"They've put men in the brig for less. But go ahead."
"Thanks. I proceed:
"'I was dreaming,' says good old Totten, 'I was writing to my wife
Of Chinese native customs and the joys of navy life.
But two hundred coolie men we'll need and a score of sampans wide
To get that coal aboard the ship and sail by morning tide.
No night for honest men to roam, but be sure ashore I'll go--
Mayhap in a shack on the water-side I'll find my friend Jim Joe.'
"Pay found his old-time Chinese friend and tells him what's to do.
'A thousand tons of coal I want and I'm putting it up to you.'
But Joe he looks at his Melican flend and he says: 'Me no can do--
To-night good Chinese mens they go and burn the joss-sticks--so--
And bad Chinese mens, my flend,' says Joe, with a wink or two,
'They play fan-a-tan, low-lee and mot.' Says Joe: 'Me no can do.'
"And saying the last part over again--
With another wink or two,
'They play fan-a-tan, low-lee and mot.'
Says Joe: 'Me no can do.'
"Then Pay, with a grip of Joe's pigtail, 'You mind the time--you do?--
When I pulled you out from a gunboat's snout?--and you now say: "No can do"?
Two hundred coolie boys I want and twenty sampans wide,
And twice five hundred tons aboard, so we sail by morning tide.
When I left the ship the skipper says: "Now, Pay, it's up to you!"'
Pay gives Joe's tail a gentle twitch--'Now, Joe, you must can do!'
"And Joe, with queue curled all anew, in the sleet and hail he goes
And twoscore crews of coolie boys he drags out by their toes.
'Two hundled coolie boys me want and twenty sampans wide,
And tice fi' hundled tlons on ship so she sail by morning tlide.'
And some he tore from their honest beds and some from loud wassail,
But all came out, for Joe was stout, into the sleet and hail.
"And two hundred lusty coolie boys
With twenty sampans wide,
Laid twice five hundred tons to where
The ship in stream did ride."
Trench laid down the sheets.
"That's not the end, Sharkey?"
"No, no. But that's the end of the Jim Joe part, which was hailed as
so masterly a performance on Pay's part--getting those sampan men and
coolies out of their beds on a night like that and to work at coaling
ship for us--that I, the uncrowned poet laureate of the Asiatic
squadron, was commissioned to do it in verse, which I proceeded to do
one night; and got that far, swinging along fine and dandy, when the
messenger called me for the mid-watch."
"And you never finished it?"
"I couldn't--not in rhyme. After that four hours' night-watch the
rhymes were all gone from me. It was a rough night. A monsoon made
out of the southeast----"
"Omit the professional jargon, Sharkey, and your professional troubles,
and remember the first law of story-telling is to tell the story."
"Wizz!" murmured Sharkey. "But, thus encouraged, I proceed. Well,
getting Jim Joe started with his twenty sampans and his two hundred
coolies was only part of Pay's job that night. The big warehouse,
where goods for our fleet and other craft were stored, was in charge of
a Chinaman we called Hoo Ling, and he knew less English than Joe, and
appreciated even less than Joe the need of quick action. The admiral's
wireless message looked just like any other wireless message to this
big chink, Hoo Ling. But it's a great thing to be a student of the
Chinese and of Chinese customs and of Chinese mental processes. Pay
wheedled Ling a little, bluffed him a little, touched on past
friendships a little, on possible future business a lot, painted a
picture of our warlike forces over to Chee Foo, touched--not too
casually--on the so much greater love which the officers and men of the
United States Navy bore for China than for Japan, and such other little
subtleties as he could invoke or invent. At last the old fellow was
moved to open up and let Pay pick out what packages were for the fleet.
"And so, with four yeomen of the ship roused from restful hammocks to
make memoranda of the addresses as fast as he pried them loose from the
main pile and called them out, and with twelve able seamen of the watch
to hustle the packages along as fast as the yeomen recorded them, and
with forty other bustling bluejackets to load them into the boats, Pay
tore into that pile of freight, which was about as high and twice as
long and wide as a three-apartment house. There were probably four or
five thousand packages of various kinds to be overhauled, and they were
addressed in four languages--English, German, French, and Chinese. If
Pay was the only white man in that part of China who could have charmed
that impassive old storekeeper out of his bamboo bed that time of
night, he was probably likewise the only white man in port that night
who could read those Chinese shopkeepers' addresses.
"Dry goods, wet goods, hardware, grocery stuff, butcher's stuff,
jeweller's stuff, ship's stores, bales of cotton, bales of silk,
curios, souvenirs, bicycles, sewing-machines, sacks of rice, sacks of
coffee, sacks of potatoes, barrels of flour and of gasolene, auto
tires, boxes of tea, quarters of beef and of mutton, cases of
breakfast-food and of oil, packages all the way from the size of a
finger-ring to packages the size of an auto-truck. You know what a
big, husky chap Pay Totten is? Imagine him on a slushy, snowy night,
stripped to the waist, wading into that pile--feet, shoulders, knees,
hands, elbows, with his teeth almost--tearing out those packages, and
from addresses in English, French, German, and especially Chinese,
picking out flying such as were for our ships."
Trench paused. A reminiscent smile was parting his lips.
"Hurry up. Did you sail on time next morning?" demanded Carlin.
"We did. With our coal aboard and the packages for the fleet, we made
a record run and arrived in Chee Foo hours before the admiral was
looking for us. And it was the day before Christmas, and our coming
made the whole fleet happy for Christmas week, and our skipper got
'Well done!' from the flag-bridge, but--" Trench looked at Carlin and
smiled ruefully. "There's so often a but, isn't there, to the
otherwise happy tale? Among the seven hundred and odd packages
receipted for by Paymaster Totten it seems there was missing one bale
of blankets. What happened to the bale of blankets? they queried
Paymaster Totten, and 'Lord!' says poor Pay, 'how do I know? It might
've been stolen on the wharf, or dropped overboard between the wharf
and one of the ship's boats, or lost in rowing out to the ship or
hoisting it over the ship's side. There were a dozen ship's boats and
two hundred ship's men coming and going, and half a mile between the
ship and shore; and it was a black, blustering night of sleet and hail,
and there were also hundreds of coolies and dozens of sampans on the
coal. It was drive, drive, drive, from midnight to daylight--how do I
know what happened to one lone bale of blankets?'
[Illustration: "It was drive, drive, drive, from midnight to daylight."]
"However, Pay nor anybody else worried much about the blankets at the
time. Our skipper recommended, in view of Paymaster Totten's
extraordinary exertions on that night, that the bale of blankets be not
charged against his accounts. And the admiral, when he heard all the
story, approved and passed it along to Washington. But it came back.
And by and by it was sent on to Washington again. And by and by it
came back.
"And forth from us it went in due time, and for the last time, we
thought, on leaving for home by way of Suez and Guantanamo. In the
Mediterranean we picked up the European squadron and with them enjoyed
several gala occasions, notably at Alexandria, Naples, Villefranche,
and Gibraltar, at each of which ports we deemed it incumbent upon the
service to spread itself a little. And during these festivities Pay
was there with the rest of us, but between the gala-days going without
his bottle of beer with lunch, his cigar after dinner, in order that on
the great days he might be able to contribute his share toward these
receptions and yet not impair that sum--three-quarters of his pay it
was--which he sent home monthly, in order that Mrs. Pay and the five
little Pays might have food, lodging, clothes, and otherwise maintain
the little social standard of living imposed upon a naval officer's
family.
"'Thank God,' says Pay on our last day in the Mediterranean, 'we are
leaving here to-morrow!' and he hauls out his aged special full-dress
suit, and looks it over, and says with a sigh: 'I'm afraid I'll have to
lay you away, old friend; but a few thrifty months in West India winter
quarters and I may be able to replace you with a grand new shining
fellow, and so come up the home coast the gayly apparelled, dashing
naval officer of tradition.'
"And we went on to the West Indies and put in the rest of the winter
there, with Pay forgetting all about the bale of blankets, until the
night before we were to go north. On that night a steamer from New
York puts into where the fleet is, and in her mail for us is our old
friend the letter of the indorsements as to the loss of the blankets,
and now with one more indorsement since we'd last seen it, to wit: the
department saw no reason to change its original ruling as to the
responsibility for the loss of the bale of blankets, and Paymaster
Totten's accounts would be charged with the loss thereof."
Trench paused to allow a swift hot blast from Carlin to sweep through
the room. "The archaic bureaucrats!" concluded Carlin fervently.
"Yes," agreed Trench, "and yet, Carl, from their point of view----"
"A point of view which impairs high service is criminal."
Trench knitted his brows. "Maybe you're right, Carl, but--recalling
your advice about story-telling--Pay Totten, foreseeing a battleship
cruise along the North Atlantic coast this summer, with certain
pleasant but expensive ports in sight, could see where it might well
behoove him to ask for a change of venue--that is, if he ever hoped to
settle for that bale of blankets. It was costing him thirty dollars on
the ship for his grub, which, as you know, didn't include any smokes or
an occasional bottle of beer, nor the laundry for fifteen white
suits--a fresh one every day in the tropics--and a few other sundry
items, not to mention other minor but inescapable items.
"So Pay thought it all over, and on his way north he put in his
request, and two days ago he got his orders; and yesterday he left us.
And this morning--look!"--from the pile of letters atop of his desk
Trench selected one. "This came. Listen:
"DEAR SHARKEY:
"We're sailing to-day for the West African coast to look into Liberian
matters. And in that country, where you're likely any time to fall in
with a member of the cabinet sitting barefooted in the middle of the
road peeling potatoes, the wear and tear on uniforms won't probably be
over-heavy. And if there should happen to be any _recherché_ affairs
when we move onto the Congo coast, I am only hoping that the natives
won't inspect too closely any special full-dress paymaster's coat which
should be blue but, as it happens, is green in the region of the seams.
And after the West African sojourn we are bound for a little jaunt of a
thousand miles or so up the Amazon, where I learn--and I've taken some
trouble to learn--we won't have to wear full dress at all, not even
when calling upon the tribal high chiefs. I'll come home yet with that
old full-dress standby--if it isn't blown off my back during some
tropical typhoon.
"It's a great thing, Sharkey, the being allowed two months' advance pay
on leaving for foreign service. For me it means that Mrs. Totten and
the children can have their little place and their one little maid at
the little beach which did them all so much good last summer, and, if
they're economical, maybe an occasional trip to the movies.
"And so I am leaving almost happy. Of course, the good-by and that two
years made me feel a bit lumpy and lonesome leaving them, but the race
would be too easy if we didn't carry some little extra weight, wouldn't
it? As to the bale----"
Trench looked up. "There's something else, personal stuff, which
doesn't concern the story." He laid down the letter and looked up. "I
couldn't help hearing a word or two of what your friend the congressman
was saying to-day--half the ward-room also heard it, I guess. There's
a case for him, Carl, if he's the right kind--a special bill to
reimburse Totten."
Carlin jumped to his feet. "You're right, Sharkey. And he isn't the
worst in the world. I'll put it up to him right now, if he's still
aboard."
Congressman Flavin was still aboard, but also was bursting with
something to tell. "What d'y'know, Carlin--nine hundred and odd
sailors aboard this ship and not home once in ten years to vote."
"Why----"
"And you ask me to vote for bills for a lot of people that ain't ever
home to vote. I wouldn't 'a' known only I was speaking to a couple of
'em happened to live in my district, and they told me."
"That's all right, J. J., but forget that voting stuff for a minute and
listen to me." And briefly, rapidly, and not without art, Carlin
retold the story--retold it in prose entirely--of Paymaster Totten and
the bale of blankets. When he had done he added: "Now, J. J., what do
you think of a man doing a good job like that and losing out by it?"
"Always the way, Carlin--always," replied the Honorable Flavin briskly.
"What most of these fellows on these ships need is a little course in
practical politics. Why didn't that paymaster sit tight in his bunk,
the time his captain came to him with that hurry-up message, and tell
him he couldn't get any coolies or sampans? If he'd just rolled over
in his bunk and said, 'Captain, it can't be done,' or if he'd gone
ashore and made a bluff it couldn't be done, he wouldn't 'a' had any
bale of blankets to pay for--see? This doing things you don't have to
do, and nothing in it for yourself when you do do 'em--that's kid's
work."
"All fine, J. J., but how about Christmas for the fleet?"
"Christmas? Let 'em look out for their own Christmas! He'd be getting
his pay envelope every week just the same, wouldn't he?"
"Fine again--and as beautifully practical as you always are, J. J. But
how about doing what Totten thought was his duty?"
"Duty? That ain't duty--that's foolishness. Duty's doing what you got
to do, not doing something just to make a good fellow of yourself."