A SCRAP IN MALTA.
The lieutenant-commander rubbed his eyes and stared at the little brown
man in utter amazement.
"Oto!" he exclaimed at length. "You here?"
"Yes, sir," replied Oto, placing a steaming cup of hot coffee at the
right hand of the officer.
"Come round here where I can see you. When did you come on board?"
"This morning, sir, at about three bells."
"Who brought you? Did you swim back?" demanded Rexdale, still mystified.
"No, sir. I came in the _Kiku's_ boat," said Oto, showing his white
teeth in a genial smile. "There was fog. The _Osprey_ was going at less
than half speed, and the lookouts did not see me. We came very quiet."
"Well, what have you got to say for yourself, any way?" asked Dave,
irritated at the boy's self-possession. "Do you know I can put you in
irons for deserting the ship?"
The little Jap spread his arms, in deprecation. "Very sorry," said he
humbly. "It was all mistake. Captain Osara wanted to give me message. He
did not wish me to leave ship. All mistake. So I come back. Captain
Osara say he apologise. Here his letter," and he handed a sealed missive
to the commander, who impatiently tore open the daintily folded sheet.
It was covered with Japanese characters.
"Read it to me," said Dave, handing the letter to Oto, who translated as
follows:
"SHIP 'KIKU,'
"ROYAL NAVY OF JAPAN.
"To the Honourable
"DAVID REXDALE,
"Commanding U. S. Ship _Osprey_.
"Am desirous to tender most humble apologies to your august
presence for having taken to my ship the man Oto, whom I restore
tremblingly to you. Augustly condescend to grant your forgiveness,
and accept my joyful congratulation on your august health and the
beauty and majesty of your ship.
"Respectful veneration,
"OSARA."
"Well," said Rexdale, smiling, in spite of his vexation, at the language
of the apology, "what was the message?"
But neither threats nor persuasion could induce Oto to divulge the
nature of the communication which had been of sufficient importance to
take a naval vessel out of her way and to lead her commander to play
such a daring trick--for such it evidently was, in spite of his polite
phrases--on a United States war-ship. Oshima in his turn was closely
questioned, but professed entire ignorance of the matter.
"I've not a particle of doubt," said Rexdale, talking it over with
Staples, "that it has some connexion with the strained relations between
Russia and Japan. He's a dangerous fellow to have on board, this Oto,
with his skill at gunnery, his high-bred manners, and his mysterious
disappearances and appearances. When we reach Hongkong I shall dismiss
both Japs. They might get us into a heap of trouble."
Staples quite agreed with Dave, and, with a careful record of the
episode in the ship's log, the affair was closed.
Two weeks later the _Osprey_ dropped her anchor off the quay in the
inner harbour of Valetta, the principal seaport of Malta. Rexdale's
first care was to cable his arrival to the Department; next, to mail his
report of the voyage; third, to send a long letter to Hallie, his wife,
who would be waiting, even more anxiously than the Secretary of the
Navy, to hear from him. At the telegraph office he found a dispatch
from Washington, ordering him to hold the _Osprey_ at Valetta until
further instructions from the Department. He knew that he would need
time for coaling, and informed the other officers of the ship that they
would probably spend at least a week at their present anchorage, which
had been designated by the harbour-master.
The next two days were busy ones. All hands worked hard and became grimy
from head to foot with coal dust. At length the jackies forward heard
the welcome order: "Shift into clean blue, the liberty party!" Working
in the intense heat of a Mediterranean July, the men had been stripped
to their waists. Now they sluiced one another down with the hose, and
gladly slipped on their spruce shore-going togs. With strict injunctions
to be on board before dark, thirty of the crew were permitted to land.
Midshipman Starr went ashore with Ensigns Liddon and Dobson.
"There's only one thing I want to see," announced Starr, "and that's a
real, genuine Maltese cat, proudly standing on her native soil. I
suppose the streets are full of 'em." He and Dobson had never before
visited the city of Valetta, but "Doc." Liddon was well informed as to
its history and attractions, having spent several weeks there before he
joined the Naval Academy.
The moment the three young officers set foot on the quay, they were
beset by vendors of all sorts of trinkets, especially those of silver
filigree-work.
"What sort of money do they use here?" asked Dobson.
"English, of course," replied Liddon. "The island is one of the choicest
jewels in the British crown, and----"
"Lend me a dollar's worth of shillings, will you?" interrupted the
other, "and tell me about the jewels later, Doc. I want to buy that
bracelet for 'the girl I left behind me,' if the price isn't too high."
The seller parted with the pretty ornament for one shilling, and the
trio, waving aside the rest of the merchants, moved on.
"Where shall we go first?" asked Liddon.
"Just show me one good cat--" began Bob, earnestly, "and I'll----"
"Oh drop your cats, Bob! Take us to the best view, to begin with,
Liddon."
"Well, let's go up to Fort St. Elmo. That overlooks both harbour
basins."
"Whew! Hot's the word!" exclaimed Bob Starr, wiping his brow as they
gained the ramparts of the old fortress. "Now, while we are cooling off,
tell us about this aged ruin which the _Osprey_ could make over into
cracked stone for a macadamised road in about five minutes."
"It isn't a ruin yet, young man," said the ensign, taking off his cap
to enjoy the breeze, "and the _Osprey's_ rifled four-inch would have to
toss a good many shot up here to produce road material, I can tell you.
But three hundred-and-odd years ago--in 1565, to be exact--this old fort
held off a big fleet and land force for four months. The Knights of St.
John defended it in great style. Sultan Solyman, who had driven the
Knights from Rhodes thirty-four years before, made up his mind that
Malta was too good for them. He brought about a hundred and forty
vessels and an army of thirty-odd thousand men, to give them a
thorough-going house-warming.
"Were there any cats--" began Starr; but the lecturer proceeded without
noticing the interruption.
"These forces were reinforced, if I remember rightly"--(Cries of "Oh,
you do! you _do_!" from the audience)--"were afterwards increased by a
lot of corsairs from Algiers and pirates from Tripoli. When the fort
seemed on the point of breaking up, after four months' battering, the
few Knights that were left entered that little chapel over there,
received the rites of the Church--the _viaticum_--and went out to start
on their last journey. They were cut to pieces by the Turks; but two
outworks still resisted and fought off the besiegers until help arrived
from Sicily. Out of eight or nine thousand defenders, only six hundred
were left to join in the _Te Deum_ (you know the Knights were a
religious order) as the Turks sailed off."
"O my, look at this!" Starr suddenly broke in. "Isn't she a dear!"
The officers looked up and saw an extremely pretty girl approaching,
attended by a maid.
"What on earth is that thing on her head?" queried Dobson under his
breath. "It looks like a stu'n'sail!"
"It's a _faldetta_," said Liddon. "Most of the ladies, the natives, I
mean, wear them."
The young men rose from their seats on the bastion, and raised their
hats as the girl passed. She flushed and bowed, then looked down
demurely, and hurried on.
"What language do they speak?" demanded Bob, hastily. "If I only knew, I
could ask her about Maltese----"
"Don't get agitated, my son," said Liddon, calmly, "and don't address
any young ladies without an introduction. As for their language, it's a
mixture of Portuguese and Arabic----"
"That'll do," groaned Bob, with a heavy sigh. "There's no danger of my
breaking out in her native tongue. What's next on the programme?"
"Well, we'll take a stroll through the principal street and visit the
Church of St. John, which was built by the Knights a few years after
the siege."
The street itself was full of interest to the young Americans.
Sauntering along--themselves attracting no little favourable attention
in their natty white uniforms--they met cabmen driving their little
horses at full speed, English ladies elegantly dressed side by side with
the natives in their huge black one-sided hoods, flocks of goats, to be
milked at the doors of customers, smart British officers, swarthy-faced
Hindoos, and beggars without end.
"This is the Church of St. John," said Liddon, as the naval party
entered an imposing portal, flanked by two huge towers. "Here the
Knights used to worship, when they were not otherwise engaged----"
"To wit, in fighting!" interpolated Starr. "Well, I must say those old
fellows did well whatever they undertook. Look at those marbles and
paintings!"
With hushed voices the three young men passed down the long aisle, to
one of the chapels where they were shown various relics which, Liddon
said, had been held in the deepest veneration by the builders of the
church in those strange old days. There were some of the bones of St.
Thomas of Canterbury, one of the stones cast at St. Stephen, the right
foot of Lazarus, and a thorn from the sacred crown. However sceptical
the Americans might have been as to the genuineness of these relics,
they showed in their faces and demeanour only their respect for the
belief of those who treasured them. A party of tourists came up at the
same time, and two or three pretty girls giggled effusively over the
objects displayed.
"Come on!" muttered Dobson in disgust. "Let's get out of this. There are
times when I'm ashamed of my race!" and turning on their heels the young
men left the church.
The gay scenes in the sunny street restored their good humour, and they
visited successively a catacomb chapel--where the vaults were ornamented
with fantastically arranged bones of departed monks and knights--an old
city gate, and some interesting rock-hewn depositories of grain.
"Not a cat yet, except a yellow one that don't count!" murmured Bob
sadly, as they turned their steps toward the final great attraction of
Valetta, the Governor's Palace, in St. George's Square.
"It was formerly," explained their omniscient guide, "the palace of the
Grand Master of the Knights of St. John, and contains some of the
principal treasures of the Order. Here is the Armory," he added, as they
entered a large hall, containing rows of figures clad in antique armour,
and a wealth of weapons and armour of ancient times. Here, too, was the
sword, battle-axe, and coat-of-mail of the leader of the corsairs who
assisted the Turks in the famous siege of Fort St. Elmo; the trumpet
which sounded the retreat of the Knights from Rhodes, in 1523; and a
cannon made of a copper tube and wound with tarred rope, used by the
Turks, Liddon said, during their siege of that island.
"Compare it with one of the twelve-inch turret rifles on our modern
battle-ships!" exclaimed Dobson. "Why, I'd rather have a good navy
revolver to fight with than this ropy thing!"
For two or three hours more (a rest being taken at a small restaurant)
the officers wandered about the streets of Valetta. Liddon regaled his
companions with details of its history, including its capture by
Napoleon in 1798, the subsequent two-years siege when the Maltese had
risen in revolt against their captors, and its formal cession to the
English in 1814.
"It's no use, boys, I'm used up," said Dobson at length. "I'm off for
the ship; you can come or stay, as you like."
"Oh, we'll go along, too," said Starr. "I should have left an hour ago,
but I wanted to see how long Liddon _could_ keep it up, before the pumps
sucked. He'd make his fortune as a filibusterer against an unpopular
bill in the Senate!"
They passed along the Strada Reale--"Royal Street"--for the last time,
and were just turning down toward the harbour when a slight commotion on
the sidewalk ahead attracted their attention. A knot of people had
gathered around a group in which some sort of altercation was going on.
"Hold on a minute," cried the midshipman, "let's see what's up."
The three inseparables pushed their way into the crowd, the outer
portion of which was composed of good-natured Maltese and a variety of
street-loungers. Within this circle were a dozen sailors from a small
Russian cruiser in port. They, in their turn, had corralled a couple of
small brown men whom their tormentors were hustling rudely as if to
provoke a resistance which would afford an excuse for rougher treatment.
The officers from the _Osprey_ simultaneously recognised the victims of
this assault, and with a howl of indignation from Bob, and a stern
"Stand aside, men!" from Liddon, they pulled off the Russian
blue-jackets and took their stand beside the Japanese, who were no other
than Oto and Oshima.
"_Amerikanski!_" snarled the sailors as they noted the uniforms of the
intruders and closed in again, while the throng of idlers increased.
"What's the matter, my lads?" said Dobson to the stewards, who seemed in
no wise discomposed, but stood quietly awaiting a favourable moment for
withdrawal.
"We do no harm," said Oshima, when both had given the naval salute.
"These men, these Russians"--(it is impossible to describe the tone of
lofty contempt with which he pronounced the word, looking around at the
burly tars, each a full head taller than himself)--"they stop us here in
the street and call us bad names and dare us to fight--the big
men--cowards!"
Perhaps it was fortunate for the little Jap that the Russian sailors
could not understand a word of English; but the general tenor of his
remarks was only too plain from his tones and gestures. The assailants
closed in again with a volley of incomprehensible expletives and
unmistakably threatening gestures. Liddon was violently shoved aside.
This was more than he could stand.
"Take that, you bully!" he cried, planting a quick, nervous blow
straight between the eyes of the fellow who had jostled him.
The man fell over against his comrades--the street was too crowded to
allow him to drop outright--and the inner circle enlarged; but only for
a moment. The sailors, half of whom were intoxicated, rushed forward
with a roar of rage. Before they reached the officers, whose prospects
of gaining their ship in safety seemed decidedly poor, Oto spoke a
swift word to his chum, and each darted upon a Russian. It was like a
terrier charging a bloodhound; but with a lightning-like grasp and twist
of the arm the diminutive assailants brought to the ground their bulky
adversaries, screaming with pain. Then the Japanese ducked under the
arms of the nearest bystanders and disappeared as if by magic.
Another momentary diversion had been effected by this quick and
unexpected display of _jiu-jitsu_, but now the sailors were about to
charge again. The unarmed young officers stood on guard, their fists
advanced.
"You take that big chap with a black beard, Bob," said Liddon hastily,
"and I'll engage the brute next to him. Dob., you look out for the
beauty with red hair. Steady, now, fellows, here they come!"
But before the two parties fairly clashed, a ringing shout rent the air.
"Hooroar, byes, it's a scrap!" shouted a jovial voice well known to the
Americans. Then the tone changed. "Ah--h--sure it's the darlints of
ensigns and the middy from the _Osprey_! Come on, byes, let 'em have
it!"
The officers were glad enough of reinforcements to overlook the slight
to their dignified rank on board ship. In a moment the affair was over.
Half a dozen Russians were rolling in the dust, while the rest fell back
in disorder before the onslaught of the _Osprey's_ jackies, led by Pat
Ryan and Dick Scupp, who, it afterwards turned out, had been directed to
the spot by Oto, and had rushed ahead with no clear idea of what was the
matter until they caught sight of the white duck and gold braid of their
own officers' uniforms.
"Down to the boats in a hurry, lads!" shouted Liddon, leading the way,
as he heard cries of "Police! Police!" on the outskirts of the throng.
A rush for the quay, and the _Osprey_ men scrambled into their boats,
taking the two Japanese with them. The Russians gathered on the steps
shaking their fists at the "Amerikanski," but no further harm was done,
and in a few minutes the "liberty party," officers and all, were safe on
board the gunboat.
"'Twas a lively brush, sir," said Ensign Liddon, reporting the affair to
Rexdale; "but I think nothing will come of it. We must keep away, and
keep our men away, from Russians just now, when their feeling against
Americans is running pretty high."
"Very true," said the lieutenant-commander, smiling. "I'm glad it was no
worse. And Oto, Oshima, no more shore leave for you, while the _Neva_ is
in port!"
Liddon proved to be right in his conjecture. The police, arriving just
too late to witness the affray, and seeing that trouble had arisen
between sailors of different nationalities, hardly went through the form
of pursuing the participants, and let the whole matter drop; such
squabbles being common in every large seaport where war-ships lie in the
stream and their crews have liberty ashore.
The _Neva_ sailed for the Baltic two days later, and within a week
Rexdale received orders from the Department to proceed eastward. Then
came a succession of wonderfully beautiful days and nights on the blue
Mediterranean, the _Osprey_ tossing the foam from her stem in showers of
sparkling silver, and startling the flying fish that flashed from wave
to wave, until the low, tawny shores of Africa came in sight.
"To think that I'm actually gazing upon Egypt!" exclaimed Bob Starr, as
he stood on the bridge one fair July morning. "Those are really the
'sands of the desert,' and that scraggy-looking feather-duster is a
palm!"
Small vessels with great ruddy lateen sails hovered about the war-ship
as she advanced. A shark's black, sickle-like fin drifted carelessly
astern while the fierce fish, all alert below the surface, watched for
prey.
Now Damietta was reached, and Port Said. The _Osprey_, awaiting her
turn, meekly entered the Canal in the rear of a big Dutch merchant
steamer. There was little for the officers or men to do, and they
clustered at the rails, and on the quarter-deck, gazing out over the
marshes and plains of Egypt--the crew blankly, for the most part; the
more highly educated graduates of Annapolis with thoughts of the great,
dim Past to which this storied land of the Pharaohs bore silent witness.
Here Abraham wandered, from Ur of the Chaldees; across those sands
marched the hordes of Rameses II., going up against the Syrians.
Now and then the ship halted in basins cut for the purpose, like
railroad sidings, to allow northbound vessels to pass. Nearly every ship
was flying the Union Jack, for three-quarters of all the tonnage that
passes through the Canal belongs to Great Britain. Next in order of
frequency came the French, Dutch, and Germans.
"Sure, it's hungry I am for the Stars and Stripes," said Pat, gazing
gloomily at a broad German ensign at Ismalia, half-way across the
Isthmus. "I'm tired o' jumpin' lions and two-headed aigles and rid
crosses!"
[Illustration: IN STRANGE WATERS]
Onward again. Here a little village of mud-huts, with its clump of
"feather-dusters," as Bob persisted in calling the palms; there a
caravan plodding along the marshes against the sky-line. Flocks of
water-fowl faring gracefully over the broad pools gave place to yellow
sands, and the sands again to clear green water and sighing reeds.
At last the good ship _Osprey_ emerged from the narrow, lonely, sluggish
stream into the sparkling waters of the Indian Ocean.