WALTER SHOWS HIS PLUCK
"And is that all you have to say?" asked Caleb Walton, after a few
seconds of silence, during which he gazed so sharply at Jim Haskett that
the fellow felt compelled to drop his eyes. "Because a fellow dreams
about a gold piece, must you accuse him of stealing?"
"That's all right, too," responded Haskett, doggedly. "I know he
wouldn't dream that way unless there was something in the wind. I'm
satisfied he took the money."
"And I am satisfied that he is innocent," cried Caleb. "That boy would
never steal a cent from anybody."
"Why, he was after a thief himself before he left Boston," put in Paul,
who had now sought protection behind the old gunner.
"Well, suit yourselves," answered Haskett, with a shrug of his somewhat
rounded shoulders. "But let me tell you that I won't allow Russell,
Doring, or anybody else to speak of me as having taken the money--mind
that!" And he shook his fist savagely.
"Here comes Walter now," announced Paul. "Walter, come here!" he called
out, before Caleb could stop him.
At once Walter came up, an inquiring look upon his manly face, which was
now becoming sunburnt through exposure on deck. "What do you want,
Paul?" he asked.
"It's only some of Haskett's nonsense," answered Caleb, ere the boy
could speak. "Tell us, lad, do you remember dreaming anything about Si's
gold piece?"
For the instant Walter looked puzzled, then his face brightened. "I do,"
he answered. "What of it?"
"Tell us what you dreamed first."
"Why--I--I can't remember exactly, excepting that I was having a good
lot of worry about it," he stammered. "You know how dreams come and go."
"To be sure, Walter."
"You dreamt about the money you hid, didn't you?" said Haskett,
sneeringly.
"The money I hid? I hid no money."
"Oh no, of course not!"
"See here, Haskett, what do you mean?" And Walter strode over to the
seaman, his face flushing deeply. "Do you mean to insinuate that I took
Si's gold piece and hid it away?"
"He just does," burst out Paul. "And he says you talked in your sleep
about it, too."
"It is false--at least, it is false that I took the money. I might have
dreamed about it and talked in my sleep. We are not accountable for what
we do when we are sleeping."
"Perhaps you took the gold piece when you were asleep," said Haskett,
squinting suggestively at those surrounding him.
"The gold piece was taken while Si and I were left behind in Washington.
It was taken by somebody on the train."
"That's your story--and you've been trying to lay the thing at my door.
But I shan't stand it--not me," stormed Haskett. "I heard what you said
in your sleep, and so did Cal Blinker. If anybody is guilty, it is you!"
And he pointed his long, bony finger full in Walter's face.
By this time a crowd of a dozen or more had gathered round, realizing
that a quarrel of some sort was in progress. "It's about a gold piece,"
said one. "Haskett says Russell took it. Say, fellows, we don't want
anything to do with a thief."
"Not much we don't!" answered a messmate. "Heave him overboard if he is
guilty."
"This matter ought to be reported to the officer of the deck," put in a
third. "If there is a thief on board, no man's ditty-box will be safe."
At Haskett's concluding remark Walter's face grew as red as a beet, then
deadly pale. For a moment he stood stock still, breathing heavily.
Suddenly he leaped forward with clenched fist and struck Haskett a
stunning blow on the chin which sent the seaman staggering up against a
gun-carriage.
"That, for talking to me in this fashion!" he exclaimed.
"Oh!" grunted the ex-mate of the _Sunflower_, as he caught at the gun
just in time to prevent himself from falling to the deck. "You--you
young rascal, what do you mean by hitting me?"
"A fight! a fight!" cried several, and soon a crowd of about fifty
jackies surrounded the pair.
"Wasn't that a pretty blow though! And he's only a boy, too!" came from
a gunner's mate.
"I'll fix you for this!" went on Haskett, putting one hand to his chin,
where a lump was rising rapidly. "I never before allowed anybody to hit
me--leastwise a boy." And he rushed at Walter with a fierceness which
boded the youth no good.
"Don't you hit him, Haskett," put in Caleb, catching the seaman by the
arm. "If you do, you'll have to settle this affair with me."
"He hit me."
"And you as much as said he was a thief."
"And so he is."
"I am not, and I've a good mind to hit you again for saying so," burst
out Walter, and before anybody around could separate them he and Haskett
had closed in. Several ineffective blows were struck on each side, when
they were pulled apart.
"This won't do, Walter," whispered Caleb. "If you're not careful, you'll
spend a week in the brig."
"But--but it's awful to have him say I'm a--a--"
"I know, I know. But keep cool, lad; it's best, take my word for it.
You've been on board only a few days, but you have made lots of
friends, while I reckon most of the men have already sized up Haskett
for the meanest chap on board."
"He has no right to talk about me."
"He says you and Si Doring talked about him."
Haskett now pushed his way forward again. "I don't want trouble with the
officers, so we'll let this matter drop for the present," he blustered.
"But I'll remember you, and some day you'll be mighty sorry we had this
little mix-up." And muttering some more that nobody could understand he
strode off, the majority of the crowd gazing after him curiously.
"Ran away from a boy!" said one old tar. "He must be a regular coward,
and no mistake!"
Many wanted Walter to relate his version of what had brought the
encounter about, but Caleb hurried the lad away to a corner, where he
took a wash up and brushed off his clothing.
"I want to interview that Cal Blinker," said the youth. "Where can I
find him?"
"Down around the forward ammunition hoist," answered Paul, and Walter
hurried off, accompanied by his friends.
"Yes, I did hear you say something about a gold piece," the shellman
admitted. "You didn't talk very plainly and I understood very little.
Haskett said he understood every word. Well, maybe he did. I've been in
the navy so long that the noise of the big guns has affected my
hearing."
"Did I say I stole the piece?" insisted Walter.
"I don't know as you did. All I could make out was 'ten dollars in gold'
and 'the gun--just the place.'"
This was all Cal Blinker had to say. He was rather old and it was plain
to see that he wanted nothing to do with the controversy, one side or
the other.
Si Doring had been attending a special boat drill, and it was not until
an hour had passed that he came below and heard what had occurred.
Without hesitation he slapped Walter on the shoulder.
"Don't you take this to heart," he said. "No matter what that mean old
rascal of a Haskett says, he'll never make me believe that you are
anything but perfectly straight. I believe yet that he took the gold
piece and that some day I'll be able to prove it." And there the
incident, for the time being, dropped.
The manner in which Walter had "sailed into Haskett," as Caleb
expressed it, made the youth many friends among the crew, for if there
is one thing a jack tar loves it is to see a messmate stand up for
himself. "You're all right, you are," said more than one, and caught
Walter's hand in a grip calculated to break the bones. Several, who had
thought to play a few tricks on the "greeny," reconsidered their ideas
on the subject and concluded that it was best not to run any chances
with such a spirited lad.
For some time Walter was afraid that the executive officer would hear of
the encounter and bring him to book for it; but if the "mix-up" was
reported, nothing came of it. As a matter of fact, Uncle Sam's officers
just then had affairs of more importance requiring their attention.
For every hour on board of the warships composing the Flying Squadron
increased the anxiety concerning the Spanish ships which it was felt
were preparing to make a quick dash for Cuba or for our own coast. How
soon would these warships sail, and where would they make their presence
felt? those were the all-important questions commodore and captains
asked of each other. "They'll most likely try to break the blockade at
Havana," said one. "No, they'll bombard one of our down-east seacoast
cities," said another. "I think they'll rush through the Suez Canal to
fight Dewey," was the conclusion reached by a third. Under-officers and
men speculated quite as much as did their superiors, arriving at equally
opposite conclusions. "They have our whole seacoast and Cuba to pick
from," Commodore Schley said. "They will go where they can do the most
good--to their way of thinking. I think they'll go to Cuba or Porto
Rico." How correct the commander was history has shown.
Although the _Scorpion_ was patrolling the ocean just outside of the
capes, a strict watch was kept on every one of the warships, night and
day. Rumors were numerous, and one was to the effect that the Spaniards
had a submarine craft in their service and that this boat would soon
arrive along our eastern seacoast, to destroy the shipping from Maine to
the Gulf of Mexico. In these days, when we know the truth, we can afford
to laugh at such a report, but to the jackies on the warships, who
remembered only too well the fate of the _Maine_, it was no laughing
matter. Even when off duty, many would go on the spar deck and lie flat,
gazing into the dark waters for the best part of a night, hoping to
catch a glimpse of the unknown terror, should it come to that vicinity.
Sunday, with its deeply impressive church service, came and went, and
still the squadron lay at anchor. In the meantime it was rumored that
Sampson would soon take his most powerful vessels from the blockade and
bombard Havana. The newspapers reported this, but if such was the plan
of the Navy Department, it was altered at the last moment.
On May 12 came news of a fierce fight in the harbor of Cardenas, a
seaport a hundred and twenty miles east of Havana. In an attempt to
effect a landing, the torpedo boat _Winslow_ had her boiler blown to
pieces and several men were killed and injured, among them Ensign Worth
Bagley, who was thus the first American officer to fall in the war. Two
other warships, the _Wilmington_ and the _Hudson_, also took part in the
contest, but were repulsed after a gallant onslaught lasting over an
hour.
"This is war," said Caleb, as he read the news from the paper that one
of the gunners had just brought on board. "Those fellows on the
_Winslow_ caught it hot. Think of running right into that harbor and
having a shell drop and smash your boiler and send the live steam all
over you. I tell you Ensign Bagley was a plucky one, all honor to his
memory."
The next day brought even more important news. Dewey had gained a
foothold in the Philippines, the main city of Cuba was in a state of
blockade, and now Rear-Admiral Sampson had shifted the scene of action
to Porto Rico, by shelling the forts of San Juan, the principal city of
Spain's only other possession in the West Indies.
"We're getting there!" cried Caleb, excitedly. "We'll soon give the Dons
all they want."
"If Sampson succeeds in making the San Juan forts surrender, the whole
city will be at our mercy," said Walter. "Hurrah for the American navy,
and every ship and man in it."
"We are bound to get them on the run," put in Si. "Here is another
report about a fight at Cienfuegos. Where is that?"
"On the southern coast of Cuba," answered Walter, who had always had a
good head for geography, and who, since the war had started, had studied
the map of Cuba closely. "Havana, San Juan, and Manila! Say, but this
is becoming a war of magnificent distances."
"It's a naval war, that's what it is," said Caleb. "If we--hullo! Did
any of you see this telegram?" He pointed to his newspaper. "The Spanish
Squadron under Admiral Cervera has slipped away from Cape Verde Islands
and is undoubtedly bound westward."
"And here is another report that some strange vessels, supposed to be
warships, have been sighted off Martinique, Windward Island," added
Walter, quickly. "I'll wager we leave soon!"
"But where to--the Windward Islands?" queried Si.
"That's for Commodore Schley to decide. Rest assured he'll find this
Admiral Cervera sooner or later, just as Dewey found old Admiral
Montojo."
The news was spreading, and officers and men gathered in knots to
discuss the situation. As for Commodore Schley and Captain Cook, they
smiled knowingly, but said nothing. Everybody in the Flying Squadron
remembered what Dewey and his men had accomplished, and all were on
their mettle accordingly.