“Why did you turn the Englishman down so hard?” asked Danny Grin, as he
and Dave sat at the stern of the launch that sped down the river and
then out to the naval anchorage in the bay.
“I didn’t,” Darrin replied.
“You shut off his proposal to visit us on board.”
“Dan, didn’t you notice the look that French naval officer gave
Pembroke?”
“No.”
“Perhaps you noticed how stiffly the Frenchman stepped away after
returning our salutes.”
“I saw that,” said Dan, “and wondered at it.”
“I think the French officer was trying to flag to us an intimation that
Pembroke isn’t one who would pass inspection in naval circles.”
“No?” gasped Danny Grin, looking genuinely astonished. “It never struck
me that way. He had the appearance and the manners of a gentleman.”
“So has many an international confidence man,” Dave rejoined. “I don’t
know a blessed thing against Pembroke, and perhaps the Frenchman
doesn’t either. Unless I can find out something definite about the
Englishman, I hardly care to be the one to introduce him to our little
wardroom crowd.”
“I see,” nodded Dalzell thoughtfully. “You’re right, Dave. One can’t be
too careful about his introductions, nor can one very well receive
callers on board ship without making them known to the other wardroom
fellows.”
After the three battleships on which our young naval officers had
served, the “Castoga” did seem small by comparison, although she was a
gunboat of comfortable dimensions, with an ample wardroom for the
number of officers carried, and with all the ordinary provisions for
comfort afloat.
With a crew of one hundred and thirty sailors supplemented by a
detachment of thirty marines; with a large enough crew in the
engineer’s department, and with nine officers, including a surgeon and
a paymaster’s clerk, in addition to three engineer officers, the
“Castoga” carried a businesslike complement.
Lieutenant-Commander Tuthill was the commanding officer, with
Lieutenant Warden as executive officer. The four watch officers were
all ensigns.
After reporting their return to the officer of the deck, Dave and Dan
went promptly to their quarters. Here, after bathing, they dressed for
dinner, which was due to be served in less than half an hour.
At table, later, Dave told the tale of the robbery that afternoon. Dan
added the tale of their meeting with Pembroke, and of that Englishman’s
offer to loan them money.
“What kind of fellow is that Pembroke?” asked Lieutenant Warden.
Dave described the Englishman, adding, questioningly:
“Do you know him, sir, or know of him?”
“No,” replied Mr. Warden.
“I thought that Pembroke must be known to a French naval officer who
passed us,” continued Darrin, and related that incident, too.
“The Frenchman’s shrug was nothing against the Englishman,” remarked
Lieutenant Warden. “It might have been merely instinctive aversion, or
it might mean merely that the Frenchman and the Englishman had a
dispute in the past, at this or some other port. Otherwise it would be
odd indeed to see a Frenchman turn the cold shoulder on an Englishman
when their countrymen are standing shoulder to shoulder on the long
battle lines in Europe.”
“Surely, if the French officer knew Pembroke to be a gentleman, he
would have rushed up and gripped Pembroke’s hand just out of a
sentimental feeling for the strong bonds of friendship between France
and England in these dark days in Europe,” nodded Dan understandingly.
“Pembroke wanted to come on board, sir,” Ensign Darrin went on, “but I
couldn’t help feeling that, before inviting him, I would like to know
more about him.”
“Caution of that sort is never amiss,” nodded the executive officer
thoughtfully. “By the way, you don’t imagine that there could have been
any connection between the thieving Chinese and Mr. Pembroke, do you?”
“Why, I hadn’t thought of it in that way,” Ensign Darrin confessed.
“There isn’t usually, is there, much connection between a thief who
robs you and a man who offers to lend you a little money?”
“There might be easily,” said Mr. Warden.
“Our last half hour on shore was a puzzle altogether,” Dave went on,
after a short pause. “First, we followed that burnt-face Chinaman. Then
we ran into a crowd of Chinese who cleaned out our pockets of
everything but our watches. And then we met Pembroke, at whom the
French officer turned up his nose. I am now actually beginning to
wonder if ‘Burnt-face,’ the thieves and Pembroke may not all be links
in a chain of mystery.”
“At least Pembroke doesn’t speak or understand the Chinese language,”
Dalzell broke in.
“He _said_ he didn’t,” Dave returned. “However, if Pembroke is not a
gentleman and a straightforward fellow, it is as easy to believe that
he lied as that he spoke the truth.”
“Don’t bother any more about it,” advised Ensign Hale bluffly. “The
money is gone. As to the rest of the story, it isn’t worth puzzling
your heads over. Your adventure was all grossly material. No such
things as mysteries or romances are left in the world—nothing but
work.”
“Nevertheless,” smiled Ensign Darrin seriously, “I shall continue to
admit myself puzzled until I have succeeded in gathering certain
information that I really wish.”
“What kind of information?” asked Hale.
“For instance, I want to know if ‘Burnt-face’ has any connection with
the yellow boys who went through our pockets.”
“I think that at least half likely,” replied Ensign Hale gravely.
“And then, next, I want to know,” Darrin went on, “if there is any
connection between ‘Burnt-face’ and Pembroke.”
“That is much less likely,” answered Hale.
“Last of all, if Pembroke is in the least shady, I’d like to know
something definite about him,” wound up Ensign Dave.
“Go to the Frenchman for that,” advised Hale.
“Thank you; I believe I shall.”
“But what does it matter, Darrin,” asked Lieutenant Warden, “whether
Pembroke is all right, or not? You turned him aside from visiting this
craft, so what does it matter whether the fellow is a gentleman or the
reverse?”
“Because,” replied Dave Darrin, so solemnly that some of his brother
officers stared, “I have a premonition that I’m going to meet Pembroke
again, and under conditions where I shall be glad to know something
definite about the fellow.”
At eight bells in the evening Ensign Dalzell went on duty as officer of
the deck. Darrin, aroused in season from a nap, took over the watch at
midnight.
“Any orders?” asked Darrin of his chum.
“None, save the usual orders for the safety and security of the ship,”
Dalzell replied. Salutes were exchanged, and the former officer of the
deck hurried to his quarters.
A marine sentry paced aft, another forward. Six sailormen, including
two petty officers, occupied their posts about the deck and on the
bridge. Two or three of the engine-room crew were on watch below. The
others on board slept, for the night was clear and the gunboat at
anchorage half a mile out from the mouth of the Pasig River.
After the first tour of inspection to see that all was snug, Ensign
Darrin leaned against the quarter rail, looking out over the water. By
this time the sky had clouded somewhat, though the barometer remained
stationary, showing that no atmospheric disturbances were to be looked
for at present.
The night was so still that nothing but the discipline of trained habit
prevented Ensign Darrin from nodding, then falling asleep.
Even as it was, his eyelids drooped almost to the closing point as he
leaned there over the rail. But he was not asleep.
After some minutes Dave opened his eyes wider, straightened up and
glanced out sharply over the water, on which objects were not now so
clearly visible as they had been at midnight.
“That sounded like a paddle,” Darrin told himself, then added, in a low
voice:
“Sentry!”
“Aye, aye, sir,” replied the marine, in a low voice, at the same time
giving the rifle salute.
“I thought I heard a boat approaching yonder. Keep your eye open for
any kind of craft coming near.”
“Aye, aye, sir!”
It was Ensign Darrin who discovered a small, outrigger canoe stealing
forward in the night. Two seconds later the marine also reported it.
Calling the nearest sailor to him, Dave gave him brief, whispered
instructions which sent the young man slipping noiselessly forward.
“Shall I hail that craft, sir?” whispered the sentry, standing stiffly
beside the young officer.
“Not yet,” Dave rejoined. Both stood there, watching keenly. Few
landsmen, on such a night, would have been able to make out so small a
craft at such a distance. Those who follow the sea are trained to
cat-like vision.
“Sentry,” whispered Dave, “do you make out a second craft, following
the first?”
“Just barely sir,” replied the sentry, after a sharp look.
Unless the two small craft changed their courses speedily Darrin knew
that he would have to hail them and warn them off. In these piping
times of peace in the Philippines, there was nothing very suspicious in
two boats coming close to a war vessel at anchor. Still, the two canoes
could not be permitted to come up alongside without the occupants first
giving an account of themselves.
“It looks like a race,” Dave told himself, as he continued to watch
intently. “Jove, I am tempted to believe that the second canoe is
trying to overtake the leader. What can it—”
In the act of bawling an order forward, Ensign Dave Darrin felt his
tongue hit the roof of his mouth. For, at this instant, the pursuing
canoe ranged up alongside the first.
There was a dim flash of something, accompanied by a yell of unearthly
terror.
“Light!” shouted Dave Darrin huskily.
“Aye, aye, sir.”
In a twinkling, the narrow, dazzling beam of one of the forward
searchlights shot over the water.
Within three seconds it had picked up the smaller of the canoes. To the
watchers from the deck of the gunboat this canoe appeared to be empty.
Then the light shifted enough to pick up the second, larger canoe, now
darting shoreward under the impetus of two powerful paddlers.
“Ahoy, there, shorebound boat!” yelled Ensign Darrin lustily. “Lay to
and give an account of yourselves!”
The challenged canoe moved on so rapidly as to call for the constant
shifting of the searchlight’s beam.
“Lay to, there, or we fire!” bellowed Ensign Darrin over the rippling
waters of Manila Bay.
But the canoe made no sign of halting.
“Sentry!”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Take aim and hold it!”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Then again Dave challenged.
“Shorebound boat, third challenge! Lay to, instantly!”
No attention being paid by the two paddlers, Ensign Darrin now gave the
sharp order:
“Fire!”
That bullet must have whistled uncomfortably close to the fleeing
craft, for on the instant both paddlers rose in the canoe.
“Fire!” commanded Ensign Dave, the second time.
At the sound of the marine’s shot both poised figures sprang overboard
from the canoe.
“Shall I fire again, sir?” asked the marine, as the beam of the
searchlight continued to play upon the waters where the divers had
vanished.
“Not unless you see those men that jumped overboard from that canoe,”
replied Ensign Darrin.
Though the searchlight continued to flash further across the water,
nothing was seen of the men from the canoe. Indeed, at the distance,
the rippling waves might easily conceal a swimmer.
“Pass the word for the boatswain’s mate!” Darrin ordered.
As that petty officer appeared, Darrin ordered him to turn out a boat
crew and put one of the boats over the side.
“First investigate the nearer canoe, then the second. Bring them both
in alongside. If you see any swimmers in the water, pursue and pick
them up.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
Still the searchlight continued to play over the waters. The
“Castoga’s” small boat ranged alongside the smaller outrigger canoe,
and soon had it in tow with a line astern. A minute or two after the
second canoe was picked up. A short search was made for swimmers, after
which, on signal, the boatswain’s mate turned and headed for the
gunboat.
“Ship’s boat ahoy!” Dave called, as the boat and its tows came near.
“Ahoy the deck, sir!”
“Are both canoes empty?” Darrin inquired.
“The first one isn’t, sir,” replied the boatswain’s mate. “There’s a
dead Chinaman in it. Head almost cut off; sword work, I should say,
sir.”
“Bring both tows alongside,” Dave ordered, with a shiver. “I will
communicate with the police.”
After ordering a wireless operator turned out, Ensign Darrin went over
the side, down a sea-ladder, to the smaller of the outrigger canoes.
Huddled in a heap in the canoe, was a Chinaman who did not seem to be
more than thirty years of age. His head, nearly severed from his body,
had fallen forward until it hung close to the dead man’s chest. It was
only by turning the head that Ensign Darrin was able to see the face,
on which there still lingered a look of terror.
“A Chinese tong-fight or a gang murder,” Dave told himself, in keen
disgust.
Then climbing up over the side he sent an orderly to summon the
executive officer.
Less than three minutes later Lieutenant Warden, fully dressed, and
wearing his sword, walked briskly out upon the quarter-deck.
The executive officer listened intently while Ensign Darrin made his
report with conciseness.
“I’ll take a look at the body,” said Mr. Warden, and went down over the
side. He came up again, horror written in every line of his face.
“A cowardly killing, Ensign Darrin,” declared the executive officer.
“Notify the Manila police by wireless.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
“Call me again, if I am needed.”
“Aye, aye, sir.”
The instant Darrin had saluted and Mr. Warden had turned on his heel,
Dave, under a light just inside the superstructure, wrote a few words
which he signed in his official capacity as officer of the deck. This
was sent forward to the waiting wireless operator, who sent the message
to a military station on shore, whence the message was telephoned to
police headquarters.
Within three minutes the wireless operator, ran aft, saluting, and
reported:
“A police launch will put off immediately, and come out, sir.”
Fifteen minutes later a motor launch, flying the police ensign, ranged
up alongside the “Castoga.” An American official, accompanied by four
Filipino policemen, came on board.
Dave at once narrated what had happened, after which the American
police official inspected both canoes and looked at the huddled yellow
body.
“This will require investigation, sir,” declared the police official.
“I shall tow both canoes ashore, and then the force will get busy.”
“Don’t you wish to send a wireless ashore, urging the police to look
out for two swimmers who are likely to attempt to land?” suggested
Dave.
“An excellent idea,” replied the police official, and wrote out a
despatch which Ensign Darrin sent to the wireless operator forward.
After that the launch chugged away with the two canoes in tow.
Twenty minutes later a wireless message was received aboard the
“Castoga,” and immediately the operator brought it aft.
“Native Policeman Rafeta,” Ensign Darrin read, “reports that a Chinese
swimmer was observed, by him, to land. The Chinaman reported that his
skiff had upset. Native policeman, not being suspicious, reports that
he allowed swimmer to proceed on his way. Swimmer is to be identified
by a fire-mark on the right cheek under eye.”
“Burnt-face!” gasped Ensign Dave, recoiling slightly. “Then it seems
that I was not quit of that fellow when I turned my back on him on the
Escolta this afternoon. In what fiendish business can ‘Burnt-face’ be
engaged?”