tomba, at the nipa
barracks."
Accordingly the test was made.
"Why, certainly, the fellow is Tomba," replied Hyman, "though he looks a
lot different, sir, from the dandy who was talking to me last Tuesday
night."
Captain Cortland asked all three of the non-commissioned officers some
further questions as they stood there. None of the quartette discovered
the fact that, close to them, crouching under the canvas cover of a life
boat as it swung at davits, lay one of the keen-eyed Filipino
passengers. This swarthy little fellow was only about half versed in
English, but he understood enough of the talk to realize what was in the
wind.
In some mysterious manner what this swarthy little spy overheard
traveled, less than an hour later, to Mr. Draney, planter, and that
gentleman, as he sat in his stateroom and thought it all over, was
greatly disturbed.
Still later that afternoon--not long before sundown--while the "Warren"
was still ploughing her way through the sea, the little brown spy drew
Vicente Tomba to one side in the native steerage.
To make assurance doubly sure, both Filipinos spoke in their own Malay
dialect, the Tagalos.
"Tomba!"
"Luis?"
"Tomba, the Senor Draney is greatly disturbed. Sergeant Overton and
Sergeant Terry have recognized him as one whom they saw with you in
Manila."
"Bah! That amounts to little. Senor Draney can deny."
"But they have recognized you also, my Tomba, and so has Corporal Hyman.
More, they have told Captain Cortland all they know, and all they can
guess."
"The dogs!" growled Vicente Tomba, his snarl showing his fine, white
teeth.
"You do well to call them dogs," grinned Luis. "Senor Draney bids me to
remind you what becomes of dogs that are troublesome. You have others
here with you who can help. At the first chance, then, Overton, Terry
and Hyman are to bite the bone that kills--and Captain Cortland, too, if
you can manage it!"