OTO'S STRANGE VISIT.
In N. Latitude 36° Longitude 72° W. from Greenwich, the commander of the
_Osprey_ opened his sealed instructions, and, having glanced over the
lines, read them aloud to his subordinate officers, as follows:
"WASHINGTON, D. C.
"_Sir_:
"Having your coal-bunkers full, and being in all respects ready for
sea, in accordance with previous directions, you will proceed with
vessel under your command to the port of Hongkong, China, where you
will report to the commander of the North Pacific Squadron. If his
flagship should be at Manila, Shanghai, or any other port at the
time of your arrival, you will follow him to that port without
delay, and report as above. In view of the present critical state
of affairs in the East, and the attitude of Russia and Japan, the
_Osprey_ should proceed with all possible dispatch. The crew is to
be constantly drilled, the passage of the ship not to be delayed
thereby. You will follow the usual route by way of Gibraltar and
the Suez Canal, and will call at Malta (Valetta) for further
instructions.
"Very respectfully,
"---- ----, _Secretary_.
"LIEUTENANT-COMMANDER DAVID REXDALE,
"Commanding U. S. S. _Osprey_.
"(Through Commandant, Navy Yard, Washington)."
A half-suppressed cheer broke from the circle of blue-coated officers
around the cabin table, as Rexdale concluded his reading.
"There's nothing said about ammunition," observed Stapleton,
significantly.
"The Department knows that our magazines are well provided," said
Rexdale. "I reported on all classes of ammunition just before we sailed
from Boston."
"Shall we have a chance to use it?--that's the question," put in the
young midshipman. "Oh, I do hope there'll be a scrimmage!"
"We're at peace with every nation on the globe," remarked Paymaster Ross
with emphasis. "How can there be a fight? We've nothing to do with the
quarrel between Japan and Russia."
"I hope the little fellows will win out, if there's war coming,"
exclaimed Dr. Cutter heartily. "I'm always in favour of the under dog."
"Who is the under dog? The Japs have the enormous advantage of a home
base," said Stapleton. "I don't know enough of the situation to be sure
which to sympathise with, big, sturdy Russia with all Asia between him
and St. Petersburg, or snappy, shrewd little Nippon. Perhaps there won't
be any war, after all."
"I don't see that we are in it, anyway," said Rexdale, rising. "Probably
all our ship will have to do will be to hang round on guard, and
protect American interests----"
"And be ready for squalls!" finished the irrepressible Starr, as the
group filed out of the cabin, while the commander repaired to his
stateroom to plot the course for Gibraltar.
The fact that the _Osprey_ was bound for Pacific waters soon spread
through the ship. Most of the jackies were delighted, and were
enthusiastic over the prospect of a "scrap" with somebody, they did not
much care whom. A heated discussion arose, forward, as to the merits of
the two nations which were supposed to be preparing for war. In the
midst of the excited talk a black-and-white kitten made her way into the
group and gave a careless little lap with her rough tongue at a hand
which was braced against the deck. The hand, a rough and knotty one,
taking no notice of her attentions, she drew her sharp little claws
playfully across it.
This time the owner of the hand, who was no other than Sam Bolles,
started so suddenly that he almost rolled over; then, vexed at the
laughter which greeted him, he caught the kitten up savagely and swung
his arm as if about to throw it overboard.
Now Sneezer, the kitten, was a special pet of Dick Scupp. Dick gave a
roar at seeing the danger of the animal, and flung himself bodily upon
Sam, who went over backward in a heap, relinquishing the kitten
(fortunately for her) as he did so.
"Well, I never seed sech kids fer quarrelin'," said old Martin, the
gunner, philosophically watching the two men as they rolled about the
deck, scattering kits and boxes and bringing up against the shins of
more than one of their comrades. "Come off, Sam, and let the youngster
alone! Let go, will you (for Sam was pulling Dick's stringy locks with
vigour)? Here comes Jimmy Legs. Let him up, Dick!"
"Jimmy Legs," whose real name was Hiram Deering, was chief
master-at-arms. The duties of his office, on a war-ship, are perhaps
more multifarious than that of any man on board. He is an enlisted man,
rated a chief petty officer, and wears the eagle rating-badge. Forward
of the mainmast his word is law at any hour of the day or night. Aft,
his word is taken by the commander, the executive, and by all other
officers.
The mettle in a chief master-at-arms, or "Jimmy Legs," as he is
universally known among the men, is always thoroughly known aft before
he is rated. He need not be a bully, but he must be a natural "master of
the situation," and of men, in an emergency as well as in the routine of
navy life. The Legs is privileged to take matters into his own hands, up
forward, when occasion demands. If necessity arises for him to knock a
man down, it is the business of Legs to know how to do it with science
and despatch.
The master-at-arms of an American war-ship is always a man who has seen
many years of service in the navy, and passed through most of the
inferior ratings of the enlisted men. He is a man whose blue-jacket
experience has taught him every trick of the naval sailor, every phase
of forecastle life. Hiram could neither be cajoled nor outwitted. He was
stern with evil-doers, but was the most popular man forward, in the
_Osprey_.
At dawn Jimmy Legs's duties begin, when the men turn out to clean ship.
The chief boatswain's mate is nominally the "boss" of the job, but it is
Legs who sees that the men do not growl or quarrel at their work, as
sleepy men will at such an hour and task.
Mess gear for breakfast is piped. The men rush to the tables. A
bluejacket with shoes on steps on the foot of the bluejacket who is
shoeless. Biff-bang! The Legs may be 'way aft on the poop watching the
after-guard sweepers at their work; but he is a man of instinct. In a
dozen bounds he is at the scene of the scrap.
"Chuck it! The Legs!" is the word there. The scrappers break away, and
when the Legs shows up they are seated side by side at their mess table,
quietly taking morning coffee.
It is the business of Jimmy Legs to make a tour of inspection through
the ship just before "morning quarters." The ship is then supposed to be
in shape for the commanding officer's approval, and the men's
wearing-gear all stowed away in ditty bags. It never is. There is always
to be found a shirt hastily thrown here, a shoe lying loose there, a
neckerchief and lanyard hanging over a ditty-box. This gear the Legs
gathers in impartially, no matter to whom it belongs, and thrusts into
the "Lucky Bag" (which is generally known by a far more opprobrious
epithet), which he keeps for that purpose.
The only way the owner of the gear may get it back is by reporting
himself at the mast, that is, to the commanding officer, for remissness
in stowing gear, which means, generally, a lopping off of liberty
privileges. Every month the contents of the bag of gear thus accumulated
are sold aboard at auction to the highest bidder among the jackies.
Finally, there is hardly a day in port that the Legs is not sent ashore
along toward noon to hunt up derelicts. These are liberty-breakers
carousing in town regardless of the fact that their services aboard are
needed, and that punishment awaits them when they return for overstaying
their leaves. Jimmy Legs is called for by the commander and gets a list
of the men to be returned.
Into the steam-cutter hops Legs, and away he goes after the derelicts.
He generally returns with them. He may be gone for some hours, or for a
day, but when he comes off to the ship, in shore boat or cutter, he has
the men he went after along with him.
So much for Jimmy Legs, whose never-ending and varied duties Hiram
Deering, a grizzled old man-o'-warsman, performed most admirably on the
_Osprey_.
The two men were pulled apart and the others had hardly gathered up
their scattered ditty-bags and personal belongings when a commotion was
observed among the officers on the bridge. They were gazing through
their glasses at a puff of smoke on the north-western horizon. In the
course of fifteen minutes it had grown to a small-sized cloud.
"She must have legs, to overhaul us in this way," observed Ensign
Dobson, with his binocular at his eyes. "How much were we making at the
last log, quartermaster?"
"Fifteen strong, sir."
"Then that fellow's doing a good twenty," added the officer. "Can you
make him out, Mr. Liddon?"
"It looks to me like a 'destroyer,'" replied the other, readjusting the
lenses of his glass. "It's a rather small, black craft, walking up on us
hand over fist."
"Bo'sun!" called Dobson to a man who stood near on the lower deck.
"Yes, sir!"
"Set the ensign."
"Aye, aye, sir!"
"There goes his flag!" said Dobson, excitedly.
"I can't make out what it is, but we'll soon know. Shall I slow down a
bit, sir?" he asked the lieutenant-commander, who had joined the other
officers on the bridge.
"Not yet," said Rexdale. "We can't afford to tie up for every fellow
that wants to speak us. Let him come up. He'll signal his business soon,
if he's really after us."
The stranger approached rapidly, and could now be seen with the naked
eye, as was attested by the watch on deck lining the bulwarks. There was
no apprehension, as the United States had no enemies afloat; still the
appearance, so far out at sea, of an unknown vessel bearing down swiftly
on the _Osprey_, was enough to attract the lively attention of
forecastle as well as cabin.
The kitten episode was quite forgotten, as the men thronged to the rail.
"Ah," exclaimed a brawny Irishman, waving his bare arm in the direction
of the stranger, "w'ot a pity it ain't war-toimes now! Sure it's a
lovely bit av a foight we'd be lookin' for, wid that smoker!"
"War nothin'!" retorted the old gunner. "I'm willin' to keep me arms and
legs on fur a while longer. What's the use o' bein' shot to pieces,
anyway!"
"Why don't he h'ist his ens'n?" growled another of the crew. "Manners is
manners, I say."
"It is h'isted," said Scupp, "only ye can't see it, 'cos it blows
straight out forrard on this west wind he's comin' afore. The officers
up there'll soon be makin' it out, I reckon."
But the uniformed group on the bridge had no such easy task. They
scrutinised the flag again and again, without success.
"I can't make the thing out," said Dobson, lowering the glasses, "can
you, Mr. Liddon?"
"Can't say I can. It blew out once, and looked like nothing I ever saw
before--a sort of twenty-legged spider in the centre. It's like nothing
I ever saw in these waters. If we were on the Asiatic coast----"
"Who has the sharpest eyes among the men, quartermaster?" enquired the
commander.
"I rather think, sir, them Japs can see the farthest."
"Orderly," ordered Rexdale, beckoning to a marine on duty, "find one of
the cabin stewards and send him to the bridge at once."
Hardly a minute elapsed before Oto glided gracefully up the ladder and
saluted.
"Take these glasses and see if you can make out that fellow's ensign,"
said Rexdale.
Oto lifted the binocular to his slanting eyes and picking up the
approaching steamer gave it a swift glance. A moment sufficed. Then he
returned the glasses to the commander, his face alight.
"Japanese, sir," he said simply. "That the flag of Japanese navy."
Dobson so far forgot his dignity as to slap his thigh.
"That's so!" he exclaimed. "I remember it well enough now. What on earth
can a Jap torpedo destroyer want in these waters?"
"We shall soon find out--where's that boy? Gone already? Of course it
excites him to see a part of his own navy so near. Stand by for signals,
Mr. Dobson. Have your man ready, and get out your book." Dave's eyes
were again scrutinising the approaching vessel as he gave the orders.
When the stranger was within about half a mile she rounded to a course
parallel with that of the _Osprey_, showing her long, vicious hull,
black and low in the water; and slowed down to keep from running away
from the American ship. Presently a line of small flags fluttered up to
her masthead.
Dobson examined them closely through the glass, then turned to his
signal-book. "One--three--seven--five--here she is--the _Kiku_--that's
Jap for Chrysanthemum, isn't it? Run up the answering pennant,
signalman. Then haul it down and set our number."
The introduction having thus been politely performed, the _Kiku_, first
answering the _Osprey's_ number, hoisted another line of flags.
"H'm, they have our signals pat," muttered Dobson, turning the leaves of
his book. "Here it is, Captain. 'Wish to communicate. Have message
for--' for whom I wonder? Answer, signalman. There goes the second half
of the signal: 'man on board your ship.' Well, that's cool! What shall
we reply, sir?"
"Answer: 'Send boat with message--hurry,'" said Dave, frowning. "I don't
like to stop, but the message may be important. I suppose it's for me,
only the Japanese don't know enough to say so. Slow down,
quartermaster."
"Slow, sir." And the indicator swung to that mark.
"Half speed."
"Half speed, sir."
"Now, full stop."
"Full stop, sir," and the engines of the _Osprey_ were still.
The _Kiku_ had taken similar measures, and changing her course,
approached to within a hundred rods.
Down came her starboard quarter-boat, with beautiful precision. The
oars fell together as the boat left the ship's side, and started toward
the _Osprey_.
A ladder was thrown over, but the Japanese stopped abruptly, backing
water when two or three boats' lengths distant, and turning, rowed a
slow stroke to keep abreast the gangway of the gunboat, which had not
lost her way. The officer in charge rose to his feet and raised his cap
courteously.
"You have Japanese on board, sir, name Oto?" he called out.
"Yes, sir. What of it?"
"My captain wish to see him."
Rexdale gave a little start of irritation. "Leave your message for the
boy," he shouted. "He's my cabin steward. I can't hold my ship for him
to visit you."
While this conversation was in progress, a slight, diminutive figure had
glided into the crowd of men overhanging the rail on the deck below. On
hearing Rexdale's answer he called out a few rapid words in his own
language to the officer in the boat. The latter answered, and the boat
lay up alongside. Before any one realized what Oto was about, he had
climbed the rail like a monkey and dropped into the strange boat, which
immediately headed for the _Kiku_.
[Illustration: "OTO CLIMBED THE RAIL LIKE A MONKEY."]
"Here!" shouted Rexdale, angrily, "What are you about? Bring back that
boy! He belongs to my ship!"
The Japanese officer half turned in his seat, waved his hat most
courteously, and spoke to his men; with the result that they pulled
harder than ever.
"Start her!" cried out Rexdale, furious with rage.
"Start her, sir," repeated the phlegmatic quartermaster, throwing over
the electric indicator.
"Full speed ahead!"
"Full speed ahead, sir."
"Now port your helm! Look sharp!"
"Port, sir."
But by the time the _Osprey_ had fair steerage-way the stranger, veering
in to shorten the distance, had picked up her boat and was pouring
volumes of black smoke from her funnels as she too forged ahead. Her
bows slowly swung to the northward.
The captain on her bridge waved his hat.
Dave set his teeth hard. "I'd like to send a shot across her bows!" he
muttered, glaring at the audacious destroyer which was plainly running
away from them. The jackies looked up eagerly at him, with their hands
on the breach of the four-inch rifle; not a few fists were shaken at the
departing stranger. It was a temptation, but the commander overcame it.
"It won't do to open fire, just for a steward," he said to his
subordinates, who were standing at his side with scowling faces. "On
her course, quartermaster!"
"On her course, sir. East by south, quarter south."
"It's a regular insult," stormed Liddon, for once shaken out of his
regularly calm demeanour. "It's abduction on the high seas! It's piracy,
that's what it is!"
"More like the press-gang," said Dobson, laconically.
"Well," said Rexdale, after a pause, "Japan will have to apologise for
that little performance when we've reached a cable port."
"Is Oto an American citizen?" enquired Liddon.
"I'm afraid not. I never heard him speak of naturalisation."
"Then I suppose it's hardly an international episode," said the other,
recovering his usual dignity of speech. "Perhaps the boy is an escaped
criminal. At worst, I'm afraid the captain of the _Kiku_ has only been
guilty of bad manners."
"I shall report the incident to the Department at the first
opportunity," said the commander decisively. "They can do what they like
about it."
But Rexdale did not make the report. The next morning he was waited
upon, to his utter bewilderment, by Oto himself, obsequious, deft, and
silent as of old!