ORDERS CHANGE IN A MINUTE
"Hullo! What does that fellow want?"
Able seaman Runkle was within a block of the mole where the "Hudson's"
launch was due to cast off at half-past ten o'clock, but he halted in
his tracks.
From a doorway, a little nearer to the mole, a head was thrust out
slightly as its owner surveyed the sailorman.
Then the man stepped out of the doorway to the sidewalk. He was a big
fellow, with something of the slouch and swagger that are to be
observed in the tough the world over.
Now this stranger stood quite still, sharply regarding the pausing
sailorman.
"If there are less than six of that breed ahead of me," muttered
Runkle, staring ahead once more, "then it doesn't make any real
difference."
Two more men slipped out of dark recesses further on, while, an
instant later, Runkle became aware that two men, who had not been
visible a few moments before, were now closing up behind him.
"I wonder what these chaps think they're going to do," mused Runkle,
his sailor heart quaking not at all, though he scented fight in the
air. "Hullo!"
Now a sixth man stepped out from a doorway just at his side. With a
lusty push this sixth man sent Runkle out into the street.
"Where are your manners, my man?" demanded Seaman Runkle, returning to
the sidewalk. "And what do you mean by that?"
Suddenly the muzzle of a revolver gleamed in Runkle's face, but the
sailor did not betray any sign of fright.
"Put that down!" ordered Runkle sharply, at the same time making a
gesture to indicate his command.
A reply was volubly given in Italian, of which Runkle understood not a
word.
In the few seconds that this was happening the five other swarthy men
began to close in on the sailor. Runkle lost no time in discovering
that fact.
A gesture from the man with the pistol showed that he expected Runkle
to hold up his hands.
"You'd rather see my mitts aloft, eh?" asked the sailor, in a mocking
voice. "All right, then!"
Up went the sailor's hands, as high as he could raise them. A gleam of
satisfaction shone in the eyes behind the revolver, but that look
instantly changed to one of pain.
For Runkle, while holding his hands high, also raised one of his feet.
That foot went up swiftly, and high enough to land against the lower
edge of the bravo's pistol wrist. In a jiffy the wrist was broken and
the pistol came clattering to the pavement.
"Much obliged," offered Runkle, snatching up the weapon. Then he
raised his voice to yell:
"If there are shipmates within hail let 'em hurry here to keep Jack
Runkle from killing a few rattlesnakes!"
Just in time to escape the points of two knives, Seaman Runkle backed
against a stucco wall, thrusting out the revolver and his able left
fist.
The first two men who leaped at him went down under the impact of that
fist. A third received a scalp wound from the butt of the revolver.
Any court would have exonerated the sailorman for killing his
assailants, but Dave's messenger was much too good-natured to kill
while there was another path to safety.
That kindliness undid Runkle's defense. As a man rushed him on each
side a third bravo dropped low in front of him and seized the seaman's
legs, upsetting him.
"Foul tackle, with a dozen to one!" growled Runkle, as he felt himself
going down.
Still he laid about, freeing his feet and using them while he plied
his left fist and struck out with the revolver. Even now he did not
want to press the trigger of the weapon, which was soon snatched away
from him.
With hoarse cries, several of the bravos now held the sailor so that
he could barely squirm.
Swiftly moving fingers roamed rapidly through his pockets. Then one of
the cowardly assailants snatched out of one of Runkle's pockets a
letter, muttering a few words to his companions.
Striking a match the thief glanced at the address on the envelope.
Even if he knew no English he could discern that the envelope was
addressed to Captain Allen of the "Hudson."
With another quick word the thief vanished through a doorway. Up from
the enraged sailor leaped those who had been holding him down.
"Sheer off there! Belay! belay!" growled several hoarse voices.
Rushing up, cat-footed, came a dozen or more fresh-faced, husky young
jackies from the fleet.
"Come on, mates! The maccaroni-eaters are sneaking away!" yelled the
foremost of the rescue party, that had come from the mole in answer to
Runkle's call.
Only two of the Italians were slow enough to be overtaken and
manhandled by the jackies. The rest of the assailants vanished swiftly
into nearby houses, the doors to which were instantly closed and
bolted.
For perhaps twenty seconds the two captured bravos were badly used.
Then, thoroughly cowed, they were allowed to slip away.
"What happened to you, shipmate?" demanded one of the rescuers.
"Enough!" growled Runkle. "They got my money."
"Much?"
"All I had."
"Tough luck," declared one of the sailors.
"The chap who has your money surely got away before we could reach
him."
"I've got to get aboard the flagship as soon as I can," exclaimed Able
Seaman Runkle ruefully.
"The launch leaves in ten minutes, mate," volunteered another. "Those
of us who are going aboard will now do well to get back to the mole."
So Jack Runkle departed with his rescuers, but his eyes flashed the
vengeance he would take should he meet his despoiler again.
On the way out to the flagship Runkle sat silent and out of the run of
talk that was going on around him.
Going up over the side of the "Hudson," Runkle reported himself on
board, and then added to the officer of the watch, Lieutenant Totten:
"I've a message for the Captain, sir, and have orders to report to
him immediately on coming aboard."
"Orders from an officer of this ship?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll send an orderly to see if the Captain is still awake," replied
Lieutenant Totten.
"I beg your pardon, sir," Runkle persisted, "but I have orders to say
that Captain Allen, by his own request, is to be called, if necessary,
sir, in order to hear my message."
"Very good," nodded Lieutenant Totten, and turned to an orderly,
sending him to Captain Allen's quarters.
"The Captain will see Seaman Runkle at once," the orderly reported a
few moments later.
Saluting Lieutenant Totten, Runkle turned and hastily presented
himself before the door of the Captain's quarters.
"You have something to report, Runkle?" questioned Captain Allen,
seating himself at his desk.
"Yes, sir. Ensign Darrin gave me a letter to bring to you, sir. It may
interest you, sir, to know that on my way back to the ship I was
attacked near the mole by a mob of cut-throats. One of them held me up
with a revolver, but I got it away from him. Then they all attacked
me, and soon had me down, sir. One of the rascals took all my money
and a letter addressed to you."
"Took Ensign Darrin's letter away from you?" demanded Captain Allen,
looking, as he felt, a good deal disturbed.
"No, sir; not Ensign Darrin's letter, sir," replied Able Seaman
Runkle, with just a shadow of a grin. "It was a letter addressed to
you, but I have reason to believe, sir, that Ensign Darrin's letter is
still safe. If you'll permit me, sir, I'll look for the ensign's
letter where I placed it, after leaving the ensign and before quitting
the hotel."
Captain Allen at once nodded his permission. Runkle partly undressed,
then explored the place where he had concealed Dave's letter.
"What was the other letter addressed to me that was taken away from
you, Runkle?" questioned the captain, while the search was going on.
"It wasn't really a letter, sir," the sailorman replied, this time
with a very broad grin. "It was just an envelope addressed to you, and
filled with blank paper."
"Who addressed that envelope?"
"I did, sir."
"And why?"
"Because I thought that Ensign Darrin's letter might be important, and
I had an idea that some skulking sneaks might try to take it away from
me."
Then Runkle, having put his clothing in order, stepped towards
Captain Allen, holding out an envelope.
"I think, sir, you'll find that this is Ensign Darrin's letter, and
that it's just as he gave it to me, sir."
Captain Allen hastily broke the seal, took out the enclosure, and read
rapidly, a frown gathering on his face all the while.
"Runkle," cried the Captain, springing up and placing a hand on the
sailorman's shoulder, "did Ensign Darrin suggest to you the ruse that
fooled your assailants?"
"No, sir."
"You did it on your own initiative?"
"I--I did it out of my own head, sir, if that means the same thing,"
replied the puzzled sailor slowly.
"It does mean the same thing," continued Captain Allen, "and, Runkle,
I'm proud of you. That's a good headpiece you have on your shoulders,
and I shall make note of it on your record. You have shown good
judgment. You have a head fitted to meet difficulties. You may look
for promotion in the near future."
"Have I your permission, sir, to ask if that was Ensign Darrin's
letter and if it was in good order?" asked Runkle.
"It was, my man, thanks to your intelligent and courageous
performance of duty. Runkle, how much money did the bravos take from
you?"
"Eighteen dollars in real money, sir, and about two dollars in _lira_
money."
Sailors sometimes call the Italian money "lira money," because the
lire, which is worth about the same as the French _franc_, or twenty
cents, is the common unit of Italian currency. "Lira" is the plural of
"lire."
"I am afraid you don't like the Italian money very well, Runkle,"
smiled Captain Allen.
"I don't, sir, and I don't like the people of this country any better.
Not after the beating I got to-night."
"That wasn't the fault of the Italian people, Runkle," declared the
Captain. "Toughs in New York would use you at least as badly as did
the bravos ashore to-night. The Italian people themselves are very
friendly to us, and the government does all in its power to show its
friendship for our country. If I were to send ashore complaint of your
being attacked to-night the police would dragnet the city in an effort
to find the men who attacked you, and, if found, it would go hard with
them. But for reasons that I cannot explain to you, no complaint will
be made. I do not wish the Italian police to know what took place
to-night. As to the money that you lost, I will have you make
affidavit before the paymaster, to-morrow, and will see that the money
is repaid to you. Runkle, you may tell your mates anything you like
about the fight, but do not mention the fact to any one, that you bore
with you and were searched by bravos for a letter from Ensign Darrin."
"Very good, sir."
"That is all, Runkle. You may go, but remember that I have you in mind
as a man of good and quick judgment, and as one who has the courage to
carry his duty through in the face of any obstacles."
"Thank you, sir."
Saluting, the sailorman left the Captain's quarters. A minute later
Captain Allen sent an orderly to the Admiral. Three minutes later
Admiral Timworth received the commanding officer of the flagship.
Quickly Captain Allen placed Dave's letter in his superior officer's
hands.
"This is live news, indeed," cried the Admiral, as he laid the letter
down. "Darrin and Dalzell are doing clever work."
"But their work is suspected, sir, as the letter shows. Moreover, the
fellow spies of Gortchky and Dalny are shadowing our two young
officers ashore, for the messenger who brought this letter was
attacked by bravos. Our messenger was robbed of his money and of a
faked letter with which the sailor had provided himself."
Captain Allen then repeated Runkle's story.
"You have Runkle slated for promotion, of course?" asked Admiral
Timworth.
"Certainly, sir."
"A man like Runkle, if he keeps to his present promise, should go as
high in the Navy as it is possible for an enlisted man to go,"
declared the Admiral. "But, Captain, the organization and desperation
of our country's enemies worry me. It is plain that some very
desperate scheme is afoot for making trouble between England and our
country. That would drag us in against all of the Entente Allies if
the success of the plot should involve us in war with England at this
time. The proposed sinking of a British warship is the inkling we have
had, but the real scheme may be something else. The first clue of all
that we had, even before Darrin and Dalzell came aboard at Gibraltar,
came from the American Embassy at Paris. Our Ambassador, under orders
from Washington, has our secret service at work there, which keeps our
government directly in touch with many of the doings of international
plotters. It seems to me highly important that Ensign Darrin should be
detached long enough from this ship to be sent to Paris, where he
should repeat to our Ambassador all that he knows, and give close
descriptions of the spies with whom he has come in contact. Having
made his report, Darrin can return to the ship at Genoa, which will be
our next port of call in these waters."
"Would you send Mr. Darrin alone, sir?" asked Captain Allen. "He might
be trailed and again attacked. Would it not be far better for Ensign
Dalzell to go with him?"
"Yes, and perhaps it may be as well for Runkle to go, too, as their
orderly," replied the Admiral, after a moment's hesitation. "There is
a train leaving for Paris at four in the morning. Where is Lieutenant
Totten?"
"He will be off watch in an hour, sir."
"Let Lieutenant Totten go ashore to carry my written instructions to
Ensign Darrin. I will enclose the necessary funds in an envelope with
my instructions. Totten, on his return to the ship, will be able to
assure me that the communication reached Ensign Darrin safely, and
that Darrin, after reading my instructions, which will be brief, tore
up and burned my letter."
"Shall I send Runkle ashore in uniform or in citizen's dress?" asked
Captain Allen.
"In citizen's clothes, as before," replied Admiral Timworth. "I will
call my flag lieutenant. Kindly see that the paymaster is sent to me,
Captain."
Fifteen minutes later the Admiral's letter of instruction had been
signed, and a substantial amount of money enclosed.
On coming off deck duty at eight bells, midnight, Lieutenant Totten
was instructed to order a launch alongside. Then, with the bulky
envelope in an inner pocket, and accompanied by Seaman Runkle, Totten
went over the side.
A few minutes later the launch delivered them at the mole, then glided
out into the bay.
"I hope we shan't run into a gang of hoodlums again," said the
sailorman respectfully.
"I have my revolver with me," smiled the lieutenant. "The Italian
police would feel grateful if I sank its six bullets into six bravos
of Naples."