COMMODORE WINFIELD SCOTT SCHLEY
In a couple of days Walter began to feel at home on the flagship, and he
could no longer be termed a "greeny," strictly speaking, although there
were still a great number of things for him to learn. He was much
interested in the _Brooklyn_ as a whole as well as in detail, and was
proud to learn that this armored cruiser was the largest of the class in
our navy, having a displacement of 9215 tons, as against her sister
ship, the _New York_, which had a displacement of about a thousand tons
less.
"This ship is just four hundred feet and six inches long," said Caleb.
"She don't look so long as she rides the water, but as a city block is
ordinarily two hundred feet deep, so to speak, she would cover two
blocks of a side street, providing the street was sixty-five feet wide,
for her to rest in. That's pretty big, eh?"
"And how much water does she draw, Walton?"
"Draws twenty-four feet, which is the height of an ordinary two-story
house. Her three smokestacks are about a hundred feet high each, and
that gives her fires a first-class draught, sailing or standing still."
"I'm awfully glad I'm on her," smiled Walter. "Oh, I do hope we have a
fight with the Dons. I want to see the big guns go off. I know the main
battery, as you call it, has eight 8-inch guns. How many guns are there
besides?"
"There are twelve 5-inch rapid-fire guns, twelve 6-pounders, four
1-pounders, four Colts, and two field guns. Besides, we carry four
torpedo tubes."
"We're a regular floating arsenal!" exclaimed Walter. "It must make
things shake when they all get to firing."
"You'll think you've struck the infernal regions, lad, if we ever do get
them all a-going. Yes, the _Brooklyn_ is nothing but a floating fort.
She's an unusual type, because she has an extra high forecastle deck.
Some folks don't think that makes her a beauty, but they must remember
that warships aren't built altogether for looks, although to my mind
she's as handsome as any of 'em. The high bow enables us to carry our
forward guns eight feet higher than those on the _New York_, and it will
come in mighty handy if we ever want to run full steam after an enemy in
a heavy sea which would drown out a ship with a low freeboard."
"And why is she called an armored cruiser?"
"Because she is protected by steel plating three inches thick on her
sides and on her deck, and under this is an additional protection of
coal and of cocoa-fibre, for keeping out water. It would surprise you to
see how the sides and deck, as well as the bottom, are built, were they
taken apart for examination."
Discipline Walter found very strict, and once he had donned his uniform
he was kept employed from sunrise to sunset, his duties being largely
similar to those performed by his brother Larry on the _Olympia_. Early
in the morning he was aroused by the blare of a bugle, or the roll of a
drum, and given but a few minutes in which to dress and roll up his
hammock and put it away. Then came the work of washing down the deck,
followed by breakfast, and later all hands were called to quarters, to
attend some drill, sometimes at the guns, sometimes at the hose pipes
scattered about in case of fire, and occasionally with small-arms and
with cutlasses. Each afternoon there was a "run around," lasting from
ten minutes to half an hour. In this the men fell in singly or in pairs,
and ran around and around the deck, at first slowly until "second wind"
was gained, and then faster and faster. This is the one chance a jackie
gets of stretching his legs while on board of his ship, and how he does
enjoy it!
Taking them as a whole, Walter found the ship's company a jolly crowd,
with but few men of the Jim Haskett stamp among them. The men connected
with the guns were a particularly brotherly set, and the youth soon felt
thoroughly at home among them. He was always willing to do anything
asked of him, and in return the best gunners on the vessel did not
hesitate to give him "points" whenever he asked for them. One jocularly
called him The Questioner, but Walter did not mind, and went on picking
up all the information possible.
On his second morning on board Walter was talking to Si when a low roll
of drums reached their ears. "Hark!" cried the Yankee boy. "Two ruffles.
Do you know what that means? The commodore is either leaving or coming
on board. They always give a high officer that salute, or a similar
one."
"Let us see him if we can," exclaimed Walter, who had not yet caught
sight of the commander of the squadron. They crowded to an open port and
were just in time to see Commodore Schley descend by the swinging ladder
to the gig. Soon the little craft shot out of sight through the fog, for
the day was far from clear.
"He looks like a fighter," remarked Walter. "He has quite a record,
hasn't he?"
"Yes, indeed, I was reading about him only last week. He was in the
Civil War, operating along the Mississippi, and after that he saw a lot
of fighting besides."
"I know all about our commodore," said a gunner standing near. "My
father fought with him on the Mississippi, and also when Port Hudson, in
Louisiana, was taken. He is named after General Winfield
Scott,--Winfield Scott Schley,--for his father and the general were warm
friends."
"It's a good name for a fighter; for certainly nobody fought better than
did General Scott, through the war with Mexico," was Walter's comment.
"Schley entered the Naval Academy in 1856 and remained until 1861, when
the war broke out," continued the gunner. "They say he graduated at the
head of his class and was so well liked that he was given sea-duty on
the frigate _Potomac_, and in 1862 he was made a master, and ordered on
the _Winona_, of the Gulf Squadron.
"After the Civil War was over, he was sent to the Pacific, and there he
aided in the suppression of an outbreak among the Chinese coolies in the
Chin Chi Islands. The United States consulate at this place was in
danger of being mobbed, but Schley took a hundred marines ashore, and
knocked the whole uprising in the head in short order."
"No wonder he's a commodore," said Walter; and Si nodded approvingly.
"It wasn't long before the young officer was made a
lieutenant-commander, and coming back from the Pacific, he was placed in
charge of a department at the Naval Academy. He remained ashore for
three years, then went to the coast of Africa, on the _Benicia_, where
he took part in a number of contests, and helped clear the Congo River
of pirates, and overthrew the forces defending the Salu River in Corea,
another bit of work for which he was warmly praised."
"Oh, he's a corker," cried Si, enthusiastically.
"I'm not done yet," went on the gunner, who loved to talk about the
exploits of his old commander. "Of course you have heard how the Greely
Expedition to the North Pole got lost and couldn't get back home. Well,
it was Schley who went after them, and found Greely and six of his
companions at Cape Sabine and brought them safely back. For this
Congress voted him a medal, and President Arthur raised him to the full
rank of captain and made him Chief of the Bureau of Equipment, a very
important office in the Naval Department. But Schley couldn't stand it
on land, he must have the rolling ocean under him, and so he gave up his
berth ashore and took command of the _Baltimore_."
"I remember about that," put in Walter. "I was reading about John
Ericsson, the inventor of the monitor. When Ericsson died, the body was
sent to Sweden, his fatherland, on the _Baltimore_ under Schley."
"Exactly, and the King of Sweden gave Schley a medal to commemorate the
event, at a grand gathering at Stockholm. From Sweden Schley took the
_Baltimore_ to Southern waters, and while off the coast of Chili he
smoothed out what threatened to become a serious difficulty between that
country and ours on account of some of Uncle Sam's jackies being stoned
on the streets of Valparaiso. For this the Navy Department was extremely
grateful, and he went up several points on the register, so that it
didn't take him long to become a commodore."
"He's certainly a man worth sailing under," said Walter. "I suppose he
is married?"
"Yes, and has several children--but that don't interest me," concluded
the gunner, who was an old bachelor, with a peculiar dislike for the
gentler sex.
Since the time that Si had spoken to Haskett about the missing money,
the seaman had steered clear of both the Yankee lad and Walter. Perhaps
he was afraid that Si would accuse him openly of the theft of the gold
piece, or perhaps he was afraid of Caleb Walton, who was continually
around and ready to champion his "boys," as he had dubbed both. But
there was one boy who could not get away from him, and that was Paul
Harbig.
"You're just the right sort to take to," said Haskett, as he caught Paul
by the arm one morning, while both were coming from mess. "You're too
much of a real little man to have anything to do with that Russell boy
or Si Doring."
"Oh, I like them both very much!" answered Paul, and attempted to pass
on. With a frown Haskett caught him by the arm and swung him back.
"See here, I want to talk to you," he cried uglily. "Has Si Doring been
telling you any yarns about me?"
[Illustration: "SEE HERE, I WANT TO TALK TO YOU."]
"You let go of me," was Paul's only answer. "I don't want anything to do
with you."
"Answer my question."
"I haven't got to." And now Paul did his best to get away. He had just
twisted himself loose when Jim Haskett struck him a cruel blow on the
head.
"You--you brute!" gasped the boy, as the tears came. He was about to try
retreating again, when Haskett caught him once more.
"Now answer me, or I'll thrash the life out of you," he hissed into
Paul's ear. "And mind you tell the truth."
"He said that he had a--a--" the boy broke off short. "I won't tell you,
there! Now let go!" And he began to squirm.
"I know what he said," blustered Haskett. "Said he had had a ten-dollar
gold piece in his valise, didn't he?"
"Ye-es."
"And he accused me of taking it, eh?"
"He didn't say so outright. He said you had been where you could get at
the bag."
"It amounts to the same thing. As a matter of fact I couldn't get at the
bag any more than could you, or Russell, or Walton, or any of the
others."
"I suppose that is so. Now let me go."
"I will in a minute, but I want to tell you something, for it's not nice
to have folks taking you to be a thief," went on Haskett, tactfully.
"I haven't said anything about the affair."
"Perhaps not, Paul, but Doring talks, and I reckon so do Russell and
Walton. During the past couple of days I've found more than one fellow
aboard the _Brooklyn_ looking at me queer-like, and I can put two and
two together as quick as the next man. If I allow this to go on, there
won't be a soul speak to me after a while."
"I shan't say a word--I'll promise you."
"It's Russell who will talk the most, I reckon," went on Haskett, with
apparent bitterness. "Russell, the very fellow who ought not to say a
word."
"I'll caution him, if you want me to," went on Paul, who was
tender-hearted and very willing to help anybody out of trouble.
"Caution Russell! Not for the world. See here, I'll tell you something,
and you can tell Doring or not, just as you please. To the best of my
knowledge Russell is the thief."
"Walter!" ejaculated Paul. "Oh, no, you must be mistaken. Why, why--how
could he get at the satchel? He was with Doring."
"I don't know about that. But I'm almost positive Russell is guilty."
"Have you any proof? You shouldn't say such a thing unless you have,"
retorted Paul, anxious to stick up for Walter, who had served him
several good turns since they had become acquainted.
"I've got more proof against Russell than Doring has against me,"
answered Jim Haskett, boldly. "And what is more, I can prove what I've
got to say."
"But what have you to say?" came in a cold, heavy voice behind Haskett,
and turning swiftly the former mate of the _Sunflower_ found himself
confronted by Caleb Walton. The old gunner's face looked stern and
angry.
"Why--er--where did you come from?" stammered the seaman.
"I asked you what you have to say against Walter Russell," demanded
Caleb. "Come, out with it, or by the jumping beeswax, I'll wipe up this
deck with you!" And he doubled up his fists.
"I'm not afraid, if you want to fight, Walton," replied Haskett,
recovering somewhat from his fright. "What I said about Russell, I'll
stick to."
"But what have you got to say? out with it," was the old gunner's
demand.
"I've got this much to say. I think Russell took Doring's gold piece,
and I am not the only one that does either. If you think I'm wrong, ask
Cal Blinker, the shellman. He heard almost as much as I did."
"Heard what?"
"Heard Russell talk in his sleep. It was last night. I got up to get a
drink of water and slipped and roused up Blinker. Then, when I went to
the water tub, I passed Russell's hammock. He was dreaming and talking
about the gold piece and saying that Doring would never learn that he
had it, and a lot more about hiding it under the gun. He went on about
the money and about hiding it for fully ten minutes. If you don't
believe me, go to Blinker about it."