WITS VERSUS MACHINE GUNS
Dan brought to his new duties a well-grounded knowledge of the
fundamentals of his calling, and his deficiencies, such as they were,
were skilfully eliminated by his white-haired mentor, Captain Harrison.
Among other things, this prince of ancient mariners, who had taken a
great fancy to Dan, was at infinite pains to impress upon him the fact
that in the duties of captain of a vessel calling regularly at the
ports of small Latin republics many requirements aside from mere
ability to navigate a ship are involved. Seductive arts, such as
verbal or financial propitiation; knowledge when to give a dinner and
when to threaten to invoke the "big stick"; when to hold to a position
and when to recede from it;--all these attributes of diplomacy were
acquired by Dan under Harrison's tutelage, so that when the old Captain
finally retired to his well-earned rest on a Long Island farm, he
"allowed" that young Merrithew had the stuff in him of which smart
officers are made.
On his own account, Dan, by keeping his mouth shut and his eyes open,
learned not a little of the methods which characterized the relations
of his company with various Governments; and while not all that he
learned could in the widest implication of the phrase he designated as
morally--or, say, rather, ethically--elevating, it afforded an
interesting side-light upon the business character of Horace Howland.
In this connection it is well to state that the ultra clamorous days in
San Blanco had long ceased, and that the new _Presidente_, Rodriguez,
who had arisen to his honors out of the midst of the travail of fire,
powder, and a modicum of bloodshed, was conducting affairs of state
much to the liking of the San Blanco Trading and Investment Company, of
which company Mr. Howland was the brains and guiding spirit. Need it
be suggested that this amounts to saying that Mr. Howland was the
brains and guiding spirit of the San Blanco Republic as then
constituted?
At all events, with peace smiling over troublous San Blanco, Mr.
Howland sent word to Dan that early in April he, his daughter, Mrs. Van
Vleck, and a party of ten, would sail on the _Tampico_ for Belle View,
the Howland estate, just outside of San Blanco City.
Dan was not altogether surprised at this message. The passenger
accommodations of the _Tampico_ were elaborate, and hints of Mr.
Howland's intention had reached him in one way or another. But now
with definite assurances in hand life took on added zest. He had not
seen Miss Howland since the dinner; but it would have been futile for
him to attempt to convince himself that she had not formed a more or
less vague background for many of his thoughts and moods since that
epochal event. Occasionally he saw her name in the newspapers, and one
of them once printed a picture purporting to be her photograph. But it
was not. Otherwise he might have been tempted to cut it out.
Now, with her presence aboard the _Tampico_ assured, the steamship
became involved with a new significance. He pictured her on the bridge
with him. He selected her place at the table in the saloon, and
dreamed of all the life and laughter and grace and beauty she would
bring to it.
As for himself, he had the proud realization that in measuring his
opportunities on the broadest possible gauge, he had lived up to them
sincerely, and he knew the results to be good. On his own bridge he
had faced the blind fog with the lives of passengers hanging upon his
judgment; he had met the elements at their work, and out of the ordeal
he had come with greater self-reliance, broader, kindlier, better. For
the first time in his life he was looking beyond his dreams, although
the work in hand was all-absorbing; there would be more for him to do.
He felt it, he knew it, for such is youth.
One beautiful April morning, a company, wonderfully well selected
according to the view-point of Virginia and her aunt, boarded the
_Tampico_ and merrily set sail. Not the least of that company was
Howland himself, who, standing upon the bridge beside Dan, smiled as he
thought of the dozen Hotchkiss guns and the two very grim eight-inch
rifles resting in the darkness of the forward hold, and then spoke
almost in parables.
"It is always well, Captain, to divine the trend of the wind before
weather vanes give information to all who care to look for it."
"Yes?" replied Dan, not comprehending.
"Yes. Those playthings, strategically placed at the capital, will
insure an era of Government integrity for some time to come; and that
will be very good; for the kind of integrity existing there is much to
my liking. Vasquez is restless; Sanches is uneasy; but there will be
no radical action for some time to come. When it does--well, Captain,
I have taken the liberty to store some pieces of ordnance below--they
appear as household furniture in the manifest of cargo. I consider
them qualified to maintain all sorts of Government integrity."
"No doubt," smiled Dan; "if you have any one down there to handle them."
"I have a very large office staff in Domingo City, unusually large. I
did not hire the men for their penmanship, nor for their ability as
clerks, either." Here Mr. Howland raised his eyebrows slightly, and
Dan, taking his cue, raised his eyebrows too.
And so the _Tampico_ sailed peacefully south-ward. The April sun
softened the air, the sea was like glass, and by the time the steamship
had picked up the Southern Cross, the little company had been tried in
the balance of propinquity and found not wanting.
It was brilliant moonlight, and eight bells chimed sweetly over the
silvery waters from the forecastle head, as Dan, with a cheery good
evening, followed the first mate to the bridge. The second mate smiled
genially, gave the course as south half east, and, with his dog-watch
ended, went to bed. A gruff voice rolled along the deck.
"The watch is aft, sir!"
Dan's voice hurled astern before the echoes died.
"All right. Relieve the wheel--and the lookout!"
Virginia, addressing a merry group on the hurricane deck, just below
and aft the bridge, paused in the middle of a sentence and listened to
the sharp, crisp words. Then she smiled slightly and resumed her
discourse.
Dan paced up and down with the mate, taking up the thread of the talk
where it had been left the previous watch; but neither was in a talking
mood, and they soon fell silent. Presently a girl's rich voice rose to
the accompaniment of Oddington's banjo, an instrument but poorly
adapted to the motif of the music, which was plaintive, yearning. The
deep contralto notes brought full meed of meaning, although the words
were German; low, deep, uncertain at first--the ponderings of love, of
devotion, of doubt--then swelling loud and full and free at the end;
love justified, undying, triumphant, overpowering.
"Könnt' fühlen je das Glück das ich würd nennen mein
Hätt' ich nur Dich allein! Hätt' ich nur Dich, nur Dich allein!"
Then suddenly in wild rapture she broke from the German, repeating the
refrain in English--
". . . The rapture that would be my own
If I had you . . . if I had you . . . you."
Piercing sweet it ended, filled with tenderness. Just you, you, you,
going on far across the moon-lit waters into infinity. Dan walked to
the lee of the bridge and with hands on the dodger's ridge, leaned
forward, peering bard and straight to the rim of the sea.
For every heart there is a song, and for every song a heart; for this
earth is not so big that the dreams, the passion of some song-maker,
humble or not, may not strike a responsive chord, at the other end of
the world, it may be. And this for Dan; this simple love song with its
swelling iterations. It awakened sleeping poetry in the heart of the
young commander, awakened a tenderness long hidden under the rough
exterior of a tumultuous life.
There was no mistaking the identity of the singer, no mistaking those
deep, full notes, vibrant, rounded, and so melodious. To whom was she
singing? Could a woman sing like that, sing as Miss Howland sang, to
no one? Impersonally? Dan turned his face down at the group. The
women were muffled in greatcoats, for the soft evening, which had
tempted them to the deck, was growing chill, and he could see the dark
forms of the men and the red lights of their cigars. Wotherspoon had
just finished a comic song, and they were all laughing and applauding.
Somehow it all emphasized in Dan his aloofness. He heard Oddington
address some jocular remark presumably to Miss Howland, for he caught
her laughing reply. And the thought came, how eminently eligible
Oddington was to sit at her side; how fitting that he should be
there--wealthy, distinctly of her set, a good fellow at the university,
and now a law partner in the practice which his hard-working father had
prepared for him. For the first time, perhaps, in his life Dan felt
himself humbled, and a great wave of bitterness flooded his mind. . . .
And yet Miss Howland had been very kind to him. Ah, but that was not
the point. He did not want persons to be kind; that suggested charity,
or pity. No; he wanted exactly what he earned--what he could take with
his bare hands and his bare soul. He wanted equality--or nothing; and
if at the end of his struggle it had to be nothing, all right--but the
end was not yet.
Toward nine o'clock the deck party began to break up. Some one had
suggested bridge, and some opposed the suggestion. At the end of a
laughing discussion Oddington and three others went to the
smoking-room, while the rest dispersed in various directions. Dan,
filled with his thoughts, was in the act of lighting his pipe, when the
clicking of footfalls and the rustling of skirts sounded on the bridge
steps. The next instant Virginia stood before him. The moonlight fell
upon her, outlining the girl distinctly in her long, blue,
double-breasted coat and the wealth of rippling dark hair flowing from
under an English yachting cap. She was smiling.
"Do I intrude upon your sacred precincts?" she asked, "or am I welcome?
I want to talk to you."
"You are welcome, Miss Howland," said Dan, knocking the fire from his
pipe and stuffing the briar-wood into his pocket, at the same time
glancing quickly toward the wheel where the mate and the quartermaster
were busy over a slight alteration in course.
"I feared that incident at the table--Reggie Wotherspoon's behavior, I
mean, might have upset you. Of course you know he meant nothing by it.
We all understand how he hates to be beaten in an argument. Really he
admires you--which is well for him, I can assure you."
Dan, deeply embarrassed, muttered something about understanding
perfectly about Wotherspoon, and that he knew him to be a decent enough
sort of chap.
"Do you know," went on the girl, "I myself was rather startled at first
when you said that no man--that you could not tell whether you would
flunk in time of danger. I was so glad when you made your reservation
that in the past, at least, you had not shown the white feather. 'What
the past has shown,'" she quoted, "'who can gainsay the future?' Oh,
it was glorious," she exclaimed impulsively, "the night you stuck to
our yacht until your own tug was battered to pieces! I suppose I have
said that a hundred times; but it grows more thrilling every time I
think of it."
She looked at him with open interest. His uniform became him well; the
trim sack coat fitted his great, deep chest and almost abnormal
shoulders snugly; and above were the square, smooth face, the steady
gray eyes, and the red-gold hair; and the long, straight limbs
supported a lithe, almost aggressive poise.
She started slightly forward.
"Have you ever thought how much we owe you? Oh, I have so often wished
I could show you how much we appreciate all you did, in some way!"
"You must not think of it in that way."
"Why not, please?" Miss Howland was a straightforward girl who faced a
situation squarely.
"Why, because the debt is all on my side. Your father has given me my
first command; and you--you have been fine to me. I have had more than
an ordinary sailor deserves."
"But you are not an _ordinary_ sailor," said the girl quickly. "Father
knows of your people--" She paused. "Oh, I beg your pardon," she
cried.
"Listen," said Dan, quietly. "When I was younger, about to enter
college, a careless, happy life ended. I began all over again then. I
date everything from that beginning--from the time I went aboard a
tug-boat--the Lord knows why--and tried to do something. What I have
done, what I shall do, dating from that time, I stand on. Before that
my battles were fought for me. After that the fight was my own. And I
have never regretted one bit of it; nor am I ashamed of one single
minute from the time I slung hawsers on the _Hydrographer_ until I
commanded the _Fledgling_. And I shall always rejoice, and my friends
must rejoice, in that part of the fight, and never seek to hide a
single incident. It's all behind now, but it was worth while. And a
man must go on--"
"Yes, I know," replied the girl, softly. She turned her face from the
silvery path on the water.
"And you are not going to stop fighting. Oh, you will not stop! You
will go on and on. Men like you never stand still. I know it is the
truth. What difference can your past life make to your friends? It is
never what a man was or might have been that counts, or what he may be;
it is what he is."
And then she turned and left him.
One evening as the dark came creeping over the purple waters, the
_Tampico_ cluttered up to the mouth of the harbor of San Blanco City.
Captain Merrithew and Mr. Howland stood on the bridge, while Virginia
and most of her guests were assembled at the rail, all eyes straining
shoreward. A rattle of musketry tore through the evening air--a
muzzle-loading cannon spoke grouchily; then all was still. A sailboat
was drifting out to sea and the fishermen, being hailed, informed those
on the steamship that revolutionists were pounding at the city walls
and pounding hard, but thus far without avail. The uprising, as usual,
they said, had its inception in the fastnesses of Monte-Cristi and,
spreading through the country, had brought up with a bang against the
walls of the city itself.
Mr. Howland was seriously perturbed.
"We must get in quickly and land our guns, Captain," he said. "It's
too bad we have this party with us. However, you must not consider
their comfort. If you land this cargo of ordnance, we can break the
revolution easily and pleasantly."
He glanced at the Blancan navy--two gunboats, formerly pleasure yachts,
and a "battleship," once a steam-lighter--which lay at strategic
intervals across the harbor mouth and moved impatiently.
"The scoundrels!" he ejaculated. "Why don't they shell those
insurgents? They could end this promptly if they wished to. I shall
have something pleasant to say to them and to Señor Gaspard of the
Marine when I see him. Still, perhaps they are waiting for me.
President Rodriguez expects us."
Mollified at this thought, Mr. Howland straightened to a dignified and
commanding posture. The honors accorded an arriving Howland vessel
were the honors accorded a United States warship, and he scanned the
fleet eagerly for the first sign of the invariable welcome. He turned
to Dan.
"Better dive into your cabin, Captain, and get on your double-breasted
regalia," he said. "There will be a round of diplomatic calls and
felicitations generally--and of course they will ask for wine; for of
all half-starved, thirsty natives, give me those of this bob-tailed
republic."
The fighting had evidently stopped for the night, and Mr. Howland waved
his hand at the flag-ship. He dearly loved all the punctilio of
international etiquette and the deference that had ever been his
portion in San Blanco.
And so this captain of industry smiled and hearkened for the first gun
of the expected salute. But it did not come. There was silence
somewhat grim and certainly sullen. He ground his teeth impatiently,
angry disappointment growing as they drew near the fleet. "What is the
matter with those rascals?" he growled, turning to Dan, who,
resplendent in blue and gold, had just joined him on the bridge.
"They don't seem to be happy to see us," replied the Captain, shortly.
"Not happy!" exclaimed Mr. Howland, who began to feel that the
situation approximated _lèse-majesté_. "Not happy? Confound them!
When we're bringing guns to support their mangy and tottering
Government!"
"Well," replied the young commander, who scented trouble and thought of
the party on board, "they don't seem to be, anyway."
A sharp hail rang out from the nearest gun-boat, the flag-ship.
"What vessel is that, and whither bound?"
Mr. Howland tore at his collar and stuttered in purple fury.
"Impudence! Impertinence! Lunacy! Here, Captain, tell them they know
very well what ship this is--and--and--wait!" as Dan raised the
megaphone to his lips. "Don't waste time talking to the villains.
Tell them--tell them to go--well, you know what to tell them."
And Dan demonstrated that he did--so vigorously, so eloquently that the
answer came in the shape of a blank shot across the _Tampico's_ bows.
Dan looked gravely at the owner.
"The thing is pretty plain, Mr. Howland," he said; "the navy has
evidently joined the insurrection. Why they have not bombarded the
city I don't know; but you can be sure they are going to. We will have
to stop," and without waiting for a reply he jerked the signal
indicator, to cease headway. Mr. Howland was at no pains to conceal
his chagrin.
"A mighty bad stumbling-block; a mighty bad stumbling-block if the navy
has revolted, Captain Merrithew. If this Government falls, it means a
great deal to me; means the loss of considerable money--and prestige.
I must look to you to land those guns, Captain."
Dan did not reply, but gazed earnestly toward the city as though
meditating a dash. But that was out of the question, considering those
aboard. As the chug of the engines died out and the cough of the
exhaust hit the glooming air and the clumsy black hull slid to a
gurgling standstill, a gig was lowered from the _El Toro_, the
flag-ship, and the officer, Admiral Congosto, was soon stumbling up the
gangway of the freighter. Mr. Howland was inclined to have him thrown
overboard at once, but the better counsel of the Captain prevailed.
"Very well," growled the ruffled owner, "have your fling."
Admiral Congosto was a pompous Spaniard, obese, with bristling brows
and moustaches, who wrinkled his forehead and winked his eyes
constantly.
"So," he said, with unctuous dignity, as Dan met him at the rail, "the
Capitan?"
"Yes; the Capitan," and Dan bowed courteously.
"You are for San Blanco with supplies?--and--and--ah!" The Admiral
completed his sentence with a significant shrug of the shoulder. Dan
was equally cautious.
"We were putting in for water, for fresh water," he said. "Our
condenser's filled with bread crumbs or something, and we can't make
enough for our boilers, let alone drinking."
With an ample shrug of his shoulders, the Spaniard suggested that the
Captain might obtain all the water he wished if he would go in, leaving
his cargo outside. And then, as though weary of the subject, he turned
to more congenial topics. He thirsted for good wine; that fact was
early elucidated, after which he rambled along indefinitely, allowing
Dan to gather that all the officers of the fleet were also thirsting
for wine. At last he came straight to the point.
"A case--a dozen bottles--it would suffice--it would be
appreciated--ah!"
Dan had an idea, and began to build upon it forthwith.
"Admiral," he said, "there is much of what you seek aboard. As you
well know, Señor Howland never travels with empty lockers--there is
much of a certain wine that sparkles--see?"
"I see, but I do not hear what I mean," replied the perplexed Admiral,
indulging nevertheless in anticipatory internal gratulations.
"Why, hang it, man, champagne!" The Admiral's beady eyes danced. "Mr.
Howland desires me to say that it is his wish that the friendly
relations between his officers and those of the navy of San Blanco
shall never wane. There will, in short, be a dinner in half an hour to
the officers of the fleet."
"A dinnaire!" Congosto sprang forward and embraced his prospective
host, and five minutes later was speeding to his ship, the bearer of
glad news. For, behold, where he thought to meet an enemy, devious and
tricky, he had encountered instead, a friend, generous, hospitable!
"I fail to see your play, quite, Captain Merrithew," grumbled Mr.
Howland.
"Well," interpolated Virginia, "it was a very interesting play.
Captain, I had no idea you could be so eloquent."
"Thank you," laughed Dan. "Mr. Howland," he added, "I shall make my
play plain very shortly. All I ask now is that you have your party
assemble at the rail when the officers arrive and receive them as
though they were representatives of the British Navy. They will be
conducted to the saloon. Let no one of the party follow them in.
Please make that clear."
The guests came--in gigs, in launches, dinghies, and longboats--came
with laughter, came with rejoicing, for they were to dine with the
señor of the open hand, Señor Howland, who always opened wine as they
would open tins of beef. The gods never repaired more blithely to a
Bacchanalian revel on Parnassus. Two by two, in rigid order of rank
they were escorted into the saloon, and the eloquent popping of corks
was as music in their ears. The Admiral took his place at the head of
the table; the rest disposed themselves suitably.
With a muttered excuse, Dan slipped out of a near-by door; the stewards
disappeared; every one on the _Tampico_ stole quietly away.
Admiral Congosto had no sooner raised his glass for the first toast
than the two iron bulkhead doors slid together with a clang, followed
by the rasp of bolts flying home. The Admiral of the fleet and his
lords commanders were hopelessly imprisoned amid the luxury of saloon
surroundings, as hopelessly imprisoned as though they had been shut
into the darkness of the lower hold.
In the meantime, the _Tampico_, from hold to masthead, was blazing like
a tall Sound steamboat. Dan gained the bridge and gazed at the
illumination with a smile; for all this splendor of electrical display
was for a purpose.
"You've locked them in, eh?" said Mr. Howland, abruptly. He had been
pacing the bridge, the victim of many doubts.
"Yes," replied Dan; and there was a sharp inflection in the
monosyllable which precluded further questioning. The owner had
instructed his Captain to land the guns which were lying in the hold of
the steamship, and the young Captain was intent on the matter in hand.
He pulled a certain crank, upon which the steam winches began to
revolve with ghostly creakings, bringing the anchor up out of the mud.
Then he signalled for full speed ahead. There was a creaking, a sound
of roiling water, and then, still blazing with light, the steamship
made out for the open sea.
They had gone but a quarter of a mile when those who were left on the
fleet suddenly came to a realizing sense of the diabolical plot hatched
under their very noses. A gun boomed, a six-pounder shell squealed
past the bridge, but the _Tampico_ slipped on her way seaward, while
the funnels of the fleet belched clouds of smoke blacker than the
velvet skies. From the saloon came muffled shouts and ineffectual
poundings on the bulkhead doors.
"The walls are good and thick," said Dan, grimly. "I doubt they will
be heard--unless some one of the craft gets within a hundred yards of
us. They ought to have full steam up by this time. I might as well
stop her right here; this is about right."
As the steamship swung heavily on the tide, the Captain shouted an
order, which was taken up on deck and carried down a hatchway. The
next instant the lights in the lower part of the hull went out. A few
minutes later, another stratum of lights disappeared, and still later
the deck lights. Then out went the port and starboard lamps. Then
there was a ten-minute wait, while Mr. Howland, Virginia, and the rest
of the party who had ventured on deck, thrilled and delighted with the
situation, held their breath. Dan pulled another switch and the
masthead lights went out. The _Tampico_ was now a part of the night.
"Oh!" exclaimed Virginia, "I see. You have given them an imitation of
a vessel disappearing hull down in the darkness. How clever!"
An exclamation from Mr. Howland broke the silence. "Oh!" he cried. "I
see." And he placed his hand on Dan's shoulder.
The stillness was intense. The water swept softly past the hull; the
extremities of the vessel were lost in a blur of black. Mr. Howland
became impatient.
"What can be the matter with those fellows? Why don't they chase us
and be done with it?"
Dan touched him on the shoulder. From the outer darkness floated a
mysterious bourdon, which rapidly outgrew that definition and became a
veritable commotion. One light twinkled, then another, and still
another. Finally the swift pulsation of engines at high pressure rived
the night.
"They are coming." The Captain turned to those who had gathered on the
bridge, adding, "Now I want this place cleared, please. If this scheme
falls through, we shall have our perch raked with machine guns. Go
down on deck and either keep below, or to the side of the forward steel
deck-house, which is away from the warships--and no noise. Not a
sound! Understand?"
Virginia, Mrs. Van Vleck, Oddington, and two others of the party
decided to take their position in the shelter of the deck-house, where
they could see and yet be protected if the vessel were fired upon. All
amusement had gone from the situation for Virginia. She knew that her
father, who insisted upon remaining on the bridge, might at any moment
be placed in jeopardy. And there was another emotion, which she sought
not to deny--the Captain, what if he should fall? Ah, she did not want
that--particularly now he was risking himself, not for honor, not for
any interest of his own, but because he was her father's employee.
Then, too, she wished to study, to know him better; yes, that was what
she wanted, and she had been conscious of it all along, to see, to
learn, to know more of him. She could distinguish his tall, straight
figure against the darkness, moving swiftly.
She had forgotten about the pursuing warships and what might follow,
until her aunt tugged at her sleeve.
"They are coming, Virginia," she said.
They were indeed, and angry craft they were, a spectacle to marvel at,
viewed from the shrouded _Tampico_, lying black and motionless, with
every light out, with tarpaulins over the engine-room hatches and
gratings; with even the ventilator hoods blanketed.
"There they are!" The whisper shot through the _Tampico_ like a draft
of cold air. Virginia was quivering with excitement. She could see
the leading boat as it passed not three hundred yards away, and the
next, both spouting flames from their funnels, throwing up water, which
fell in silvery, phosphorescent spray--racketing, clawing the restless
sea, chugging, hissing with shouts of vengeance hurtling from their
decks, First ploughed the flag-ship _El Toro_, next _El Teuera_, and
last the "battleship" _El Manuel_, sitting almost on her stern,
plugging along doggedly in a Herculean effort to be first in at the
death of the presumptuous kidnappers.
It was alarming, too, and the young people, trembling behind their
shelter, gave a great sigh of relief as the last avenger passed, and
the head of the _Tampico_ swung slowly around in the direction of the
harbor. Virginia again turned her eyes to the bridge. The young
Captain was standing like a statue, with his hands on the engine-room
indicator, jumping the _Tampico_ across the waves under full headway.
He was looking back over his shoulder, and the girl, following his
gaze, saw to her great trepidation that the flag-ship, _El Toro_, had
ceased headway and was lying motionless, as if those aboard her had
divined the trick and were pausing a moment for fresh bearings.
Suddenly came a crash of heavy glass; a girl screamed. One of the
saloon dead-lights had crashed out, the thick glass rattling down the
steel hull to the sea. There was another crash and a yellow glow
flared into a bright blaze, illuminating the hull of the shrouded
vessel.
"Now they've done it!" cried Oddington. "They have soaked a
table-cloth with kerosene; it's all off now! So much for Captain
Merrithew's scheme. I--" A voice rang from the bridge.
"Everybody down, quick!" The warning was none too soon, for a second
later a rain of lead from the _El Toro_ swept through the top of the
funnel. Then with straining engines the gunboat made a swinging
detour, with the intention, plain to every one, of heading off the
freighter.
The firing was incessant now, and every one of the Howland party, as
well as the crew, grovelled flat on the deck and heard lead whistling
above. Virginia, glancing at the bridge in an agony of terror, saw the
Captain crouching just a trifle, but still at his post. One man, a
quarter-master, knelt at the wheel. But she missed her father, and a
great dread filled her mind. It was but momentary, however, for Mr.
Howland joined the party behind the deck-house.
"Oh father!" cried the girl, "I feared you were hurt. Why doesn't
Captain Merrithew stop the boat and leave the bridge? Surely his life
and those of his men there are of more value than your interests in
Blanco!"
"I told him to stop, to throw ourselves upon the protection of our
flag," and Mr. Howland laughed nervously. "But it was no use. I
believe I reared a Frankenstein monster when I selected him as the man
to land our guns. Frankly he as much as told me to mind my business.
He's in a fighting mood now; his jaws are set like steel-traps--I know
his kind. And do you know, Virginia, he will land us and the guns,
too. You wait!"
The _El Toro_ had stopped firing, and was bending all energies to
heading off the freighter; it looked as though she would do it, too,
for she had once been a private yacht and had evidently lost none of
her speed. It was a mighty race. The _Tampico_ was by no means a
slouchy craft, and she ripped her way through the waters, clawing for
the harbor mouth and San Blanco City like a thing possessed. Swinging
on a tactical semi-circle, the trim little flag-ship flew like a white
ghost, tearing the waters, curling them up on deck until they ran out
of the scuppers. She unlimbered another gun and the leaden hail swept
away the _Tampico's_ port lifeboat, crumpling the stanchions and davits
like thin wire.
"Their marksmanship is bad, as usual," said Mr. Howland, trembling
nevertheless, in suppressed excitement.
But if their marksmanship was bad their speed was not. The _El Toro_
was, in fact, shooting up rapidly; and as she began to circle in on the
freighter it was plain to every one that her path would cross that of
the fugitive. There seemed nothing to mar the success of the gun-boat
in her efforts to prevent the steamship entering the harbor. Dan could
judge of this better than any one else. And yet he kept on. His
spirit dominated the entire vessel. Virginia, as she watched him, with
all that anger that a loser must feel, knew that she was brave, too,
felt that to be otherwise would be a sacrilege. Suddenly her eyes were
riveted on the Captain; she saw him run to the megaphone rack and take
up a cone. Then she saw him dash it to the deck and turn and speak a
few words to the man still kneeling at the wheel. The man nodded and
moved aside, and Dan took his place, erect, immovable.
As he did so, the pursuing gun-boat, not more than four hundred yards
away, let fly another rain of lead, and a few minutes later she slowed
down, swinging broadside across the course of the _Tampico_, firing a
six-pounder shell over the bow of the advancing steamship.
"Too late, too late!" exclaimed Mr. Howland. "All this trouble and
danger for nothing! Now we are caught! But some one will pay--"
His daughter seized his arm.
"Father! Oh, father! We are not stopping. Look!"
It was true. The _Tampico_ was not stopping; she swept on as if
endowed throughout all her length of great black hull with her master's
burning energy and fierce resolve to succeed. A sharp cry came from
the gun-boat, a cry sharply in contrast with its crew's former yells of
triumph. There came another six-pounder shell, this time cutting
cleanly through the Tampico's bow. But that was the last. On, on like
an avenging sea-monster swept the _Tampico_, sullen, silent, with the
potential energy of dynamite lurking in the force of her momentum. And
straight, inexorable, Captain Merrithew stood on the bridge with his
hands on the wheel spokes. No longer was he young in the eyes of
Virginia Howland. No, he was old, old as the avenging ages and as
cruel, as cold as the march of time. Straight he made for the pretty
white side of the gun-boat, as some grim executioner might measure for
the blow of the sword which was to sever the white neck of some captive
maid, some Joan of Arc. And the girl caught his spirit and became
cruel too. She laughed at the gun-boat, as she fired again; she
laughed as the _Tampico_ quivered and went to the heart of the quarry;
she laughed as Dan, with another twist of the wheel, made more sure of
his victim.
The screw of the gun-boat revolved desperately. She was backing; but
it was too late. Another sound now! A heaving swell rose in between
and threw the bow of the steamship slightly off. With an angry cry Dan
jerked at the wheel. But the lost point could not be regained, and the
_Tampico_, instead of hitting the gun-boat amidships and cutting her in
two as intended, struck the quarter obliquely, slicing off a triangle
of the hull and stern as a big knife cuts a cheese.
There was a terrible crash and grinding, shrill screams, with the
sharp, taunting laughter of Dan ringing clear, as his vessel swept
clear of the wreckage, flashing by the crowded small boats which had
been lowered a few seconds before the crash came. Hardly knowing what
she was doing, utterly beside herself, Virginia turned to her friends,
her lips parted, her eyes flashing.
"There!" she cried, "did you ever see a man? I recommend you to look
at Captain Merrithew--"
"Yes, Virginia, it was bully." Oddington's cool, thoroughbred manner
chilled her ardor like a cold blast. "It was mighty fine. You are
excited, girl." And the young man removed the cigarette which had been
between his lips. Virginia regarded him steadily.
"You are right, Ralph," she said at length; "I was excited."
In the meantime, the _Tampico_ was dashing into the harbor at full
speed, her whistle blowing like mad, bringing all officialdom,
including the _Presidente_, to the water front; for, as Mr. Howland had
said, they were expected. Soldiers from the guard-boats swarmed aboard
and took the rebel admiral and his fellow-officers ashore, and a few
hours later well set-up mercenaries were dragging Mr. Howland's machine
guns and eight-inch rifles from the quay to strategic points, where in
the morning the insurrection would be broken as a strong man breaks a
rattan cane.
Later, at the end of a sunrise collation, _Presidente_ Rodriguez rose
and, with one hand on his heart and the other clutching the stem of a
wine glass, metaphorically presented the keys of San Blanco to the
"Saviour of his country," and intimated not only a permanent suspension
of tariff regulations in his favor, but a future statue of heroic size
in the palace plaza. Whereat Mr. Howland turned swiftly to Dan at his
side, and from behind his napkin momentarily altered an expression of
beatific if humble gratitude, and winked almost grotesquely.