"MAN OVERBOARD!"
"Well, we're out of the harbour safely, Captain," said Executive Officer
Staples with a sigh of relief, as he spread out the chart of the
Massachusetts coast and glanced at the "tell-tale" compass. "No more
trouble till we get down by the Pollock Rip Shoals."
"Anybody would think you had been taking a battleship out from under the
enemy's guns," laughed Lieutenant-Commander David Rexdale. "Don't talk
about 'trouble,' Tel., while it's daylight, off a home port, in good
weather!"
The two were standing in the chart-room, just behind the bridge of the
U. S. gunboat _Osprey_, as the vessel, leaving Boston Outer Light
behind, headed slightly to the south of east. Rexdale, as his old chum
Holmes had predicted, was now in command of the _Osprey_, and was taking
her to Washington for a practice trip, on which the crew would be
drilled in various manoeuvres, including target-practice. Lieutenant
Richard Staples, his executive, had been the captain's classmate at
Annapolis. He was lanky and tall, and at the Academy had soon gained the
sobriquet of "Telegraph Pole," or "Tel.," for short; a name that had
stuck to him thus far in his naval career. He was a Californian, and,
while very quiet in his manner, was a dangerous man when aroused--as the
upper-class cadets had discovered when they undertook to "run" him.
Rexdale was from the rural districts of New Hampshire, and was known to
his classmates as "Farmer," a term which was now seldom applied to the
dignified lieutenant-commander.
The _Osprey_--to complete our introductions--was a lively little member
of Uncle Sam's navy, mounting several six-pounders and a four-inch
rifled gun, besides smaller pieces for close quarters. She had taken
part in the blockade of Santiago, and while not as modern in her
appointments as some of her bigger and younger sister-ships, had given a
good account of herself in the stirring days when Cervera's fleet was
cooped up behind the Cuban hills, and made their final hopeless dash for
freedom. Rexdale was in love with his little vessel, and knew every
spar, gun, plate, and bolt as if he had assisted in her building.
On the way down the harbour, they had passed the _Essex_ and
_Lancaster_, saluting each with a bugle-call. Besides the two officers
mentioned, it should be added that there were on board Ensigns Dobson
and Liddon, the former a good-natured little fellow, barely tall enough
to meet naval requirement as to height; the other a finely educated and
elegant young gentleman who had attended a medical college before
enlisting, and whose fund of scientific and historical knowledge was
supposed to be inexhaustible. He wore glasses, and had at once been
dubbed "Doctor," on entering the Naval Academy. These, with Paymaster
Ross, Assistant Surgeon Cutler, and Engineer Claflin, made up the
officers' mess of the _Osprey_.
It was a fair day in June, 1903. The sunlight sparkled on the summer
sea. Officers and men were in the best of spirits as the gunboat, her
red, white, and blue "commission pennant" streaming from her masthead,
sped southward past the long, ragged "toe" of the Massachusetts boot.
At noon Rexdale dined in solemn and solitary state in his after cabin.
The rest of the officers messed together in the ward-room, below decks,
and doubtless Dave would have been glad to join them; but discipline
required that the commanding officer, however familiarly he might
address an old acquaintance in private, should hold aloof at mealtimes.
He was waited upon by two small Japanese men, or boys, who had easily
obtained the situation when the vessel went into commission at the
Charlestown Navy Yard, where she had remained for some months, docked
for overhauling and thorough repairs. The two cabin stewards were gentle
and pleasant in their manners, conversant with all their duties, and
spoke English fluently. Their names were on the ship's papers as Oto and
Oshima.
"Oto," said Rexdale, when the dinner was finished, "call the orderly."
"Yes, sir."
The marine was pacing the deck outside the cabin-door. On receiving the
summons he entered and saluted stiffly.
"Orderly, ask Mr. Staples to step this way, if he has finished his
dinner."
Another salute, and the man turned on his heels and marched out.
"Mr. Staples," said the commander, as the former came in, "at four bells
we will have 'man overboard' drill. We shall anchor to-night about ten
miles off Nantucket. I shall come on the bridge and con the ship myself
when we sight the Shovelful Lightship, and I shall be glad to have you
with me, passing the Shoal. The next time we go over this course I shall
let you take the ship through the passage yourself."
"Very well, sir." And the executive, being in sight of the waiters and
the orderly, as well as the surgeon, who just then passed through the
cabin, saluted formally and retired.
On deck, forward and in the waist of the ship, the men were busy at
various tasks, burnishing brass-work, making fast the lashings of the
guns, overhauling rigging and such naval apparatus as the warrant
officers knew would be needed on this short cruise. But few of the
crew--over a hundred in all--were below, although only the watch were
actually on duty.
In passing one of the seamen, who was polishing the rail, Oshima, on his
way to the galley, accidentally hit the man with his elbow.
"Clear out, will you?" said the seaman with an oath. At the same time he
gave the little Jap a shove that sent him reeling.
"Oh, take a fellow of your size, Sam!" cried one of the watch standing
near.
"He ran into me! I'll take him and you, too, if you say much," retorted
the first speaker morosely.
Two or three of the men paused on hearing the angry words. The little
stewards were favourites on board, although the enlisted men looked down
on their calling.
Oshima's dark eyes had flashed at the rough push and the sneering reply
of the sailor. He brushed his neat jacket where the former's hand had
touched it. Then he said quietly, "You can strike, Sam Bolles, as an ass
can kick. But you could not throw me to the deck."
"Couldn't I?" snarled Sam, dropping his handful of oily waste and
springing to his feet. "We'll see about that, you ----!" and he called
him an ugly name.
Glancing about to see that no officer was watching, Oshima crouched low,
and awaited the burly seaman's onset. Sam rushed at him with
outstretched hands and tried to seize him around the waist, to dash his
slight antagonist to the deck. Had he succeeded, Oshima's usefulness to
the United States Navy would have ended then and there. A dozen men
gathered about the pair, and more than one uttered a warning cry to the
Japanese. They need not have been alarmed, however, for the safety of
their small comrade.
Just as Sam's burly paws closed on his shoulders, Oshima's dark, thin
little hands shot out. He caught the seaman's right arm, gave a
lightning-like twist, and with a cry of pain and rage the big fellow
went down in a heap on the deck. As the men applauded wildly and swung
their caps, the Jap looked a moment at his fallen foe with a smile of
contempt, then turned away, for the master-at-arms, hearing the noise of
the scuffle, was approaching. Sam, however, was wild with rage.
Scrambling to his feet, he darted upon his late antagonist, caught up
the small figure in his powerful arms, and before anybody could
interfere, tossed him over the rail into the sea.
Lieut. Commander Rexdale, pacing the quarter-deck and congratulating
himself on the fine run the _Osprey_ was making, was suddenly aroused
from his professional meditations by the sound of cries from the forward
part of the ship. Annoyed by this breach of discipline, he called
sharply to one of the ensigns, who was standing near, watching a distant
steamer through his glass, "Mr. Dobson, step forward, please, and find
out what that disturbance is among the men----"
But before Dobson could reach the head of the ladder another confusion
of shouts arose, followed immediately by a rush of footsteps. At the
same time the commander felt the tremor of the screw's motion die away,
under his feet.
"Man overboard?" exclaimed Rexdale, with a vexed frown. "I gave orders
for the drill at four bells, and three bells were struck only a few
minutes ago. Where is Mr. Staples?"
The executive officer was at that moment seen hurrying aft, but the
Jackies were before him. They tumbled up the steps like mad, and flung
themselves into the starboard quarter-boat, which had been left swinging
outside from the davits for the purposes of drill. Already the man on
watch at the taffrail had cut away the lashings of a patent
life-preserver and sent it into the sea, where it floated with signals
erect, far astern. The propeller was lashing the water into foam with
its reversed motion. The _Osprey_ shook as she tried to overcome her
momentum; then, as the screw was stopped, forged slowly ahead.
"Lively, now, men! Let go! Fend off!" shouted Dobson, whose station was
in that boat at the "man overboard" signal. "Oars! Let fall! Give way!"
And off went the boat, plunging and foaming over the waves in the
direction of the life-preserver, which was now a quarter of a mile
astern.
"Very well done, Mr. Staples," said Rexdale approvingly. "But why," he
added in a lower tone, "did you have the drill at this hour, instead of
at four bells, as I ordered?"
"Drill? This is no drill, sir!"
"No drill?"
"There _is_ a man overboard, sir. One of the Japanese waiters fell over
the rail somehow. I gave no orders for the drill, but that bugler is a
quick fellow and knows his business. The men like the little Jap, and it
put a heart into their work."
When Oshima struck the water his early training (which will be referred
to before long) stood him in good stead. He rose to the surface and gave
a few quick strokes to ensure safety from the propeller; then he turned
on his back and tried to float. There was too much ripple on the water
for this, and he was obliged to turn back upon his chest and maintain
his position with as little exertion as possible, not struggling to
reach the ship, which was drawing rapidly away. He had seen the "man
overboard" drill many times, and was on the lookout for the
life-preserver, which was thrown just as he turned for the second time.
His clothes dragged downward heavily, but in three minutes he reached
the buoy and clung to it, knowing that by this time the men were in the
boat and casting off.
It was perhaps ten minutes from the moment of his falling into the sea
when the white boat drew up alongside and pulled both him and the
life-preserver out of the water. Five minutes later--the ship having
reversed her screw again, and backed toward the boat--he was scrambling
over on to the deck and making for the little cabin he shared with Oto.
On the ship's log it was simply recorded that the boy had "fallen
overboard." Oshima was sharply questioned by the officers, but he could
not be induced to tell how the accident happened. Sam knew there were no
talebearers among his mates and felt safe. He made a surly apology to
the little chap, saying he was mad at having been thrown, and that he
had not meant to drown him. Oshima thereupon bowed in a dignified way
and went about his work, serving the commander in his cabin that night
as usual.
Passing the Handkerchief Lightship, the _Osprey_ dropped anchor with
the lights of Nantucket twinkling far on her beam to the south and west.
The next morning preparations were made for target-practice.
The target, towed out and anchored by a whaleboat, consisted of a
triangular raft of boards supported at each corner by an empty barrel.
On this was stepped a mast twelve feet high, with a small red flag at
the top. Three leg-of-mutton sails, or "wings," gave the craft the
appearance, at a distance, of a small catboat under sail. The _Osprey_
now took her position--the distance and course being plotted by officers
in two boats--and steamed at half-speed past the target at a distance of
about sixteen hundred yards.
The gun-crews were summoned to quarters, and the firing begun with a
six-pounder on the forecastle, followed by two three-pounders on the
same deck.
The big four-inch gun was then loaded, the officers putting cotton in
their ears to avoid injury. The first shot, weighing between thirty and
forty pounds, was dropped a little to the right of the target; the
second fell just beyond it and to the left.
"Fire on the top of the roll," cautioned the captain of the gun-crew,
which comprised four of the best gunners on the ship.
The third shot fell short, and was duly so recorded, in a memorandum to
be included in a report to the Department.
As the disappointed gunner stepped back he saw Oto, who, being a sort of
privileged character, was lingering close by, shake his head slightly.
"Perhaps you think you could do better, Jap!" said the man sharply.
Oto nodded, but remained modestly silent.
"What, did you ever fire a heavy piece of ordnance?" asked Liddon,
standing near to watch the practice.
Oto nodded again. "I could hit that target," he added simply, touching
his cap and turning away.
"Stop," said the officer. He stepped toward the bridge, and, saluting,
said: "The Japanese yonder says he is used to firing and could hit the
target, sir. Shall I let him try?"
Rexdale, who was closely noting the practice, hesitated, it being the
strict rule that no one outside the gun-crew should fire. He spoke in a
low tone to Staples, who laughed and said: "All right, sir. It's only
one shot wasted, in any case."
"Let the boy sight the piece, and fire," ordered the commander.
Oto touched his cap and adjusted the sighting apparatus to his shoulder.
His small hands fluttered a moment around the delicate machinery; then
he swung the great muzzle slightly upward and to the right. The ship
rose on a long swell, and just as it hung on the crest came the roar of
the great gun.
An instant's pause was followed by a cheer from the men; for as the
smoke drifted away, behold, there was no target to be seen!
"He must have struck the base of the mast, true as a hair!" exclaimed
Rexdale, scanning the wreck of the target through his glass. "Well done,
Oto!"
The men crowded around the little fellow, clapping him on the back.
"Just his luck!" growled Sam, who was one of the gun-crew.
"Oh, let up, Sam! The boy has made a first-class shot," said a grizzled
old gunner. "Wait till you have such luck yourself!"
"You will send a boat out to pick up what is left of the target,"
ordered Rexdale, returning his glasses to their case. "We've no more
time for practice to-day. Get all your boats in and proceed, if you
please, Mr. Staples."
That night he sent for the executive and had a long talk with him. There
was something queer about those two Japanese boys, Rexdale said. Did
Staples or any of the officers know anything about them? Inquiries were
made, and the waiters themselves were closely questioned, but no
information of importance could be gained. It was learned, indeed, that
one of the ordinary seamen, Dick Scupp by name, was more "chummy" with
Oto and Oshima than any one else on board. He was a simple, long-legged,
awkward young fellow from northern Maine, who had enlisted at the
outbreak of the Spanish War, and had served before Santiago, in the
blockading squadron. He had taken a fancy to Oshima, particularly, and
it was he who had rebuked Sam's rough treatment of his Japanese friend,
just before the wrestling-match. He knew nothing, however, of the
previous lives of the two little foreigners.
Rexdale would hardly have been surprised at Oto's skill in gunnery had
he known that this meek and gentle Japanese lad had passed through the
whole course at the Naval Academy at Annapolis, graduating--under his
full name, Makoto Owari--in the first third of his class, just seven
years before Dave received his own commission!