THE MEN BEHIND THE GUNS
By the time Fortress Monroe was reached it was quite dark, so but little
could be seen outside of those sturdy and frowning walls behind which
were concealed the heavy guns intended to protect the entrance to
Chesapeake Bay.
The warships rode at anchor some distance beyond. To the squadron had
just been added the protected cruiser _Minneapolis_, and the _New
Orleans_ and _St. Paul_ were also expected, and all was a buzz of
excitement alongshore.
"They'll be off before long," said one old soldier. "I know because I
saw one of the captains saying good-by to his family. Such a parting
means a good deal."
"I understand a Spanish warship was sighted last night," put in another.
"We may have a fight right here unless Schley keeps his eyes open."
"Oh, he's got the _Scorpion_ out on scout duty--she can take care of any
sneak work," was the answer. He referred to the gunboat _Scorpion_ of
the auxiliary navy, which was doing duty just beyond the capes. The
_Scorpion_ was fast, and carried a strong searchlight, so it was likely
nothing could pass her without being detected and the alarm being given.
Alarms were numerous, but they were likewise all false, for no Spanish
ship of war came anywhere near our coast.
A boat was in waiting at the wharf, and Walter, Si, and the others were
ordered aboard without delay. The boat was manned by eight sturdy
jackies.
"Up oars!" came the command, and up went the eight blades straight into
the air; "Let fall!" and the oars fell into the water; "Give way!" and
the blades moved in a clock-like stroke, and they were off to the ships.
It was destined to be many a day before Walter should set foot on land
again.
"Halt! who goes there?" came suddenly from out of the darkness, and
Walter saw that they were lying beside what looked to be a bulging wall
of dark-colored steel.
"Aye! aye!" was the answer, and there followed a short talk. "Got ten of
them, sir," said the wardroom officer, in charge of the small boat. Then
a rope ladder was thrown down, and the newcomers clambered aboard the
warship that was to be their home for so long to come.
Walter gazed about him eagerly, but that look was hardly satisfactory,
for to the darkness was now added a heavy fog through which the ship's
lights shone but faintly. All had their baggage, and without ceremony
they were told to fall in, and were then marched below by order of the
officer of the deck.
"This looks like home to me," exclaimed Caleb Walton, as he gazed around
the berth deck. "I went over the _Brooklyn_ many a time when she was up
at the navy-yard, so I know her from stem to stern." He took Walter by
the arm. "Here is the baby I hope to manage," he whispered, and pointed
to one of the starboard monsters, whose long muzzle pointed frowningly
outward. "Isn't she a daisy?"
"I suppose she is," was the boy's reply. "But how in the world do you
manage such a mass of metal? Surely a man can't do it by hand."
"It might be done by hand, but nowaday everything is worked by
electricity and hydraulic pressure. You'll learn it all after you have
been on board awhile. At present just do what you are told and keep your
eyes open."
Supper had been served some time before, but as it was not intended to
let the newcomers go hungry, a table was set and they messed together.
The swinging table and the tableware all interested Walter, especially
when he was provided with his own personal cup, plate, spoon, knife, and
fork.
"As a gunner I'll mess with the other warrant officers," exclaimed Caleb
Walton, in reply to a question about messes from Walter. "You see, there
are a great number of tables. The commodore is entitled to dine alone,
so is the captain and the commander, while the other officers have what
they call the wardroom mess. Then there are the steerage mess, for
midshipmen, ensigns, and clerks; the master-at-arm's mess, for yeomen,
machinists, boiler-makers, and so on; and three or four other messes
besides, including that to which you will belong. We gunners dine with
the boatswain, sail-maker, and carpenter."
The meal was a plain one, of bread and butter, coffee, cold corned
beef, and apple sauce, but it was well cooked, and all the new men and
boys ate heartily. As soon as it was finished, Walton hurried off to
interview Captain Cook, if he could obtain that privilege.
"Well, where are we going to sleep? I don't see any beds," said one of
the boys, a timid lad named Paul Harbig. His query brought forth a roar.
"Your bed is rolled up and lashed away, Paul," answered Si, who had
rather taken to the little lad. "Do you see those gratings over yonder?"
"Yes."
"Well, all the hammocks for this deck are stowed away behind that. When
it comes time to go to bed, we'll get them out, fasten them up to the
hooks you see about you, and there you are. And let me tell you there is
nothing finer nor a good canvas hammock to sleep in. I'll take it before
I take a greasy, dirty bunk in a buggy fo'castle every time."
"But a fellow may fall out," suggested Paul.
"If you're afraid of that, get a rope's-end and tie yourself in,"
answered Si, philosophically. "But you won't tumble, unless we strike
some putty rough weather."
The order was now passed to bring along all baggage, and Walter and Si
picked up their satchels. Thinking to take out several things he needed,
the Yankee youth opened his bag and put his hand inside.
"By ginger!" came from him in an undertone, but loud enough for Walter
to hear.
"What's up, Si?"
"Thet ten-dollar gold piece is gone!"
"Are you sure? Perhaps it has slipped among some of the clothing."
"I'll soon see," was the quick response, and the Yankee youth dumped the
articles out in a heap. Sure enough, the golden eagle was gone.
"Somebody has robbed me," came in a groan. "Now who did it, do you
suppose?"
"I'm sure I don't know. It might have been done here or on the train, or
at the depot."
Si looked around him sharply. Not far away stood Jim Haskett, watching
him intently. As soon as the ex-mate of the _Sunflower_ saw that he was
noticed he turned away.
"I've got half a notion Haskett was the one to play me foul," he
whispered to Walter. "What do you think?"
"He wouldn't be much of a man to rob a messmate of ten dollars."
"Oh, you don't know Haskett. He's as close as he is brutal. Once we got
up a list to give Captain Pepperill a birthday present, but Haskett,
although he was first mate, only gave twenty-five cents,--no more than
Cooley, the cook, chipped in. In his eyes a ten-dollar gold piece is a
big lot of money."
"It wouldn't do you any good to accuse him if you wasn't pretty certain
he was guilty," returned Walter, cautiously. "You don't want to get into
trouble right after coming on board. If you raised a row, they might put
both you and Haskett in the brig."
"I'm going to ask him about it, anyway," answered the Yankee youth.
"See, he is looking at us, and it 'pears to me as if he was enjoying
himself to see me in trouble."
Leaving his satchel and scattered clothing as they were, Si advanced
upon Haskett and without ceremony caught the man's shoulder.
"Haskett, I want to ask you something," he said, in a low tone. "Do you
know anything about this, or don't you?"
"I don't know--" The ex-mate of the _Sunflower_ stopped short. "What are
you talking about, Doring?"
"I left my satchel on the train, as you know. A ten-dollar gold piece is
missing. I want to know----"
"What! do you accuse me of taking it?" demanded the man, wrathfully.
"I asked you if you knew anything about it."
"No, I don't. I've got my own affairs to look after. More than likely
the car porter took your money--if you really had that amount."
"Well, I'm going to find that gold piece sooner or later, as sure as my
name is Si Doring," exclaimed the Yankee youth, determinedly, and with a
shake of his head he rejoined Walter and Paul Harbig.
The officer who had previously taken them in charge now came forward and
assigned them to their various sleeping places. This matter was readily
arranged, for one of the main features of the cruiser _Brooklyn_ is her
commodious berthing quarters, there being two complete decks, running
from end to end of the ship, for this purpose, also an extra forecastle,
so that the vessel can accommodate a thousand men if required--a number
nearly double that of her usual crew.
"It's a big hotel, with one room on a floor," thought Walter, as he took
the hammock assigned to him. He was glad to find Si on one side of him
and Paul Harbig on the other. Si showed both boys how to take their
canvasses and sling them. This work was just completed, when Caleb
Walton came back with a broad smile on his face.
"It's all right," he whispered to Walter. "The captain treated me better
than I thought he would. He called up the chief gunner, and we had a
talk, and you are to take the place of a man named Silvers, who has gone
lame through having a cat-block fall on his foot. If you'll only mind
yourself, and study up as I tell you, you'll have the chance of your
life."
"Study! I'm ready to begin right off," answered Walter, earnestly. "I'm
just crazy to get at that gun you pointed out to me. Can't you show me
something to-night?"
Caleb Walton laughed outright. "Don't try to learn it all before you go
to bed, Walter," he said. "Of course, you know more than some
landlubbers who think that on warships of to-day they handle the guns
as they used to, when one man took the powder and ball from the
powder-monkeys, another rammed them home in the gun, and the gunner
sighted his piece and pulled the string. Those days are gone, and a head
gunner like myself has very little to do, even if the position is a
responsible one. Come, I'll get permission to go below, and show you
just how a big gun is served from start to finish. Folks talk about 'the
man behind the gun' when they really mean from eight to twelve men."
The two hurried off, and presently descended an iron staircase which
seemed to lead into the very bowels of the ship. At last they came to a
steel trap-door, barred and locked.
"Below this door is one of the magazines," explained Caleb. "It contains
the ammunition for the eight-inch guns in the turret above. The keys to
the magazine are in the captain's cabin, and can only be had on special
order and by certain persons. The magazines are kept locked continually,
excepting when in use or when being inspected. All of them are connected
with huge water tanks, so at the first sign of a fire they can be
flooded, thus lessening the danger of an explosion."
"Yes, I remember the Spaniards tried to prove that the _Maine_ blew up
from one of her magazines."
"Such a thing couldn't happen in the American navy, because the
discipline is too strict. Now, when a gun is being served, several men
in the magazine get out the shells for the shellmen, who load them on
the ammunition hoist over there, which is nothing more than a warship
dumbwaiter. The hoist takes the shells up to the guns, in this case in
the forward turret. Other hoists supply the rear turret and the
secondary battery and other guns, including the rapid-firing weapons in
the military tops."
"You mean those platforms around the upper ends of the two masts?"
"Exactly. The tops are the places for the sharpshooters and the
range-finders."
"The range-finders?"
"Exactly. You see, it is a difficult matter to get an exact range on an
enemy several miles off, and we have to try to get the range in various
ways. One of the simplest ways is to station two range-finders in the
tops, as far away from each other as possible. Each man gets a bead on
the enemy with his glasses, and then proceeds to get the angle between
the bead and an imaginary line drawn between his station and that taken
by the other fellow. The three points--that is, the two range-finders
and the enemy--form a triangle, and having one line and the two angles
to work on, the working out of the problem gives the distance the
gunners are hunting for."
"That makes pointing a gun nothing but a mathematical problem doesn't
it?"
"It makes it partly a mathematical problem, lad. But having the distance
isn't everything, for that will only give us the height at which a gun
should be elevated in order to make its charge cover that distance and
hit the mark, instead of flying over it or ploughing the water below it.
After getting the distance we have to calculate on how the enemy's
vessel is moving, if she is under steam, and then, most important, we
have to let the gun go off at just the right motion of our own craft. In
some navies they discharge the guns on the upward roll of the ship, and
in others on the downward roll. My private opinion on that point is, a
downward roll in clear weather, and an upward roll in a choppy sea, when
you don't know just what is coming next."
"I see. Firing a gun isn't so easy as one would imagine."
"Easy enough if you want to waste ammunition, as those Spaniards did at
Manila. Gun practice is expensive, and Spain hasn't any money to waste
in that direction. Come, we'll have to get up to sleeping quarters now,"
concluded the old gunner, as a drum beat was heard sounding throughout
the warship. "That's tattoo. It will soon be two bells, nine o'clock,
and then comes pipe down."
"All right, I'm willing enough to go to sleep," said Walter. "But just
one question more. How do you count the time by bells on a warship?"
"Just the same as on any ship, lad. The bell strikes at each half-hour,
starting at half-past twelve at night, which is one bell. This makes one
o'clock, two bells, half-past one, three bells, and so on, up to four
o'clock, which is eight bells, when you start again from the beginning.
By this means the day and night are divided into periods of time called
watches, as morning watch, middle watch, dog watch, and the like. You'll
get the lay of it soon," finished Walton, and then, having reached the
berth deck, the pair separated for the night.